#sigh. the annoying part of my cane wouldn’t have even helped me much today

[poprockspillage]

fuck around(didn’t bring my cane even though i thought about it) and find out(foot pain when i’m standing and hip pain when i’m laying down)

[lottiebagley]

Family Reunions- George Weasley

Three years imagining a life together Love your family more than we loved each other I said I’d keep in touch and I did But the more we keep in touch, the more I miss him

The second she enters her small flat she can feel her entire world shatter around her. Leaning her back against the door as she sinks to the ground, head dropping into her hands as she wipes furiously at her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.

Once a week she had attended dinner at the burrow, it was nice, good to see Molly and Arthur and whichever kids were around, of course George was never there, the date marked in his calendar in a red pen reminder to not go home that day. To sleep and eat at the flat.

The family had been heartbroken to hear that he had broken up with his girlfriend, after the war he had committed all his time to helping Fred. His twin needed every last bit of his attention, helping with his physical therapy and his dwindling mental state and so George's relationship had taken a back seat. She hadn't minded, in fact she had understood, she even committed herself to helping too.

But a year after George decided to call things off, Fred was better, he was walking and he was happier and he was working again. It was the perfect time for him to focus on his relationship, after all the girl had proven herself time and time again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was that he felt like he needed a minute alone.

Maybe it was the feeling that she was so much better than him. Maybe it was his mother's constant talks of rings and weddings. He wasn't quite sure but all of a sudden he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat her down in his bedroom in the flat. Explained that she wasn't the one and it didn't feel right anymore. He had watched as she cried and had attempted to comfort her only for her to push him away, fleeing his flat leaving a baffled Fred on the living room sofa, television on in front of him, wondering why the girl who may as well be a sister just left the flat in floods of tears.

George still visions his mother's face when he closes his eyes, the look on her face when he told her he ended his relationship. He remembers her disappointment. He remembers his brothers shock. He remembers his dad's sad sigh. He remembers his sister's passionate rant about how he never deserved her anyway.

As the girl cries on her hallway floor she vows that she will stop. Stop seeing the Weasley's. Not because she doesn't love them with every fibre of her being but because she couldn't handle the heart break. Couldn't keep sitting at their dinner table without his hand on her knee. Couldn't keep sitting on the swing set without him laughing and pushing her. Couldn't keep helping Molly clean plates without him sat on the counter teasing her.

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I love talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

Her resolve to stop seeing the Weasley's was gone by the next morning.

She woke up to a missed call from Charlie and called back, chattering away about his upcoming trip home as she got ready.

She arrived at her job at the ministry and met up with Hermione for coffee, deciding that when she eventually cut her ties she would keep Hermione. The girl was like a younger sister, although so was Ginny, but she figured one last tie to the family, someone to hear their news from would do no harm.

Arthur knocked on her office door in his lunch break, bringing with him sandwiches made by Molly and asking her to eat with him and she didn't have the heart to say no, so instead they ate in her office and talked merrily about the infestation of singing sunglasses he was dealing with today.

As she left her office she received a phone call from Ginny, who ranted about how annoying Harry was being and how now she had graduated and was training she felt like she had no time to focus on her relationship.

It was after she assured the girl that her and Harry were meant to be as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron she knew what she had to do.

She got a flat above a bookshop on Diagon Alley simply to be near George and now everyday, walking past his store, felt like torture. She hadn't been in the store, she'd avoided it like the plague even when Fred asked her to come and hang out with him and George wasn't working. So as she walked into the atmospheric shop her heart felt like it was sinking in her chest.

"Hey sweetheart, you all okay?" Fred asks with a bright grin, he's leaning on his cane for support and eyeing the door.

She could cry looking at him. Not just because he looks identical to the man who fell out of love with her and she still pined desperately for. No. Today the tears she blinks back are practically grief, she knew that, realistically, she would see Fred around, but she wouldn't be able to call him a friend anymore.

"I uh- could I speak to George?" she questions, Fred smiles gently, noticing her pained tone.

"Yeah, of course, you can go on up," he assures. She nods shooting him a small smile, but pauses on the stairs.

"Hey Freddie,"

"Yeah,"

"I want you to know that I am really proud of you, of the shop and of how much better you are and I mean when I first met you who'd have thought you'd end up here. I just-well I love you and I am really proud," She blinks back tears as she speaks, almost wishing she would get a chance to say a goodbye to all the Weasley's.

Fred smiles gently, somewhere in him he can tell, tell that this is goodbye and he's about to loose a friend.

"I love you too sweetheart, just remember no matter what that I am always going to be here for you,"

They share eye contact for a moment, both knowing and not saying it. Fred understood, he can only imagine how hard it must be to still be a part of his family's lives after George. He knew the girl in front of him loved his twin brother more than anything, he knew that deep down George loved her just as much, and yet here Fred stands, a silent goodbye hanging in the air.

Phone calls Sweet notes All the little things I used to love Now they just remind me that I was never enough We said we’d keep in touch and I tried But the more we keep in touch, the less I move on in life

"Hey George," she speaks quietly, standing in the hallway of his flat as he stands staring at her shock.

It's been a month since he saw her and his heart leaps at the sight of her, at her standing there with a small smile and teary eyes and a pencil skirt and blazer and messy hair and she's just her. She is her and it's everything he's been missing. He wonders as he stares at her how he ever thought that she wasn't the one. That she wasn't perfect. That she wasn't made for him.

Her own eyes are wide, seeing him sparking something in her that she didn't even know existed. He's shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his hips and his hair damp from the shower he just clearly had. Her eyes scan his toned chest, his broad shoulders, the light sprinkles of freckles. His scent, his cinnamon body wash, is so strong that it practically invades her body and she could scream and cry and all she wants is to kiss him.

"Oh-shit-hi. Is everything alright?" He's worried to see her, had someone died? Was she okay? Merlin, he wanted her to be happy more than anything in the world.

"Hey," she speaks quietly, backing a way a little when he tries to move closer, not wanting to be close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

"You said that already," he teases gently, testing the waters.

"I'm sorry- I-" she cuts herself off, not sure how to say anything that she wants to

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he comforts her gently "Why don't you go sit down, I'll get dressed and come, just give me a minute," he offers, she nods her head slowly.

When he enters the living room it feels natural. Seeing her sat on his sofa waiting for him feels right. He thinks for a second about how it could all be different. How he could be in pyjamas and she could be in one of his shirts, how he would jump on her and laugh when she tells him he is squashing her, how he'd have held her as they watch a film and make-out and he'd cook for her and they'd drink wine and enjoy a blissful Friday evening, wrapped up in each other.  

"You're all dressed up. Going anywhere nice?" she questions, eyes scanning his white dress shirt and jeans.

"The Italian, the one in Camden town,"

"With the little dog and the red wine?" she questions, George lets out a laugh at the memory of the time he took her there, it was a month after the war, thinking back it was probably the last time he took her out. He got so busy with Fred and the shop and she'd not been a priority when he knew she should have been, she never seemed to mind though.

"That's the one,"

"So, it's a date," she smiles gently, heart splintering in her chest

"Uh, yeah. Yeah it is," he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

"That's great, do I know her?"

"Angelina," He admits quietly. She nods, forcing a smile.

"That's great George, I'm really happy for you. I'm sorry to disturb you-"

"No!" he cuts her off a little too eagerly, a little too happy to see her. "No, you are fine being here. I want to help with whatever is happening," he assures her

"Right, well I won't keep you long," she nods awkwardly

"Hush, none of that nonsense, take all the time you need," he reassures her, sitting down next to her on the sofa but keeping a respectful distance apart.

"So-well- I know that this is-" she cuts herself off with a sigh "Sorry, this is just...awkward,"

"Hey, it's just me. You can say anything," He moves his hand to place it gently on her knee, his heart stops at the way she gently pulls her leg away.

"I need you to tell your family to stop talking to me,"

"What?" he snaps, suddenly quite offended. "My family have been nothing but kind to you and-"

"Christ! it's not like that!" she gasps, he sighs

"Then what?"

"I can't be a part of their lives anymore. I know it sounds so selfish and I wish it was different but- George- I love your family. I really do. I just- being around them hurts. It kills me. It makes me want to just drop dead because every time I talk to them I think of you. Being in your house I can feel you and- I- it hurts. It hurts too much," She admits it in a tired whisper, George feels his heart break at the thought of her heartbroken because of him.

"Okay. I'll talk to them," he speaks quietly, she nods and stands.

"Goodbye George,"

"I'll see you around?" he asks quietly, the thought of this being it makes his heart hurt. When his family were stealing seeing him all the time it wasn't as bad, he always knew what was happening in her life. This, this was final.

"Yeah. Yeah maybe,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

For the next six months George hears nothing. Without his family seeing her he has no idea how she is, if she's okay, if she's happier now. He lays up at night thinking about her and wishing he could turn back time.

She hears scraps, staying in touch with Hermione, she knows about Ron in depth, hears bits and pieces about the rest of the family. Too awkward to ask if George is okay, if he's happier without her, if he's with Angelina now.

Bill receives a card when his little girl is born but she doesn't pick up the phone when he calls her. Fred gets a text message when he finishes his physical therapy but when he replies it's left on delivered. Ginny swears up and down that she saw her in the stands of her first professional quidditch game but can't prove it.

So, with dread filling her body and curses at her nephew flying in her mind she enters Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She's hoping to go unseen by the twins, they had staff now and maybe they would never have to find out her annoyingly loveable nephew wanted a reusable swamp for his 12th birthday and absolutely nothing else would do.

"Hello, welcome to Weasley's Wizard- oh, hi," George's voice sounds anxious when he snaps his head up to see her standing like a deer in the headlights in the almost empty shop.

"Hey,"

"Is everything alright?" George wonders if the way his mind automatically jumps to something awful having happened because of the war or because he can't think of any other reason after everything he put her through that she would want to be anywhere near him.

"It's Max's birthday next week," she announces

"Yeah. 12, right?" George questions with a lopsided grin. He adored her nephew, the kid as giggly and energetic and just like him and Fred were as kids. He also loved the way she was around kids.

"Yeah," she confirms, surprised he remembers. "He, uh, started school,"

"Made Gryffindor I'm sure," George smiles, it's the first genuine smile he's let out in weeks

"Yeah. The first thing he said when he saw me at Christmas was that I just had to tell uncle George, didn't shut up about you once. I didn't have the heart to tell him we broke up so..." she trails off.

"He's a good kid,"

"He is. Professor McGonogall isn't quite so set on him,"

"Nah, she always loves the trouble makers," George smirks

"That's true," She smiles gently "Anyway, so he wants a portable swamp and nothing else instead for his birthday, so," she trails off once more, gesturing to herself.

"Well of course," George grins, pushing himself off the front desk that he had been resting on and striding across the shop floor to grab one. He grabs a basket, walking around the floor and plucking any product he thinks the kid might like, even a few unreleased things from the back room before returning to where she is standing at the front till with a small smile on her face.

"George-" she starts, he shushes her immediately.

"I'll gift wrap them for you," he announces, placing the full basket on the till

"You don't have to that," she protests but he laughs

"Actually, I kinda do. You are the worst at wrapping gifts," he teases making her smile.

"You got me there," she admits

"Yeah. So, how've you been," He begins scanning products through the till and wrapping them with ease

"Uh good. I got a promotion-"

"Wow! that's fantastic, and so well deserved,"

"How would you know?" She blushes as she speaks, not looking at the boy

"I do read the paper y'know? What is it now 100 war criminals you have single handedly found," he bolsters, she'd always wanted to be an auror but becoming so high up that she reported directly to the minister and had a big fancy office was only in her wildest dreams until now.

"What about you? How's things?" she questions

"They're good. Shop's going great and Fred's only getting better by the day. Little Victorie is so perfect and yeah life is, well, it's good," He can't bring himself to say that as much as everything is perfect he can't find it in him to be happy without her by his side.

"And Angelina?"

"We decided we were way better as friends. You dating?"

"I'm married to the job," she shrugs, not wanting to say she doubted she would ever fall in love again without him.

"I get that," he nods, placing the pile of wrapped up parcels into bags. He physically laughs when she grabs her purse and begins to gather money

"Sweetheart, you're not paying for any of this. I only rang it through the till because we have to stock management,"

"George, that is so kind but I can-"

"Yes you can, if it makes you feel better stick my name on a couple of the tags alright?"

"I will, I promise that I will," she nods, taking the bags from his hand "Thank you,"

"No bother. Give Max my best, yeah?" He smiles, she nods and he watches as she leaves the store, his heart that he hadn't even realised was practically beaming dulls back down when she goes.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king

I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express the way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"You busy?" Hermione leans in the doorway of her office

"I can make a couple minutes, what's up? We had coffee three days ago," she reminds as the brunette steps into the office, closing the door behind her and settling in the seat across the desk.

"I know and I wanted to ask then but I couldn't bring myself to it because I feel so bad asking," Hermione explains, twisting the diamond ring on her finger anxiously.

"'Mione, you can ask me anything. You know that if it's physically possible I'll do it," she assures, putting the papers she had been reading down to give her friend undivided attention.

"You're one of my best friends," Hermione states

"And you're one of mine," The girl nods, eyebrows furrowed in concern

"And when somebody does something big in their life they want their best friends there,"

"Hermione what ever you need I'm there. 100%"

"Big things like getting married. I'm getting married, you know that, I mean to say Ron and I have picked a date and it's four months away and we are getting married at the burrow in a marquee by the lake. I know it's a lot to ask of you. I mean it's not just some ex, it's George, and I know how hard it's been for you without him and I hate myself for asking. And it's not just seeing him it's being there, I mean you fell in love with him there and it's not just him it's all of them and I understand if you say no, but, I want you there," Hermione rambles

"Of course," She speaks without thinking, never would she not attend her friends wedding "Hermione, I would love nothing more than to be there,"

"Really?" Hermione beams

"Merlin, 'Mione did you think for a second I wouldn't come, it's your wedding,"

Love them like they are my own But I don’t think I’ll ever move on If you don’t , If  you don't

It had been the most obvious thing in the world to say yes when Hermione asked, but now, standing in a stupid, but undeniably beautiful, pale blue bridesmaid dress she felt nervous. Hermione had insisted she had no obligation to see the Weasley's until the wedding day, she knew how her friends heart ached for not just George but the whole family, and wanted to make the whole thing as painless as possible.

But now, standing in the empty kitchen the morning of the wedding, the girl wondered how to breathe. She arrived by floo powder, already changed and ready like Hermione had instructed as she was getting ready with her muggle family.

She wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the empty, quiet room she was standing in.

She lets out a sigh, blinking back tears, the scent feeling like coming home.

"Sweetie, how are you?" She hadn't even realised Molly had entered the room from the back door until the familiar woman is pulling her into a hug.

"I'm okay, how are you?" she questions as Molly pulls away. If it were anyone else Molly would have rushed away, much too busy with preparations, but it wasn't. Molly loved the kids her children brought home in her life like her own, she missed the girl but understood that she needed space. One look at the tears in her eyes tells Molly that right now she needs to be here.

"I'm good. We are all good," Molly assures, gently guiding the girl to sit. "Now, tell me honestly, how are you?

"I'm just sorry," She admits, voice cracking and tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You must all hate me,"

"Sweetie, no one here hates you, not even for a second. We adore you," she assures, rubbing the girl's shoulder comfortingly

"All of you were always so welcoming and kind and then I just stop speaking to you all. I was so rude and I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't even tell you myself I made George do it,"

"None of that. You don't have to be sorry. We are the sorry ones. My son broke your heart and we were all wrapped up in loving you and wanting to be part of your life that we didn't stop to think how hard it would be for you. To be here and to talk to us. You needed to heal, no one is mad at you. We just miss you, and when or if you ever want to come back you will be welcomed with open arms," Molly assures her, grabbing a tissue to dab the girls cheeks dry.

"I missed you so much Molly," she sighs

"I missed you too dear, and I know George misses you,"

"I miss him. Every day I miss him,"

The moment is cut short when Charlie strides in through the front door "Thought I smelt trouble," He beams, wrapping his arms around the girl "Come help me with the daises, Hermione wants like a thousand and Perce is useless,"  He informs, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. She looks almost anxious and he rubs her shoulder gently "He's upstairs with Ron," he whispers gently

"You're welcome to go and speak to him if you'd rather," Molly informs, she wanted her son to be back with the girl more than anything.

"It's okay I'm happy to help,"

"Thank Merlin, I'd strangle Percy if you aren't there to stop me,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"I saw mum put you to work earlier," George's voice calls through the dark night air. She's sat in the tree house in the garden, the wedding a small distance away.

"I never mind," she shrugs as she watched him climb the ladder, he sits down next to her, legs dangling over the edge next to hers.

"Thought I'd find you here," He comments, he had built the tree house one summer when they couldn't get a minute alone. It was the first summer she spent there, between 4th and 5th year, she fell in love with him in that tree house.

"Just needed a minute," she sighs

"Yeah. It's beautiful but it's kind of a lot,"

"Weddings when you're depressingly single are often a lot," she shrugs, he chuckles at that.

"I have no clue how you are single," He comments, eyes trained on the starry sky above them

"Well, you dumped me so," she teases, a light laugh in her voice. He rolls his eyes, bumping his body to hers, for the first time since the breakup she doesn't move away from his touch. Not wanting to waste the opportunity but also not wanting to push her he settles for pressing his leg next to hers, her foot wraps around his leg holding him close to her without her even noticing, it's second nature, instinctive.

"I'm serious. You're so incredibly kind, and funny, and smart and good in bed," he adds the last one as a joke, laughing when she playfully swats his arm "and I mean, look at you right now, you're like a fucking goddess. You always are. How had no one swept you up?" He questions, and he means every word of it.

"Honestly?" she questions

"Always,"

"They've tried. I mean boys ask me out or try and get with me, but- I- well I never say yes, it's not fair to go on a date with someone when you're in love with someone else,"  She admits, she is staring straight ahead, not looking at him, so she misses the grin that brightens his face.

"That's why Angelina and I decided on friends," he admits, she hums in response not sure what to say. A comfortable silence falls over them, the sound of music from the party the only thing filling the air.

"You wanna dance?"he asks suddenly

"Sure," she agrees, he jumps down from the tree house, it's a little stupid but not unsafe and they've done it a thousand times before. She follows suit and his hands grab her waist to steady her when she stumbles a little in her heels.

He keeps his hands there, pulling her closer to him as hers wrap around his neck.

"Always thought you looked so good in blue," he admits as his thumb strokes her waist, the silky material soft under his grip. "Like a princess," he adds

"Always thought you looked so good in a suit," she grins, blushing a little as he twirls her around

"I miss you," he hums out, pulling her back closer this time, her head resting on his chest.

"I miss you," she returns.

"Y'know I never stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I regret it. More than anything," he's practically whispering and his heart stops when she stills in his arms.

"I can't do this," She whispers, tugging herself from his arms

"Darling-"

"No. George, I love you, more than anything. So I can't. It's your little brother's wedding and you are lonely and you are all mixed up and we haven't seen each other in so long and weddings, merlin weddings, they confuse everything and I can't. I can't do this one last night thing. I'm sorry,"

Before George can reply, can tell her that she's so far from right she's turned around and is speeding back towards the party.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express That you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

She pulls her apartment door open a week after the wedding, surprised to see George Weasley a determined look in his eyes and soaking wet from the rain.

"George,"

"Hi. I need to talk to you," he doesn't seem nervous, he seems like there's a fire in his belly, a determination, a purpose, a need.

"Oh, sure. Come in," She moves aside, letting him in. "The living area is at the end of the hall. I'll go grab a towel," she directs.

He looks around the living area, it's open plan to the kitchen and it's cosy. Full of pictures and little trinkets, it is fundamentally her and his he feels more at home there despite having never been before than he does in his own flat.

She re-enters, throwing a fluffy baby pink towel at George before heading into the kitchen, grabbing an extra mug having been in the process of making tea when he arrived, and fixing them both a tea how they like it.

"So, you wanted to talk?" she prompts, sitting crosslegged on the couch, her fuzzy pjs and messy hair so domestic and beautiful he would marry her on the spot to get to see her like that every day.

"You said that you didn't want to do one last night, well, I don't either. It wasn't wedding goggles making me look at you different. I am in love with you. So, in love with you that being without you makes it hard to breathe and I want you back, not just for a night but for the rest of my life," He thinks he should be nervous but he's not. It's her. He could never be nervous with her.

"George, that makes no sense why would you-"

"Listen, I have never felt good enough for you. The whole time I've known you it was like you were so above me and I could never be on your level, no matter what happened you were always perfect. You were, and are, too good for me,"

"George, I have never been-" she starts but he cuts her off

"I had to help Fred. He is my twin brother, my best friend. He nearly died and I was terrified. He was nearly crushed to death and I realised I could loose him, I could loose anyone I loved. That included you, obviously, and that's how it started. I was scared to be with you because if I lost you I couldn't cope. I couldn't survive. So I started pushing you away. But you. Merlin, you're so good that it didn't matter. I pushed you away and I was wrong to do that but you didn't waver for a second. It was my responsibility to help Fred. To go to physical therapy with him. To hold him when he cried. To be there no matter. I would have done it no matter what. But you. You didn't have to do that. But you did. You didn't complain. You didn't walk away. You helped fix Fred even when I was being crappy to you," He rants

"George, I loved you and I still do. I would have done anything you asked me to, I still would. But I didn't help Fred because of you. I didn't do it for you. Not cause I was too good. I helped Fred because he's been my friend since I was 11. I helped Fred for Fred. Not for you," She explains, George sighs.

"I know. I just was in this state right? I was scared to loose you and you've always been too good for me and I just didn't know what to do. Then, Fred was getting better, and I felt empty. I wanted Fred happy and healthy of course but I'd become so used to spending all my time trying to fix things, trying to keep everyone afloat. It felt like everything stopped. Like no one needed me. I became obsessed with things I could. I couldn't fix you, I couldn't fix us, because nothing needed fixing. You were so perfect for me that I didn't need to fix it. That scared me. The more I thought about it the more I realised if I lost you, no one could fix me, I couldn't loose you but I wasn't good enough for you. It had to be me. My terms. My breakup. It was stupid, but that was I hadn't lost you I'd given you up and that was better," he explains, tears flooding her cheeks as she suddenly understands everything that's been happening for the past months.

"Georgie, you never needed to be scared. I'm not going anywhere, I promise,"

"I know. I'm sorry that I hurt you,"

"George, I love you,"

"I love you darling, more than anything," he smiles

"So another go?" she questions timidly

"If you'll have me," he nods, she grins. Hands shoving his shoulder's back to lay against the sofa, knees on either side of his waist. Her lips touch his for the first time in months and it's like they can breathe again.

They lay side by side in her bed that night, bare skin pressed to each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"Can we stay here all day tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you," she speaks tiredly, her head on his chest

"Ron and Hermione get home from the honeymoon tomorrow," George informs, she moves her head to look at him "We have a dinner thing, looking at the wedding pictures too,"he continues

"That'll be nice. You aren't leaving my bed till the very last minute though," she decides

"You should come," he prompts, giving her a squeeze

"You really think your family won't mind?"

"Please, they love you. They'll just be glad to see we are back together,"

"We could be going as friends," She teases, he rolls his eyes

"Not to a family reunion we couldn't. Besides, I have every intention to hold your hand and kiss you the whole night so they'll probably catch on. Aside from Percy, bless him, he's socially inept,"

If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

**

Masterlist

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33661984/chapters/83654680

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker's crazy schemes.

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Word count: 2k

A/N:  So I wrote my first fic! Hopefully at least one person likes it! I just posted the first chapter today. The second one should follow somewhat soon ☺️I’m currently writing the third chapter!

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Y/N couldn’t quite believe it. She had been a fan of him for years. Asking for the latest news on the voyages of the Volkvolny and its captain every chance she got. They were legendary. When Kaz had told her a few days prior that Sturmhond was going to be with them for a job she had barely been able to contain her excitement. Now, she was mortified. How could she work with a king?

Had she not been standing next to Kaz during the meeting she’d never have believed it.

“How long have you known, Kaz? I mean, I know you’ve worked with him before but…” her voice trailed off in a question.

“I figured it out when we first met.” His mind traveled back to that day. Meeting the privateer by the Geldrenner hotel’s baths, just a few years ago. They had been trying to save Kuwei Yul-Bo, a Shu inferni who’d had the misfortune of being the son of the fabrikator who created Jurda Parem, making him the most valuable hostage in the world. They had auctioned him off, faked his death, and gotten revenge on Jan Van Eck all at the same time. “The king of Ravka wouldn’t just let anyone represent his country in important matters. The fact that he always travels with at least one member of the Triumvirate doesn’t help him keep his identity secret either.” He scoffed. “He really should stop doing that.” Kaz sounded almost… annoyed?

“I take it you’ve given him that particular piece of advice and he didn’t listen?” She smirked. “Though, you know, I’m glad Zoya Nazyalenski tagged along. She is even more gorgeous than I thought.”

“He never listens. Almost as stubborn as you.” He huffed. The glare he gave her would’ve been enough to scare most people, however, she was not most people. She considered Kaz family, and she knew that Kaz did too, in his own way. They had both lost siblings to the city after all. She had joined his crew a few months after they had lost Matthias and Nina had gone back to Ravka. He had needed a new corporalnik and she had made fast friends with Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. As much as Kaz had tried to keep the young tailor at arm’s length, she had found a way to worm herself into his cold guarded heart. His look softened before he continued. “You should steer clear of her. She’s just as icy as she appears. Wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken before the job.” That was his way of showing he cared.

“Don’t worry, Kaz, I’m not looking to marry her. Maybe she’d be open to a bit of fun?” She laughed, throwing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and made her way back to Jesper and Wylan down the corridor.

---

A few days had passed since they’d met with Sturmhond. He and Zoya had temporarily moved into the slat. Kaz had been cooped up in his office, wearing his scheming face most of that time. Everyone could tell Kaz’s plan was going to involve multiple steps and deceptions.

Since they hadn’t been working any other jobs, the crows had been left to their own devices for the first time in months. Kaz occasionally called on them for their expertise, but they had a lot more downtime than they were used to. They had taken advantage of it to get to know their new teammates. Y/N had mostly struck out with Zoya, though she had managed to make her laugh a few times, to everyone’s surprise. Maybe with more time, she’d have a small chance with Zoya? The young grisha had also tried to wrap her head around the identity of her favourite privateer. She now found herself sitting in Kaz’s office, Jesper and Wylan on her right and Sturmhond and Zoya on her left. Kaz looked all business, so serious she feared he’d give himself an aneurysm.

“I need you to tailor him. Once you’re done, you’ll tailor yourself.” Kaz nodded in Sturmhond’s direction sitting behind his cluttered desk, hands resting on his crow’s head cane.

Y/N looked up at Inej who had been sitting at Kaz’s window. “May I ask why? Hasn’t he already been tailored?” She gestured to the privateer before returning her hand to her lap. “He doesn’t look like the king of Ravka.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Why must you always question me?” He sighed. “Yes, he has been tailored, nonetheless, he is too easily recognizable as Sturmhond. I need you both to look like rich Kaelish merchants. It shouldn’t be too hard for you?”

“Of course not. You know there’s nothing I can’t do, Brekker.” She replied in Kaelish. She softened her tone before continuing in Kerch. “I’m simply asking you to share your brilliant scheme with us mere mortals” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. Inej stifled a laugh. It looked like the Suli girl couldn’t help but smile at the other’s antics.

Kaz groaned. “Fine, I’ll share my plan for the job. It’d be easier if you just listened. I’ll explain it once so pay attention – Jesper!” Poor Jesper jumped on his chair. He’d been staring at Sturmhond since they’d all entered the office. Y/N couldn’t blame him. The privateer did have an inexplicable charm despite his tailored features.

“Yes, Boss!” Jesper straightened in his chair and sent an apologetic look to Wylan.

“Alright, to pull this one off we’ll need blueprints that can only be found in Gert Van Verent’s safe. He keeps his office under lock and key – ”

“Wait, you want us to break into a councilman’s house, again? Why can’t you do it Kaz? You’re the best at picking locks.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me” he was glaring daggers at her now, his eyes the hue of bitter coffee “you’d know that two guards are posted outside his office, at all times” he’d emphasized the last part and raised a hand to stop Y/N from interrupting him again “and his windows are protected behind steel bars.” Y/N nodded once slowly indicating she was willing to listen with no more interruptions.

“Van Verent is throwing a party in the hopes of finding his eldest daughter a husband. Being a devout Kerch merchant, he is also using the occasion to find new business ventures. The party is our window of opportunity. That-” he gestured to her and Sturmhond “is where you two come in. Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, newlyweds from the Wandering Isle, looking to extend your exporting business to Kerch. I already secured your invitation” Y/N felt her jaw drop. No sound came out. All she could do was stare at Kaz. He had finally lost it. He wanted her and the king of Ravka to assume false identities and pretend to be married? Dirtyhands had gone mad.

Wylan was the one who voiced her concern. “Kaz? I know Y/N’s a talented tailor and well she is Kaelish so that part’s covered but, well, um, no disrespect Sturm-, Sir? Your Highness? But, um, do you speak Kaelish?”

The king smiled. He looked amused at Wylan’s confusion. He replied in perfect unaccented Kaelish “Call me Nikolai, it will make for less confusing conversation. Of course, I speak Kaelish, I have been educated in 6 languages. I also had a fondness for Kaelish poetry in my youth.”

Everyone seemed to relax at that. However, Y/N could tell she was going to need Jesper’s help to undo the knots in her shoulders later that night. “Kaz? I don’t think I’m that great of an actress… You also haven’t told us how we’re supposed to get the plans if we do get in.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure we’ll manage. I’m talented enough for the both of us” Nikolai winked at her. Nikolai, who just so happened to be the privateer she had admired for years. She felt her cheeks flush. Saints, she thought, this is going to be a nightmare.

“Jesper and Wylan have also been invited to the party thanks to Wylan’s new position on the merchant’s council.” She had never been more grateful to Kaz for overlooking the interruptions. “They’ll cause a distraction, with Nazyalenski’s help, to let you and Nikolai slip past the guards and break into Van Verent’s office.” He stopped and looked at Y/N. “I know you can pick the lock and crack the safe. I trained you myself after all.”

The discussions and planning continued well into the night. Y/N wasn’t convinced it was such a good plan, but everyone else seemed on board so she kept her mouth shut. All she could do now was make sure to memorize all she could before the job. The party was two days away, which didn’t give them much time to learn all they could about their characters. Kaz had instructed Nikolai and Y/N to spend every waking moment working together to make sure they made a believable couple.

Twelve hours in, Y/N was cursing herself for saying she wasn’t a great actress. If she’d only pretended to be confident in her acting abilities, she might have been allowed to take a break from the insufferable king. Well, insufferable might have been a little dramatic but the man loved himself way too much. They had memorized their stories in the first 8 hours and were now being quizzed by Wylan and Jesper while she started tailoring them both, yet the King would not stop flirting with her. He also made sure to touch her every chance he got. A brush of his fingers on her cheek, of his knuckles on hers, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She knew it was just harmless fun for him. It was driving her completely mad. She just wanted him to take the job seriously.

“How did he propose?” Wylan asked for the third time in the past two hours.

Y/N sighed and moved her fingers through Nikolai’s hair to darken it. “It was incredibly romantic. He had planned a picnic by the lake where we met.” Her cheeks were already starting to hurt from the plastered smile on her face.

“I had all of her favourite foods, of course” Nikolai interjected, moving to softly caress the girl’s cheek.

Y/N had to restrain herself from slapping his hand away. “Yes, even strawberries, in winter! Can you believe it? Once the sun began to set, he dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from the picnic basket with a bouquet of winter roses. I’m so lucky to have fallen in love with such an attentive and caring man.” She turned to Kaz who had been observing them, leaning against the doorframe, and dropped the smile from her lips. “Was that satisfactory, Boss?”

Kaz shrugged. “It’d be better if you didn’t look like you wanted to stab him every time he touches you.”

Y/N released a breath. “Maybe if you’d let me take a break...” her tone was pleading.

Kaz smiled at that. He was finally wearing her down. Giving her a taste of what she’d put him through the last two years felt like sweet justice to him. He liked the girl well enough, but she had a way of getting on his nerves. He took no pity on her. “You’ll keep going until I actually believe you are in love with him.” He left the room with a pointed look at her.

Zoya released an amused laugh. “I’m just glad Nikolai found someone else to bother for a change.” She smiled smugly at Y/N. “Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless. Just come find me if he gets too handsy, I’ll put him in his place for you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe it. Zoya had definitely sent her a wink before following behind Kaz. Maybe all her flirting had paid off?

“Sweetheart, I’m hurt, you are taking more interest in my general than in your own handsome husband.” Nikolai’s tone was toeing the line between mock hurt and amused.

She turned back to the three men in front of her. “Jesper, please, just shoot me.”

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #3 (request)

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

SPOILER WARNING: Don't read if you haven't finished Step 3!

Your insides bubbled with excitement as the car neared the cabin nestled deeply in the forest. The fresh blanket of snow was nearly blinding in the bright morning sun. You looked over to your driver, Cove, who wore a focused scowl.

Cove: We made it. I can’t believe we made it.

Y/N: Isn’t it gorgeous? There is so much SNOW.

Cove smiled at you with apprehension. This trip was a special one for many reasons. You were both freshly 19, so it was your first holiday together as independent adults. On that note, it was also your first holiday away from your families. You felt more down about that than Cove did. His main gripe was the snow, and it was unmistakable in his expression. Cove parked the car in the designated snowless space. You both stepped out, Cove with a little less enthusiasm than you did.

Cove: Snow, snow, and more snow.

The cabin was glowing and decked out in beautiful Christmas decorations. An intermingling of garland and lights hung across the roof. More garland and Christmas baubles framed the frosted windows. Oversized candy canes lined the pathway up to the porch. The wreath on the front door was massive. It hung proudly with a cute snowman proclaiming “Let it Snow!”

Cove: The owners didn’t hold back out here. It’s impressive.

Mesmerized, you could only nod. The online advertisement described the cabin as a pre-decorated Christmas escape. The images you showed Cove online were spectacular, but they did not do justice to the real thing.

Not wanting to stand outside any longer, Cove moved to the trunk and began unloading the luggage. Cove first extracted a suitcase that he claimed was not filled entirely with gifts for you. Your gift for Cove lived safely in your own suitcase, already wrapped and ready to go. He then removed both of your clothing-packed suitcases. You were proud of your ability to convince Cove to bring winter-appropriate clothing to this trip.

You helped Cove drag the luggage to the front door. The host messaged you the entrance code before your arrival. You punched it into the keypad which stood in place of a normal keyhole. 1-2-2-5. Clever.

You paused for dramatic effect, then slowly opened the door to reveal the inside. It looked like a Christmas bomb went off, in the best way possible. You squealed and bounded inside first, leaving Cove to the luggage.

The cabin was small and cozy. The kitchen and living area were open to each other. There was no bedroom, only a pull-out couch that sat comfortably in front of a fireplace. The only other doors in the cabin were for the bathroom and a storage closet.

The Christmas tree drew in your eyes first. You stepped closer to inspect it and inhale the sweet evergreen scent. The tree skirt was wide and inviting to colorful wrapped boxes. Cranberry and popcorn strands wrapped the tree from bottom to top. An assortment of ornaments littered the branches. You peered into one of the big red baubles and smiled at your distorted reflection. Finally, you tilted your head upwards to take in the tree topper— a stunning golden star.

You spun around excitedly to appreciate the rest of the decorations. There wasn’t a corner or window without winter greenery. Festive cushions sat on either side of the couch. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. A miniature village of joyful folk lived on a console table by the entrance. You turned to face Cove, who had just finished lugging everything inside by himself. He shut the door and smiled at you, happy that you were already having a magical time.

Y/N: I’m sorry, Cove. I got a little carried away with—

You halted your own sentence. Your gaze drew upward to the ceiling above Cove. A mistletoe hung delicately in the doorway. Cove followed your sight, twisting his head for a better view. You strode towards him before he could speak. You stared at him intently and wiggled one of your eyebrows. He met your gaze again, already blushing intensely.

Cove: It’s one of those...

His sentence trailed off as you stepped even closer and hushed him.

Y/N: Just kiss me, you big, beautiful dumbass.

Cove gulped hard. He gently took your face in his cold hands. You hoped the heat from your blushing face would warm them. He bent towards you as you stood on your toes to meet the kiss. Your lips danced together sweetly. You parted after a moment and stared into each other's eyes. Cove’s ocean blue eyes glistened and crinkled with the wide smile that spread across his face. You dove into a hug, wrapping your arms around his tall frame. He returned the hug enthusiastically.

Cove: Let’s get everything unpacked and unwind. I need to get that fireplace lit as soon as possible.

You agreed and helped Cove locate a suitable location for the luggage. He paused with his gift-laden suitcase in hand. Face lost in thought, Cove's grip tightened on the suitcase.

Y/N: Everything okay, Cove?

Cove: Today is Christmas Eve.

Y/N: That it is.

Cove: Presents go under the tree on Christmas Eve.

You chuckled at his observations, but allowed him to continue speaking. He brushed it off casually.

Cove: I want this to be special, Y/N. If I put the gifts under the tree now you’ll see them and start wondering what’s inside.

The concern in his tone was apparent. It was just like Cove to worry so deeply about something most people wouldn’t think about. You pondered for a moment.

Y/N: Wait for me to fall asleep tonight, then sneak them under the tree like the real Santa Claus.

Cove laughed at the implication of a “real” Santa Claus. You were glad to see his mood lighten. He hesitated, then set the suitcase behind the others, careful to conceal it. Perhaps in an attempt to block you from using your x-ray vision to see through the luggage. You thought it was ridiculous, but in the sweetest way. Satisfied with the arrangement, Cove slapped his hands against his legs.

Cove: Well, now what? What Christmas activities does Y/N have planned today?

Y/N: Let me just pull out my Christmas to-do list.

You spoke sarcastically with a twinkle in your eyes. Cove rolled his eyes lightheartedly and wandered to the fireplace. While he fiddled with it you sank heavily into the couch. With an enthused “Aha!” from Cove, the fireplace roared to life. It crackled pleasantly.

Cove turned around to smile at you sweetly. He patted the ground next to him. You got up and settled in next to Cove. He wrapped his arm around you and drew you in closer. You immediately appreciated the warmth from both Cove and the fireplace. You leaned on his shoulder.

You spent the rest of the morning watching Christmas movies and munching on candy canes. For lunch, you and Cove made macaroni and cheese. You both welcomed the gooey warmth of the meal.

Imbued with energy from lunch, you leapt from your seat and proclaimed.

Y/N: We have to go outside and enjoy the snow before the sun goes down.

Cove made a sour face and spoke quietly without looking up from his now empty bowl.

Cove: Enjoy, yeah…

You sighed and clenched your jaw, restraining yourself. You knew Cove would be difficult regarding the snow, but hoped the special occasion would nudge him along.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll go outside myself.

Cove’s head immediately snapped up and he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes. He didn’t expect you to so easily give up on convincing him. You maintained an unimpressed expression while he spoke.

Cove: No, Y/N. I’ll come with you. You know I love spending time with you no matter what.

Your expression cracked with a hint of a smile, but you regained control.

Y/N: You’re going to hate it. Don’t bother.

You weren’t sure why you were being so stubborn with this. Cove was willing to compromise, but you still felt annoyed that his initial reaction put a damper on your mood. You shut your eyes tightly, now irritated by your own childishness.

Cove stood up and firmly gripped your shoulders. He waited for you to look at him. You met his gaze and stuck out your bottom lip in a small pout.

Cove: Let’s go build a snowman. It’ll be like building a sandcastle.

You sighed, but couldn’t resist his comforting voice and adoring eyes.

Y/N: I’m going to have to bundle you in layers. Gloves, a hat, maybe even a scarf.

Cove cringed at each word that escaped your lips. He nodded anyway. You both put on more winter gear in preparation for the snow activities. You held open the door for Cove, who hesitantly stepped outside.

Cove: This is way worse than the ice skating rink.

Y/N: You don’t say?

You loved teasing Cove for his blunt and often obvious statements, but he knew you adored him for it. He scoffed and stuck his tongue out at you.

Y/N: Careful with that, might get stuck on a pole.

Cove retreated his tongue and blushed lightly. You gently poked his tummy then grabbed his hand to lead him into the snow. You chose a wide open space away from the cabin for your snowman’s home. You started shoveling snow into a pile. Cove stood reluctantly nearby. You didn’t want to push him, but hoped he would join in the building.

To your surprise, it was only a moment before Cove dug his gloved hands into the snow. He smiled at you shakily while adding to your growing pile of snow. You went back and forth between adding snow and rounding the pile into a snowman base. Cove’s big hands proved useful in this endeavor. With the base done, you moved onto the head.

Y/N: We have to make the head smaller than the body.

Cove: How small? Do you want to give him a shrunken head?

You cackled at the thought, but shook your head.

Y/N: I think he deserves a normal sized head.

Between the two of you, the snowman’s head slowly grew. You stepped back to assess the size.

Y/N: I think that’s perfect. What do you think, Cove?

Cove stepped back as well and tilted his head. He spoke matter-of-factly.

Cove: Looks like a snowman.

Y/N: Not yet, he needs a face and arms.

You scoured the ground around you for twigs, leaves, and rocks. Cove did the same.

Cove: If only we had seashells. That would bring it all together.

With your findings combined, you got to work on designing the snowman. His face came together in a wide smile made of various pebbles. Leaves stuck to the top of his head represented the hair. Two sticks on either side of his body became the arms. Cove found several small pinecones to pin on his front like an array of buttons. Finally, the nose. You didn’t have a carrot on hand, so you opted for another one of Cove’s pointier pinecones.

Once again, you stepped back with Cove to admire your work. You wrapped your arm around him in a side hug, he returned the gesture with an arm around your shoulder.

Y/N: He’s beautiful.

You pretended to dramatically wipe a tear from your eye.

Cove: We should name him.

You agreed, and began to ponder names that would fit the snowman. After much deliberation, you settled on Sandy, as a memento of the inspiration for his existence.

Y/N: Sandy the Snowman, it really is perfect.

Cove: Next time we’re at the beach we should build a sandman and name him Snowy.

Cove waggled his eyebrows at you, hoping for a reaction to his hilarious joke. You couldn’t contain the grin that emerged from within. You were suddenly overcome by a wave of affection for Cove. His dorky jokes, the way he looked at you, his willingness to put his own comfort aside for your sake. You wanted nothing more than to push him down into the snow and ravage him. Knowing better, you instead decided to grab his hand again and lead him back indoors.

Cove followed with a small gasp at your sudden insistence. Once inside, you leaned Cove against the door and pressed your lips into his. You were desperate for his warmth. He returned the kiss passionately, running his fingers through your hair. You broke away from Cove, satisfied with your second mistle-toe kiss. Cove stood bewildered, disappointed by losing the warmth of your lips. You winked at him, never tiring of teasing your flustered fiancé.

You spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other’s company. You played board games, sang Christmas songs, and drank hot chocolate. As the evening emerged, a light snowfall began outside. You gazed out the window, hypnotized by the dancing snowflakes. Your eyes began to droop, and you felt the weight of the day pulling you down. You yawned and turned to Cove, who was already turning the couch into a bed. He must have sensed your weariness.

Cove threw some blankets and pillows into the bed and you dove right into the inviting warmth. He joined you and extended his arm to make his chest available to your sleepy head. You nuzzled in and closed your eyes, ready to drift away…

You stirred awake at the feeling of the mattress shifting. Your eyes fluttered open and tried to adjust to the darkness. Cove was climbing back into bed. It was completely dark outside, you judged it must have been a few hours after you fell asleep. Still half asleep, you muttered quietly to Cove.

Y/N: Santa, baby…

You couldn’t see his expression through the darkness, instead you heard a small chuckle. You held your arms out limply, hoping for a Cove cuddle. He took you in his arms and kissed the top of your head. You continued feebly, in a sleepy sing-song voice.

Y/N: So hurry down the chimney tonight…

Cove chuckled again and stroked your cheek gently.

Cove: I love you so much.

That was the last thing you heard before falling back into a deep slumber. Several hours later, the morning sun woke you. Cove was sleeping peacefully next to you, likely exhausted from playing Santa Claus last night. You turned over and rested your body on his chest. You peppered his face in tiny kisses until he awoke. His eyes eased open, a smile already growing across his face.

Y/N: Merry Christmas, Cove.

Cove: Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Unable to contain your excitement, you leapt out of bed, leaving Cove to fully wake himself up. You ran to your suitcase and recovered the small wrapped gift you got for Cove. You decided to place it beneath the already populated tree. Your jaw dropped seeing how many gifts Cove got you. You placed the gift down carefully and went to check on Cove.

Y/N: Please tell me you’re ready to open gifts.

Cove: I’m ready, but you have to open yours first.

You didn’t argue, you wanted to save your gift to Cove for last anyway. He joined you by the tree and sat cross-legged across from you.

Y/N: Where should I start? Is there any order to this madness?

Cove thought for a moment, then pulled out one of the presents. Shiny reindeer-imprinted paper covered the box. He held it out to you.

Cove: Definitely start with this one.

Impressed that he seemed to remember what was in each box, you took the gift with a smile. You tore open the paper and uncovered the joy within: an adorable stuffed dolphin. Your eyes lit up as you hugged the little guy. You thanked Cove, who immediately bestowed you with another carefully selected box. You giggled and repeated the process. The rest of the boxes contained: a book from your favorite series, tickets to an upcoming play, rare foreign candy, colorful seashells, and a beautiful ocean-themed puzzle.

You felt overwhelmed by the thought that Cove put into each gift. You struggled to find words besides “thank you.” However, Cove wasn’t done. He handed you a final box.

Cove: One more.

You unwrapped this one carefully, a mix of anticipation and nerves stirring within. Inside was a small album titled “Our Life.” You carefully lifted it out of the box and flipped through the pages. Each page was designed to represent a point in your lives together, from childhood all the way to this past summer. There were pictures, funny quotes, tickets from various events, and doodles. Cove even included the piece of paper from your infamous hang-man game.

You were already tearing up before you noticed a smaller box within the original box. With shaking hands and a pounding heart, you opened it.

Inside the box was a simple ring with an engraved wave design. You couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears that erupted from your eyes. Your emotions surged and your mind was spinning. Without speaking, you grabbed the present you put under the tree and offered it to Cove. He was visibly confused, even a bit concerned.

Cove: Y/N, is everything okay?

You spoke through tears.

Y/N: Just open it.

Cove silently complied. His fingers carefully removed the red and white pinstriped paper. He looked at you nervously before looking into the box. His eyes widened and glistened.

Cove: A ring…

You laughed shakily and scooted closer to Cove, still holding your own small box. He looked up at you, tears streaming down his red cheeks.

Y/N: We’re already engaged, but still got rings for each other. And look at how emotional we are about it!

Cove: I thought it would be nice to make it official with a real engagement ring.

You nodded in agreement, pleased that you were both on the same page.

Y/N: Let’s put them on each other.

You exchanged rings with Cove. He held your still shaking hand and carefully slipped the ring onto your finger. You did the same, relieved that the ring was a perfect fit on his finger.

You let out a massive sigh, it felt as if you had been holding your breath for ages. Cove was admiring the ring on his finger, his ocean eyes still glimmering with tears.

Cove: It feels as magical as it did the first time on the poppy hill.

You looked at him adoringly, unable to contain the crashing ocean of love you felt inside.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. For putting in so much effort for me. All the time. But especially this Christmas. I know holidays aren’t your thing, especially not winter ones…

Rambling nervously, you felt like Cove in that moment. He invited you to sit on his lap with a simple pat. You settled in and waited. He cradled you close and spoke quietly but confidently.

Cove: You are my thing. You’re the best gift I could ask for. You make braving holidays and snow worth it. I can’t imagine how this day could get any better.

Cove was right. The morning was still fresh, and you were already swimming in bliss. You sniffled, feeling lucky to have him and looking forward to living your life with the man you love. Christmas Day would hold a special place in your hearts for the rest of your lives.

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.9)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Smoking, Oral

“Nigga you wanna give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t blow the bitch head off as soon as she step in my shit.” Durk stated calmly as he blew out the smoke of his blunt before knocking the ashes off of it.

Erik shook his head. “Cause nigga it’ll be too hot for you after you do that shit. We don’t know if she told someone she was coming here or not. So take your finger off the trigger and relax.” Digging his hands in his pockets Erik leaned on the desk looking at the office door.

Durk was on edge since he got the call from Alexis two days ago. Erik wasted no time coming down at the auto to meet him. When he made it inside he seen Durk laying on his leather couch relaxed. That’s when Erik knew he was heated for real. Whenever Durk got angry he would be silent before ticking like a time bomb.

So he didn’t take Alexis threat too kindly after making him aware of what she knew. He was even ready to send one of his shooters to her place but Erik had to stop him especially after he got a text from her saying that she wanted to have a meeting with just the two of them. It was hard to get Durk to agree to it but after talking some sense into him he finally gave in to see what she had to say.

Checking his watch it was going on five thirty in the evening. She was supposed to be here by now but Erik knew her to always be late. Out of his peripheral vision he seen Durk getting out of his chair to stand beside him.

“No disrespect but ya bitch is running late and I’m getting impatient.” He stated while readjusting his Rolex.

“I told you that’s not my bitch. She’ll be here.” Erik spoke quietly annoyed with the fact he kept associating them together.

As if on cue the door open revealing Moe,one of Durks lookout guys, and Alexis dressed down in a beige and black Balenciaga sweater dress along with the black trainers. Her hair now back to her natural brown curls with a side part that fell along her shoulders. It was Erik’s favorite look on her and she knew it. Erik started to check her out but averted his gaze when he noticed it.

Walking over to a chair she sat down.“Hello gentlemen. How are you guys-“

“Stop the bullshit and give me a good explanation why I shouldn’t out yo ass after calling me making threats you can’t keep.” Durk cut her off ready to get to the chase.

She laughed taking off the shades she had covering her eyes. “Well one I told a friend, who is by the way a part of law enforcement, that I would be here and that if she doesn’t hear from me within the next 24 hours...come here. Is that good enough for you?” She mocked his tone.

“Alexis why the fuck are you here?” Erik decided to step in before she made the tension in the room any worst than what it already was.

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you. I changed my mind about the $15,000. You can keep it. Because like the saying goes money makes more money.”

“Yeah well I got another quote for you, you can’t take it with you when you die so are you gonna keep wasting my time with ya bullshit ass TedTalk or you gon say what the fuck you got to say.” Durk folded his hands growing impatient.

Erik’s eyebrows knitted together trying to figure out why she was here. Alexis didn’t come to collect the $15,000 she supposedly was going to black mail him for, she came for something else. She wanted to do business..

“Let’s work together. Start us a team.”

Erik chuckled realizing that he was spot on. He knew her too well and knew that she would take on an opportunity like this to make it good for herself. Alexis was money hungry and was will to do whatever it took to get to it.

Durk laughed looking back and forth between Erik and Alexis. He walked over to where she was and pulled up a chair sitting directly in front of her.

“Now you wanna tell me why I would work with a scheming ass person like you? Please inform me.” Resting his hand on his chin, Durk was taking her for a joke.

Alexis rolled her eyes scooting her chair back.

“Because the nigga that you robbed the other night ain’t lose out on shit. You think that million dollars that you stole from him did anything? Nah, you didn’t even take a small portion compared to what he has hiding out in Upsate.”

Now she had both Durk’s and Erik’s attention. Durks because he wanted to know how much more money that Shawn had that he didn’t know about and Erik’s because he wanted to know where she was going with this.

“Why you think he was so quick to give it up without a fight? He got plenty more where that came from and I know where it is. But I want a fraction of whatever you’re able to take. I’ll help you if you could help me.” Crossing her legs Alexis let the information she gave to them sink in.

Durk looked back at Erik searching for any sign to see if she was telling the truth or not but Erik couldn’t tell himself. So he questioned her.

“How we know this isn’t a set up? How do you even know where his stash is? I mean didn’t you just meet this nigga.” He bombarded her trying to see what she knew.

“No it’s not a set up and no I didn’t just meet him. I’ve actually known him for quite a while.” She stated while inspecting her nails.

Erik took in everything she said. He began to wonder about how did she know all of this information and in such little time. He was with Alexis for at least nine months so that only meant that she had to been messing around on him with Shawn.

“So you must’ve have been fucking him after you met me then huh? How do you know so much Alexis.” Erik questioned hoping to catch her off guard not taking his gaze off her.

She turned her direction towards him. “No Erik I’ve actually been fucking him before you and I know all of this because he’s my ex-fiancé. We’re sometimes on and off.”

Silence filled the room for a full minute before Durk began to laugh. He got up from his seat and went to his desk. Taking a fresh blunt he sparked it up doing a long pull.

“I don’t know what’s more fucked up. You fucking around on your fiancé and made my mans here the side nigga or the fact that you want to rob the nigga for everything he got. You one grimy bitch shorty.” He blew smoke in her direction.

Erik stayed quiet.

Getting up Alexis stood in front of Durk. She took the blunt out of his hands before hitting it once herself.

“Listen I don’t give two fucks about him. I wanted out anyway. Now do you think this is something we can work out or should I take my offer somewhere else?”

“Hell nah we not accepting that shit.” Erik retorted with his anger coming out after hearing that she was sleeping around on him. If there was anything that he couldn’t stand the most in this world it was disloyalty.

“Hold on, wait a minute.”

Glancing over Erik seen Durk in deep thought meaning he was taking what she said into consideration. He shook his head with disbelief. Durk was no different than Alexis when it came to getting a bag. It was the power and money that controlled him and he would do anything to remain on top. Even if it meant being friends with the enemy of his enemy and right now Alexis was definitely fitting the description.

“How much does he have?”

She lifted her shoulders up and smiled. “22 million.”

“22 million fucking dollars. You gone make me a young rich nigga. Walk with me.” A huge smile was displayed on Durkio’s face.

Erik watched as Alexis smiled when Durk led the way out of the office. She gave him one last glance and a wink before disappearing.

______________________________

“Ladies I need to see more working and less talking please.” Rhonda shouted from the back room. She was watching the cameras again.

Kelley rolled her eyes silently mocking her. Amiyah laughed while going over to the register. Popping the lid off the tupperware, she dug in the freshly homemade fruit salad she got from Kelley’s house and ate one of the pineapple slices. Hearing the sound of her phone ding she looked down. It was from Cane.

Cane: Thinking about you. See you soon...6:23pm

Amiyah sighed as she clicked her power button leaving him on read. After he kissed her on their date two nights ago Amiyah knew that she made a mistake when she agreed to going with him. The image of Erik stayed on her mind the entire night. When Cane dropped her off after, the feeling of guilt over took her so bad that she cried in the bathroom. She knew she was wrong and wanted to make it right. She planned on telling Erik about the whole ordeal but she wanted to wait for the right moment.

This was the third text she had got from him today that she didn’t reply to and he just wouldn���t get the memo. Kelley noticing her mood change, walked over picking up a piece of fruit and popped it in her mouth.

“What’s wrong girl?” She covered her mouth chewing.

“It’s Cane. He keeps texting me.”

Kelley gave her a confused look. “Isn’t that what you want him to do though?”

“No, of course not. I’m with Erik now, remember?”

Nodding her head she smirked. “Yeah and you were also with him when you went out with Cane. So what’s your point?”

Amiyah slapped her hand on the counter out of frustration. “My point is if Cane wants to be more than friends then I can’t keep him around. I already made one mistake and if I continue to keep being naive then I’m going to fuck everything up with Erik.”

“Well have you told him that you’re not single? Did you tell him you just wanted to be friends?”

Amiyah avoided eye contact with her. “No.” The answer came out just above the sound of a whisper.

“So then tell him! People can’t read your mind Miyah. How is he supposed to know if you’re not making it clear? Sounds like to me you’re leading him on.” Kelley gave her a ‘you know what you’re doing’ glance before walking away.

Amiyah rolled her eyes as she wrote down the chores in the work assignment book. To her there was no way that she was leading Cane on. Yes she kissed him but it was only because he came on to her. Even after the fact ,her vibe had changed and made things awkward during the dinner. How could he not interpret that she wasn’t feeling him the way he felt her.

Feeling the breeze from outside, Amiyah knew that a customer was making their way in. She stopped what she was doing, getting ready to greet them but halted in her tracks. There stood Cane dressed in a Gucci tracksuit holding flowers. He walked up to her with a wide grin.

“Hey...told you I was thinking about you.” He lifted up the flowers and leaned over kissing her on the cheek quickly.

Shock but yet not wanting to be rude Amiyah accepted the roses. “Wow Cane y-you didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”

With his hands now in his pockets he gave a shrug keeping his gaze on her. “It’s nothing. I missed you.” He spoke truthfully.

Cane thought that the date between them went great. Better than he expected. At first he took her out with a motive, expecting to get sex in return but his outlook changed when he got to know her. She was sweet, caring, unselfish, and thoughtful. She was everything he wasn’t used to and the feeling of her lips on his didn’t make it any better. He was crushing on her.

“I remember telling you where I work but how did you know when I would be here?” Amiyah asked him curious to find out.

He laughed. “I had to call up here. A lady name Rhonda told me.”

Amiyah mentally rolled her eyes.

Bringing her hand up to her forehead she gently placed the flowers to her side. “Cane I have something to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“We can’t be more than friends. I have a boyfriend and I really hope that I wasn’t leading you on the other night. I’m sorry.” Amiyah was starting to feel bad.

Cane did a quick scoff looking down. “Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place? I would’ve understand.”

“It’s complicated and I just-“

“It shouldn’t be.” He spoke cutting her off.

“What?”

“If he’s ya man than it shouldn’t be complicated. Only simple. I know I wouldn’t let it be and I damn sure wouldn’t let you go out on dates with other niggas...If I was your man.” He stepped closer invading her space.

“I respect you Amiyah and if backing off is something you want me to do than I’ll do it. It might take me some time to get over not seeing your pretty ass smile anymore, but what can I say? You win some you lose some.” His thumb and index finger held her chin up.

Amiyah tried not to blush but failed. “Cane your a great guy but I can’t.”

He shook his head. “Well can I have one last hug?”

He sent her a sweet smile that Amiyah wasn’t able to deny. Giggling she opened her arms. He wrapped his arms over her neck and hers went around his torso. Amiyah inhaled taking in his scent. He smelled so good right now but she had to shake the feeling. They hugged for at least ten seconds before letting go.

“I’ll see you around.” Cane gave her one final wave as he walked out the door.

Watching the whole thing go down in front of her eyes like she wasn’t there, Kelley marched over to Amiyah.

“Sis that nigga was fine as fuck. Between him and Erik I wouldn’t know who to choose either.”

Amiyah gave a light smile. “Well I do.”

________________________________________

Eight o’clock had came around faster than Amiyah anticipated. Kelley had went home an hour ago and offered to wait for her but she declined. She had to stay behind to lock up but also had to make a stop before going back to her place. Amiyah was running low on clothes so since she still had the key to her apartment she figured she can get in and out grabbing her belongings before Durk got there.

It was still early so she suspected she had some time to get it done. When Amiyah reached the lobby to the apartment building the feeling of being homesick rushed over her body. It’s only been a little under a week but it’s the longest she’s ever been away from this place since her and Durk first moved in. It took less than five minutes before making it to their door.

Going inside Amiyah searched around. Everything still look the same besides the few clothing objects that Durk left hanging out in the livingroom. Whenever Amiyah was here she’d have to pick up after him so out of habit that’s what she did. She gathered his clothes and brought them to his room putting them in his hamper. Then she walked into her room. The smell of Glad Hawaiian Breeze automatic spray hitting her nose. She missed it.

Her bed was still made up the way it was before she left. Sitting her purse and phone down on the nightstand she slipped her shoes off and got in. Her eyes closed from the warm plush blanket and mattress she felt against her body. The couch at Kelley’s was starting to become uncomfortable so right now Amiyah’s body was getting the relaxation it yearned for. She was only planning on resting for a few minutes before she got her things and left but the tiredness in her eyes betrayed her as she drifted off to sleep.

Being a light sleeper was always a blessing and a curse for Amiyah but for this instance it was a blessing. With the apartment so quiet that you can hear a pin drop she was also able to hear the sound of keys unlocking the front door. Her eyes opened quickly as she sat up in her bed. Picking up her phone she checked the time. It was 11:52pm. She overslept.

“Shit.” She cursed softly. Walking to her dresser she grabbed three tops and some jeans along with fresh bras and underwear and put them inside of her Pink tote bag.

Her ears was finally met with the voice of Durks who was talking to someone. Even though Amiyah told Erik that she was willing to talk to her brother she didn’t think it would be this soon. She wanted some more time before she had a conversation with him. She felt that they still needed time apart hence why she tried to refrain herself from being here at the same time he was. But there was nothing she could do now but face him. Getting her things she slowly walked out her room.

“Damn nigga I can’t believe that bitch played you.” Durk laughed. He was standing in the middle of the livingroom with his arms folded where he could be seen from the hallway. His body was facing the furniture. That’s when Amiyah seen that he wasn’t alone and looking at the person from behind who was sitting she knew it was Erik.

The creaking noise coming from the floor gave her away. Durk quickly looked in her direction with a hand ready to grab the gun off his waist. His eyes showed that he was both surprised and confused.

“Amiyah?” He questioned to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The sound of her name coming from his mouth made Erik’s head flew towards him. He followed his gaze and stood up when he saw Amiyah holding a bag of clothes. Observing her he noticed that her eyes were a light red. Like she just got finished either crying or sleeping but when Erik saw the frizzy-ness to her hair he knew she had just woken up.

“Hey I just came to pick up some things. I’m leaving now.” Her eyesight averted between the both of them.

“Why? I mean where have you been? How are you doing?” Being the protective brother that he was Durk rushed her with questions.

Lifting her shoulders in a half shrug she answered. “I’m good and I been at Kelley’s. Which I should be going back to now.” Amiyah tried walking to the door but was stopped.

“Amiyah we don’t have to keep doing this shit. I’m sorry okay. You my lil sis and I love you. I was fucked up kicking you out the way I did but I didn’t expect you to leave for real.” Durk dropped his hands to his sides. He wanted his little sister back home with him.

Amiyah folded her arms snickering to herself. “Not only did you kick me out but you called me a bitch Derrick.”

“And I’m sorry. I was in the heat of the moment. Shit we both said some things that we didn’t mean but to hold grudges, that’s something we never do and you know that. Dad would’ve never let us go this long without talking to each other.” He walked in front of her putting his hand on her shoulder.

With the burning sensation creeping around her eyes Amiyah held back her tears. The reference of their father struck a nerve in her. Her and Durk never mentioned him that much since he was sentenced to life. So when he brought him up Amiyah became emotional.

“Listen Durk I’m sorry for the things that I said. Yes sometimes I speak without thinking and that’s something we both do. But it hurt having my own brother kick me out of a place where I am supposed to feel safe and protected. You gave me no choice but to leave so I did.” Amiyah paused wiping away the tears that fell.

“Look you’re my brother and I love you but I just need a little bit more time.”

Durk nodded before wiping her last falling tear. “Okay I understand but before you go I just want to know if you forgive me. I can’t go another day without knowing.”

Without saying a word Amiyah embrace him. He rested his chin on her head while closing his eyes.It reminded her of the hugs he used to give her when she was younger. Amiyah missed them.

Erik massaged the back of his neck watching them make up. It even gave him a sense of relief that he no longer had to wonder when it would happen. He was happy to be here to see it for himself.

“I have to get back to Kelley’s.” Amiyah separated from the embrace throwing her tote over her shoulder.

Patting down his pants Durk searched for his keys.

“Let me take you-“

“No it’s fine. I’ll take an Uber. It’s how I got here anyways.” She gave a small smile.

“Miyah you know how I feel about that. Just let me drive you there and that’s it?”

“Thank you Durk but I’m fine. Remember I still need some time?” She nudged him before it went quiet.

“I’ll bring her.” Erik stood in the middle catching attention from both of them.

Amiyah smiled in the inside when she heard him speak. Not wanting to be too obvious she faked declined his offer.

“No it’s okay.”

“Amiyah look I know you mad at me and all but Erik ain’t got nothing to do with what we got going on. At least let him bring you. I trust him.” He gave her a look hoping she agreed.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Amiyah did a false sigh while rolling her eyes. Walking past Erik to the door she gave him a quick glance with a smirk.

Erik had to hide his smile as he shook his head. He knew that she was trying to make it seem like she didn’t want him to bring her but he knew it was a front. Getting his things he gave Durk a dap.

“Aye man make sure she make it inside safely before you pull off.”

“Of course. I’ll catch you later to talk more about business.”

___________________

The hip hop station played in the background. Erik was trying to pay attention to the road but failed with the beautiful distraction sitting next to him. They were currently talking about how Amiyah had to fake an attitude just so her brother wouldn’t suspect anything. She couldn’t help herself from laughing as she talked about the look on Erik’s face.

“You did not know, liar.” Her giggles filling up the car.

Erik smacked his lips. “C’mon stop playing with me. I could tell you was faking. I know you ma.” Reaching over he picked up her hand kissing the back of it. He held on to it for the rest of the time.

“Whatever.” Looking out the window Amiyah noticed that they weren’t in Kelley’s neighborhood. They were driving for a while so they should’ve been there but weren’t even close to the area.

“Where are we going?” She asked fiddling with his watch.

“Uh I want to show you something. It’s a surprise.”

For the first time since knowing him Amiyah could observe from his body language that Erik was nervous. The repeated roll of his shoulders with the clutch of the steering wheel gave him away. It was cute to her being that she never seen him in this state before.

“Erik...are you getting nervous?” She teased leaning forward to get a better look at him.

He turned his head blocking her view. “Chill mama.”

Amiyah laughed as the car came to a stop. Looking around they were in a parking lot with a tall building next to it. From her point of view it looked like apartments. She glanced at Erik as he pushed the button shutting the car off.

“What’s this?”

He stroked his beard before answering. “This is where I live.”

Amiyah was taken back when the words left his mouth. She couldn’t believe that he brought her here. To his place. Knowing how Erik was a private person she didn’t think she would get this far at an early stage.

Erik noticed that she hardly said a word. It was making him rethink his actions. “You want to come in or should I bring you back to Kelley’s?” He began to gabble.

“No let’s go in. I want to see where you live.” Her smile was wide. She was curious and couldn’t help herself.

As they walked through the building Amiyah’s wandered everywhere. She was taking it all in. From the structure of the walls even to the boring art work that laid on them. It was the excitement in her that had her roaming everywhere. They reached the elevators and stepped in. He pressed the eleventh floor before closing the doors. Erik stood against the wall and pulled her in front of him holding onto her hip.

“Eleventh floor? You’re living pretty high and mighty Mr.-“ She paused realizing that she didn’t know his last name.

“What is your last name by the way?” She tilted her head looking back at him.

He chuckled. “Why you plan on making it yours or something?”

She blushed facing forward.

“Stevens.”The raspiness of his late night voice had Amiyah clenching her thighs.

“Erik Stevens. I guess it goes together.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer with her back against his hard chest. She could feel her ass pressing into his length. It made her jump from surprise as the throbbing in her kitty appeared. Moving her hair to the side Erik bent down putting his face in her neck.

“Just like you and me go together.” He spoke softly rubbing on her hips.

She panted biting her lip. She placed her hands on top of his not knowing what else to do with them. Erik heard a moaned escape her lips when he kissed her neck. Kissing over the faint hickies that were still there. When the elevator doors opened they walked out hand in hand as Erik lead them to his door. Taking out his keys he unlocked it and it open with his free hand.

When he flipped on the light Amiyah’s face lit up. Her eyes drifted everywhere. She was amazed with how he was living. He was doing good for himself and it looked like a true bachelor’s pad. An all black sectional with grey pillows. A sixty-five inch flat screen tv mounted on the wall. His kitchen was neat and clean which meant he probably doesn’t use it as much or he was just a clean person.

Amiyah giggled softly placing her things on the couch. “Babe you stay here all by yourself?”

Erik placed his keys on the counter before walking to his bar. He pulled out a bottle of Hennessy cracking it open and pouring it in a glass. The burn going down his throat when he took a sip.

He lifted his shoulders. “What you think mama?” He asked her sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. “I think I want to keep looking around.” She dragged her nails across the couch.

The was a flight of stairs attached to the same wall that the tv was on. Amiyah strolled over glancing at them before going up. When she reached the top she walked through a short hall to be met with his room.

“Wow just wow.”

He was truly living like a king and she couldn’t believe that he was living in this palace alone. She heard footsteps coming up so she plopped down on the bed posing.

“How do I look?” Taking a piece of her locks she tucked it behind her ear.

Erik stepped inside sipping on what was to be his third glass of Henn. The liquor was doing its job as he already felt the effects of being tipsy. He sat the finished glass on his nightstand as he took of his jacket.

“You look like you supposed to be there.” He lifted his eyebrows removing his shirt next with his chain swinging from the sudden quickness.

Amiyah sat up from her spot. Her nerves going crazy when she saw his bare chest. The flex in his muscles whenever he moved his arms created a dampness in her panties. It was the littlest things he did that would always set her off.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes roaming over his body.

“Bout to take a shower. You wanna join?” The look on his face read that he was serious as he asked that question like it was nothing.

Amiyah scoffed with surprise. “No but I’ll take one first...without you.” She stood up walking towards his bathroom. He followed behind chuckling.

“I don’t know why you acting like that. It’s not like I ain’t see that pretty pussy already.” He leaned against his sink. The definition in his arms were showing.

The wetness between her thighs were flowing. She folded her arms glaring at him softly. “Just give me a towel Erik.”

He hung his head laughing as he went into the bathroom closet grabbing an extra wash cloth and bath towel. He handed it to her before going under the sink and grabbing a bar of dove soap.

“Here, hurry up. I want to get in next.” He tossed her the bar.

“And if I don’t?” She asked smartly.

“Don’t act surprised when I come in there with you.” He stated seriously and walked out.

_

It was easy for her to work the shower. The hot and cold handles were separate so there was no difficulty in trying to find which way it went. Amiyah allowed the water to cascade down her body. She gave a relaxed sigh as she foamed her body up with the lather. This was very much needed after the day she had. Being at Erik’s place was so peaceful. It was mellow and quiet. Something she could get used to. If this is what it felt like to live alone than she was definitely going to start putting in application for a spot.

Her shower ended after fifteen minutes. Since it wasn’t her place she didn’t want to be rude and take a long one as well as using up all of his hot water. Reaching her arm out of the glass door she grabbed her towel making sure it was secure before stepping out. She was so busy trying to hurry up and wash the day off she forgot her clothes downstairs.

Amiyah picked up her dirty clothes. She rolled her eyes knowing that Erik was going to see her in nothing but a towel at any moment. She did a light jog downstairs making sure she had a grip on the linen so it wouldn’t fall. Spotting her bag on the sectional she walked over to it. For a minute she thought she was alone until she saw Erik drinking a bottle of water standing between the doorway of the kitchen and livingroom. He cocked his head to the side staring at her as he drunk. Then he called her over.

“C’mere.” With his deep voice it was loud and clear.

Erik watched as she eyed him up and down. The way she looked in nothing but his towel had his dick on ten. How the bottom of her hair stuck to her back due to its wetness. The way her thick thighs had the towel rising up. He was ready to devour her. He was no where near drunk but the liquor was aiding into his horny-ness.

“What do you want Erik?” Her tone was teasing yet playfully annoyed. She grabbed her bra and panties but had no night clothes. She slapped her hand against her thigh when she noticed.

“Come over here and come find out.” His tongue hanging out before swiping it over his bottom lip. When she didn’t listen once again he began to walk over.

Amiyah studied his actions. Watching him draw nearer to her she started walking away going back up the stairs. He followed closed behind. Amiyah felt his stares on her ass. Making it back to the masters she stood beside his bed. She became nervous feeling him up her back. Not sure what to do she gripped the top of her towel to occupy her hands.

“Why you don’t listen ma?” He pulled up the pants that were hanging dangerously below his waist. Lightly grabbing her arm he turned her around. She was gazing up at him the same way he fantasize her doing in the shower the other day. He wrapped his arm around her pulling her in for a kiss but she put one between them creating space.

“What do you want Erik?” Amiyah asked softly for the second time and smiled blocking his advances. She was liking this game of making him work hard for it. This time he was yearning for her and she was in control.

Chewing on his top lip he told her straight up. “I want to eat ya pussy.” His tone was blunt.

When he stepped forward she stepped back which resulted in her stumbling and falling on the bed. They both look down at the same time to see her towel risen up just inches away from showing her treasure. She left it that way.

“You not gonna try and pull it down?” Erik leaned over her placing his hands on either side of her.

Resting up on her elbows she shook her head. “No.”

Amiyah reached up playing with his chain. The ring that accompanied it catching her attention. Erik admire her as he watched. Amiyah was just as horny as he was. She could feel the sticky wetness coating her lower lips. She never received oral before so she was willing to jump at the opportunity that was thrown at her. She leaned into him giving what he was longing for, a kiss.

Erik’s tongue swirled in her mouth. He followed her as she laid flat on the bed. Her legs opened inviting him in. He felt her small hands rubbing up and down his back before they started to tug at his pants. He grabbed her hands holding them down by her hips as he moved his kisses to her neck.

“Can I move this towel?” He asked coming up from her neck.

Amiyah’s eyes shifted down. She wanted this badly but she didn’t know if she was ready for Erik to see all of her yet. The thought of being completely naked in front of him caused butterflies to erupt in her belly. She still had insecurities that she was dealing with.

Erik noticed that she was overthinking it. He kissed her shoulder blade and the open area across her chest. “Get out your head mama. You beautiful.”

Even though Erik wanted to see all of her he could tell that she wasn’t ready. So he respected her wishes but he still wanted to show her how beautiful her and her body was to him. Leaving the towel in place he skipped down to her uncovered thighs. The dove scent being easily detectable. Getting on his knees he pulled her body closer to the edge making her shriek. He kissed the top of them causing her to shiver.

“Can I eat this pussy?” His breath touching her skin.

Leaning up on her elbows once more Amiyah nodded but Erik wanted to hear verbal confirmation. “Speak.” He demanded ready to open her legs and dive in.

“Yes daddy.” She bit her lip hiding the trembling in her voice.

Amiyah’s body shook lightly with every kiss he placed on her legs. He took both of his hands gripping her thick thighs before separating them exposing her wet bare pussy. He bit his lip inhaling her natural aroma. Amiyah was no longer watching as she laid on her back one hand already gripping his covers and the other covering her face.

Erik hooked her by the back of her knees spreading her wider. He gave her light kisses on her inner thighs getting both sides. He watched as they shook after each one. His eyes traveled to her middle finally coming face to face with her phat pussy. His mouth watered remembering the teasing taste that he had on his fingers last time. He’s been craving her pussy ever since and tonight he was going to take her for every drop.

“Hold your legs for me baby girl.”

She replaced his hands with hers and jumped when she felt his fingers spread her lower lips open. Her breath picked up as she felt the heat from his mouth get close to her aching core. Leaning up and looking down in time she watched as Erik gave her one swift lick from her hole to her clit. Her body jolted letting go of her hold on her legs.

“Don’t start that runnin shit.” He held her legs opened again this time her stringy lubricant showing when her pussy lips spread. “Damn ya shit wet as fuck.”

Erik took one hand separating her meaty lips. Using his long pointy tongue he flicked her clit a few times bringing it out of hiding. Amiyah covered her mouth moaning into her hand. The feeling of his wet tongue bringing the vocals out of her. When her nub was nice and perky he swirled his tongue over in a rotation before making a tight suction with his lips over it.

Amiyah ,not used to the feeling, clamped her thighs on his head. The involuntary whimpers left her mouth. She couldn’t stop them from coming. Sitting up she used one hand to try and push his head from between her thighs but couldn’t when Erik gripped them wrapping his arms around them.

“Erikkk...I can’t.” She moaned trying to back away.

He was going back and forth between sucking her clit and giving firm flicks. She wanted him to stop but keep going at the same time. She didn’t understand what was going on. But what alarmed her the most was when she felt her legs shake and muscle jerking from the inside. Amiyah gripped the covers searching for something to hold on to.

Erik continued his movements. Between clenched thighs he watched her make faces that she couldn’t fake. The taste of her cream coating his tongue made him almost animalistic. He wanted to ease up but he couldn’t. Bringing his hands to the back her thighs he snatched them from around his head as he pushed them all the way back. Now standing up he was bending down eating her pussy.

He paid attention to her body and noticed she would always start to jerk when he sucked her clit. So that’s what he did. Repeatedly. He was going to suck that pussy until he made it cum.

Reaching down Amiyah pushed his head into her pussy biting her lip. Tears producing in her eyes. A tight cramp feeling in her lower abdomen. Yet he kept eating her out. Her hips rocked up towards his mouth as she couldn’t explain why she still wanted it even through overstimulation.

“Daddyyy...” She whimper watching him flick her clit. Her toes curled from the feeling.

“Mhmm.” He moaned against her pussy causing a shake within her body.

“What are you doing to me?...daddy.” She whined in hush tone not caring about her towel that had started to come undone.

Erik repeated off and on sucking drove her crazy. He lifted up with a string of her wetness attached to his full lips and beard. “I’m taking care of the pussy. This what you wanted right?” He teased while sending one long slow dripping spit that landed directly on her bud.

Amiyah’s legs jerked when he went back to sucking her sensitive clit. “Mm I think I love youuu.” She threw her head back. The vibration of his laugher could be felt through her nub.

‘Got that ass!’

Erik thought as he laughed while remaining his assult on her pussy. He was ready to taste her nectar. Bringing his hands up to her tittes he pulled and twisted her nipples before flicking them with his index fingers. It took nothing but a few seconds for the double stimulation to have her pussy oozing out her juices right on to his tongue.

Her thrusting hips came to a stop as Amiyah placed her hands on Erik’s that was resting on her breast. Her stomach that was now showing caving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Looking up at his ceiling she felt his light kisses traveling up her body stopping at her head. She felt exhausted and drained but very much relaxed.

Erik putting his nose in her hair inhaling her scent brought a hand up to her throat. He then moved his lips against her ear and spoke lowly. “You better not give my pussy up to nobody but me.”

He kissed her softly before getting up to take a shower.

____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

Tag-List

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[fuchsiagrasshopper]

The Olive Branch

Author's note: Here is a modern AU one-shot I wrote for @maggiescarborough 400 follower challenge. My prompt was breaking up. Congratulations hun and thanks for letting me take part! It was something completely different for me to write and I hope everyone enjoys!

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Fem:reader

Word count: 3400

Warnings: Angst, language

Your relationship with Ivar had run its course. You had known it was over the moment you overheard him talking about you in his office to his brother. What had begun as a sweet gesture to surprise your boyfriend for lunch had ended with you sneaking back out the building before he could find out you had been there. You still didn't remember most of that escape, as you had been too busy forcing yourself not to cry or scream from hurt.

It was a Tuesday, and you were fortunate enough to have a day off from work. You decided to be spontaneous, picking up soup from your favorite deli to surprise Ivar with for lunch. His job didn't always allow him the time or luxury to stop to eat, but today you would make sure he was looked after.

You and Ivar had been seeing each other for nearly six months, and you felt that in that stretch of time you had made it past any difficult hurdles that could turn a relationship sour. It wasn't perfect, but little arguments and disagreements had to be weathered in any relationship, and you got to a point where you were both comfortable with each other's faults and tendencies. When you had met one another's families without hassle, you figured that was as good a sign as any that this was something special.

You didn't go to his place of work often, but you knew your way around well enough to find his office. He worked for his family's exporting company, a numbers game that consisted of suits and ties, and corporate gatherings. Ivar had once described them to you as ass-kissing at the highest level, and after attending a few black-tie affairs by his side you understood his point.

You made your way down the brightly lit corridor that was all freshly polished floors and heavy oak doors with gold inlaid nameplates. The designer of the office had spared no expense on the finishes, and you felt underdressed compared to the expensive attire of the workers.

As you rounded the corner to Ivar's office you could see his door was ajar. He was speaking with someone, and as you neared you recognized Ubbe's voice. It didn't sound like work talk, it sounded more like Ubbe was discussing his family. You were about to walk in to interrupt when your name was suddenly brought up.

"So, how are things going with (Y/N)?" Ubbe asked.

There was a long pause before Ivar answered, and that filled you with dread. "Okay, I guess."

"You guess? I thought things were going great."

You understood Ubbe's point. You thought things were working out well between you two.

"I don't know. Recently I've been feeling that it's run its course between us. I don't think there's a future there."

Your heart was in your throat, and you thought you were going to be sick. Ivar could be distant, but you had no idea he was at the end of his rope when it came to your relationship.

"Really? Ubbe sounded as confused as you felt. "What brought this on?"

"It's whenever we do something in a social setting. She's not a bad girlfriend, but she's too shy for any of my work functions, and she isn't spontaneous enough."

"Right, as opposed to Freydis?" You heard the crunch of leather as Ubbe took a seat. "You're still hung up on her."

"I can't help it," Ivar shot back. "She was perfect for me. She fit in with my lifestyle. (Y/N)'s a good person, but she's too simple. I'm...bored when I'm with her."

A good person. Those were the only kind words he had to say about you, after dating for months. You knew about his relationship with Freydis in little detail, and only that they had broken up because she moved away for work. Maybe he should have gone with her. You were feeling bitter and used, and you couldn't listen to any more of the disparagement. You even felt guilty about eavesdropping, but you wondered how much longer he planned on keeping this from you if he was so miserable.

Your feet started in the opposite direction, reaching the elevator with your head down and the lunch you had brought hanging loosely in your grasp. Your breathing had turned labored in your attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you kept pressing the button to shut the double doors before you were forced to endure a long ride down to the lobby in the company of one of Ivar's coworkers.

The moment you were on the ground floor you began fast walking to get outside, and you threw away the lunch in the first trash bin you passed. Your eyes stun when the chilly wind brushed your face, and you knew the tears you had struggled to hold in were beginning to fall. You hoped to God people weren't staring, and you kept at a brisk pace in the direction of anywhere. You and Ivar didn't live together, so you at least had your own space to hide.

As you approached the train station, your phone buzzed with a message. It was from Ivar. You wondered what words Ubbe had plied him with to get him to reach out. Usually, a message from him when you knew he was at work would have been a delight, but now you were already into second-guessing. It was a simple invite to dinner, but you knew you wouldn't be able to sit in a restaurant and pretend everything was alright. You replied with an excuse.

Sorry, I'm not feeling well today. Raincheck

Ivar's reply was quick and to the point with a simple 'okay, feel better'. But you wouldn't feel better. Your relationship was over, he just wasn't privy to the fact yet, and you didn't want to end it with the embarrassment and disappointment still so fresh…

ooOOoo

And that's how it was for the next two weeks. You distanced yourself from Ivar while gaining clarity about the situation. The hurt turned into a dull throb, but you also accepted that it wasn't his fault for feeling the way he did, even if that was cold comfort to you. It was best for you both if you ended it and moved on.

"I think we should break up," You finished saying to Ivar as he had tried to gift you a diamond bracelet. He had dropped in unannounced again, a habit that had started after you blew off the dinner. Your visits consisted of sitting in silence on opposite sides of the sofa, and you could barely bring yourself to kiss him when he would leave.

He must have sensed something was off the past few times you had seen each other, and the bracelet was his way of trying to bridge this new gap. Now he was giving you a blank stare, trying to play catch up on whatever details he had missed that led to this behavior from you.

"Alright," He started slowly. "Can I ask why?"

Because you're bored with me, your mind shouted, but you swallowed the bitterness and forced a smile. "We've been growing apart for a little while now. You must have felt it too."

"I've felt that you've been brushing me off," Ivar said as he fell back into the armchair across from you on the sofa.

"What do you mean?" You tried to act surprised by the accusation, but your voice raised a tick. You had never been a good liar.

"Well, just now when I tried to give you the bracelet, you looked disgusted. I might as well have been giving you a can of surströmming."

"That's not--" You started to say, but he cut you off.

"Not true? No, I think it is. And what about that dinner last week? Were you even sick?"

You felt small under his strong gaze, but you weren't about to let him spin this whole thing back on you when you knew the truth. "No, I wasn't sick. I guess I just didn't want to go to dinner with you because I felt it was pointless."

"Pointless? If you'd decided that, then why did you wait until now to break up with me?"

"I've never broken up with someone before," You admitted, the first truthful thing to come out of the conversation. It was always you getting left behind, and it felt strange to do it to someone else. You still had feelings for Ivar, which didn't make it any easier knowing he didn't feel the same, and possibly never had. "I thought you'd be relieved anyways. You must have felt the same, that we were drifting apart."

"I didn't realize you felt that way," Ivar replied, frowning at his lap. "Ubbe didn't say anything to you, did he?"

You tried not to react, but your blood froze in your veins and your heart trembled. "No, why would he?"

And then you realized Ivar suspected you knew about the private conversation with his brother, only he mistakenly thought Ubbe had blabbed to you about it.

"It makes sense now, why you've been pulling away. He told you, didn't he?"

"About how I'm a good person, but that I'm too shy to fit in with your social circle," You blurted out, your anger rising.

Ivar was stunned by your abrupt attitude change. You never raised your voice for anything, even when you'd argued. "So he did tell you."

"No Ivar, Ubbe didn't tell me anything." You rose from the sofa and turned your back on him to stare out the window. It was a beautiful day. You let out a mournful sigh. Too bad you wouldn't get to enjoy it. "I came to see you that day, to surprise you with lunch. I guess you wouldn't consider that spontaneous enough though."

"(Y/N)," Ivar started and over your shoulder, you could see him pushing himself up from the chair with his cane.

"I don't want to hear it," You interjected with your hand up. "This is why I didn't want you to know I knew about that. I didn't want to hear your excuses."

"That was a private conversation you weren't supposed to hear."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ivar frowned, and he seemed annoyed with you as if you learning the truth had inconvenienced him. "No, but I should be the one upset with you for trying to break up with me without telling the truth."

"I'm not trying to break up with you, I'm done with you, Ivar," You told him, and your blunt tone caused his face to fall. "Maybe I shouldn't have listened to that conversation, but I'm glad I did. It spares me from being in a relationship with someone miserable and bored when they're with me. Did you expect me just to not say anything and carry on as if nothing had happened?"

"We could still talk this through." His voice sounded timid, and you didn't think he meant it.

"Talk through what? You're still in love with someone else, and I won't be your poor replacement." You strode to your apartment door and held it wide open. "Please leave."

You half expected Ivar to stay put and want to argue this through further. He was nothing if not confrontational, and while you admired his inner strength, you did not want to find yourself on the receiving end of Ivar Lothbrok's ire. But in the end, he didn't say anything. His cane thumped down the hallway to the door, and as he strode by you, you kept your head down holding your breath. You don't know if you were hoping he would do something to change your mind, let you know that it had all been a misunderstanding, but that wasn't the case. Ivar left, and you found yourself closing the door long after he had gone.

Now that it was final, you didn't know how to feel. The past few weeks you had been preoccupied with internalizing your heartbreak. You had held it in for so long, that now your well was empty. Your relationship was over, and if you were going to move forward you would have to cleanse your life of Ivar. Grabbing a box from your closet, you began to pack away anything he had ever given you.

ooOOoo

It was such a cliche, the expression about missing something after it was gone, but it was currently how Ivar was feeling. A month had passed by since your break-up, and time had slowed to a crawl. He hadn't seen or heard from you since he had left your apartment that day. You had returned a box of his things when he had been away at work. Hvitserk had been home to retrieve them, and Ivar had asked how you seemed. His answer; fine.

At the top of the box was the bracelet he had bought you in a last-ditch effort to try and save the relationship. You hadn't even worn it. He didn't know why he had put in the effort to save the relationship since at that time he had convinced himself it was no longer something he was invested in. Perhaps Ubbe had gotten through to him, but by then it was already too late. You had heard everything, and it had led to a devastating end.

Ivar knew why he had second-guessed being with you. He knew from the moment you met that you were the complete opposite of Freydis. You were timid, and your interests lied in things you could do independently as opposed to a social setting. Not like him at all. After growing up different from his disability, Ivar made sure he thrived in large groups as an adult, no longer wanting to be the one isolated in the corner of the room. Being with you had reminded him that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and he never thought you were weak as a result.

But then he had seen Freydis' engagement announcement online, and he was suddenly mourning the loss of his past. Never follow an ex on social media, that was Hvitserk's advice, and he should have listened. He and Freydis had said their goodbyes two years ago, though more reluctantly on his part. She was everything no one thought he would ever have in a partner. The beautiful blonde had chosen the cripple, and his ego had soared to new heights.

Food tasted better, the air was cleaner, everything was different from his supposed view from the top. Ubbe had reminded him that it hadn't been as perfect as the memories he clung to. During that time with Freydis, he had abandoned much of his ties to his family, and he had picked up the bad habit of spending money to the point of debt. When she had left him for new career goals, he had gradually returned to earth with the other mortals and realized he had been an asshole.

He had a momentary lapse back into that spell all because of one picture online, and unfortunately, it had bled on to you. Now all he could think about was how much he had hurt you, and with no real excuse good enough to justify such atrocious behavior.

A knock on his door came, and he threw the bracelet back into the box of his belongings that had made their way from your home and now back to his.

"Hey, you want dinner?" Hvitserk asked, poking his head in.

"Not hungry."

"Still feeling sorry for yourself, huh," Hvitserk said as he leaned upon the doorjamb.

"If I didn't, nobody else would," Ivar grumbled petulantly.

"And how do you think (Y/N)'s feeling?"

"I don't know, you said she was fine."

Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "I was covering. If anything she looked...disappointed."

Disappointed in him more likely. He was a disappointment, and not because of his legs as he always feared. When the news of his break-up with you had spread through the family, they all were annoyed with him for making that choice. None more so than his mother. She had been vocal over the years of her dislike for Freydis, and while Ivar knew his mother would have a difficult time accepting any woman he brought home, she had come to reluctantly welcome you into the fold. The rest of his brothers didn't hold back on hurtling their own brand of criticism, each as unique and harsh as they were creative.

"What should I do," He asked aloud, and Hvitserk looked startled by the question. He was the last one in the family anyone looked to for advice, but Ivar already regretted not taking the bit about exs and social media to heart.

"Apologize. That's the only thing left, even if it won't be enough to remove the hurt right away. She needs to know you regret what you've said."

For the first time in a month, Ivar felt a smidgen of hope. "Do you think there's a chance we could start over?"

"I don't know about that. If she holds onto those things you've said as the truth, then she might have a hard time trusting you again. Those relationships never work out," Hvitserk said with a shrug.

"Maybe I should go over there and talk to her," Ivar said, already rising from his bed.

"I wouldn't," Hvitserk replied looking guilty. "Thora's over there now, and she's still pissed at you for hurting (Y/N). If you don't want to end up in grievous harm, I'd stay away for now. Sorry."

Ivar sighed as he plopped back down. "No, I get it."

"Try reaching out slowly, and work your way from there," Hvitserk suggested.

"You're surprisingly not as dumb as you look," Ivar taunted, and the first grin broke out on his face. It felt good to use those muscles again.

"I know, I'm brimming with knowledge and ready to impart wisdom," Hvitserk said with a laugh. He stood up from the door and looked ready to return to the sitting room. "You sure you aren't hungry? I haven't ordered yet."

"I think I could eat. Just give me a moment, I need to finish putting this stuff away." He indicated to the box, and Hvitserk nodded in understanding before closing the door behind him.

Ivar pulled out his phone and searched for your name. All of the things he had to say couldn't be composed of one text message, but he could extend an olive branch and hope it didn't come back as ashes.

I know this is probably coming too late, but I need you to know I'm sorry and I miss you. If you want to, I'd like a chance to meet and explain things, that's it -- Ivar

He hit send before he started to ramble or worse chicken out entirely and not send the thing. He didn't know if you would reach out right away, and he didn't want to know. Getting up from his bed, Ivar hobbled on his crutch, leaving his phone behind in his room to join his brother for dinner. Hvitserk must have sensed his change in mood, but he embraced it rather than asking, and they didn't bring you up again. It was the first time in a month he felt like himself, no heartache over Freydis and no self-pity over losing you. After a late-night of buffoonery, and pizza and beer, the brothers returned to their rooms.

Ivar ignored the phone sitting in the middle of the bed, avoiding it as if it was some cursed thing. He went about his nightly routine, all the while he felt the pull to check if you had replied. He hoped you had. Even if it was just to tell him to fuck off, something was better than no answer. After getting his legs settled beneath the covers, he lied down in bed and shut off the lamp on his side table. Before going to sleep it was time to check if you had seen his olive branch. The glow of his phone lit up his face, and his breath hitched. You had replied. His eyes flitted back and forth, tracing your words to make sure they were real.

I miss you too. Let's talk soon.

Ivar fell asleep right after, with renewed vigor in his heart. He would work to earn your trust back. Whether that meant as a couple or just as friends would be up to you, and Ivar would respect what you decided. So long as you were still in his life, everything would be alright.

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood @siren-queen03 @peachyboneless @didiintheblog @soleil-dor @zuxiezendler @pieces-by-me @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @everyartistwas-firstanamateur @youbloodymadgenius @xceafh @strangunddurm @shannygoatgruff @1950schick @tgrrose @castielsangelsx @rose1729 @ladynightshade30 @mlchael-guerin @dangerouspsychicgardenflower @ritual-unions-gotme @readsalot73 @lonewolf471 @poisonous00 @alytavzla

[five-rivers]

Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover!  This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes...  Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork.  I hope that’s ok!  (PART 1)

.

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

.

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

.

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

.

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

.

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

.

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

.

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

.

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

.

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

.

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

[joshuas]

sue me

♫ pairing: han jisung x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff, best friends to lovers

♫ word count: 3.9k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: just chaos and lawsuits?

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub​

♫ a/n: the seventh addition to my christmas drabbles! i don’t really know what i’m doing anymore ;-;

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

The door jingled as three figures huddled through the store together,

“It’s so cold!” One of them — Jeongin, exclaimed, bringing your attention to them from your organising,

“Lucky it’s warm in here. Hey, guys!” You waved as they approached, looking at the display of records and CDs behind you.

“Y/N!” Jisung approached you first, pulling you in for your signature handshake.

The taller boy, Seungmin, scoffed, looking down on the two of you,

“I can’t believe the two of you still do that elaborate greeting.”

“You’re just salty that you haven’t been friends with someone since childhood and had the awesomeness to come up with something like this.” Jisung defended.

Bitterness bubbled in your stomach,

Right. Friends.

The two of you had established your friendship way back in daycare when you lent Jisung your crayons... reluctantly, at that. But you were kind of desperate to make friends, so you accepted his request. What you had underestimated though, were his motives. Jisung had no intention on actually giving your crayons back. Long story short, hair was pulled, paper was thrown, including scissors at one point, all resulting in Jisung eating your crayons so that you would never get them back. You had never been more shocked in your entire life... well you were two-years-old, so there wasn’t much that you had experienced. However, your parents, after hearing of this fight, insisted on taking you to visit Jisung in the hospital (he had just digested crayons, it’d be concerning if he didn’t at least get it checked out), giving him a CD of your favourite songs for him to listen to. How a two-year-old was supposed to appreciate that was beyond you, but when he came back to daycare with a set of colour pencils and drew pictures beside you, the two of you were inseparable since.

However, once you had gotten into university, the two of you had exchanged more than friendly comments, making you reconsider his place as your best friend after all. I mean, did he make your heart flutter? Yes. Did you miss him whenever he wasn’t around, even when he was being a pain? Yes. Was he incredibly talented, handsome and amazing that you couldn’t help but fall for him?... Yes! You had been trying to figure out ways to hint to him what you really thought of him, but he was about as clueless as Cher in the movie Clueless. And seeing as New Years was round the corner, you had resolved to yourself that you’d confess to him as one of your New Years resolutions... It was now just a question of how...

As Jisung pulled you in for the final part - a hug, you inhaled his familiar scent, interrupting your internal monologue, your mind calming from its racing, seconds before.

“How may I help you guys today?” You brushed your clothes, trying to maintain an air of professionalism.

“Jisung dragged us all the way here to get some of your famous ramen.” Jeongin explained, sighing.

“You came all the way to a music store... to try my ramen?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t understand the logic behind it as well. But we did come all this way, in the snow as well.” Seungmin looked at you pointedly.

“...okay. Wait here, I’ll make it.”

“Oh my god, I love you Y/N,” Jisung called out as you went to the staff room, your heart skipping a beat at his comment.

Sighing, you turned on the kettle,

Why is he like this? How does crayon eating boy have this much power over me?

“Be careful, it’s hot!” You passed the steaming bowls of ramen and chopsticks to each of the boys, as the four of you sat around the till.

Bowl dangerously balanced on his elevated leg as he tried to pull apart the wooden chopsticks, Jisung flashed you a grateful smile,

“You know, Y/N, one day you’re going to make someone extremely happy with—“ He yelped as he jolted from the force of taking the wooden chopsticks apart, the bowl tipping off his leg and onto the carpeted floor. The red ramen soup soaking into the light carpet, staining it.

“Oh no! Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Jisung exclaimed, frantically grabbing at tissues from the counter, dabbing them on the ground.

You bit back a smile,

Of course, it was Jisung. But ugh it’s going to be a pain to get that dry cleaned...

“I might just have to sue you for that!” You said sarcastically.

Jisung looked at you wide-eyed,

“Oh! I— isn’t there anything else I can do? I can help out at the store for the rest of the break!” Jisung said frantically.

“Ohhh, no I’ll have to have sue you. Company policy.” You hid a smile, deciding to tease him further.

“Oh. Um, okay.” He blinked, unaware, “Let me just get a lawyer to represent me— Seungmin! You’re a lawyer, right? You need to represent me for this case.” Jisung grabbed Seungmin’s arm, looking at him pleadingly,

“I’ve literally only had one class and isn’t this a jo—“ Seungmin broke off as you stared him down, imploring him to partake in the practical joke you were playing on the other boy.

You sighed, “Okay. Seems like it’s sorted. We’ll meet up in two weeks. Hopefully, you’ll have your money ready, because I’m going to win this.”

“It’s Opposite Day. So you won’t, and I will, okay?” Jisung gave you a quick smile, dragging Seungmin towards the door.

“But, my ramen!” Seungmin complained.

“No time, we need to win.” Jisung dragged Seungmin out of the store.

You shared a glance with Jeongin,

This is going to be interesting...

“You aren’t a parent, nor a teacher, what are you doing here?” Jeongin warily watched you approach, narrowly avoiding the little kids running through your path.

“I need your help.” You said solemnly.

“How did you know I was doing work experience at the daycare?” Jeongin raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“Believe it or not, Seungmin can be extremely candid and direct when Jisung is harassing him on the other side of a phone call. Also, you’re working towards your teaching degree. It doesn’t seem too weird that you’re working at a daycare.” You noted, taking in your surroundings.

“Oh, alright. What can I help you with?” Jeongin said reluctantly.

“I need you to dress up like an old businessman and pretend to be my lawyer.” You said quickly, thrusting a back-rubbing cane into his hands before getting ready to bolt.

“Wait! Why?” Jeongin looked at you sceptically yet again.

You sighed,

“Look, I need Jisung to think it’s the real deal, otherwise...” You stopped, squinting at the two figures attempting to act casual outside the daycare.

“Oh my god, are they spying on us?”

“It was most definitely Jisung’s idea.” Jeongin joined you, staring as Jisung attempted to casually lean against a car, trying to converse with a stony-faced Seungmin, not long before setting off the car alarm and yelling at Seungmin to run.

You watched the two of them take off,

“Looks like we’ll need to up our game, Mr Yang. Or should I say... Prosecutor Yang?” You smiled pleadingly at him.

“Fine...”

“Let me get this straight, we’re spying on them now even though this whole lawsuit thing isn’t actually going to happen?” Jeongin asked, bringing his jacket closer to him as he entered the University café.

“Well, it’s not like we can’t put any effort in because then we’d be admitting defeat to this... joke? Regardless, we need to win.” You pushed your cap further down after nodding at Chan in acknowledgment.

You sat down in a secluded area of the café, Chan approaching to greet you,

“Why is it always that chaos is brought to this café by this friendship group?” Chan looked pointedly at Jeongin as he shrugged.

“How do you know that shenanigans are to take place? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee in a secluded area of the cafe in our spy clothes without suspicion?” You asked, slightly defensive.

“...no. Anyway, what can I get for your spy mission?” Chan asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“I’ll have an iced americano.” Jeongin.

“And I’ll have a—“ you broke off as Chan interrupted you,

“New York Cheesecake? I know. Jisung and you come here to get some like every Friday. Speaking of Jisung, why are you sitting over here instead of with them over there?” He pointed to the two boys huddled at the table, Seungmin slightly bored, checking his phone regularly, and Jisung talking animatedly to him. Jisung, noticing Seungmin’s disinterest, grabbed his phone, getting up and placing it in the trash can before heading back to a very much annoyed Seungmin.

“It’s... a long story. Very chaotic! You probably wouldn’t want to hear it.” You ushered Chan away, Jeongin looked at you smugly,

“You and Jisung, huh? It’s almost as if you were... soulmates. Now I think I know why you need my help.”

You scoffed,

“I don’t need your help.”

“Oh really? Then I guess I’ll get going—“ You pulled him back into his seat, the chair scraping as it was pulled erratically from both directions. The commotion caused Jisung and Seungmin to pause, looking at you two, eyes widening in recognition.

You looked at Jeongin, panicked, before throwing the money at a stunned Chan and rushing out of the cafe.

“Don’t give my cheesecake to Jisung! We both know that he’ll eat it instead of giving it to me.”

[09:38] (Jeongin) Hey, make sure you come on time.

[09:40] (You) Why do we have to go to the shops for this?

[09:41] (Jeongin) sadly the courts were all booked out with proper criminal cases, so the shops will have to do to resolve this fake lawsuit. just get ready and come quickly!

[09:43] (You) fine, fine. I’ll get my finest attire on. See you soon.

You placed your phone on your bed before dressing up to the best of your ability, steeling yourself as you looked in the mirror,

I will tell him how I feel... no matter how complicated this lawsuit thing becomes.

“Look who finally decided to show.” Jisung drawled, sipping at his soft drink. You looked him up and down appraisingly, ignoring your beating heart... he cleaned up more than nicely.

“Okay, shall we get started?” You clapped your hands, sitting opposite Seungmin and Jisung... and next to a very poorly disguised Jeongin.

“Interesting outfit choice, Jeongin.” Seungmin noted.

“What’s even more interesting is that Y/N selected Jeongin as her representative. He’s not even a lawyer!” Jisung looked at you triumphantly.

“Neither am—“ Seungmin interrupted, Jisung shushing him before he could complete his sentence.

“I thought you were going to dress up like a business man! Not some young mobster. This isn’t a fanfic. You’re not the main character.” You hissed under your breath, leaning slightly towards Jeongin so he could hear.

“And what? You are?” He scoffed, before smiling widely at the two in front of him.

“Right, so Jeongin and I have discussed the case beforehand.” Seungmin nodded at Jeongin.

“We’ve decided that we’ll put together a bunch of trials, and whoever wins those will win this lawsuit.” Seungmin proposed.

“I... feel like this isn’t how lawsuits work.” Jisung said doubtfully.

“This is what I was taught in law school!” Seungmin defended.

“Gotta trust the guy who attended law school.” You pointed out.

“What do you mean attended? He’s still at law—“ Jisung broke off as Seungmin cleared his throat, pointedly.

“The first challenge being, who can make the two of us the best milkshake.”

“Ready to lose, Y/N?” Jisung raised an eyebrow competitively at you.

“You wish, Han Jisung!” You sprinted to the other side of the food court, lining up as Jisung hurried after you, ending up directly behind you.

[20 minutes later]

You sighed loudly,

This is taking too long.

You politely pushed in front of people to the front of the line,

“Hey, are you guys right or do you need help? Because I can help out if you want. It’ll help you get through this queue a lot faster.” You asked the worker at the register.

“I can too!” Jisung sidled up beside you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

The worker looked at you sceptically before sighing in defeat,

“You know what, you may as well help because we’re so swamped. Grab some gloves and a hairnet and get started.” The worker let you through.

That was easy enough.

This is not easy.

“Chocolate ice cream thick shake for Sara!” You called out, frantically pushing the lid on the shake before handing it to the customer. Jisung rushed beside you,

“No-fat, non-skim, skinny latte with soy milk, one and a half sugars and a drizzle of vanilla for Jacques?” Jisung called out,

“Actually, can I change my—“ Jacques started.

“No.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Ready to admit defeat?” You smirked.

“Never. We’re yet to make the best milkshakes for Seungmin and Jeongin.” Jisung ran to the blender, chucking in as many ingredients as possible.

“Two can play at that game.” You said resolutely, approaching another blender, using as many ingredients as possible.

This is either going to be a disaster or a five star Michelin dish in the making.

“Stop. Stealing. The. Caramel. Sauce.” You gave Jisung a death glare as you wrestled the sauce bottle, the manager of the store glaring at the both of you,

“Alright, that’s enough. The two of you need to leave. You basically ditched serving the customers and did this. I don’t even know what this is but you need to stop using our resources for it.”

“Wait but it’s the finishing touch!” Jisung pleaded as the manager shook his head resolutely.

You scoffed,

“Whatever. It’s not like we’re getting paid for this or anything. Which we should! In fact, I have a lawyer friend that could help me sue you. He’s very good and wins about... 100% of his clients’ cases.” You threatened.

The manager pinched the bridge of his nose,

“Half of the orders that you served came back with complaints so you really did nothing.”

“The people really don’t appreciate our talents.” Jisung gasped, offended.

“If you guys think you’re talents are in milkshake making, you really should reevaluate your...um...life choices.” The manager said sheepishly.

“Whatever, be prepared for a lawsuit! Let’s leave, Jisung.” You grabbed your milkshakes, grabbing Jisung’s arm and dragging him out of the store.

“100% track rate, you say? Have you admitted defeat already?” Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, Jisung. I was obviously talking about Jeongin.”

“Right...”

“Um. What is this?” Seungmin scrunched his face in disgust, looking at the... mess of two drinks in front of him and Jeongin.

“Milkshakes!” Jisung said excitedly.

“I know that. But why did it take so long to make... you didn’t poison it, did you?” Seungmin looked at the two of you skeptically.

“Just drink it and tell us who wins.” You sighed as they picked up their drinks, tentatively sipping and then tasting the other,

“We need time to confer, so we’re going to give you the next challenge. You’re going to have to... pick out the best present for each other, and we’ll judge that once we see it.” Jeongin shooed the two of you away, winking at you as Jisung took the lead, striding towards a craft store.

As you browsed around the store, closely following Jisung, you stopped at the crayons section, exhaling a small laugh.

Jisung turned around, confused, eyes wide, settling on the packet of crayons,

“I dibs getting that for you.”

“You can’t dibs getting a present for someone.” You said incredulously.

“Um, well if it’s a competition, yes I can.” Jisung retorted, hands on hips.

“So you’re telling me, that the best present you could ever get me is crayons? You wouldn’t get that for me normally?” You rolled your eyes, exasperated.

“Why should I?” Jisung said, confused.

“Let me remind you. Twenty or so years ago, a young Jisung eats my crayons in retaliation for getting told to give them back. Young Y/N visits young Jisung in hospital, giving him a free record as a gift. And Jisung never reimburses Y/N with another set of crayons. You know, with your track record, it’s not even accidental. It’s serial. Like serial killing but serial property damage. Honestly, I could extend that to this lawsuit, as well.” You defended.

“Okay one, it’s too late to do that... isn’t it? I don’t have enough money for both! And two, is all you’re saying that your ideal gift is a pack of crayons?!”

“Are you admitting defeat already?” You smirked.

“Pfft no! Give me— that—“ He grabbed the pack of crayons from you, heading to the counter to pay as you grabbed another pack, lining up behind him.

“You both bought each other the same gift?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Not intentionally! Please don’t disqualify us.” Jisung defended, apologetic.

“You literally went to the same store.” Jeongin deadpanned.

“That’s—“

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I need to go to the hospital in a bit. Okay, here’s what you can do. Explain to us why you bought the gift for said person, and we’ll judge based on your response.” Seungmin checked his watch, leaning back in his chair.

“Jisung, you go first.” Jeongin gestured for Jisung to start.

“Okay, well the short story is that Y/N told me that it was their ideal gift. The long story is that Y/N called me a serial property damager, and I really can’t afford that being added to my list of offences and be sued further.” Jisung said a matter-of-factly.

“Oookay... anyway, Y/N! What’s your reasoning?” Seungmin turned to you.

“Hmm... okay well when I was a child, Jisung stole my crayons and ate them, somehow we became friends, and he never bought me crayons to reimburse me, so I decided to be the bigger person and buy him crayons to share. Honestly, you’d think he’d know how to by now.” You tutted as a soft pink colouring flooded Jisung’s cheeks.

“...what?” Jeongin blurted out.

“It doesn’t matter! Jisung and Y/N are both... odd personalities. I mean, no wonder they’re best friends.” Seungmin dismissed.

There was that “f” word again...

“Anyway, I don’t have time for this. We’ll deliberate again as you do another challenge. You’re going to have to race each other around the entire shopping centre. Whoever comes first, wins... that round. Obviously. Otherwise, there would’ve been no point to these other challenges.” Seungmin dismissed the two of you, getting you to start at the same time.

Is this what my life has come to? Racing the literal love of my life to show that I’m serious about a fake lawsuit?... I really need to reconsider my lifestyle choices... and friends.

You and Jisung were neck and neck, you huffed as you sprinted next to him,

“Why are you so caught up on this whole lawsuit thing? You and I both know that it’s fake.”

Jisung glanced at you through the corner of his eye, “Hff— I— hff— know that but fake lawsuit or not, it was one of my New Years resolutions to win it.”

You stopped,

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” He stopped in front of you.

“Well— I... who am I to stop you from achieving your goals? I forfeit.” You stepped back, relieved to be out of it.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung said, slightly shocked,

“I need you to finish this! I can’t just win by default. That defeats the whole purpose. Actually try.” He challenged.

“This is so stupid, though.” You grumbled.

“You’re the one that proposed it. Why did you, if you don’t want to do it?” Jisung raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“I— ugh. To be honest, it started out as a joke but then I saw how serious you got about it! So, I decided to play along so I wouldn’t let you down.” You sighed.

“You’re right, I paid Seungmin $100 to represent me.” He sighed in sync with you.

“...you really need to stop doing that. First Minho, now Seungmin? Are you going to pay the entirety of your friendship group for being your friend?” You looked at him disappointedly.

He rolled his eyes, “Speaking of friends... why did you play along?” He asked, curious.

You inhaled sharply,

Now or never. No more friend-zoning.

“Do you know what my New Years resolution was?” You asked.

He shook his head, clueless,

“It was to confess my feelings for you. I’m not as great with words as you are, but Han Jisung, I like you. A lot. Even if you do crazy things like eating my crayons.” You closed your eyes, unwilling to view his reaction... only for a slight pressure to meet your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to meet Jisung’s as he kissed you softly.

He pulled back, bringing you into a hug,

“You’re always going to hold that against me, aren’t you?” He chuckled, whispering that to you.

“We just kissed and that’s what you’re concerned about?” You lightly smacked his chest.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say? I kissed you. I don’t think that best friends do that. Do I need to say it explicitly? Okay then, I like you too!” He said, confused.

You rolled your eyes,

“Whatever. We better get going if we want to finish this race, and help you achieve your life goals!”

“Oh my gosh, Y/N. You’re such a supportive... lover? We’ll figure it out.” He held out your hand, dodging past people as you both sprinted down the mall.

You slowed as you approached Seungmin and Jeongin, dropping your hand from his grasp. Jisung turned back to you, confused.

You ushered him forward, smiling encouragingly,

“Go! Finish first. Achieve your goals.”

He paused, before taking your hand again, dragging you over to Seungmin and Jeongin, they looked up, equally as confused as you.

“We both forfeit.” He said, in between catching his breath.

“What? Why?” Jeongin started, as Seungmin groaned,

“You’re telling me, that I spent the time that I could’ve been sleeping, only for you to forfeit. You know what? It’s fine. Neither of you won anyway because drinking your milkshakes was the worst thing we had to suffer through since the time you both made us cake!”

You reeled back in mock offence, Seungmin sighed,

“I’m sorry if that was harsh. I’m working nights at the hospital.”

“Wait. What does a lawyer have to do at a hospital?” Jisung questioned, confused.

“Do— do you guys even listen to the things I say? I quit law school after one lesson and went back to medical school.” Seungmin said, exasperated.

“And no! You can’t have your money back. We’re leaving now anyway, so bye!” He grabbed Jeongin, running away from the two of you as fast as possible.

“You know, I lied about my New Years resolution.” Jisung spun you around to face him, your hand meeting his bicep.

“Oh no! How could I ever trust you again?” You sighed dramatically.

“Y/N— I was trying to be sentimental and tell you that our resolutions were the same but you ruined the moment!” He pouted, annoyed.

You laughed, grabbing his cheeks (jeekies ahhhhhhhhh they’re so cute right—),

“I’ll sue you if you don’t stop being so cute!”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

➳ part eight?  |  masterlist!

[trulivin]

Golden Eyes

A/N: SURPRISE! I finished it last night. Thank you so much for this request! I really enjoyed writing this piece. I did make the reader kinda Shu I would say because she’s called serpent at the Menagerie but feel free to change it to suit your appearance! Also, I hope I kept to the character. I felt like Kaz wouldn’t act like this really in his mind, and I don’t know somehow I ended up flopping back and forth between their POVs. BUT hopefully it worked out. 

This also has potential for a part 2 so let me know if you would like that. Anyways, send feedback and keep requesting! I could honestly write about Kaz all day LMFAO! Enjoy! (Word Count: It’s really long whoops)

Kaz Brekker X Reader, Six of Crows

Warnings: Some abuse, cursing.

*Oh look I made another aesthetic lol*

Kaz Brekker didn’t know why he did it. Three years after getting Inej out of the Menagerie, he found himself having the same conversation with Tante Haleen. “You are not taking another one of my girls, Brekker,” the lady snarled. “I have the money,” he shrugged, his face impassive. “I don’t care. You took one of my clients’ favorites three years ago,” Tante hissed at him. “You haven’t even let me tell you what I’m going to offer,” Kaz said. The peacock let out an odd noise, rolling her eyes at the teenage boy. Why does he even want this girl? She thought to herself. 

Truth be told, Kaz really didn’t know why he wanted this girl either. He just happened to be walking by the Menagerie a few nights ago and heard a lot of screaming. Tante Haleen had made a public display over beating this poor girl into tears in front of what seemed like everyone in Ketterdam. Usually, the woman would give her punishments in the confines of her office, but this time it was different. The girl’s screams still echoed in his mind.

It was a particularly still and soundless night as Kaz walked back from a successful deal he had just made. He was personally enjoying the quiet walk and the stars with the only sound of his cane tapping on the ground every step he took. However, his peace was soon disturbed when a high pitched scream rang out. Kaz immediately stopped, looking around for the source of the noise and realized he was very close to the Menagerie. 

“You ran another one of my clients off, girl!” Tante Haleen’s voice rang out. Kaz heard a faint sound of a belt snap and a girl crying. “I-I didn’t mean to,” a voice cried. “Didn’t mean to? Pff! You’ve always been a defiant whore. Trying to run me out of my own position! Girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” she sneered. “I swear, I’m not!” the young girl pleaded.

There was a faint crowd gathered around the main entrance to the building. Kaz approached silently, sticking to the shadows. There, in the middle of the ground was a partially-clothed girl, no younger than him, cowering under the peacock who was clutched a strap of leather in her hands. 

“Who would want your job anyway?” the girl half muttered to herself resulting in Tante yanking the girl up but her hair. If that young girl wasn’t in the middle of being beat up, Kaz would have been impressed with the girl’s snark. 

Kaz noticed the girl’s tear-stained face full of fear. A shiver ran up his spine as he watched the old woman continue to scold her, and for a fleeting moment, the girl cast a panicked look around the crowd and met his eyes. Beautiful golden eyes met his and he stood there stoically, studying her face until Tante brought down another hit. The girl screamed again, tearing her gaze away, and Kaz forced himself to walk away.

Her eyes burned into his memory as he finally made it to the Slat. Kaz talked with Per Haskell for a few minutes before heading to his room. He sensed Inej following him and when they reached the top, she asked, “So it went well?” Kaz nodded as he shuffled papers around his desk. Inej said something else, but he barely acknowledged it. He was too busy trying to figure out how to help the girl. 

Inej watched as Kaz was rummaging through papers and eyed him in confusion as she noticed he was pulling money together for some reason. She could tell he was distracted by something, and quite frankly had never seen him act like this. 

“Why all the money?” Inej asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Kaz jumped ever so slightly, meeting her dark eyes. Inej caught his quick scare and was even more baffled that Kaz Brekker was so skittish. He was almost never like this.

The girl’s golden eyes flashed through his mind for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I need to buy something,” Kaz muttered, turning back to the papers. “What do you need to buy?” she asked skeptically. “It’s none of your business. If you have a problem with it then get out,” he snapped. Inej was caught off guard with his moodswing, but shot him an annoyed glance and slipped out of the room. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Kaz’s attitude anymore. 

Kaz jumped again when he heard his door slam. He had no clue why he was acting like this, it wasn’t him. Someone else’s pain was their problem, not his, but the girl’s watery eyes still burned in his mind like the sun on an extremely hot day.  

“Thirty-thousand kruge,” he said after Tante hadn’t responded. “Did the old man give you your allowance early?” the woman sneered at him. 

“No.”

She looked a bit taken back at his bored demeanor, and then narrowed her eyes at the boy. She despised him for taking away the Suli girl three years ago and she was wary in letting another one go to Kaz Brekker or Per Haskell. Tante never really knew who was actually in charge.  

“Well, are you going to take it?” he asked, impatiently. 

She mulled over it for a moment and sighed angrily. She could never pass up money. All of my girls are replaceable I suppose. “Yes,” she said irritated. “So she’ll be working for that old man of yours?” she asked as she signed the contract. Kaz scribbled his signature down and snatched the paper up before she could really read everything on it. 

“Actually no,” he said with a wry smile. “She belongs to me. And technically, I’ve paid off her contract.” 

The woman’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “I-You--little rat!” She snarled at him. “You can’t have her!” 

“Yes I can. Now go get her. I have other things to do today,” Kaz said coolly. He was ready to get out of this place. It reeked of filthy men and other spices that made his head spin a bit. 

Tante Haleen glared at the boy but said nothing before slipping out of her office. She returned a moment later with the golden-eyed girl behind her. “Well, it’s your lucky day, serpent,” the peacock snapped at her, “You get to go with Mr. Brekker here.” The girl’s eyes snapped to Kaz’s just like the other night and he could’ve sworn his heart jumped as the blazing color pierced his. He studied her face for a moment, noticing the dark bruise under her left eye and her swollen cheek. Under the damage, he also saw a very beautiful girl who looked as though she had been put through years of abuse under the hands of Tante Haleen. 

Unfortunately, he also noticed how, behind her bright eyes, there was absolute terror coursing through her. “It’s been a pleasure,” he smirked a bit turning back to Tante Haleen. “Are you ready?” Kaz turned back to the girl. She nodded, wide-eyed and somewhat confused. Kaz slid past them and out the office door. 

Y/N’s head spun as she followed the teenage boy out of the Menagerie. What did he want? Why did he buy my contract? What the hell is going on? How is he walking so fast with a freaking cane? All sorts of questions flew through her mind and her swollen face was throbbing giving her a slight headache.

As they made it to the doors, Tante Haleen’s voice called after her, “You better watch your back girl! I’ll get my serpent back and you’ll die in chains here!” Y/N’s head whipped around in fear, looking at the evil woman. “That won’t happen. You’re safe now,” the boy’s raspy voice said from behind her. Y/N turned back to him and practically ran out the door he had opened for her. 

Once they were on the streets and far from the Menagerie, the boy finally slowed his pace. Y/N swallowed nervously and asked, “So who are you exactly?” “Kaz Brekker,” he replied without so much as casting a glance in her direction. He kept on winding through the crowd making sure Y/N was still with him every so often. 

Surprisingly enough, Y/N had heard of a Kaz Brekker. The notorious ‘bastard of the Barrel’ or Dirtyhands. She just never thought she would ever meet him. Clients would always complain about being crossed by Brekker. They’d say, “I’ll rip those gloves off his hands and feed him his own fingers if I ever get a hold of that damn boy!” It was strange seeing the gloves fit over his hands. Y/N couldn’t seem to stop staring at them, wondering why on earth he wore them in the first place. 

“And you?” he added a few moments later, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, um I’m Y/N,” she said. 

Kaz inwardly smiled to himself for the first time in a long time. He thought it was a very pretty name to match her pretty eyes. What the hell is wrong with you? 

He managed to maintain his expressionless face and turned to look at the girl, “Well Y/N you are officially free under one condition.” Her eyes narrowed at him as she began to grow more comfortable in his presence. 

“What?” Y/N asked. 

“You’ll become a member of the Dregs.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You lose the protection from us, and you very much could end back up there,” Kaz said. He didn’t necessarily want to say he owned the girl. She was free to do whatever she pleased, but if she were to go off on her own she would most likely be back where she started. Not to mention, Kaz would be out thirty-thousand kruge. The girl had a fire behind her eyes and he thought she could potentially be quite useful. He just wasn’t sure what her limits were yet, but he also didn’t want to lose an investment. She’s not just an investment, a voice in his head scolded. Shut up. You know I’m right. Ugh. 

Y/N thought for a moment. She knew about the Dregs and all the other gangs in Ketterdam, but she again never thought she would ever be tangled up in them. However, anything was better than the Menagerie, and she was decent in a fight so she could handle whatever the Dregs threw her way. “Anywhere is better than there,” she eventually agreed. Kaz nodded in approval as they continued on. 

Finally, the pair arrived back at the Slat. “Just let me do the talking,” Kaz said to her before opening the door. The main floor was crowded with a variety of  looking people playing cards and gambling. Heads turned as the door was open and everyone caught sight of Kaz with a girl in silks trailing behind him. 

One guy smirked at Kaz making Y/N cringe. “Wow boss I’m surprised they let you take this one out of the building!” the guy called. Kaz shot him a hard glare and snapped, “She’s not here for work. A new investment so shut up. She’s one of us now.” 

Investment? That didn’t sound any better, Y/N scoffed silently. Thankfully, though, no one in the room looked familiar. None of these people had been clients. 

The guy, Y/N noticed, seemed to cower under Kaz’s gaze. He seems to have very high authority in here, she noted. Just as quickly as they entered, she was following him up rickety steps. Kaz led her into an office on the second floor, and Y/N was faced by an old man. 

“Y/N this is Per Haskell. Per Haskell, Y/N,” Kaz introduced and the old man grinned. “My new member?” he smiled. “Mine,” Kaz interjected, “Sir.” “Ah yes yes, you used your own money,” Per Haskell dismissed him, slightly annoyed. “It is still my gang you know,” he said. “Of course, sir,” Kaz replied. 

Y/N stood quietly watching the two exchange words as if she weren’t standing right there. She could see right through Kaz and his act towards the old man. He may have sounded respectful towards Per Haskell, but Y/N had the sneaking suspicion that he could care less about the man’s opinions. 

“So, sweetie,” Per Haskell interrupted her thoughts. Y/N jumped in the slightest at the name. You’re not at the Menagerie anymore, and he was never one of your clients, she told herself. Kaz studied her and saw her back stiffen as soon as Per Haskell had opened his mouth. She was nervous. “What can you do? Weapons wise of course. And how do you hold up in a fight?” the man asked. Y/N seemed to be taken off guard a bit, but regained her composure, feeling more confident in herself again. 

“Well, um, before I was taken, my father taught me how to defend myself. And I’m pretty good at target practice,” Y/N mumbled, heat rising to her cheeks realizing this whole gang thing wouldn’t be like target practice. The man obviously knew it too and chuckled a bit before turning to Kaz. “You sure picked a good one this time, boy,” he said sarcastically. Y/N’s cheeks flushed even more red. And they flushed even darker as Kaz’s gaze rested on her for a moment. Y/N couldn’t help but be upset at herself for sounding so stupid in front of Kaz Brekker. Why do you care what he thinks of you? She questioned, averting her eyes away from him. 

“I think she’ll work out just fine, sir,” Kaz responded in an even tone. Y/N couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. His face remained unreadable with every word he said. “We’ll see,” Per Haskell said, the air in his tone signaling this conversation was over. Kaz simply nodded and turned to walk out of the office. He locked eyes with Y/N before pushing open the door. She followed quietly behind him still unsure of what really was happening here. 

They made their way up more steps when a voice stopped them in their tracks. “Y/N?” a familiar voice rang out behind her. Y/N turned around to see an oh-so-familiar Suli girl. “Inej?” Y/N half gasped. A grin broke out on the girl’s face as she bounded up the steps, pulling Y/N in a hug. Kaz raised a brow. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Y/N here, Kaz,” she glared at the boy. Y/N was shocked she had the nerve to do that, but Kaz remained oddly quiet. 

The thought that Inej had known her never crossed his mind. 

“Well you know now,” Kaz said coolly. Y/N could see slight impatience in his look now. “Obviously,” Inej rolled her eyes and added, “Leave us be. I’ll show her around and she can stay with me.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t say anything as he stepped aside letting the two go. 

In reality, something told him he didn’t want Y/N out of his sight. There was a lot of testosterone in the building and Y/N’s pretty features would surely stand out. But her reaction to Per Haskell’s words told Kaz she was more worried than she was letting on. He’d seen that look in Inej plenty of times to know it had been just as rough for Y/N as well. Tante Haleen had told him Y/N had been with her for five years, and according to the peacock, she was also a handful. He couldn’t imagine what Y/N had been put through because of her defiance, but he knew he didn’t want anyone getting any ideas. 

Up on the floor above, Inej had gotten Y/N settled in her room. “I never realized Kaz bought your contract too,” Y/N said quietly. Inej laughed and rolled her eyes a bit, “He didn’t buy it. Per Haskell did. Kaz just put the idea in his head so he could get the money. I still have to pay mine off. That’s why I work for him.” 

“Oh,” Y/N said, remembering what Kaz had said to Tante Haleen. He had put his own money up for her. Why?

As if Inej sensed her question, she said, “I don’t know why or how he got the money. But obviously you must’ve caught his attention. I’m telling you like I always have, it’s those golden eyes of yours.” Y/N let out a light laugh, but brushed her comment off. “It’s good he did though. We need more fighters like you. Don’t get all shy on them, I know how you get,” she added. Y/N rolled her eyes a bit, “I don’t like strangers.” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you still can’t kick ass. I’ve seen you do it before.”

“And you’ve seen my ass get kicked right after,” Y/N said sourly. She had tried more than once to get out of being with some of the clients, earning her plenty of bruises. But, it was always worth it when Y/N had managed to leave some bruises behind as well. “Listen,” Inej said seriously, “You’re safe now. Kaz, in his own twisty way, will protect you. He may seem like a heartless, emotionless, dark person, but deep down he cares. Of course in his own weird way.” The two girls shared a laugh and Y/N couldn’t help but think she was right. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. 

A month seemed to pass in a blur and somehow Y/N had found herself restless. She slowly earned respect amongst the Dregs, but now everyone seemed to coddle her. Even Kaz would hardly ever let her out of his sight. He hardly spoke to her and she found herself pouring her heart out to him. She told him about her family and what happened when she was taken, along with everything that happened to her in the Menagerie. All Kaz did was listen and nod. 

Y/N was annoyed she could never figure him out, and told herself she was going to stop telling him her entire life story, but somehow wound up back in his attic. Some days they would sit in silence as she sat by the window, and some days they would have little conversations. He answered most of her questions she had for him, but he always gave a round-about answer when she brought up the gloves. Sometimes he would just ignore her so Y/N would just drop it. 

The only thing Kaz really wouldn’t let her do was go on jobs. She was antsy and felt more at ease than she had in a long time so she could easily go shake someone up for some money.  “Can I go with Jesper?” Y/N would ask. “No he, Inej, and Specht can handle it,” Kaz would reply. He was never rude to her when she asked. He would just find some excuse for her not to go.

In reality, Kaz didn’t want her to go because he could still see the slight changes in her body whenever someone, particularly a man, would brush by her too close. One time Jesper had slung his arm around her in a friendly manner, and Kaz saw all the color drain from her face. Her golden eyes even seemed to lose their brightness. He didn’t want to put her through what some of the jobs required and risk her getting hurt, although he wouldn’t admit it. So, he didn’t make her do anything, and left her extremely bored and annoyed. 

And unfortunately, some of the Dregs seemed to notice this as well. 

Instead of questioning Kaz, they all assumed it was because she couldn’t do anything. Some would say, “It’s alright gold-eyes, I’ll be back. Don’t worry I don’t need protection!” or “I think someone needs to go with her to make sure she doesn’t fall over and hurt herself.” 

Finally, one day, Y/N was sick of the teasing. Specht, Rotty, and Jesper were teasing her about how her eyes made her look soft because they were such a pretty color. She rolled the golden orbs. “You know, you all assume I’m no good, but none of you actually have had the decency to let me hold a pistol or a knife,” she snapped. Jesper looked a little surprised by her outburst, but Specht and Rotty grinned mischievously. “Ok then, pretty-eyes. Why don’t we do a little target practice then,” Rotty snickered. Per Haskell managed to spread the word around of their first introduction and it seemed to stick. Y/N glared at him but nodded. The boys sprung up and in about ten minutes the main floor was set up with a variety of targets. 

A crowd seemed to gather and Inej was by her side instantly. She had also yelled at plenty of them saying, “Y/N is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.” But Y/N didn’t want her help. And she also knew Inej’s words wouldn’t make them shut up.

“So this is how you hold a knife,” Specht said slowly as if he was talking to a toddler. “Har har,” she glared. Y/N yanked the set of knives he had from his hands and went to stand in front of the target. She heard snickers across the room and some people placing bets.

Y/N huffed before clearing her head. Feel the blade in your hand. It’s supposed to be a part of you so when you throw it, it will go in the direction you want it to. Her father’s voice rang out in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing silence to fill her ears. 

Kaz had come down to see what was going on and saw the room had turned into a shooting range. He was about to break up the semi-circle, but stopped once he saw Y/N in the center of it. Her eyes were closed and he watched along with everyone else. Kaz was curious to see what she really could do. 

In an instant, Kaz saw her eyes open, and watched as the three knives she held fly through the air and land in the dead center of three different targets. Her eyes immediately found his, and the liquid-gold was burning bright. He sucked in a breath as her eyes burned in his. Kaz couldn’t help himself. Her eyes were his favorite. 

Y/N felt his presence as soon as she rid herself of the knives. Her eyes found his watching her with a glint of approval. His mouth even quirked up in the slightest. A grin broke across her face at the thought that Kaz would be proud of her. Somehow they had gotten close over the past month and he had a special place in her heart causing her to always seek his approval. And though he would never admit it, but Kaz always found himself wanting the golden-eyed girl around him and only him. 

Everyone around the room seemed shocked at what had happened. Big Bolliger, however, interrupted the silence, “That was luck!” Eventually, others chimed in in agreement. Y/N saw that little quirk of Kaz’s mouth slip back into his hard look. “Then go stand in front of the target and have her throw again,” Kaz spoke from behind everyone. They whirled around, immediately falling quiet. “Well?” Kaz gestured for Big Bolliger to step up in front of the target. He gulped, but no one questioned Kaz. Rotty gathered the knives and handed them back to Y/N silently. “If she hits him then we know it’s luck. If she doesn't, well then I think you all will have gotten your answer if she can do anything or not,” Kaz said. 

No one said a word. Y/N should have been nervous, but she wasn’t. This was the first time she had been truly happy in the month she had spent here. She knew she could do it, and this would shut everyone up for good. Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, honing in on her father’s words. 

Kaz watched her eyes flicker open again and just like last time she placed the knives exactly where she wanted them: above Big Bolliger’s head, to the left of his ear, and to the right. 

Y/N smirked, satisfied with herself, but also got a bit carried away. Jesper was standing near her so she grabbed one of his pistols and shot right in between Big Bolliger’s legs before handing Jesper back his prized possession. Everyone seemed to be standing there gaping. Inej was smirking, and Kaz had a twinkle in his eye. She was even more proud of herself. 

“And she can shoot too,” he said. The crowd was still shocked as everyone stared at her. “Alright clean it up,” Kaz snapped, waving his arm. The Dregs jumped into action setting everything right. “It’s not like you haven’t seen anyone shoot before,” he muttered to himself, before signaling Y/N to follow. 

Once they were upstairs, Kaz admitted, “I will say I’m impressed. But like you said when we first met. Target practice.” Y/N glared at him, her sour mood returning. “I could’ve taken his eye out you know,” she said bitterly. Kaz didn’t seem to care about her tone with him. 

“I don’t doubt that either,” he replied. “But it is different out there when you’re in the moment--”

“How can you of all people think I don’t know that?” Y/N snarled, cutting him off and finally letting her anger bubble over. “I told you everything!” she hissed. 

“I told you how those men enjoyed a twelve-year-old girl! How I fought so many times and had knives pulled on me and took constant beatings from that wretched woman! How I was put in chains after I tried running away! I know what everyone thinks of me!” she shouted. 

“I know they all think I’m this weak, doe-eyed school girl who can’t throw a punch! They whisper behind my back, throw snide comments around, make bets! And I take it! I take it like every hit I took in that damn whore house.” 

Kaz heard her voice crack with her last sentence. He had underestimated her abilities and never really thought how tough she really was. He was always too busy silently fuming over how mistreated she had been growing up. 

“I know what they are thinking,” Y/N repeated herself. “And I don’t want you to think the same thing,” she mumbled quietly. Y/N’s eyes went wide as she realized what she just said out loud. “I--I just--,” she started but Kaz raised a hand. She shut her mouth and let him speak. “Do you know why I picked you?” he asked. She shot him a confused look. “I saw you that night Tante Haleen had thrown you on the ground in front of everyone.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She remembered seeing those dark eyes in the shadows of the crowd. A shiver ran up her spine thinking about that night. 

“I will say I have underestimated your abilities, but I don’t think like those other idiots downstairs,” Kaz sighed, letting his mask slip a bit. “I,” he paused for a moment. The two voices in his head were back: Why are you acting like this? Because she’s a pretty girl. Just another girl. She’s more than pretty if you think about it. Doesn’t matter. You’ve gotten to know her and you know she’s like you in a way. No. Admit it. Shut up.

Swallowing a bit of his pride, Kaz spoke softly, “I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again. You don’t deserve it.” It was true. Even if she didn’t talk much for the first few weeks she was with him, he found she was quite pleasant to be around. Y/N was kind to whoever she met no matter what they said about her, and she carried herself with a sort of confidence she probably didn’t know she had. And those damn eyes of hers too. 

Y/N’s face softened at his words. “Oh,” was all she could manage to slip out. Quickly, though to avoid extreme awkwardness, Y/N gave him a mischievous grin. “So you do care?” she commented. Kaz let out a breath and rolled his eyes, thankful she didn’t want to endure the moment after him opening up to her. “The Kaz Brekker has a heart,” she chuckled as he glanced down back at his work. 

“Yes, but most of it was buried with my brother,” he said shortly. The room was silent and Kaz looked at Y/N. Her grin was gone and she gave him a sympathetic look. He never usually wanted sympathy for Jordie, but somehow Y/N’s kind features brought him a sense of comfort. “I’ll tell you some other time,” Kaz said simply. 

She approached his desk slowly until she was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath, Y/N glanced down to his gloved hand resting on the top. She hesitated and took it in her hand. Kaz sucked in a sharp breath before letting it out. Her hand was warm and felt smooth even through his gloves. A part of him wanted to feel it without the leather barrier. He noticed the scars that danced across her knuckles and all the way up her arm. 

Kaz’s gaze trailed across her skin and up to the bright eyes that were watching his every move. He suddenly felt very conscious of his hair and tie. “I’ll be okay,” Y/N said softly. He took her appearance in once more and nodded. “Go see if Jesper will let you tag along on his job,” Kaz added. Y/N gave him a small smile before releasing his hand. A part of him ached for her touch again, and his hand felt oddly cold after she let go. 

Y/N silently made her way to the door. “I had a sister,” she said, turning to look at him again before disappearing back downstairs, her golden eyes burning through Kaz’s heart.

___________________________________________________________

Yay! To the nonny who requested, I hope this is what you were looking for! I have yet to make one with Kaz and the reader kissing because he’s very difficult to write for and I hate straying away from how the character actually is. But also I can do a part two with Jesper’s job and the aftermath plus her interaction with Kaz afterwards. Just let me know!

[mtherhino]

One Side, Two lives

Chapter Four

I don’t mean to be rude, but please get out of my room.

First Previos Next

Warning: a few strange and dark facts about sea creatures, mention of slight gore, swearing, this is Remus so what do you expect

Today had been a lot for Logan. Remus was, well Remus, what did the others expect when he showed up? Still, being hit in the head with throwing stars hadn’t been very fun. They didn’t hurt much, but he had still felt the impact of them so he was a bit perturbed.

He had checked up on Roman after the video since he was the only one that could be effected by the Dukes antics when they were outside of the mindscape. Oddly enough he had been completely fine, he acted as if he just had woken up from a nap. He was a tiny bit off, but who wouldn’t be after getting hit in the head with a large blunt object. Logan shook his head, now was not the time to focus think about the smaller details of today’s events, he had work to do, being logic was an exhausting job, but one he took great pride in.

He sat down at his desk, it was an odd mixture between chaos and organization that worked for Logan, the papers where in messy piles everywhere and multiple pens where trown across the table, yet the Logical side knew exactly where everything was and if anyone moved just one thing, he became furious. Just as he grabbed a paper from one of the many stakes, he heard a small pop some from behind him.

He sighed, guess I’m not getting any work done today he thought to himself. He was not at all surprised to see the Duke standing in his rooms, his signature evil grin plastered on his face.

“Hello Remus. I don’t mean to be rude, but please get out of my room. I have work to do.” He said to the creative side. He could handle the others pretty well, but the duke was a wild card, impossible to predict, and that just didn’t sit well with Logan.

“No can do teach, I wasn’t able to get to you in the video so now I have to stay until I annoy you a proper amount.” He said while summoning a mace to lean on like it was a cane. Logan frowned that he was not using the object for its intended purposes.

“I have to file up all that Thomas learned today so that he doesn’t forget it, so I don’t exactly have time to let you annoy me.” Logan stated, turning back to his work. He started writing but the ink continuously changed color and he knew exactly who was to blame. When he turned around, oddly enough, he didn’t see Remus, his face turning into one of confusing.

“Up he nerdy wolverine!” Shouted a voice, startling Logan greatly. He looked up and saw Remus just laying on the ceiling.

“…. How in the world are you doing that ?” Logan asked, truly baffled by this point. Remus just looked at him confused.

“You guys can’t so this?” Logan shook his head and Remus looked a little surprised by this,. He and Roman used to run around on the ceiling a lot when they where little because there was more room up there.

Logan thought about that for a minute, since he was grounded in fact he has to obey the laws of physics even in the mindscape but he supposed the opposite must be true for the sides that were in charge of fantasy and imagination.

Remus just shrugged at the odd fact that the other couldn’t do this and just let himself fall onto the ground, jumping up right after as if he didn’t just reverse gravity on himself.  Logan pointed at his pen and asked him to turn it back to normal. Remus snapped his fingers and said it was ok now, and it was indeed one color, but when Logan started writing about what they had learned, the ink was a bright sparkly pink. He sighed heavily, but decided it was better than nothing.

Remus devised that this was the perfect moment to lean on Logan and make him mess up his writing.

“So what did you think of my song nerd? Did it get stuck in your head like I planned?” He asked, and if Logan was being honest, it had. The song was annoyingly catchy and was unfortunately on loop in his head.

“Perhaps” he said. Logan really did try to work, but it was extremely difficult when someone was talking about a continues train of morbid fact in his ear. What made it worse was that the facts were interesting! And part of him did want to listen, gaining knowledge was always beneficial. However, if he didn’t do this project no one would. Eventually Remus went quiet and git off him, Logan sighed in relief, thinking that the duke had finally grown bored with trying to annoy him and went back to his room.

He was proven wrong when he heard something very loudly fall near his closet. That thing turned out to be his door, Remus standing next to it was a smile painted on his face. Logan turned to him fully, his face now in a deep frown. Great, now I’m going to have to ask roman to help me make a new door, he’s probably going to want to go all out and make it look like something from the dark ages.

“Was there a purpose to destroying my closet door?” He asked Remus.

“There is no rhyme or reason for what I do, I just do.” He responded making Logan roll his eyes, he should have expected that kind of answer.

“Though honestly you weren’t responding and being boring so I thought that I might look around your room a bit!” The green clad side said. Logan tried to ignore it, I don’t have anything really interesting to anyone else in my room anyways so it should be fine, he thought.

           Once more, he was proven wrong, to outstanding measures. Remus let out a large gasp and what Logan could only assume was a squeal. The logical side turned to his closest, his patients nearly gone at this point. But, figuratively speaking, Logan threw all logic to the wind when he saw Remus come out with the biggest grin holding his unicorn onesie! He leapt to his feat immediately, his face a bit pink from embarrassment.

“Give that back!” He said as he lunged for the onesie, only to have Remus smoothly dodge his attack smirking at him,

“I didn’t know you were into unicorns nerd! Guess you have more in common with Roman than I thought!” He said, still dodging Logan who was acting as if he was a cat trying to catch it’s favorite toy. “Shut up and give me back my belonging!”lLogan said, his face growing more pink as Remus kept talking.

           Remus finally stopped but continued to hold the onesie in a small bundle over his head, he and Roman were both ever so slightly taller than Logan, who was second tallest with the twins tide for first, and Remus was taking full advantage of this fact in this moment.

“Alright nerd, I’ll give you back your pjs on one condition.”

Not thinking about how badly this could go, Logan responded “yes fine, just stop being so childish!” He shouted. At this Remus grinned and gave the item back to the smaller side. Logan clutched it too his chest and backed up so that Remus couldn’t just steal it right back, it seemed like the kind of loophole that he would find.

Remus stepped back as well, putting up his hands in a sign of surrender.

“You still have to fulfill your side of the deal poindexter, otherwise I’ll come back and dump a bucket of guts on you when your sleeping and ruin you sircurdium rhythm shit or whatever it is.”

“First of all it’s circadian rhythm, and I am a man of my words, so what are your ridiculous demands?” Logan questioned. Remus smiled meschizioucsly, Logan was starting to think that he had hundreds of different kinds of smiles for whatever situation he was in.

“Simple. You have to wear your onesie and we have a movie marathon.” Remus said with a small shrug.

           For a second the logical side’s mind completely short circuited and all he could do was stair at Remus.

“What?” He finally said.

“You heard me glasses, I gave you back you item so now you have to fulfill the favor!” The creative side said as if had won a battle against an army and didn’t break a sweat. Logan took a minute to consider this. Yes, the entire idea was rather embarrassing, but it could be a lot worse, there had to be something more to this that he just couldn’t quiet see.

“What’s the catch?” He asked, he was pretty sure he was close to being on Sherlock’s level of intelligence, so he figured that only a fool would except such an offer without asking a few questions.

“No catch, well, except for the fact that you have to let me pick a few of the things that we watch, so there will be some blood and guts somewhere.” The taller said. “I’ll be back in five minutes, by then you better have a show picked out or I’m going to stab your eyes out. See yah!” He waved and popped away. Logan was still nervous, but he still put on his onesie and opened up his laptop, heading over to YouTube so that he could look up something to watch.

           Seconds later, Remus reappeared, but Logan was a bit surprised at what he was wearing. Remus, while away, had dawned a green onesie that had tentacles patterns on the arms and legs with four extra small tentacles coming out of the back.

“Like what you see calculated watch?” Remus said in a flirty tone. Logan shook his head out of his confusion and shrugged, saying that he was just surprised that Remus even owned a onesie.

“Of course I own one, me and…Dee have our own movie marathons just like the rest of you.” Logan noted the hesitance in Remus’s tone when he was explaining himself, but he decided not to comment about it at the moment.

“Wait, Deceit owns a onesie?” He asked instead. Remus shrugged and jumped onto Logan’s bed, much to the owners displeasure.

“More or less, he kinda just has this huge yellow snake sleeping bag that he lays in, he takes up so much room on the couch.” Remus said as he stretched and quiet purposefully laid practically on top of Logan.”

“Yes, clearly he is the one that has no consideration for someone else’s space.” Logan said back.

“Oooo~ was that a bit of sass I just heard? Your not as boring as I though you were teach” remus said, smiling a bit that he was able to not just once, but twice was able to get Logan to show some emotion other than anger and his, what Remus liked to call ‘his dumb-dumb monotone face’.

           Logan pushed Remus off of him, “Guess theres a lot you don’t know about me” he said. Remus seemed to think about that for a minute, wondering how well he did know the other light sides besides his brother, he eventually just shrugged it off. Those thoughts could wait for another day.

“So what are we watching? Let me guess, some kind of light and fluffy movie, you light sides are rather predictable you know that?” Remus said. He raised an eyebrow as Logan shook his head and press play on the YouTube video.

“The others might prefer that stuff, but I like things that have a bit of educational information in what I’m watching, so I found a video that described the creatures that live at the bottom of the ocean.” Logan started the video and the narrator started talking about how the depths of the oceans are so dark that the creatures themselves glow to both attract prey and avoid being a meal for predators. Remus had starry eyes as he listened closely to all the weird and creepy facts about the undersea animals, especially liking the fact that angler fish will bite their mate and feed off of their nutrients. After the video Remus turned to Logan.

“That was so cool! Like the fact that some animals sacrifice a piece of their body and so that they can run away! Oh! And those glowing stare fish! Did you know they can be cut in half and still regrow perfectly! So cool! Hey Lo what’s your favorite animal from the video ? Mine was to be blah blah blah” The logical side had stoped listening at this point, not because he was uninterested, but because he was, surprised. Logan was rather taken aback by Remus’s reaction to the video if he was being honest, people often found these kinds of facts to be far too creepy to be enjoyable so it was kinda amazing to find someone as fascinated by what lurks at the depths of the sea as he was.

“Well I’m glad you likes the video Remus, not many like exploring the idea of the unknown. If I remember right, per our agreement its your turn to pick what we watch.” Logan said while sliding the computer over to Remus.

“Oki doky! Hmmm, what about a video on space? There is some creepy stuff out there and I’m just waiting for the government to admit that aliens are real.” Remus said, Logan having conflicting emotions about the fact that Remus wanted to watch an informational video about space but he didn’t want Remus to look up one that was factually incorrect for the sake of someone saying that there was a an alien in the frame or something.

“Although I have no problem with a space video, do you honestly think someone would have caught an alien or their ufo and posted it on YouTube?” Logan said, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.

“Course not teach, but its still fun to think of the what ifs,” Remus pointed out, “like if their was a species that lived in this area what the hell would they look like and what weird evolutions happened that they can now survive there.” The taller side said.

“That is, rather true I suppose. It would be fun to think about what creatures could exist in these places and what would aloud them to do so.” Logan said, placing a hand under his chins in consideration. “I didn’t think you would be so interested in outer space Remus.”

“Guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me”  Remus said, quoting Logan form earlier making the other roll his eyes again.

           The next video started playing and Logan hardly payed attention to the narrator in this one talking about how “there could very well be aliens on mars and we just don’t know it yet” and all that nonsense, instead focusing on the informational subtitles and the picture of the planet it self. The screen then changed to a picture of the galaxy and Logan took time to admire every detail. He often found it sad that people oh so rarely payed attention to the night sky and the stars. People always immersed themselves in fantasy but never just took a bit of time to look out their window and admire what the real world had to offer.

“Pretty cool video huh nerd.” That startled ed Logan out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“The video, it ended a minute ago.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess I got lost in thought.” Logan said. He had a tendency to do that. It wasn’t uncommon for him to just lay in bed and think, not doing anything else but let his mind wander.

“Hmm, ok. But please tell me you payed attention to at least some of the video, otherwise I can’t compare any of my alien theories with you.” Remus pouted.

“In all truthfulness I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the alien ideas in the video, but I should have enough prior knowledge to look over your theories.” The logical side said, needlessly adjusting his glasses.

“Great!” Remus said, poofing a sketch book and pen into his hand. “Well I was thinking of what an alien would look like if they lived on Venus and what they would need to withstand the heat.” Remus said as he vigorously started sketching. “So I figured that they could look a bit like roly poly bugs so that their thick shells could take the radiation from the sun.  They would also burrow underground to escape the heat and find minerals that are edible to them.” Remus explained.

“That is, fascinating Remus, though their technically called pill bugs for your information. How long have you been thinking about these species?” Logan said, looking over Remus’s incredibly realistic drawing. He was truly in aw at Remus’s explanation as to why these creatures look how they do and explaining what they are capable of and the purpose of it. Remus just shrugged at his question.

“For a while I guess, I don’t really have anyone to share them with. Dee doesn’t really find outer space interesting and when I try to, uh, freak out Roman with them he doesn’t understand the science behind them that makes them truly terrifying.” Remus said. He had tried to show them to Roman once or twice, but Roman didn’t understand Remus’s interest in space and aliens when they create magical creatures that could do literally anything every day.

“Yah, I could see Roman getting confused with the fascination of aliens, he prefers to mythology to science fiction.” Logan said nodding along.

“Yah, how do you think he would react if he ever met and alien that traveled to earth? I bet he would be like,” he cleared his throat a bit and sat up a little straighter, when he spoke he sounded just like his brother. “You claim to be advance being but you don’t even know what Disney is?!” He put a hand to his chest as if thoroughly offended, he then let his act drop and slumped back down on the bed.

           Then remus heard a sound he never thought he would hear, Logan started laughing. Not his quick or stuck up laughter, but a real laugh. He snorted a bit and started laughing so much he put his hand over his mouth to try to quiet the noise.

“Wow, you sure can do a good impression of your brother. Hahaha!” Remus just stared at Logan in aw, well shit, guess I’m gayer than I thought. Remus started to rethinking everything he thought about the tie wearing side before him while Logan seemed to calm down from his laughing fit.

“My apologies , I usually don’t laugh that much, do you want to watch something else?” Remus, still in a bit of a daze, just absentmindedly nodded. Logan looked up something else to watch and the two spent the rest of the day watching videos and comparing theories they’ve had for so long but didn’t have anyone to share them with. Eventually Logan fell asleep, his head slightly leaning on Remus, and the creative side was of course having a bit of a gay crises on the inside. On the outside however, he just smiled and decided to head to his own room and let Logan get some sleep, he probably needed it because of the nightmares Remus had caused Thomas to have the night before. He put a pillow under Logan’s head and made his way to the door, turning out the lights as he went. Logan wouldn’t notice till later, but his closet door stood fixed and in its place, now painted a dark blue with bubbles and stars scattering it.

Yay! Another chapter done! I was so stressed out to finish this because all my classes are dumping projects on my head that I had to complete this week. Anyways. I hope you enjoyed a bit of fluff, you’ll need it. Well, that’s all for now humans! If you want to be added to the tag list just ask! Have a good day, bye!

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@lovelivingmydreams

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Negative Space || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Following Lydia’s death, Morgan and Deirdre search for ways to pick up the pieces.

CONTAINS: discussions of death, dying, and grief. brief mentions of Lydia’s human captives.

“The clinic was a mistake.” Deirdre grumbled as she drove, hissing her complaints as she pulled the Subaru to a stop, massaging her temples in a desperate attempt to summon back her vision and the senses it offered. Her mind had been imprinted with the beeping and whirring of the clinic’s machines, the very same that had kept her sustained, and lent her the energy now to be driving at all; the doctor’s droll voice, asking her to stay another night, because she needed it; and the whispering of other fae, annoyed that a non-fae was in their presence, in their space, and her own voice, shushing them. She slept well, with Morgan in her arms and medicine in her body, but time had a horrible way of eating at memory, and a worse way of moving things around. Lydia’s body might not be in the alley she was murdered in anymore; if someone went to such lengths to kill her, they’d be disposing of her too. The two of them weren’t just too late, it was like they were operating on a whole other timeline. Deirdre hated it. She hadn’t touched the rest of her vision of Lydia’s death; the faces, the voices, the sounds and scents, those she wanted to save for when her mind needed them. Right now her mind needed a location...and a drink. Deirdre groaned and threw her head back. “If she was trying to leave town, then she should be here. But I’m not feeling anything.” She eyed her doctor-recommended crutches and then the sidewalk. “Maybe we should go by foot.”

“The clinic made you better,” Morgan mumbled. She didn’t especially enjoy being looked at like she was a dog wetting the living room, or being whispered about in Gaelic like she hadn’t made time to learn the words for ‘human’ and ‘filth’ online. But Deirdre had held her all night and she’d been able to follow the monitors tracking her recovery and listen to her heartbeat and believe, to an extent, that they would be okay. “I can pop out the wheelchair they gave us, if you want to take a swing around the next block or two,” she suggested. “I can take over driving, if it’ll help you concentrate. I won’t go so fast, or slow or…” Or whatever she’d done that had contributed to missing Lydia and her body. She knew by the light of day that there wasn’t much to be done about having a mental breakdown under the double trouble trauma, but having some responsibility meant she wasn’t completely helpless.

“Not the wheelchair,” Deirdre grimaced, turning the car off. “Anything but the wheelchair.” She didn’t have the energy to be wheeling herself around, and there was something deeply embarrassing about having Morgan push her. By comparison, the crutches were slightly less embarrassing, though still enough for her to forgo them as she stumbled out of the car. “Let me use you to lean on?” She called out, hobbling towards the passenger side to meet Morgan outside. “It’s better than anything else.” She smiled bright, and though she’d spent most of the car ride tensely silent or cursing at the air, even in her state, it wasn’t hard to see Morgan wasn’t doing well. Lydia’s death was a rumbling echo, but time had moulded her sadness into anger—her depression to urgency; guilt to stubbornness. She hadn’t asked what plagued Morgan, she’d almost forgotten to. Maybe she didn’t conduct the same alchemy of emotions that Deirdre did. “Do you want to take another break, my love?” She asked, for all her desperation to find Lydia, she was continually astonished and horrified at the ease in which she could offer pause and rest to Morgan. Caring for her girlfriend was not a task that she deliberated on, or regretted, she only hoped that Lydia beyond the grave didn’t hate her too much for wanting to care for the woman she loved. Even if respite was the last thing she wanted. The clinic had been agreeable only because pain and medication captured her brain, if they stopped now, she would start thinking. In that moment, Deirdre could think of no greater torture—except, of course, everything Lydia endured. But that was just it; that was the thinking. “We can think of this as a nice stroll if you’d like. Like we’ve always taken.”

“Sorry. I just thought…” The wheelchair would be faster, smoother, easier on Deirdre’s hands and the rest of her body. Morgan could wheel them around in a few minutes. Even sidewalks without accessible ramps wouldn’t be a problem with her zombie strength. She was three days without a meal now and could bust through or lift most things she put her mind to. “Anyway, you should at least bring your cane. I’ve already ordered a nicer one, but it’s not going to come in for a couple of days.” She stumbled over her words to appease Deirdre’s hardened grief so much she almost missed her love’s gentle offer. “Of course you can lean on me, if that’s what you want,” she said. Her eyes nearly watered at Deirdre’s smile. It wasn’t even twenty-four hours out from when she had stopped breathing in her arms, since she had run and disappeared and fallen apart in bloody pieces and stopped speaking to her altogether unless it was to give instructions. As Morgan got out of the car to meet her girlfriend and pull her into her arms (gently, so as not to upset her healing sores), she couldn’t help but feel like some part of her was still cowering in the driveway, stuck to the ground with all that blood. “We don’t need to stop,” she said into Deirdre’s shoulder, carefully giving her a squeeze. “I know we need to do this. I know why we’re here. Just tell me what you want me to do. I’ll--” She shivered. “I’ll do it. I’m doing a lot better today, and I can carry you if you get tired, and I um…” She couldn’t think of anything else to specifically offer. She looked up into Deirdre’s eyes, promising her anything with desperate intensity. I’ll be good. I’ll find a way to make this better.

Deirdre glanced over at the shoddy stick, more tree branch than cane. The fae enjoyed their ties to nature, Deirdre would sooner use the crutches—which were grey and dull but notably not dirt-stained. “I...think I’d rather just lean on you.” Even in sickness, there were standards to be upheld. And while Deirdre found a measure of humour in it, she looked to her girlfriend to see that she didn’t. “We have time,” she smiled softly. They really didn’t, her stomach churned and her mind battled with her to assert a timeframe. They didn’t have time, except that Deirdre smiled as though they did, and spoke slow, measured, as though there was no rush. She pressed her body beside Morgan’s, just the way the two of them knew how to walk tangled in each other, with added weight against the zombie’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” she gestured for them to walk forward with a careful pace, seemingly unbothered. She felt fractured; there was the part of her that cared so deeply for Morgan that even against her own desperation, she could summon whatever kindness Morgan needed. And the part that burned for Lydia; the slow growing storm that just wanted to find her. In these moments, it was easy for her to remember that Morgan was suffering too. When left to herself, everything else seemed to slip her mind. Storms were often consuming, but she had practice taming them. “We can talk about it, if you want; whatever’s bothering you. Besides the obvious, I guess.” She laughed weakly, staring up at the sky. Something about the early morning air was always acrid, it stung her eyes, but it was of great importance to her that they left the clinic as soon as she woke up. She’d forgotten to ask what Morgan thought. “I’m sorry I haven’t been exactly…” she looked to Morgan with her own desperation. “...like I should be. I just want to find Lydia, I just want to get to her.” Deirdre shook her head, sighing. “You’ve been very good to me, despite everything. And I haven’t even thanked you for it. I’m sorry, my love. Will you let me ask after you now?”

“O-obvious?” Morgan wasn’t sure what counted as obvious and what didn’t. She averted her eyes and started to hobble with Deirdre the way she wanted to go. “No, we can just…” Morgan swallowed thickly, trying to summon up some wall to put between herself and the fear and guilt she didn’t know how to relocate. But she was always herself around Deirdre. She didn’t know how to pretend around her, even if it was what would help the most. “You don’t have to be anything more than how you are. We can go find her, we don’t have to stop for anything, I’m sorry if I’m...I’m not trying to hold everything up, I don’t mean to be so…” Her eyes were burning again and she tried to focus on walking with Deirdre. She never would’ve thought walking up and down their house wrapped up in each other would come in handy before. But here they were, stepping in the way they knew so well, enough that Morgan could remember how they usually were. Not the happiness, but the ease, the intimacy of their openness.

Morgan met Deirdre’s eyes for a flash of a moment, hoping that she could be good and find whatever strength she needed, however unfamiliar, to pull herself up and help Deirdre find what she needed to. But as Morgan held her gaze, the tears came free and her insides crumbled. “You don’t need to thank me, or be sorry. Honestly, I don’t really feel like I--” she hesitated. “I know I...I tried, I did, but I screwed it up...” she clenched her jaw and tried to keep her composure as much as possible and brought them slowly to a stop near a sidewalk bench. “I know I can’t do anything to fix what happened, but if I could just do something to make any of this better or easier for you…” She clenched her jaw and breathed again. “I know you’re angry. And I know I’m at least partially responsible for us being in this situation. But…I’m sorry. I feel like I’m making everything worse right now. I should be comforting you. You shouldn’t have to worry about me after losing your best friend, your family, but...you were gone. I got off the floor and you were gone and then you were bleeding and you wouldn’t tell me anything and you wouldn’t stay or take me with you and...I should’ve just gotten the car, fucking stars above, I should’ve just gotten in the car and picked you up and maybe then we… but I just thought ‘she couldn’t have gone far, we’ll figure it out.’ I didn’t understand what was happening, and...you were dying! You went from running away to looking me in the eye and saying you weren’t going to live and then you couldn’t walk or use your hands and there was so much blood everywhere and I was scared! Out-of-my-mind scared! I would do everything different now, I would, but...I didn’t know anything except that the world was ending. You were dying and it was the end of everything and I was scared and it broke me. I didn’t even realize you’d gotten up after the call, you were just gone, and nothing felt real anymore and I couldn’t...be what you needed. I tried, but I couldn’t. And I’m still--between failing you and almost losing you on the fucking driveway with no warning, I’m just not back together yet...” her voice petered out. Morgan could only just push through her shame to look at Deirdre again, searching for someplace safe in her gaze to hole up in.

“Lydia, I mean….” Deirdre breathed with trepidation; confessing the truth so bluntly was not something she had grown accustomed to in the time between her scream and now. She would have preferred, in fact, to never speak of it. But such wasn’t fair--Lydia deserved to be spoken of, remembered, loved. Even if it would just be her who held the leanan-sidhe in her heart. She frowned and anchored herself to Morgan’s side, pressed as tightly as she could manage. With great imagination, she could pretend this was one of their strolls around White Crest, at some point they’d turn a corner and make their way into a cemetery. But the gravestones in her head all read Lydia’s name. “You didn’t screw anything up…” She fell on to the bench, gesturing for Morgan to sit beside her, nearly pulling her down too. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, my love. I wouldn’t have gotten myself anywhere on foot, you know that, and it is true that my body needed rest. You can imagine the state I would be in now if you hadn’t chased after me.” Deirdre tried to laugh, the gentle, light way she did when she wanted to lift Morgan’s spirits, but the sound came out as a cough. And then another. And then a tug, taut and strange in her chest. She grimaced, leaning forward to clutch the rough fabric of the clinic-lent sweatshirt she was wearing---equally as gaudy as the cane and wheelchair. Morgan’s voice throbbed in her ears, she made out a few sentences and a handful of words. Distantly, she knew Morgan was talking about her near-death, and the trauma that followed it, but her head pulsed; vision spotty. “You don’t need to...do anything...different…” She spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. I don’t need you to be anything but how you are. It’s oka---” The cemetery with the Lydia gravestones screamed at her, ringing loud and demanding. Deirdre stumbled off the bench. She stared down the road, watching it narrow. The pull she had been searching for was clear, and it was persistent. It tethered her, strung her limbs up and pulled her like a doll.

If she was thinking, she’d realize it was in poor taste to be running off again. But she wasn’t thinking, she was sprinting down a foregin street. Pain forgotten, she burst forth with temporary speed and composure. “Morgan!” She called her girlfriend’s name just once before she turned the corner. The cemetery. The Lydia gravestones. They lived in a nameless alley; not that alley’s often had names, but she’d make sure people knew this one--the place where good died. Deirdre stumbled into it, filled with perverse relief to find Lydia. To find Lydia. To find--Where was Lydia? Deirdre threw herself to the ground, equal parts frantic and too weak to hold herself up. Where was Lydia? She committed herself to vision, to everything her death-cursed body could drum up.      

Morgan thought the clinic and the waking up and the sitting tensely in the car was a trick and this really was a magic nightmare drummed up to torment her. Deirdre coughed, ragged and painfully unlike herself. Morgan scrambled for the water bottle in her bag and handed it off to Deirdre. “Drink slowly, babe,” she whispered. “Slow, okay?” She felt brave enough, forgiven enough, to stroke Deirdre’s cheek the way she liked to when it was her turn to comfort her. But Deirdre shuddered and sank against her body. “I’ve got you. What is it? Hey—” And then Deirdre was up, running away from her again, knocking her way through the street, drunk with pain. “Deirdre! Deirdre, please!” Morgan didn’t care about the pedestrians turning their heads to look at the crazy woman shoving past them. She was just seeing their street and the trail of blood and Deirdre’s dead, icy look. Morgan couldn’t do this again. She didn’t have it in her.

Morgan turned the corner and caught Deirdre’s hand as she called her name. “I’m here. Tell me what’s happening, just fucking tell me, I don’t even care what it is!” She pleaded, falling to her knees with Deirdre, holding her up in her arms. “Are you in more pain? Do I need to drive you back to the clinic? What do you—did you find something?” She brushed back her love’s hair, searching her face for some tell about what new twist of the cosmic knife was working through them this time. She held onto Deirdre, too tight for her to break away from easily. “Please. I can take it. Just talk to me…”

Where was Lydia? Deirdre burned, clawing at her skin with bandaged fingers. She felt cut upon cut across her chest, the weight of wounded wings she didn’t own, spear through her shoulder. She felt Lydia’s pain, splashed up against the walls and spilled across the floor, but she didn’t know where she was. Her body took flash fever, starting at her knees against the ground. Where was Lydia? She heard voices, saw figures in the dark of her vision–one, two, three...just how many people had watched Lydia die? How many of them caused it? At the center, a blonde girl flared to mind, but Deirdre already knew about her; had already committed herself silently to dealing with it. She began to paw at the ground. Perhaps Lydia had been buried below, somehow, but she searched and searched and found nothing. Her body burned.

Deirdre blinked, turning slowly to her girlfriend. The apology for her actions that wanted to sit on her tongue had been swallowed down. She took dirt and ash into her hands, letting them stain once pristine bandaging before peeling Morgan off of her. The process was slow, she was in no rush now. She had found Lydia, after all. Once unfurled, she opened Morgan’s palm and dusted ash against her skin. “That’s Lydia,” she said, “we found her.” Deirdre turned back to the ground, the ash was nearly indiscernible from the rough cement, but she leaned down and scooped it all up into a pile—every grain of dirt along with it. In time, by hand, she would pick everything that wasn’t Lydia out. For now, she just wanted it all. She thought she could mold her back, like clay. She tried it; holes for the eyes first. But the nose wouldn’t stick. “How is she going to wear something nice, for the funeral?” She asked, “what if she wanted to be buried? Didn’t they ask her? Didn’t they think about her family? This is all they get to see of her now. Who would want that? Who would want ashes?” In her scraping the ground, the charred remains of Lydia’s phone mixed with the pile. Deirdre plucked it out. There was Lydia, pile on the floor, and this was the place she died. This was the place she saved Deirdre’s life. And they gave her ashes. “Didn’t they know…” she sobbed, unaware she had begun tainting the ash with her tears (she would apologize for this later, seek repentance in the familiar places she knew). “....didn’t they know? Didn’t they know that I loved her. Why would they—what did they think I would do with a body? Couldn’t they have just left her in a river or—“ Deirdre curled up on the ground, pulling Lydia to her chest. There wasn’t much left of her now, even with the ash; a byproduct of the time she wasted (she would apologize for this too). “She couldn’t stand looking at a dead body, not the beautiful decayed kind. But I think she—I think she wanted a coffin. Didn’t they ask her? Why didn’t they ask her?” Deirdre sobbed, a horrible and pathetic whimpering sound, but she knew the answer.

Morgan tried to fasten Deirdre’s hands together in her grasp to no avail. “No! If you can leave me behind like I don’t matter you can use your fucking words and tell me what’s happening!” She shook her, aching and desperate, but Deirdre was somewhere else, and nothing Morgan said meant a damn thing, if they’d even registered as words at all. And then she spoke and all of Morgan’s fear and grief punctured, crawling miserably into some dark corner inside herself to hide. There wasn’t time for this. If Deirdre was right (and when it came to death, Deirdre was always right), then Morgan didn’t get to matter right now. She quieted and let Deirdre have her way, carefully folding away her hurt in box after box to fester out of sight.

Morgan had never looked at flesh ash before. Somehow she thought it would look different, more distinct and impressive. But aside from being a little paler, there wasn’t anything to differentiate it from the dregs of a regular bonfire. Morgan closed her hand around the grainy nothing Deirdre had put in her hands. Lydia. If she hadn’t been an alchemist in another life, she wouldn't know the connection between these little particles and the woman they had both known. But Morgan did, just as she knew that whatever kind of soul fae had, Lydia’s was off becoming part of something else. Strangely enough, Morgan couldn’t find it in her to hope for peace for Lydia so much as a second chance, an opportunity to be kind, to understand that the world wasn’t stratified the way she’d been raised to believe, to feel connected to the affection that had vanished from her life over its final weeks. That’s what Morgan wanted.

But death didn’t care for wanting. Deirdre had explained that to her plenty of times. And as Morgan held her girlfriend, rubbing her back and stroking her hair as she sobbed, she reminded herself that she was part death too. She could hold and speak and not want anything. She could, if she remembered the pit inside her and let it take her a little. After watching her tiny world implode on a loop so many times in less than a day, it was almost easy. “I don’t know, my love. I’m afraid I don’t know.” she said faintly. “But I do know that her soul and her energy have already passed on and transformed. Maybe she’s in the winter flowers, or the wind, or some happy, gentle creature that was just born. But we can put what’s left of her in a nice urn, maybe something from her house. I don’t think she’d mind her house pieces being with someone who can appreciate them. Or we could get an alchemist to turn her into something you can keep with you always. She would like her body turning into something beautiful, I think. When you’re ready, you’re going to finish the water bottle, and I’ll clean it out and we’ll put her in there for the time being. And we’ll go home, and you’ll decide what you think is best for her remains when you’re ready for that too.”

“There’s no winter flowers in an alley!” Deirdre bellowed, rumbling the world around them. Her tears felt like fire against her cheeks now, and she pushed herself off the ground. “This stupid man-made shit. She doesn’t get to go anywhere! Not back to the earth that bore her, not the forests of her ancestral home. This human garbage is what she gets. You can’t grow a tree in cement! They killed her here! And they didn’t even leave a body.” Deirdre slammed her fist to the ground, shattering bone on impact and undoing her body’s attempts at healing her torn nails; she reacted to neither, an instrument of pain and anger. “You don’t know what they did to her,” she spoke to Morgan now, trembling in the force of her words. “We didn’t even get to hear all of it. But I saw, I heard, I know. They took Lydia from this world, she begged and they ignored her and now she’s ash. She didn’t want to die this way. And I promised her, I promised her—“ ‘A good death’ shouldn’t have been something impossible to give. It was her job, her livelihood; everything she was born for. “She was my sister and they took her.” Deirdre huffed, calming herself just enough to remember who she was speaking to, and what had been said. “Not unless you can dry it all out,” she gestured at the water bottle, gently taking it with her good hand. If drinking water would please Morgan, she would do it, but the point of the gesture was lost on her now. “Water will ruin the ashes. Or taint them. Nothing touches Lydia anymore, nothing that will hurt her. No water.” She took a sip, hissing as it went down. Drinking water felt like a waste of time, so much so that she stopped at just the first sip. “And no home. We go to Lydia’s.” Deirdre pulled off her sweatshirt, pushing the ashes onto the fabric. She considered that the water bottle just might have been better, but she wanted everything and she wanted it pure. “No one will be turning her into anything, not unless I know I can still feel her like that, and, anyway, not a human. I’m not letting another human touch her. Her family will decide what’s best. I’ll leave that to them.” A work of art might’ve sounded good to Deirdre, if her mind could bear to stir itself from thoughts of rage. “Are you good to drive?” She asked Morgan, speaking mostly to the ash though. “We can take a break, if you don’t want to. But we’re not going home. I don’t want to go home now. We need to go to Lydia’s, as soon as we can. Time—“ she snarled, “—clearly has done terrible things to my sister.”

Morgan took back the water bottle as soon as Deirdre made her disgust for the idea apparent. She had dumped out the rest and begun cleaning it with her sleeve when Deirdre dismissed the idea. Morgan stopped, screwed on the lid, and put the empty bottle away. Nothing to do about it now. Taking off the sweatshirt from the clinic was a stupid mistake. The ash would get caught in the fibers and almost impossible to fully separate. Some of Lydia’s remains would end up in the wash, or some cotton blend would end up in her urn, or whatever happened in the end. And Deirdre shouldn’t have promised a good death, not when she knew from Morgan’s death that sometimes there wasn’t time enough to fix anything. But nothing in Morgan’s head mattered, and nothing broke the surface of her blank face except a ‘fine,’ and later, when the silence had been long enough to make Morgan sure that Deirdre was finished, she said flatly, “You just re-broke your hand, of course I’m driving. We’ll go to Lydia’s and then swing by the clinic again.” Deirdre didn’t have enough clarity of mind to set her own bones, and she probably couldn’t, with her fingers in their state. She scooped Deirdre up in her arms and walked them back to the car. She buckled both of them in, started the car, and took them away.

Time washed away funny when you were in the pit. It was both a long time and a short time back into town and up to Harris Island. The light had changed, bright and desaturated. Morgan pulled up the drive and turned off the car and came wordlessly around to wait for Deirdre to let herself out whichever ways she was going to insist on next. Deirdre had been right about time, the air crackled with the sound of tarp bubbling in the wind. New windows still had the stickers on them, ready for the final approval that would never come. At least the security team was absent, now lacking someone to follow and crime scene tape had been strung around the perimeter. Morgan only needed to twist the handle hard enough to break it free and let them in.

Deirdre hated being carried, despite its convenience. It made her feel like a child, and of all the things to be, a child was the worst. But she did not argue this time, she had her eyes glued to Lydia, and they remained there. In the car, which she hadn’t noticed they’d gotten into, she tried whispering her friend’s name, as if coaxing her out of her ashen hiding place. Then she spoke to her softly in Gaelic, mostly nonsense, but partly apologies she could not find the words for in English. Every so often, she subjected herself to the vision again, this time she took account of every detail. She had been cataloguing sounds by pitch by the time they came to Lydia’s. “We’ll be back,” she told the ashes, which was a silly thing to do, but Deirdre’s mind had gone to a strange place. A different place. She made sure Lydia was comfortable before she left, wrapped safe in the cheap sweatshirt. Inside, there would be nice vases for Lydia to go in until she found a more permanent home. It would be better than her shirt, at least. Deirdre looked at the ashes. “Do you want to come?” She asked them. They did not respond, but she turned back and picked them up carefully, unable to part with Lydia anyway. Lydia’s house was not even in an acceptable state; too messy, too taped up and put together all wrong. Lydia wouldn’t want that. “I should clean up,” she announced to no one in particular. “But first a good home for the ash—for the ash—for the—for Lydia.” But everything was toppled over, not where it should be. Her mind was still reeling from visions, she didn’t have the capacity to log every change here. Her eyes raked over the sheer number of them, and she felt sick. “This isn’t good.” She said, sitting on Lydia’s couch. The same place she would sit, feet tucked under her, as her and Lydia chatted over wine. Deirdre’s gaze settled on Lydia’s empty spot beside her. “This isn’t right.” She looked to the ashes again, bundled with more care than she had ever held anything. “What do you think?”

“You’re not gonna clean anything. It’s a crime scene,” was all Morgan said. She walked through the first floor of the house, or as far as she could manage while keeping Deirdre in her sight. There had been a struggle, and there had been an investigation underway. Spots were marked up with numbered tags as evidence. If they only knew the worst of it, they wouldn’t have bothered, Morgan thought. She went systematically through each room, stopping in the kitchen to work on the cabinets. It was fitting and cruel and pitiful, to put Lydia in something meant for food, but there weren’t going to be many options on this floor. She took out a sculpted rice serving pot and a ceramic sugar tin, both more form than function. She washed and dried them carefully by hand. There was a lot wrong with this place, a prickling awfulness that wanted to pull Morgan out of her numbness and shoo her out the door. But Morgan didn’t matter right now, and neither did Lydia’s crimes. Maybe another day, but not right now.  Morgan brought the two vessels out to the living room where Deirdre still sat. “You don’t care what I think,” she muttered, setting them down in front of her. She’d found fault with everything Morgan had put forward so far, and this was probably going to be more of the same, so Morgan stepped away in an effort to get ahead of the next blast. “I’m going upstairs. Don’t do anything to hurt yourself.”

“What crime happened here?” Deirdre turned to the ashes, whom she thought might laugh and tell her something silly. But with things numbered up, the humans hadn’t infested Lydia’s home to try and look for her; they didn’t care she was ashes. But what crime happened here? Lydia had never done anything wrong, as far as Deirdre could think—which wasn’t very far, now. “The vases and art are missing.” She assumed because Regan had done her number against them, but it was wrong to see Lydia’s house so barren. She would’ve hated this. Likewise, she would’ve hated the options Morgan presented. Deirdre eyed them, and a moment too late, spoke softly. “I always care what you think, Morgan.” But Morgan had gone already and left Deirdre in the place that was wrong and empty. She pulled the serving bowl close, and carefully poured Lydia inside. “I’m sorry,” she told the ashes, and though she was vigilant not to spill anything, she couldn’t help but think she was losing some of Lydia in the transfer. She slipped the sweatshirt back on, bundling the ash-stained front in her hands, tugging them close to her chest. Deirdre turned her attention back to the house, she thought about mixing the numbers around, rubbing dirt over the places they thought were evidence. She didn’t know what crime they assumed was committed here, but they were wrong, and Deirdre needed to protect Lydia’s legacy. But instead she hobbled to her feet, and stumbled her way up the stairs. Falling down and over, revisiting old scrapes against her legs, wasn’t so terrible now that she had no space in her mind to think of it. “Morgan?” She crawled to the bedroom, “what are you looking at?”

Morgan had only been upstairs to visit Remmy before, and so wandered the rooms on rooms on rooms without purpose. She found Remmy’s first: empty. Morgan frowned to think that she and Lydia felt the same way about them and their absence. But there it was, a hollow shell where a life used to be. If Morgan didn’t know any better, she would have taken it for some overly personal art installation. It could be called something like, ‘regret’ or ‘disavowed’ or ‘why the heck did you stick around for so long if you were going to make me feel bad for what I need and fuck off’? That last one was more about her than Lydia, she liked to think, but she shut Remmy’s old door and moved on all the same.

There were more spare rooms and suites, some that looked lived in recently enough to make Morgan’s stomach clench. Clothes folded with neurotic care. Pencils and paper on a desk. Shoes tucked under a bed like they were hiding. It had to be Chloe. Other, too, from the looks of things. Where had Lydia found the time to take more people? How long after leaving Chloe or Sammy dying had this happened? Morgan lingered for several moments. She was one of the few people who could begin to understand the crimes that had happened here, she owed Chloe that much. How many times had she been tormented here? How many times that this felt like some sick safety compared to the torture basement? How much harder was it to bear this alone? Morgan didn’t have the stomach to bear it at all, not with the memory of Chloe’s cries in her ears. She stumbled backed away from the hallway and turned down a different one. The house seemed to change, performance and display falling away to simpler aesthetics, cozier furniture. Morgan entered the room at the end of the hall and found herself in Lydia’s bedroom.

It was the kind of room someone’s mother would have liked: soft textured fabrics fresh out of a bedding catalogue, warm light coming through the curtains, fat photo albums and well-loved poetry books stacked on the nightstand, and on a vanity shelf, miraculously intact, were arrays of trinkets and knick knacks. Morgan went up to look at each one, noticing the particularities, the mish mash of styles. This wasn’t curated the way the sculptures and paintings downstairs were. If there was any logic here, it was known only to Lydia, mysterious and personal. There were runes and gaelic dialects that must have been fae and off in a corner was a collection of bones, including a bell jar terrarium arranged around a racoon skull.

“My bones,” Morgan whispered. She had given Lydia the gift on their last planned meeting. She always came with a gift for Lydia, but this one had been her most involved; crafted by hand instead of purchased. “I thought you hated this,” she said. “I thought you hated all my presents, but I worked on this for days, hoping you’d be impressed. I wanted to remember what it was like creating something, and I thought you of all people would understand. But you never really said you liked it, so I figured you put it in some reject closet...” But it was here, carefully tended to along with Lydia’s other treasures, the moss even looked like it had been nurtured recently. Morgan surveyed the collection again, the strange hodge lodge of it, and the care they were curated with. These were gifts. These were people she wanted to keep close to her heart, and for some reason she had chosen to remember Morgan along with them, even after everything. And looking at this, how could Morgan not think of Lydia over at the house, sipping wine with Deirdre, or next to Morgan in the car, begging silently to be accepted? And then all the times they fought online and Lydia’s patience when Morgan said something stupid and offensive to her fae ears and that time they sat in the warmth of a fae funeral pyre, pressed together with Deirdre in the middle? That was real. As real as Chloe’s cries in the basement and everything else that had happened here. This stupid terrium that only mattered because Morgan had made it--this was Lydia too.

Morgan lifted the bell jar terrarium and held it to her chest, bundling her arms tight until the glass broke. Morgan whimpered. No, she didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Not the glass pressing into her skin, not her hurt, her betrayal, her grief. And yet. “What was wrong with you?” She asked Lydia. “Why couldn’t you have been this kind to—what was wrong with you?” She sank to the floor, staring into the broken offering like it might hold any answers. She reached deep inside herself for that calm, dead balance again, but it was no good. It wasn’t a place Morgan had ever known how to keep herself in. As she curled her body over the mess, sobbing into hand, it seemed that it, too, had abandoned her completely.

Morgan sensed Deirdre only faintly. She gasped for control, scrambling for something inside her heart to protect herself with. She wiped her eyes furiously and curled her body away, crunching the glass further. It came apart on her shirt, but Morgan didn’t care. She wasn’t ready to get off the floor and face whatever Deirdre would do to her next. “...Stop.” She said, her tear-choked voice just above a whisper.

“Morgan?” Deirdre called out again, crawling across the floor. If she had sense, she would have hated the child-like quality of it. If she was thinking, she would have apologized for it. “Are you oka—“ Stop. Deirdre flinched, Morgan would not catch the flicker of pain across her features, though her whimper was audible. “But—“ her argument caught in her throat. Somewhere beyond her, there were the words of care and love: you’re not okay, I won’t stop. But there, right then, all she had was quiet. Tell me what’s wrong, turned into the slow reaching for Morgan, grimacing at her flinching of the touch. Whimpering as it happened again when she wrapped her arms around her love. The Lydia spilled across her shirt spread on to Morgan, but Deirdre’s mind was a simple beast now; it did not possess the intelligence to consider intricacies. “Let me see your hands,” she asked softly, then set about picking the glass out of her. That, like all of the Lydia that had been defiled around her, was also wrong. She was learning that she didn’t like seeing the people she loved in ways they didn’t belong; Lydia to ash, Morgan to pincushion. “You were right about the water bottle,” she said, “but I do like wearing Lydia. It feels like she’s hugging me again….almost. I miss that. I held her while she cried, in that bed right there, and at the time I didn’t think to cherish the feeling. I thought I’d always have it.” She paused, trying to pull Morgan close to her, like always was—like she also imagined she would always be able to. But she had lost Morgan once, a few times before if loss by her own doing could be counted, and she knew to always hold her as if committing the feeling to memory. “What’s wrong?”

Morgan continued to cry, shrinking and cowering from Deirdre’s touches as she searched for the cold, effortless grasp of death, and a voice that at least resembled her own. She tried pulling her hands away (the cuts didn’t matter) and she tried dissolving out of Deirdre’s arms and slithering back to the car alone. But Deirdre had her, and she was trapped, and maybe it would have been the only trap she wanted to fall into if it wasn’t all a meaningless lie. “I said stop…” she croaked. “Stop lying, stop touching me like you…” Her voice snagged and whined in her throat. “Like you suddenly care. Just stop, please…” The back and forth felt more cruel than the rejection; at least when Deirdre had abandoned her before, Morgan never had to question their reunions. She could count on at least a week, often more. Deirdre’s strong, slender arms had pushed her away so rarely before today, Morgan had thought they were the key to knowing she was safe. But that had been before the nightmare day, before she’d stopped being able to do anything right or important in Deirdre’s eyes.

“I can’t do this again,” she begged in a whisper. “Don’t act like you want to stay anymore. I believed you—I believed you last time and—” And Deirdre couldn’t have been bothered to do things differently even once. For all Morgan knew, she hadn’t been listening all. “I can’t anymore. Please just stop and tell me what you’re angry about next. Were the dishes I picked out too ugly? Do you hate the windows being messed up? Do you hate me for wanting to go back to the clinic? Or do you—stars, I don’t even fucking know anymore because you’re never going to tell me what’s really wrong or listen to when I try to explain, you’re just going to leave!” And in that case, why was Morgan saying so much now? Catching the irony, Morgan slumped in on herself, trembling as she searched in vain for the dead, nothing parts of her for comfort. “Please, don’t lie anymore. I don’t understand what I ever did but doesn’t matter, so just do it...” Just go. Leave me behind.

Deirdre pulled her hands back, tucked carefully in her lap, as she listened to the strange words tumbling out of the strange Morgan. She thought it was a dream, for a moment, until a dull pain throbbed across her hand, and she noticed for the first time how swollen and misshapen it was. She couldn’t remember when or why, but she noticed it. And she looked at Morgan, and she noticed more—the betrayal claimed in her features, the torment in her voice. “What did I do?” She asked quietly, she tried to search her mind for the answer but could not remember anything outside of entering the peculiar dimension that housed this wrong imitation of Lydia’s home. “I do care about you. I always care. I don’t understand…” she blinked, found herself crying, and blinked some more. She wanted to touch Morgan, but Morgan had told her to stop, and in her obedience, she did not dare. She thought the good Deirdre, the one that could have kept her promise to Lydia, would have known how to fix this. She wouldn’t have brought Morgan to this point to begin with. But as she was now, she couldn’t logic out what was wrong, what she needed to apologize for, and what she could do to make it better. Her mind was jumbled with thoughts of Lydia, memories intertwined with regrets. She could feel the leanan-sidhe on her chest, holding her steady. “The dishes were ugly.”  But that was only because any dish would be ugly to hold Lydia, it wasn’t Morgan’s fault. And she didn’t like the windows being all broken either, but Morgan had nothing to do with that. “I don’t understand,” she said again, usually Morgan was good at explaining for her. And so she waited. And waited. And blinked, and cried, and waited. “I love you. I promise I love you. I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you, I promise I do. More than my life, if I could do that. It would be such a great honour. It is the only thing I want, everyday.” Deirdre cocked her head to the side, as if the new angle might provide answers. “Do you….want me to leave?”

There were limits to how much a zombie could shrink her body, as it turned out. Morgan’s bones bent as she tried to shield herself from Deirdre’s next absence and the hateful, drowning feelings that would take her after. There were limits to her nerves too. How did Deirdre not understand? What part of anything she’d said had been unclear, now or anytime before. She lifted her head, bewildered and horrified. Was this some sick joke? Was she toying with her now? (She wouldn’t. Even like this, she wouldn’t, right?) “All I have ever begged you to do since yesterday was stay with me!” Morgan tried to scream, as if climbing near banshee decibels would make Deirdre finally hear her,  but her voice came out ragged and choked with the hurt she was too frightened to let go of. “How can you…” And Deirdre cried and promised and Morgan couldn’t bear it. The two pieces didn’t match up and she couldn’t keep guessing wrong forever. “Do you not even hear me right now? Did I die again with you in our driveway? Because I have told you and begged you! All I did today was try to please you, to make anything up to you from before, and you told me it was okay! You told me you were here, you asked me what was wrong like you wanted to know and it mattered and I believed you! And then you left me! You can’t say these things and make me feel--” Safe. So safe that she never had to hide, that even when it made no logical sense, she mattered in a way that was only possible with love. “You can’t do things like that and then leave me behind like I’m not even there!” Morgan’s voice broke with an ugly sob, forceful enough to make her sit up on her knees. “If I didn’t do anything wrong, why are you punishing me like I did? Why...why are you acting like everything I say is awful if you’re not mad at me? Why can’t you stay with me when I need you if you don’t hate me for letting her die? Why can’t you tell me anything if you love me? My whole stupid little life is built on you, and you were gone. You were dead! And then you couldn’t get away from me fast enough or bear to talk to me and I know I was too busy being broken over your bleeding fucked up body to get to her in time, but you keep acting like you forgive me and then taking it away!” In a way that struck Morgan as cruel now, she still felt too safe around Deirdre. She could hear the pitiful, child-like anguish under her cries. There was no dignity, no mask of anger or cold, deathlike apathy. She was just hurt and afraid, and though she hated herself for the pathetic quality of it, in a way she was still begging, too.

Deirdre sat very still and listened. She repeated Morgan in her head to make sure she was understanding the words, she asked herself their meanings and parsed them from English to Irish to English again until she was sure she understood. “I would’ve died for Lydia,” she said softly, picking at the ashy remains of Lydia on her shirt, rolling them against her palm. She wanted to weave Lydia into her skin, she wondered if it was possible. “I would die for Lydia. Still. My only regret with that promise was that she had to take it back. I would’ve died on our driveway for her. I would’ve died and thought nothing of it. I think of dying for her now. I think it’d be nice. I understand why my family spoke of our lives having no value, why we take no ties. We are fae, we carry their deaths, we avenge them; no matter the cost. I would die for Lydia.” Dread dug its cold fingers into her stomach, churning and pulling. “I’m so sorry. I would’ve died and left you, and I wouldn’t have regretted it. I would still do that now, and I can’t---I can’t shake it from my head. I want peace for her so badly I would wrench it from myself. But that’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry, my love.” The things she had to do, and the new life she carved with Morgan, never had learned how to fit nicely together. But her love for Morgan was not a whim to be cast aside, and not a treasure she would so easily give up. It was that same perseverance that marked her love for Lydia, too. “It’s not your fault Lydia died. It’s not your fault she’s ash. I don’t blame you, I’m not angry at you. I’m trying to stay with you. I’m trying because I want to. But it’s hard because---” Deirdre lifted her bandaged hands, one bent wrong and one normal, and tried to demonstrate a split road. “But I’m sorry.” She dropped her hands, lacking the energy to keep them up. Deirdre, unlike Morgan, had no torrent of emotion inside of her. There was anger and pain, neither she showed now, and then deep, unshakable, sadness. Something like self-loathing, but more desperate around the eyes. “I’m sorry.” Was all she could think to say; was all she knew how to say now. “I’m sorry.” And she sat very still and straight as she offered it, just the way she’d been taught. She could be a stitching of instincts and half-feelings, a mannequin of memory. But she could not be Deirdre anymore.  

Morgan shook her head. In her awful, bleating explanations, she’d closed some of the distance between them on instinct. She was close enough to touch Deirdre now, and her arms twitched, aching for her, but she held back, still tense with fear, like an animal that had been hit too many times. Morgan scoffed at the idea that Deirdre was trying, that forgetting her not five minutes after insisting she bare herself counted as trying. “I knew,” she croaked. “You would never choose me over a fae. I knew that when we started. I just thought… you would care enough by now to try to take me with you. Or to tell me that’s what you were doing. I would’ve driven you anywhere if you’d just said she was in trouble. You think I don’t still love her? That I don’t hate what they did to her? I would go with you anywhere if it would just occur to you to ask me, especially for her. I’d pack you a bag if you swore to me you could only do it by yourself. I don’t need you to look at it like it’s one or the other. I needed you to choose me too.” She looked up at her, eyes searching her strange, faraway face. “How do I know you aren’t going to drop me in five more minutes if I believe you right now? How do I know anything will be different? That this isn’t going to be like every other sad choice I trusted in before you? How can you tell me that you can choose me too?”

“I did choose you.” Deirdre blinked. “Always. I did when I said I loved you the first time, I did when we drove to the clinic instead. I am choosing you. Do you know it’s sacrilege to let a non-fae hold a dead fae’s body? But I gave you that ash.” She didn’t exactly get it, but she understood enough to try and wrap herself around Morgan again. “But this isn’t about choosing, I don’t think…or maybe...maybe it is. I don’t know. Is it? Is it?” She buried her head into the crook of Morgan’s neck, taking her in by way of her senses. With her nose pressed up against her like this, she could smell the decay--Morgan was due a meal soon, she realized, then tried to think back to the last time she ate. “I’m sorry.” How had she let them go so far without noticing? Why didn’t she stop to ask if Morgan wanted something to eat? “I could give you a promise,” she said, wincing as she realized her offer was in poor taste. “I don’t want to leave you, Morgan. I just don’t know what to do. I didn’t think Lydia could die, and I didn’t think there was time to say anything about it. I don’t---I don’t know what to do. I said it’d be okay when we found her, but it’s not. She’s ash, Morgan. Ash!” Deirdre trembled, clinging tighter to her love. “Y-you don’t know, I suppose. Can you trust me? Can you trust that I love you more than that?”

Morgan sank into Deirdre and let her hold her. “I didn’t ask for her ash, I know she’s yours. I just want us to have gone together,” she whimpered. “I just want you to take me with you next time so we can go together. Or talk to me. I can be strong with you. Don’t you believe in me enough for that?” She latched on tighter as she felt Deirdre shudder and cry. She could’ve sworn they’d each been so strong before, that they could each stand on their own two feet without being afraid. Maybe, when the worst of this was over, they could be again. Morgan flinched and clutched Deirdre tighter at the mention of a promise, but in this moment, it still looked to her like salvation. She was so tired of holding herself in, she ached with hunger and grief, and even as her heart expanded to accommodate more anguish, there didn’t feel like enough room to mourn Lydia as just herself. (She didn’t want to, she didn’t have the same blinders that Deirdre did. She knew too much, enough to think that she and Deirdre might be the only ones crying over the good in Lydia that was lost. Grief was a cruel feeling, but grieving alone was punishing.) One death she was old hat at managing. Two, this close to her heart, and she didn’t know which end was up, even if Deirdre had come back in the end.“But I trusted you before--” she said pitifully. “You can’t do this to me again, Deirdre. And don’t tell me you’re ready for something you’re not. I would’ve waited for you to ask me later, I would’ve tried…” She might not have succeeded, but she wouldn’t have given up everything to Deirdre’s deaf ears if she’d known better. “I was right there with you on the bench, you didn’t even take my hand. I would’ve gone with you…” She shuddered, crying into Deirdre’s shoulder, trembling with tension her body was desperate to release. None of this was fair, or right, she didn’t even want to be crying over Deirdre when there was someone else who was never coming back. Not by zombies or necromancy or anything else. Her fingers dug in, heedless of any limits or habits she’d learned. Her body wanted to fasten itself to safety and hear the heartbeat that she had come to think of as safety. Somewhere, in that desperate, pitiful place, Morgan realized they already had a promise thread between them she could pull on. “Can I ask for you…?” She said in a shaky voice. “I feel like I lost you too and I need you. I want you. Can I ask you to come to me? Stay close for just… you haven’t even let me have you back for a day, can I at least ask for until morning? Can you love me enough to give me that?”

“No, you have to hold her,” Deirdre explained quietly, “you know who she was, so you have to hold her. No one else knows and loves like you do.” But her words fell away in a matching whimper, her body slumped against Morgan and the rest she just gave up on. All the fire and brimstone raged quiet and frail. She was tired now, as she had been for so long. But that was only this Deirdre; the woman who loved Morgan. She was not whole; she was part anger, part sadness, part ash. As the parts could not exist together, not any more, she hand-picked the one that needed to perform. “I’m sorry,” she said again, “I love you.” The only things that remained feeling right inside of her; apology for her inadequacies and love that would forever hold for Morgan. “Of course you can,” Deirdre pulled back and smiled, running her broken hand against Morgan’s cheek, as if nothing was wrong with it or her; a facsimile of the affection she knew to offer. “Of course.” She couldn’t tell the promise apart from her own desire to be by Morgan’s side, and she didn’t exactly know where she had been lost, but she nodded and urged for Morgan to take it. “Ask for me,” she smiled again, a small thing though her face pulled in memory of a larger one. The corner of her lip twitched. “I love you. Ask for me.” She pitched her voice up, the way she remembered warmth and affection sounding. She was trying, but she wasn’t sure if it looked more like lying. She wanted to be good, that was it. She summoned the woman who loved Morgan and told her to sit still and smile, even if emotion was a strange taste on her tongue now. She wanted to be good.

“Okay, I’ll hold her. We won’t tell anyone, but I will,” Morgan whispered, her voice smoothing out as her body eased to the tune of Deirdre’s assurances. The tune was familiar, even if it was off-key. Deirdre was hurt. Deirdre was lost, in a way. Latched onto her the way she was now, with permission granted and settling over her like a shock blanket, she could sense that as easily as the tremor in her love’s voice and the quiet outside. The rest of Morgan’s heart unlocked and she sagged,nodding and nuzzing into Deirdre’s hand as she stroked her cheek. “I need you. Will you please come to me, Deirdre? Just until morning?” She said softly. And in the saying, she knew that it was a question and no question at all. Not just because of the magic threads Deirdre had given her outside Al’s that sad night, but because that was how Deirdre loved her, as a matter of course. Morgan took Deirdre’s broken hand gently in her own and kissed her wrist, pressing in as hard as she could. “I’m sorry I need you,” she murmured. “I love you too.” She took several deep breaths. “Thank you for trying for me right now. I just need a minute…” She breathed deep again. “We shouldn’t stay here much longer, in case the police come back, and you can’t set your bones with your hand like this, we really do need to go back to the clinic. But we can take a minute…” She breathed again. Deirdre was here. Deirdre had promised. Deirdre loved her. They were both just lost and spun in different directions, groping clumsily for some kind of stability. They’d never both needed each other so badly at the same time before and they stumbled through the crisis like idiots. Morgan looked down at the terrarium pieces on the floor. Would you be angry with me, for using our promise? She silently asked Lydia. Would you be proud that losing you didn’t break us? Morgan breathed again. “We can take that jewelry box on the vanity for her ashes, if you think that would be better than what I brought you downstairs. I think everything up here is a gift.” Morgan gestured to the array of knick knacks above her. “It could be like being held by a friend…” Morgan stroked Deirdre’s cheek and searched her eyes, wondering if there was enough of Deirdre leftover to latch onto her as dearly as Morgan latched onto Deirdre’s efforts at gentleness.

Deirdre sighed in relief, falling against Morgan like the steadiness of a bed. She could rest there, she thought, and maybe when she woke there would be more of her to work with. “Of course,” she mumbled, and couldn’t tell if the promise blossomed warmth in her chest or if her love for Morgan did. She always felt tethered to her with something far stronger than a promise. “Don’t be sorry about that,” she breathed, “I need you too.” And though the fact made her feel horribly selfish to admit, it was a truth she could unearth from herself despite her state. “We can stay here for a minute.” It sounded nice, or it sounded like it should be nice, Deirdre wasn’t sure. She only had one hand to cling desperately to Morgan with, and she gripped the fabric of Morgan’s clothing tight between her fingers. She didn’t want to lose her, that was another truth easy to unearth. “And the clinc’ll be okay. I’ll be okay to go there.” Her gaze followed along to the jewelry box. “I’m worried…that if I move her again, there’ll be less of her. I know that box is better looking, I know she’d like it more, but whenever her family comes, they might want to move her into something else. And I was thinking---she gave me that vase, the one I have the magnolias in. Maybe she’d like it there. Just for now.” She closed her eyes, and shooed away the sight of Lydia’s empty bedroom for her memories of the one she occupied. Deirdre had always been so pleased to watch Lydia go about her day, as if she might learn from her how to be just like that. This house would never know her again, and she’d fit so well here. She’d been Lydia for so long, Deirdre thought it suited her. Maybe she liked it too. Maybe she found a place to stay. Maybe this was home. She wouldn’t know now, no one would. “Lydia cared about her friends,” Deirdre opened her eyes, “people didn’t care enough about her, as it seems. But she was good. She loved, just like everyone else. And she did care. She did. I know it seems weird to you, because of how she could treat--” Deirdre swallowed thickly, leaving those words about Lydia in a different place and time. “---When I first came over, I gave her this deer skull. I thought she hated it. It wasn’t pretty like a work of art to her, and I knew she didn’t like death much. But she kept it, and she liked it. And she cared. About me, about the people she loved. They’re not going to see that, are they? They’re going to find the basement and--” She swallowed again. Deirdre didn’t know how many people knew how Lydia liked to feed, but she had a feeling that the number of them that knew and were okay with it was something she could count on one not-broken hand. Except for the fae, she reasoned, they’d get it. “I want to take some things she liked; dresses, art...I don’t know what’s going to become of this house and its belongings. But I want some things to be hers, for as long as I can keep them.”

Morgan stroked Deirdre’s hair and wove careful kisses around her temples as she spoke. There was relief in knowing that she wouldn’t have to fight her on going to the clinic, or on staying huddled together on the floor. Deirdre had promised, and so there was no need to hold onto her fear and no need to cling, except to give comfort to one another. “Then we’ll keep her where she is until we can put her in the vase. Nothing else will be lost, not anymore.” She listened to Deirdre’s story, more attentively than she had the others, and made a note to ask her for more, as many as she would give, over the next several days, which were doomed to be awful. “I know she did. I don’t know if you could hear, but her last words were to you. She loved you more than anyone else here. And I have to believe that love goes somewhere too. No energy is completely destroyed. Her love still exists, and it’s yours. And--” Morgan swallowed thickly. She had just regained her composure, but with her fear for Deirdre abated, Lydia rushed in to fill those empty spaces. “I know she loved us. I don’t know why she loved me too, we argued so much, and I think I got on her nerves--” Morgan sniffled, gasping out a sad laugh. “But I know she did. She wouldn’t have kept this stupid terrarium if she didn’t.” Morgan looked down at the mess she made of her own present. There was no more chance of repairing it now, just as there was no turning Lydia’s ashes into the woman they knew again. “And I...I don’t understand how what she did was good, but I would’ve given anything for her to be here to explain and argue with me about it.” She shook her head. “No. No, they aren’t going to understand. But we know she wasn’t just anything. Stars, she was so many things. And we’ll remember the truth, okay?” Her heart sank at Deirdre’s simple, heartbreaking request.  She pulled away enough to look at her girlfriend so she would know how disappointed she was to not be able to grant her this to the extent she wanted. “We can’t, my love. Not as much as I know you want to. This is a crime scene, and people took pictures and inventory of the things that happened here. It’s risky enough taking one of her dishes to put her in. Whatever you take, it has to be small. Something easily missed. She wouldn’t want you to get involved in this mess. She spent her last time protecting you, and I want to do that too.” Morgan stroked her love’s cheek. “One or two small things. Nothing more. Do you want me to help you up?”

“I wish I could feel it, the energy that’s left. The only thing I get is her death.” Deirdre slumped further against Morgan, as if she might mold their bodies into one. Shell of herself, she would’ve died to be filled with something else, someone else. If only she could let Morgan carry her all the way, out the otherside of time where everything was okay. “But it’s better than nothing. It’s always better than nothing.” She had heard enough prattle about grief and bereavement, some she had offered and some offered by her family. But in actuality, loss was something she had experienced very little of--a child by banshee standards, emotionally unattached by every other. She didn’t know what to do about it. But Morgan did, Morgan understood it very well. “When you lost your father…” she started quietly, “...how long was it until you started to feel whole? Did you ever?” She couldn’t live like this, she was admitting in her own way. With all the pain she held for Lydia. She felt each cut, every stab, the desperation in her cracked voice--she knew her death, and she knew the ways to cleanse herself of it. The peace she could bring was not one she wanted to commit, for the quiet of the moment, sheltered in Morgan’s arms, she felt safe enough for one last truth: she didn’t want to hurt anyone, not really. She had grown tired of it, and she knew better now. Quickly, the thought would be swallowed by ones of anger and revenge, but she offered it to Morgan, asking her to keep it. One day she would need to remind her that she didn’t want this, and she feared that day would come very soon. Lydia’s peace would be a hurricane. “We’ll remember the truth,” she repeated, “Lydia as she was.” With weak strength, she tried to nudge Morgan up; silent answer to her question. Her own legs couldn’t hold her, and she needed Morgan in more ways than she knew how to admit. “Then I’ll leave it. I can come back...later, maybe, when it’s not a crime scene anymore. I-If it’s---If they found the---this stuff might not be Lydia’s anymore. I don’t know what they do about kidna---kid--” Deirdre swallowed. “A-are you good to leave now? I think I want to---I think I--I just---I don’t want to think about huma--people--people...t-touching her things. I don’t--” Her words trickled off into whimpers and sobs.

Morgan cradled Deirdre as close as she could. Without her fear clouding her mind, she had enough wherewithal to take care with how she used her hands, her grip firm but not painful, her soothing strokes gentle but not too soft. “Oh, my love…” she sighed, pressing a long kiss to her head. “It felt like so long. It felt like...there was this heavy spiked weight inside me, and I couldn’t move without getting hurt or crushed by it. For the first week, it felt like that pain was all there was of me.” Another kiss. “But in time, the weight gets smaller. The cuts it sliced into you scar over. And eventually it’s so small and light, rattling around your chest, you don’t really feel it cut you at all, except on a bad day. You’re whole already, my love. There’s just something else for you to carry now. And you can. It’ll be a little while, but you’ll be able to as it gets lighter. And I’ll help however I can.” She looked into Deirdre’s face and smiled as tenderly as she could, trying to offer her the best hope instead of the recollections of her worst nights. I came out okay, right? I was happy again, and sometime so will you. I’m here, and I carry this, and I love you.

Deirdre’s face seemed to be reaching out with a message of it’s own, some strange thought, embarrassed, even ashamed. It seemed to be asking Morgant to help her, to get her out of whatever sunken place she was in. If it were as easy as getting to her feet and lifting Deirdre up, she would have done it in a moment. “I’ve got you,” she whispered in her ear. “We’re together, and I’ve got you, okay?” She half carried, half dragged them to the nightstand where the picked up the first book she could reach before scooping up Deirdre’s legs and walking out with her, bridal carry, and coming down the stairs. “I’m going to bend without putting you down, and you’ll get the dish you put her in, and then we’ll go, okay? We’ll go by the house first and put her in your safe and get you a change of clothes, and we’ll go back to the clinic, and if you want, I’ll read to you from her book, and we’ll be together. Is that okay?”

“But I have so much to carry…” Deirdre half-whined, half-sighed. She nodded along to Morgan’s words and willed them to help her, somehow. She latched on to Morgan’s expression of love and devotion, and willed that to stick with her too. She found they fluttered down, like someone trying to press paper to a wall, but she picked it up and tried again. And again. “Thank you, Morgan.” She said, slumping as the last of her energy drizzled down. The last words she managed to get out were a grumble, petulant in a way that felt familiar even to her now, “I hate being carried.” But she smiled softly, in a flicker, and didn’t protest. She nodded along to Morgan’s plan, though she would have agreed to just anything then, and let herself be carried away. She picked up the dish, just as Morgan said it would happen, and cradled it against her. Then she was in the car, as planned, and fatigue set into her. Her spiked weight was foregin, and heavy, and she could only just imagine how much worse it would be alone. Whenever she would wake next, memory jumbled, she would thank Morgan. She might just have died on their driveway, but the only reason she was breathing around the spikes was her love. When she woke, she would thank her. When she woke, she would...

[artificialqueens]

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 6 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Six

”Girl, you better watch out or the cutie who’s been flirting with ya is going home with this other ho,” A’keria points out and snaps Jose our of his thoughts. He has been sitting at the bar all night, nursing his one drink and doesn’t feel like doing anything else, not even dancing.

He only agreed to come along to the club because his two best friends have been nagging him for weeks now, ever since he got back home from Texas.

Jose doesn’t feel like dancing and drinking and flirting and fucking trade. He doesn’t even feel like socialising.

”Child, I don’t mind. He can go home with whoever the fuck he wants.”

”He still sulking. Still thinking about his hot fuck with the hunky cowboy,” Silky throws in their two cents.

”He’s no hunky cowboy and it wasn’t just a hot fuck.” Jose gets angry in seconds. This is no joking matter to him, not at all.

”If it was love, then why the ho not calling ya? Or at least replying to ya messages? He played you, girl.” Silky insists.

”It looks fishy,” A’keria holds up their hands when Jose looks at them.

”I’m going home. Fuck you, bitches.” He throws some money on the counter for his drink, grabs his jacket and is out of there before his friends can protest. He knows he’s overreacting, but he doesn’t care.

At home he kicks off his shoes, throws his jacket on the couch and lies down on top of it.  Thackery comes around the corner and jumps on his back.

”You thinking too that he was playing us, Thacks? Or do you think we was right and he likes us?” Jose turns around on his back, but makes sure Thackery doesn’t fall down. In reply, the cat bumps his head against Jose’s chest.

”Then why ain’t he replying? He’s ghosting us, little man.” He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. ”I know there’s no fucking future and I know I should forget about him, but I can’t.” He sniffs. ”Fuck.”

After petting Thackery for a while, he gets up and gets ready for bed. He knows the drill by now.

He gets in, grabs his phone and starts the video he needs. He hears himself laughing and joking and then there’s Brock’s laughter as he watches Jose goof off, unaware that Brock is filming him. Jose puts the video on repeat, because he knows he can’t sleep otherwise.

The last night he slept peacefully was the night before Brock came over.

Since Brock showed up at his apartment at Jason’s, everything has been different. Jose closes his eyes and he sees Brock standing there, in front of the door. He feels him kissing him. He can feel the panic again, which he felt in the bathroom. He sees his attempts to take deep breaths and calm himself down. He knew what Brock was offering, what he wanted and, dear god, he wanted it, too. But he was also nervous, anxious really. He could tell himself a thousand times that it was just another one night stand and he should treat it as such, but it would never be true either. You can’t have a one night stand with someone you love without getting hurt.

In the bathroom he had allowed a few tears to fall, knowing that in the early morning they would have to say goodbye. Brock had wanted this night as a goodbye present. And Jose had needed it as well, but he had just hoped against hope there would be no goodbye, only a ‘see you later’. Brock wanted to make love, and that’s what they’d done.

It’s the ”Still being in love” part, that keeps Jose up at night, when he's  re-playing their one passionate night over and over in his head.

Brock’s laughter in the video gives him something else to focus on, so he can shut off his brain and sleep.

The next day, Silky shows up at his place.

”Ya better?” they ask as they walk in with containers of take-out.

”I’m fine.” It’s a half-assed lie that Silky sees through.

”What the fuck did the guy do to you? He must be a god in bed, if you’re still this fucked up two months later.”

”It isn’t about the sex, Silks. I really like him.”

”Then why you not going back and confront him about why he’s not replying? He might explain himself or he might not and then ya got your answer, too.”

”I can’t go back, Silks. It’s too damn risky. I don’t wanna destroy his life. And even if he feels the same: He made it clear he ain’t leaving his family behind  and I can’t live there.” Jose knows it’s the truth, but it doesn’t mean that it hurts any less. ”Maybe it’s a good thing he ghosting me. I can be angry at him and get over him faster.”

”But you really like him.”

”Yeah, I really like him. He was like… perfect for me. And, fuck, I miss him. I miss just talking to him. Miss his dumb ass face when he didn’t know what the fuck I was talking 'bout when I was rambling about movies and shit. Or when he slept in my arms and did that little sniffling sound whenever he moved, just to hold me tighter.”

”You know that that’s the shit that gets annoying once you’re in a relationship. The way he wakes you up with that annoying sound and how it’s uncomfortable when he clutches you like a koala.”

”Maybe. But we ain’t getting the chance for it to get annoying.” Jose sighs deeply, his stomach heavy.

”I’m sorry, bitch. But you gonna eat dinner with me today. No excuses!” Silky changes the topic and Jose is thankful for it.

***

The day Jose leaves the weather takes a turn for the worse and it gets unbearably hot.

Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the lack of sleep or food, maybe it’s too much beer or too much work, but two weeks after Vanjie’s departure, Brock gets sick.

He wakes up one morning with his head pounding, his joints and muscles hurting and his chest tight. He has trouble breathing, although he’s not coughing or sneezing. He’s so exhausted he can’t keep his eyes open, even though he’s not running a fever.

He physically can’t get out of bed.

He falls asleep again and when he wakes up it’s a whole day later and his mother is checking on him.

”I’m glad you up, son. I was worried and ya father wants you to get up and help him in the stables. He can’t do it all by himself, ya know.” She says and gently checks his forehead.

”I can’t.” He replies meekly and falls asleep again. Even talking hurts.

He only leaves bed to go to the bathroom, sometimes to pee, sometimes to throw up when the pain in his heads gets too overwhelming.

He can’t really eat, but he isn’t hungry anyway. He drinks the water, tea and broth his mother brings him, before he falls asleep again.

His dreams are filled with weird scenes, some of them reality, some of them fantasy, but all including Jose in one way or another.

Sometimes he comes back and sweeps him off his feet like a knight in shining armour.

Sometimes he turns into a bird and flies away with a cry like an eagle.

Sometimes he dances with the kids, dances circles around him as they laugh, scream and insult him. His dad dances with them; he doesn’t even need a cane anymore.

After nearly two weeks Ada shows up.

”Get up, you have to get out of bed,” she tells him and pulls his blanket off. It’s too hot in the room anyway.

”I can’t.” He isn’t joking or exaggerating. He physically can’t get up. He has no energy left and his head is hurting so much, all he sees are flashes of bright light.

”Yes, you can. Here, take my hand, I’m gonna help ya sit up.” She pulls him up more than he actually sits up himself. He feels dizzy. ”Ya know when mom told me you was sick,  I didn’t worry too much, cause it’s supposed to happen to ya with the way you work ya'self into the ground. But when she told me ya slept through two of dad’s screaming fits, I knew it was serious. What’s going on, little brother? You ain’t got no fever.”

”Everything hurts. I can barely open my eyes because it hurts so bad and I’m just so damn tired all the time.”

”You sick.” Brock just grunts in reply. She’s stating the obvious. ”Love sick, if you ask me.”

”I’m not asking you. And love sick doesn’t exist.”

”People have died of a broken heart.”

”You think that’s what’s happening to me?”  Would he care if that’s the case? Not really.

”I don’t know, you telling’ me. You never said a word what happened when Vanjie left.” It’s the first time anyone speaks that name in weeks and it feels like a physical blow. His headache worsens. The nausea is back. Maybe he is dying of a broken heart after all? ”Did ya take my advice?”

”I went to see him after the hospital, yes,” he replies, because he knows Ada won’t leave him alone until he does.

”Did ya talk to him? What did he say? Does he feel the same?”

”There wasn’t much talking,” he admits.

”Oh.“ For a second an uncomfortable silence fills the room. "Wasn’t it… good?”

”It was amazing, the most amazing night of my life. But we both knew there’s no future, so we didn’t pretend there was.”

”Why not? A lot of people do long distance relationships. Look at Joe and me. He’s on the road all the time, that gotta count as long distance.”

”It’s not the same. I don’t have the money or the time to go see him. And when he’d be here, he’d have to hide, we couldn’t be seen together and there’d be always the fear of getting caught. This is my shitty life and I don’t wanna drag him down with me. I want him to be happy and he wouldn’t be with me.”

”You could go with him.”

”And do what? Live off his money and become a burden to him? While everything goes to hell here? Dan would lose his business and mom and dad would lose the farm. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if that happened.”

”You not doing too well now, Brock. Lying in bed all day, sleeping all the time.”

”I just… everything hurts, Ada. If I eat I get sick, if I move I get dizzy. My head is pounding and I can hardly breathe.”

”You thought about going to a doctor?”

”And who’s gonna pay for that?” He lies back down.

”Fine, but I’m gonna be checking on ya from now on. I’m gonna be here every day and tomorrow I’m going to bring Noah, 'cause he misses you. I don’t think you’re contagious.”

"Wake me up when you get here,” he sighs and closes his eyes.

”Will do. Sleep tight little brother.” She places a kiss on his forehead and then finally there’s silence and darkness all around him once again.

***

”Ada? Ada?” Brock calls out as he enters his sister’s home. It’s suspiciously quiet in and around the house, even though it’s a Saturday and the kids should be home. The door shuts behind him and Brock feels like he can breathe again in the cooler house.

”Shush, Noah just fell asleep,” Ada comes out of the kitchen.

”Sorry,” Brock drops his voice. ”Mom said you need my help.” Again, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. Ever since Ada managed to get him out of bed a month ago, she’s been requesting his help at least every couple of days. At first it was small repairs around the house, then helping with the kids. It’s not complete bullshit, but Brock is aware that his sister is mainly calling him over to check on him and to make sure he gets out of the house and away from his parents for a bit.

”Yeah, but it��s not important. The kids are at the lake with the neighbors and the baby is asleep. You want some coffee or tea?”

”Iced tea maybe?”

”Sure,” Ada nods and leaves. When she comes back she carries two large glasses of iced tea and hands him one.

”How are you?” she asks as soon as she has sat down.

He shrugs, not sure if he wants to answer the question honestly. Because the honest answer is that he still feels like shit. He’s no longer in bed all day, but he wants to be. His body still hurts, his chest is still tight and he has no energy. Still, he gets up every day and somehow manages to function until he crashes into bed every evening. ”Same,” he finally admits.

”I wanted to talk to you about that. I know you are up, but I can see you’re not well. So I went on the internet and did some research because you refuse to see a doctor. And… Brock, I think you might need to see a therapist, like, you know, a psychologist.”

”You a doctor now?” He doesn’t like the word and he doesn’t like his sister’s amateur diagnosis.

”No, I’m not. But it all fits, even, like the way you were feeling better when Vanjie was around. You weren’t that tired anymore. You told me when you were with him you were able to sleep. And I think you should go and see someone, get some help. You need professional help.”

”Ada, I appreciate it that you worry about me, but can you tell me where I’d find a therapist around here in a two hour radius? And who’d pay for it? Who’d take over my work while I drive back and forth? Who’d pay for the gas?”

”I don’t know. But you need to talk to someone. Every day I’m scared that the next you’re not gonna be here anymore.”

”I’m not leaving. Where’d I go?”

”I’m not talking about you leaving. I’m talking about you harming yourself. I read that online, that a lot of gay people kill themselves because they’re unhappy and aren’t accepted. Or because they struggle with their sexuality. They get depressed.”

”I’m not struggling with that. I’m gay. I can’t live it and I have to stay in the closet around here, but that doesn’t change the fact. I’ve come to accept it.”

”Is that why you not at church anymore?”

”Maybe. I’m just so sick of being told all the time how horrible gays are and how we’ll burn in hell and how we should be pushed out of the community, like we’re criminals.” Brock sighs. ”But I’m also just tired. When mom and dad are at church, at least they can’t be on my case for sleeping during the day.”

”Dad won’t buy the ‘I’m sick’ excuse much longer. And mom is running out of excuses why you not at church.”

”I don’t care what he buys or not. He should just leave me alone. I don’t even care anymore, about none of it.”

”I know that’s not true, Brock. I know you still care, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the moment.”

”I really don’t. I’m too tired to care about anything to be honest.” Brock insists. "Or feel anything other than the constant pain in my head and joints.” It’s true. Most of the time he’s just numb now. It’s a feeling he prefers to the constant heartache of the weeks before. And when he feels something it’s usually annoyance or anger. He’s never been an angry person, but these days, he definitely has a very short fuse. Even his father doesn’t fuck with him anymore since he nearly hit him one night, when he wouldn’t let him sleep.

”How about you talk to Jason? He must understand what you’re going through.”

Brock shakes his head. ”I don’t really know him that well. And if people see me hanging out with him, the gossip will start that I’m suddenly a friend of the faggots and when they’ll turn me. They can go fuck themselves when it comes to me, but what about the pressure on you? Or the kids? I don’t want you to have to go through that.”

”Fine. Then please, talk to me. I’m worried sick about you.” Ada has tears in her eyes when he looks at her.

”I’m gonna be fine. It might take a while, but I’ll get there.” He promises and pulls her in his arms. He’s not sure he believes his own words, but what else is he supposed to say?

”Have you talked to Vanjie?” she asks when she breaks the hug.

”No.” The name alone is enough to make him want to hide in bed again.

”Why not?”

”What good would it do to drag this out longer? The quicker I get over him the better. And the same goes for him.”

”I still think it’s a mistake you let him go.” Ada points out, but Brock already knows her opinion.

”I know,” he simply replies and leans back agains the sofa, his legs suddenly feeling so heavy he can barely move them. ”But I also know that he’s better off without me and my fucked up life.”

***

Brock is stacking the shelves during his mother’s lunch break, when a voice from behind makes him freeze.

”Hey Brock.”

”Hey,” he turns around and finds Jason in the store, holding milk and eggs.

”Can I pay?” He asks when Brock just remains quiet.

”Sure.”

”How’s Ada doing? I’m surprised she’s not back at the store yet.”

”The baby, Noah, he’s not sleeping well and keeps screaming day and night. Some digestion stuff babies get.”

”Sounds like the three month colic.” Jason hands over some bills. ”But shouldn’t be too much longer then. He’s nearly three months, right?”

”Yeah, tomorrow.” Brock nods. ”You know stuff about babies?”

”My boyfriend’s sister has two kids and we watch them sometimes when I’m there. I think, one day, ya know, we gonna have some kids of our own. We just gotta save some money first.”

”You can do that?” Brock wrinkles his forehead.

”Sure. I mean, none of us can carry them, of course,” Jason laughs. ”But we can adopt or use surrogacy, if we have enough money. We’ll see. I mean, we talked about it and we agreed we want kids, we just haven’t really talked about the details.”

”You gonna get married, too?”

”Maybe, maybe not. Because of the shit I see and hear around here I don’t really believe in marriage, but Chris is a romantic. He wants a big white wedding.”

Brock nods, but he can’t picture it. What would a gay wedding look like? Two guys in suits? Which minister would do the ceremony? Or wouldn’t it be at church? ”Here.” He quickly bags the items Jason just bought.

Jason looks around the store before he speaks. ”I know it isn’t my place and all, but… you look like hell. I’ve noticed that you kinda not ok since Vanj’ left. If you need to talk….”

”Did Ada sent you?” Brock gets angry.

”Ada knows?” Jason’t eyes widen and Brock understands that Ada didn’t send him. The surprise is genuine.

”Yeah, she knows. She told me the day she had Noah that she knows. She’s not gonna say anything to anyone though. I hope neither do you.”

”Of course not!”

”Good.”

”But Brock, still…. If you want to talk, need to talk, whatever,” he grabs a pen from the register and scribbles something down. ”Here’s my number. Call me if you don’t wanna be seen with me. You don’t have to, but… I’m a good listener, ok?”

”Ok.” He nods, takes the number and quickly puts it in his pocket. ”Hey Jason!” he calls out when the other man is nearly by the door.

”Mmh?”

”I’m sorry about the way you’re being treated… about the way I treated you.”

”You never did anything to me.” Jason looks surprised.

”Maybe. But I didn’t stick up for you either… I guess, now you know why.” Brock takes a deep breath before he can continue. ”But I should have. I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. Just… give me some time to… feel better and then maybe we can… grab a beer or something?”

”We can always grab a beer a town or two over. Even four, if that’s what you need. The offer stands.”

”Thank you,” Brock nods. The offer doesn’t make him feel any better, but he appreciates it anyway.

”Bye, man. Keep your head above the water, k?” Jason smiles and then leaves, just as Brock’s mother comes back.

”What did he want?” she asks once Jason is gone. She sounds like she’s talking about vermin.

”Eggs and milk, or do you have a problem with that?” he snaps at her, picks up the next box of soda and slams it on the shelf.

***

”You call me out upon the waters, the great unknown where feet may fail. And there I find You in the mystery, in oceans deep my faith will stand. And I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace. For I am Yours and You are mine…” Rachel sings loudly as she taps away on her phone.

”You think she’s old enough to a have a cellphone?” Brock asks his sister as he watches his niece, doing whatever.

”She’s old enough to watch her brothers and sisters, cook dinner and do the laundry. She’s a responsible girl and she can have a cellphone if she wants. We talked about what apps she can have and what games she can play. I also know what she’s posting on tiktok or insta and who she’s talking to on tumblr.”

”On what?” Brock has no idea what his sister is talking about.

”You’re getting old, little brother. There’s more you can do with a phone than text and call, ya know?” Ada laughs at him. ”Rachel? Can you come over and show your old uncle what tiktok and Instagram are?”

”You don’t know?” Rachel’s eyes are wide and her mouth hangs comically wide open, before she grabs her phone and rushes over to where Brock sits on the sofa.

”No, I don’t. I only know Tic Tacs,” he says and Rachel snorts wit laughter.

”You’re so dumb,” she giggles and taps something on the screen. ”See, this is tiktok. You can like choose some music or like a scene from a movie or something and then you do some moves, dance or act, or move your mouth or something.”

”Why?” Brock watches the video of Rachel, where she’s lip syncing to something that sounds like a movie scene.

”‘Cause it’s fun.” You wanna do one with me?”

”Uh, no.” Brock shakes his head.

”Please, uncle Brock! Pleeeease! Mommy sometimes does too!”

”You do?” He looks to his sister, who is currently breastfeeding the baby.

”It’s fun,” she laughs.

”Fine, what’d ya got?” he asks his niece and after a couple of tracks, they finally find one where Brock pretends to sneeze first and then Rachel follows before bursting in some kind of song. He whole thing makes no sense to Brock, but Rachel is having fun, giggling away as she shoots the video with him, chooses a filter and then uploads the madness.

”And see, this is instagram,” she lets him know and opens another app.

”I’m not sneezing again,”Brock warns her, and Rachel giggles again.

”You upload pics and like videos and stories and stuff.” She actually rolls her eyes at him. ”Oh look, Vanjie has uploaded a new video,” she says and before it fully registers with Brock what Rachel said, a clip of starts playing.

Jose starts the video, his face so close to the camera you can see the slight dust of freckles on his nose. Music is blaring in the background and then he starts dancing. Brock is sure whatever he does is good, but he’s not really paying attention to the dance moves. He takes in Jose’s outfit, the loose sweats and T-shirt. The backwards baseball hat on his head. The serious expression on his face. How his hair is shaved a different way and slightly bleached, from what he can see.

”Vanjie has instagram?” Ada asks once the short clip is over.

”Yeah. Usually he posts videos of his new moves and choreos and stuff. But he also has a pic with uncle Brock’s hat. He posted it yesterday,” Rachel reports and a second later there’s a picture on the screen, that Brock knows too well. Because he took it. It’s the one where Jose is wearing his old straw hat, smiling happily into the camera, taken back when they were still friends and Brock’s life had been a bit easier for a little while. It’s only been a bit over three months, but to Brock it feels like a lifetime ago.

As he looks at the picture he’s back in the moment, he can hear Jose’s laughter, feel the wind on his skin and smell Jose’s cologne. He’s happy again for that second.

”Steady as a preacher, free as a weed. Couldn’t wait to get goin’ but wasn’t quite ready to leave. So innocent, pure and sweet, American honey,” Ada reads the caption out loud. ”That’s a song, right?” she asks her daughter while Brock still stares at the screen.

”Yup, but you can’t dance to it and it’s not from church,” Rachel replies, citing the rules she has for the music she’s allowed to listen to, not realising that her knowing the song basically gives her away.  Then she shuts off the screen and Jose is once more gone from Brock’s life. The wound where his heart used to be, ripped open again.

He needs to get instagram, Brock decides, because he needs to have that picture; needs it like the air he breathes.

”Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, You’ve never failed and You won’t start now! So I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace. For I am Yours and You are mine,” Rachel starts singing again and Ada gives his shoulder a squeeze as Brock gets lost in the memories and feelings for the mn he’s just seen in the picture he’s just seen.

TBC

Notes: The lyrics in this chapter are taken from the songs “American Honey” by Lady Antebellum and “Oceans” by Hillsong United.

[schrijverr]

Operation Nappy Change

After staying the night at Alfies place Tommy accidentally puts on the other mans shirt. It’s way too big and he panics, luckily Alfie has a plan to save him.

On AO3.

Ships: Alfie x Tommy

Warnings: mentions of sex

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck” Tommy cursed as he rushed around the room, he was late and he couldn’t afford to be late, because he still had to get to another part of town, get into the lobby, collect himself and pretend to his brothers, who were coming to pick him up, that he had been at the hotel for the night, not at Alfie's, the person he was supposed to meet later.

Yeah, that’s right, the great Tommy Shelby was quickly grabbing clothes off Alfie Solomons floor. He wasn’t really looking at the items, just quickly pulling them on and making them as presentable as he could, which is why he was quite annoyed at his shirt that just wasn’t working with him today.

It was way harder to straighten it out without weird bumps in his pants, the piece on his chest would puff out a bit and getting his arms in his suit jacket was a challenge if he wanted his sleeves to sit correctly in them.

He practically ran into the kitchen, where the bastard himself was calmly enjoying his tea in a luxurious robe. The bastard in question greeted Tommy merrily: “Good morning, Tommy dear. Why the rush on this sunny morning?”

Tommy tried to glare the grin of the others face while simultaneously stuffing the piece of toast in his mouth that Alfie had handed him. Through the bread he choked: “Fuck you, Alfie. You shouldn’t have let me sleep in.”

“After all that exercising last night, you needed it.” Alfie smirked.

Tommy gave him a slap as he walked past towards the door and threw a “I’m going to murder you, Solomons.” over his shoulder.

The sound of Alfie chuckling followed him out the door.

He wanted to run down the street, but he had a reputation to uphold, so he strutted as fast as he could to the hotel he had booked a room at for pretenses. He had gone a day earlier under the pretense that something came up with one of his secret informants. Arthur and John would come a day later and they would meet him at the hotel in the morning. The hotel he was not currently at.

Fuck.

He checked his watch again and tried to straighted out his shirt, no luck on either. He groaned and rounded the last corner, slipping through the hotel door as his brothers came barreling down the street in their car, sadly John behind the wheel.

Tommy took a few calming breaths, he had made it, then he calmly walked out the door like nothing peculiar had happened that morning. Arthur greeted with a bellow, Tommy just nodded back and got into driver seat demoting John to the back.

“First order of business, a potential partner on the docks, Mr. Rodger. I heard he is a dick, but he has connections and he can help, so no fucking fighting unless necessary.” Tommy began the conversation.

“What falls under necessary?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, does looking wrong count, looks can be very meaningful.” John piped in.

Tommy sighed and said: “No looks, or direct insults for that matter, count. We only fight if I give the signal, like I said, this man has connections, we don’t want him as an enemy.”

His brothers looked unhappy with that statement, but they didn’t argue, which Tommy counted as a win. He let it be for now and let him mind go to his strategy with this guy.

They were a bit early to the meeting spot, so they smoked while they waited. Tommy also used this time to take a better look at what was wrong with his shirt. It was still floofing up at multiple points and it bunched weirdly in his sleeves. He pulled on the underside of his sleeve, his shirt was tailored for him, so it was supposed to make it sit nice and straight inside his suit jacket. This, of course, was not what happened.

He pulled and it extended over his hand, more fabric coming out than should have been possible if it was tailored right, which Tommy knew it was. Then it suddenly hit him like a gunshot, it wasn’t his shirt. No, his shirt had subtle blue stripes while this one was completely white, it wasn’t his shirt, because it was Alfie’s.

He almost choked on the smoke of his cigarette as his eyes became wide with the realization. He quickly tried to cover it up by tugging his shirt sleeve back up his suit jacket sleeve and smoothing down the front of his shirt. Once he had convinced himself he looked okay and it didn’t stand out as odd, he allowed himself to be sucked into a small meltdown.

Okay, he thought to himself, Alfie’s shirt. Fuck. I can’t be seen in this, when we get back Polly will notice, fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to burn it, burn the evidence. But how? I need to have a shirt and Mr. Rodger is almost here. And how will I get my shirt back? Everything sucks, luckily Arthur and John haven’t-

“Mr. Shelby, I presume.” a too smooth voice cut off Tommy’s inner rant.

The meeting began and even though it went well and they got a favorable deal, Tommy was uncomfortable the entire time. He had to resist the urge to tug at his clothes the entire time and he had never been more relieved that a deal was done.

~

When he was back in the car, this time allowing Arthur to drive, he tried to form a plan of action, but he couldn’t do it alone, he had to talk to Alfie. Of course, Alfie could help!

“I need to get to a phone booth.” Tommy told Arthur, who luckily did what he was told.

Once he had shoo-ed his brothers away he grabbed the phone and rang The Bakery. After a second Ollie picked up and Tommy said: “Give me Alfie, tell him it’s urgent.”

He felt his breathing pick up while there was fumbling on the other side, he let out a relieved sigh once he heard Alfie’s voice, he didn’t know how much he’d wanted to hear it until he did.

Alfie picked up on and asked: “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I have a problem, well not just I, but we.” Tommy was fumbling over his words, “We have a problem, yeah.”

“Did you piss Rodger off?” Alfie asked, “Tommy, I don’t want to be dragged into a war with him, that would fucking suck, wouldn’t it?”

“No, not that, no.” Tommy suddenly felt stupid for overreacting, so he said in a small voice: “I left something at your place.”

It was quiet for a second, then Alfie said: “That’s not that big of a deal, innit. What did ya leave, I’ll get it and slip it to ya, problem solved. That’s the thing with things, right, you can just get them back if you know where you left them, quite handy that they don’t move on their own, you know.”

Tommy was certain that Alfie could go on about how useful it was that stuff didn’t move unless someone else moved them, but he didn’t have time for that, so he cut him off by snapping: “I left my shirt at your place, okay, sorry if my reaction seems out of proportion.”

“Your shirt?” Alfie sounded curious.

“Yes, my shirt.” Tommy snapped again, why didn’t Alfie see how serious this was?

“Are you joking?” Alfie said, “You must be joking, dear. I saw you this morning, you were wearing a shirt.”

“It could have been not my own shirt, eh.” Tommy said.

On the other side Alfie swallowed, then he lowly said: “Are you wearing my shirt right now?”

Tommy stayed quiet, he could feel a blush creeping up his face. When the silence went on Alfie commanded: “Dear, answer me.”

“Yes,” Tommy whispered, “I didn’t notice until later. It’s one of the white ones and it very big on me. Fuck, people might notice, Alfie.”

“Fucking hell.” Tommy could visualize Alfie rubbing his face after that statement.

“We need a plan to get me out of this shirt and into my own before I drive home this night. I’m too busy worrying someone might notice to think, so ideas are welcome.” Tommy said.

“Hm.” Alfie replied, “Get your stuff from you hotel in the back of your car before you come here, I think I have something, but it’ll work better if you’re not in the loop, okay.”

“Okay, see you then.” usually Tommy would be more suspicious or annoyed that he wasn’t in the loop, but he was so exhausted that he was just glad Alfie had a solution.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

With a lighter heart he exited the phone booth and got into the car. There he said: “I’m going to my hotel, if I check out now I won’t have to pay for an extra day, let’s go.”

Arthur started the car and John asked: “You seem better after that call. What was it about?”

Without missing a beat Tommy lied: “You remember that I had to go early to solve that problem? It’s solved now.”

John seemed pleased with that answer.

~

Tommy was buzzing with nervous energy when they got to the bakery an hour or so later. He didn’t let it show, but he could feel the hum under his skin as he wondered what Alfie had planned.

Inside Alfie was waiting for him, Ollie next to him and one of his man a few feet away, resting on a barrel. As they walked towards them Alfie opened his arms as he welcomed them with a: “Tommy!”

The moment the name left his lips there was a flurry of moment as the henchman's head shot up and he dove forwards, breaking Tommys nose as he tackled them. There was a short scuffle on the ground, which was ended by Alfie whacking the man on the head with his cane.

Tommy got up and felt the blood flowing down his face, he was mentally cursing at Alfie about what the fuck had gotten into him, when he realized blood was soaking into his, no Alfies, shirt. He smirked behind his hand as he wiped his face, then he stoically asked: “What the fuck was that about, Alfie.”

Alfie shrugged and said: “We’ve been getting trouble from a guy named Tommy Marshall, yeah. Heard the name and thought it was that guy, probably. That’s the problem with dumbasses for personnel, innit, they’re too stupid to see context. Anyway, you got something to replace that with, you look like you murdered a baby.”

Tommy looked down to asses the damage, the shirt was ruined, but that had been the point, he could also throw away his tie, a pity, because he quite liked that tie. He grumbled in response: “I think I have something in me car.”

Alfie clapped his hand: “Fabulous, Ollie will help you with that nose and I’ll get your brothers a drink, sound good? Good, let’s go.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at that, but gestured to Arthur and John to just follow Alfie as he himself followed Ollie in the opposite direction.

Ollie lead him to a small room where he got a bowl of water with a piece of cloth. He said: “I think your nose it broken, so I’ll have to reset it. Do you want a countdown?”

Tommy settled on the edge of the desk and shook his head, a countdown only made it worse, you wanted to be unprepared. Ollie shrugged and got in position, right when he was about to snap he casually commented: “So, you and Alfie are quite close.”

Tommy chocked on his spit while simultaneously trying to groan in pain. When he had regained his senses a bit he said: “What the fuck was that about.”

Ollie shrugged, when one works for Alfie Solomons it’s hard to be scared or impressed by someone you see on a weekly basis in friendly context. He explained: “You needed a distraction before I set your nose and, you know, it is quite interesting. I had a hunch of course, Alfie doesn’t like to meet outside the Bakery and he usually doesn’t meet that often with business associates, but until now there was no proof. Though, I had to admit I was worried for a second when he loudly yelled ‘Who wants to hit Tommy Shelby for five pound’, after he had hung up the phone loudly.”

Tommy couldn’t help but snort at that, immediately wincing because it hurt, just because it was so typically Alfie. He shook his head a bit, before getting serious again and saying: “I hope you know the smart thing is to never make a comment or say a word about that again.”

Ollie put his hands up: “I won’t, you know I won’t. I’m pretty fond of my limbs, life and family, if I’m being honest. Besides, I don’t mind, ever since you started showing up more he’s been in a better mood, we had to hide less bodies.”

“Good.” Tommy replied, it should be quite concerning that Alfies good moods were measured by the amount of bodies that had to be hidden, but in this line of work it was pretty usual, so Tommy didn’t bat an eye.

Ollie then grabbed Tommys shirt from the table and handed it over. Tommy changed quickly.

He handed Ollie Aflies shirt with his ruined tie and said: “Burn it.”

Once that was done they left for Alfies office where Arthur and John would be. Tommy just hoped there wasn’t a fight already. He got lucky, they were sitting there with a drink in hand and even though the silence was tense, it was still peaceful.

When they opened the door Alfie greeted the with: “That took you long enough, were you having a tea party over there.”

Without thinking Tommy shot back: “No, we were just conspiring together to murder you.”

Normally Alfie would laugh at this and tel him that he couldn’t murder him if he had murdered Tommy first, but this wasn’t normally. So, the silence that followed got even more tense, but it was quickly broken by a pale Ollie who said: “No, I would never- he’s not- I won’t.”

Ollie could be casual about murder, but only when it wasn’t his boss who was threatened and it wasn’t by him. He knew that Alfie had a short enough fuse to maybe take this seriously, which would be terrible for Ollies health, because he would die. The two leaders looked at each other as the tension rose, Tommy could see his brothers reaching for their caps and he knew he had to stop this before it got out of hand. He said: “Your guy broke my nose, it had to be set and I had to change, it’s gonna take more than a second, eh.”

Alfie gave him one squint, before letting his shoulders relax a bit and exclaiming: “Well after that harrowing and painful experience you could use a drink, just to numb it down a bit, then business.”

Tommy nodded: “Sounds good.”

After that things went smoothly, they talked business, something that they really needed to do before this point, but they had never really gotten around to it. Tommy found it quite of nice to get a clear oversight and he even managed to up their percentages a bit. He also felt more comfortable in his own shirt, without the constant fear of getting discovered it was easier to relax. But, a part of him kind of missed it, the too large shirt felt as a claim, a claim like the bruises on his thighs and chest. It had been soft and safe.

Then after a while Alfie announced: “Well, it’s time for me and Tommy to talk in private for a while, leader to leader, it’s important for trust and expanding. You wouldn’t know and that’s the point, innit? Sometimes it’s better to be left in the dark for a while, makes it easier to keep everything under the wraps and all, nothing personal. Ollie could show you the best pubs in town.”

Arthur and John gave Tommy a look, who replied: “It’ll be good for bonding, eh, but not too much we still have to drive home tonight.”

Then the three left and he and Alfie were alone together once more.

Alfie sagged in his chair, with that terrible posture that Tommy was always hounding him for, and sighed: “Well, Operation Nappy Change was a success.”

“Operation what?” Tommy shot back.

Alfie smirked as he spelled out: “Operation Nappy Change, that’s what I’ve been calling it in my head. Seems fitting don’t you think? A boy in too big clothes, who needs help to get changed?”

Alfie tutted a bit as a hot blush swept over over Tommys embarrassed face. He now felt even more like a baby, especially when he thought back about the softness and safeness of it all. He looked stubborn, though, as he said: “It was your fault that I got into this mess in the first place.”

Alfie chuckled, Tommy was pouting and embarrassed, it was a cute look. He then asked: “How come, I don’t recall giving you my shirt to put on.”

“You woke me up late.” Tommy huffed, “I had to rush because of you, so I didn’t have time to pay attention and an error was made, your fault.”

Alfie raised his eyebrow and said: “Sounds to me like it was you that made the mistake by not paying attention. You’re just lucky I got you out of this big mess.”

Tommy wanted to object, but Alfie ignored it and went on: “I even gave up, getting to watch you squirm and be uncomfortable, while that is such a pretty sight to see. Pity. Bet you looked like a darling in my shirt, dwarfed you, made you even smaller than you already are, my dainty little thing, that’s what you are.”

Tommy swallowed as the blush got redder, he said: “Yeah, it came to my knee, almost a dress. The sleeves covered my entire hand.”

“You’re making me regret helping you.” Alfie told him, then the man gave him a devilish smirk as leaned forward and said: “Next week you can make it up to me.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, voice higher than normal, “How?”

“Well, you can start by wearing my shirt again. Just the shirt.”

[ddp456]

A Little Lumberjane Christmas - A Gravity Falls Christmas Story/Poem (Re-post)

Hey, all!  @ddp456​ here, and due to the season, I wanted to re-share one of my favorite creations to spread some holiday cheer.  I changed the format a bit, hopefully making it a bit more readable on Tumblr than the original versions here and here.  Again, happy holidays, and please enjoy!

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Written by @ddp456​ Illustrations by @codylabs​ Based on an idea by Wolf90

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It was Christmas Eve and time to deck the halls, in the podunk town called Gravity Falls. Weirdmageddon had pass, its horrors thankfully gone, bringing peace back to the sleepy state of Oregon.

Its natural weirdness seemed to had taken a pause, as the whole town awaited the arrival of ol' Santa Claus. Stockings were hung and trees were dressed really bright. From a distance, the whole town looked like a giant Christmas light.

Families were brought together, and friends would come and unite, proving enough Christmas cheer can make anything right. But one unfortunate soul didn't see things that way. She sat on a rooftop, watching nightfall rise up from the passing day. Who was this person, seemingly unaffected by Christmas joy? Why, it's the Lumberjack Princess, Wendy Corduroy!

Wendy hidden herself away at the top of the Mystery Shack, as the brutal winter winds blew away at her back. She didn't mind the cold, save for the tips of her boot-covered toes, and the feeling of frost nipping away at her stubby little nose. Wendy wanted a safe place to brood and mope and think, as she sipped from a thermos of hot cocoa, her favorite winter drink.

She had gotten out of her dad's apocalypse training by lying about work. She avoided Soos's Mystery Shack staff party by saying it wasn't her quirk. The rest of the town was swept away in the Christmas action, as McGucket threw a huge celebration in what was once the Northwest Mansion. Her friends Tambry, Lee, Nate, and Thompson begged her to come. Wendy refused. "No thanks. It sounds kinda dumb."

Even the Pines twins made their own attempt. An offered trip to Piedmont, California only added to Wendy's contempt. Wendy turned down their invitation, hoping Mabel and Dipper wouldn't shed a tear. "Sorry, guys. Maybe we'll see next year."

All Wendy wanted was to be left alone with her pain. Why did the world make it feel like she was insane? To her loved ones, she didn't want to seem like a grouch, but because of all the lies she told, Wendy couldn't even go back to her own couch.

Wendy's wandering mind instantly came to a halt, as she could hear crushed snow beneath a heavy foot fault. She sprang into action, her ninja-like moves were so slick. Wendy couldn't believe her eyes, "Holy crap! It's St. Nick!"

Santa Claus stood before Wendy in all his glory. The red outfit and fuzzy beard definitely matched the often-heard stories. Despite her older age, Wendy didn't doubt her own eyes. After all, this was Gravity Falls, where the weirdos loved to hide!

Wendy asked, "Santa, no offense, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be posing on soda cans with a cute polar bear? Don't you have, like, a zillion presents to give out today? I won't bother you. You can be on your way!"

Santa laughed. "You need not worry. My deeds with get their well due. But tonight, dearest Wendy, I've come to speak with you. It makes Santa sad to see you so blue. Your Christmas spirit I intend to renew. So, come join me this night. Give me a chance to help make things right. By Christmas Morn, I make this promise so true, your outlook on Christmas will gain a new view."

"Thanks for the invite, Santa." Wendy scoffed at the plan so bland. She sat back down in the snow, "But, yeah, a hard pass from me, my man."

With her back turned, Wendy was definitely out of range, to see "Jolly ol' St. Nick" undergo a sudden change. His famous smile faded into a frown turned amiss, as his opened, gloved hands turned into enraged fists.

"Young lady," Santa said without as much as raising his voice. "I'm afraid you don't understand. I'm not giving you a choice."

"WHA – "

Before she knew it, Wendy was tackled to the ground, She punched, scratched, and kicked, but in the end, was helplessly bound. Left in a hogtie, Wendy could only look around, the identity of her attackers made her let out a disgusted sound. "The gnomes from the woods?! This can't be right! Why are you bugging me on Christmas Eve night? And what's the deal with the elf uniforms? What's your beef? I thought you reformed?"

Jeff the gnome stepped up, since the other gnomes weren't very social. "Sorry, kid. It's just business. I swear this isn't personal. We gnomes need extra scratch for these long winter seasons, and the big man likes to outsource. Need there be a better reason?"

"HO HO HO! Well done, my boys!" Santa heaved with huge amounts of joy. "Please place Miss Corduroy in my big sack of toys! For a job well done, expect a little extra in your checks. Consider it a gracious extension of my respect."

The gnomes cheered as they started to drag Wendy away. Their redheaded captive did everything she could to stay. She pulled and tugged and screamed with all of her might, but the ropes holding her were simply way too tight.

"You can't do this to me!" Wendy yelled. "I have rights! What's the matter, Santa? Too scared to fight your own fights? You know against me, you'd have no such luck! For the last time, let me go, ya fat fu – MMPH!"

The angry ginger's potty mouth was hurting the simple gnomes' brains, so they decided to gag her with a candy cane. From her lips, Wendy couldn't get the sticky treat to waver. The only positive in all this was that it was mint-flavored.

They tossed Wendy into the oversized bag, usually filled with cheer. She let out a muffled cry, landing hard on her derriere. The sack's top was then tied off, robbing Wendy of all light, as Santa and prisoner sailed away well into the night.

Hours felt like seconds until the sack's top was undone. Wendy sprang up from the bag. This was her chance to run! Her ropes and candy cane gag had disappeared. The road in front of her had been perfectly cleared. Before Wendy could take one step, a sturdy hand clamped onto her shoulder. She turned to find Santa, about two seconds away from scolding her.

"Welcome, Wendy," he greeted, "to my humble abode. I wouldn't bother fleeing, for there's nowhere to go. We're at the North Pole, far away from civilization. This is my workshop. Call it my own private nation. Your cell phone won't work. All internet access is password-protected. My best advice is for you to do what you're directed. Now, join me, won't you? The next room is pretty fine. I really want you to see my toy assembly line."

Wendy sighed. There wasn't anything she could do. What if Santa's words were absolutely true? The best course of action was to play along with the part, and trick the geezer that she had a change of heart. The two walked down and across a large loading bay while Santa's nine reindeer happily ate their servings of hay.

Santa led Wendy to the toy assembly line, when the annoyed teen let out a whine. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm telling you, I can't stay. Can't you just leave coal in my stocking, and send me on my way?"

"HO-HO-HO!" Santa chuckled. "Why, Wendy, you're such a kidder! You can't lie to Santa. I must insist you reconsider. I know alone in the dead of winter is what you'd prefer. But in this case, I really cannot concur. There are reasons to my seemingly harsh way. I promise you'll reflect fondly on it one day.

Wendy crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. "I really doubt that, you kidnapping pile of cow dung!"

Santa beaded his eyes, as he tried to stay reserved. "Maybe it's time to get what you deserve. With that negative attitude of yours – and your bad behavior. Santa's got the way to curb that. How about some hard labor?!"

With a hard push, Wendy nearly crashed into the conveyor belt. She looked around to see the hand she'd been dealt. An army of elves stood neatly in line, they slaved and worked tirelessly to finish their projects in time. An endless supply of toys, games, and electronics flew by at frenzied rates, to order to reach children in every country, province, and state.

"Whoa!" Wendy noticed. "Those aren't the gnomes. These elves are real!" "Of course they are," Santa prided. "Back home, this job needs the real deal! Who else could deliver such gifts with speed and joy? They pull out all the stops so each child gets a toy. These wondrous folks are able to look past their own wants and needs, to bring Christmas cheer by doing good deeds. Such is the lesson I expect you to learn tonight. So, jump right in and help, and please don't put up a fight!"

Wendy stepped up to the belt, finding that she was way too tall. "Hey, how can I help? These tools were made for someone super small!"

"Hmm…" Santa stroked his beard. "By George, you're right! Why didn't I see it before?" The old man snapped his fingers. "There! Now, you can easily do your chore!"

With a blink of her eye, Wendy had shrunk by half. She was horrified to see that she barely reached Santa's calf. Her lumberjack outfit and thick winter coat, were now a dorky, striped one piece, and curled shoes that looked like boats. Dipper's pine-tree cap became a cute matching hat with bell tips. Her long copper hair turned pigtails made her lose her grip.

"AHH!" Wendy shrieked as she felt her now-pointed ears. "Change me back!" She demanded. "Don't think I can't kick your chunky rear!"

Santa used one hand to hold back the pint-sized, fist-swinging threat. "Oh, give it up, kid. Just look at me! I'm not even breaking a sweat! All this protesting is really getting you nowhere. Help the elves with the toys, and I'll think about changing you back. I swear. Only when your Christmas spirit is revived, will you be allowed to go home. I'll leave you be now. Santa's got better things to do than listen to you drone."

Santa took his leave, when he stopped after a few paces. "I hate to do this to you, but to be honest, I'm really too old for chases." He snapped his fingers once more, the room echoed with a click. Wendy looked down, "What's this? Another one of your tricks?"

A metal tether was placed around her ankle, meant to hold her in place. Wendy couldn't run away or jump. She could barely walk around or pace. "You think you got me, old man?" Wendy bragged. "I'll be outta here super-quick." She reached under her hat, "As soon as I find my lock – "

"Looking for these?"

Santa flashed a grin, displaying Wendy's trusty lockpicks in his hand. "That's right, kiddo. Santa knows all your secrets. That's why he's the man!" Wendy was left speechless as her captor soon disappeared from sight. She pulled on her chain with all her might. The freckled elf tugged and yanked and fought against the shackle, but every escape attempt resulted in a painful ankle tackle.

Now faced with no other choice, Wendy turned around to accept her fate. She grabbed a toy off the assembly line and followed alongside with her elven mates. But after a few minutes, Wendy found the task to be a bore. She elbowed the nearest working elf neighbor, "So, what are you in for?"

The tiny elf stared at Wendy in a confused state. "I don't think you understand. We elves choose our own fate. We each have free will. Santa doesn't force us to stay. All of us volunteer here. We don't even ask for any pay!"

Wendy looked around at the other elves workers walking around scot-free. She was the only one chained down to the heavy machinery.

"Then, I don't get it." Wendy asked. "Why do you do all this?" The elf replied, "Because the end result is truly pure bliss. Seeing the happy, smiling faces of the grateful girls and boys, it's what powers our great quest. It brings us great joy!"

Wendy grew more curious. "But how can you see all of these things? There's too many to see and they're so far away. Are you just pulling my strings?"

"Watch…"

Wendy grew silent as from the assembly wall came something new. From a small crack, some kind of electrical portal grew. The portal shifted from different planes into a whole new world. Before Wendy's emerald eyes, did the elf's story unfurled.

A little girl knelt on the side of her bed, praying to the powers that be to watch over her loved ones' heads.

"That's little Clara," introduced Wendy's new friend. "She volunteers to take care of her grandma, helping around the house to no end. Even though her family has little money for presents, she gives them little grief. For this, we're giving her a special dollie to provide her some well-needed relief."

A new item flew down the conveyor belt at rocket speeds. Dozens of elven hands rushed to give it the details it needs. A blonde, huggable doll was the final result. Its design was truly perfect. There wasn't anything possible to insult. It flew off the line and into Santa's bag in an almost magical way, and soon, into Clara's awaiting arms on Christmas Day.

"I have to admit," Wendy's mood began to lighten. "That was really neat." She no longer felt like fighting.

"Then, why don't you give it a shot," the elf did suggest. "You're part elf now. You can do it. Try your best!"

Wendy began to picture a child in need, someone who was indeed worthy of the elves' creed. She opened her eyes and gasped aloud, as Wendy was soon presented with her very own cloud. The other elves murmured and gathered around, to see what child Wendy's mind had found.

The image became clear, displaying a teenage boy in punk clothing. His hair was blue. His jeans were torn and holey. But man, was his attitude loathing. The teen was with his mother, doing some late holiday shopping. But to Wendy's shock, she could make out some swears dropping. "No, Mom, you moron! What were you thinking? Are you always this dumb, or have you been possibly drinking? I said I wanted Super Linguini Bros. 3, not Part 2! Man, I honestly can't believe I'm related to you!"

As the image in the portal faded away, Wendy's blood boiled, perhaps more than anytime that day. The boy's expected present had appeared before her, half-finished. But her budding Christmas spirit had been quickly diminished. She picked up the video game machine, and threw it over her shoulder. Wendy let out a chuckle as her insight became ever bolder. All of the elves were shocked and frozen in pause, as the now-wrecked toy landed at the feet of Santa Claus.

Wendy spun around in horror. She knew an apology would be way too late. This latest outburst would surely seal her fate.

Instead, he approached Wendy without a sign of anger and rage. Santa rubbed his bearded chin, knowing he had to take from another page. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. We need to go inside to find why you despise Christmas Day."

He stepped up to Wendy, who was still stuck in place, and placed his black glove over her freckled face.

"What are you doing?" She tried to pull away. "Stop being a creep! Get your stinking hand off me! I can't see a peep!"

Santa removed his hand, and Wendy was now filled with a sense of dread. She had been warped to a dark room with a yellow light hanging ahead. "Hello?" Wendy called out, no longer shackled. "Is anyone there?" "Sorry!" A new voice answered. "I'm on my way. I had to finish my hair!"

A purple and pink glow invaded the darkened space. Wendy entered a fighting stance, just in case. The small ball became a pixie, straight out of a fable. "Weird." Wendy noted. "You kinda look like my friend, Mabel."

The brunette fairy gave off a familiar smile, "Hey, there! Welcome! I hope you stay awhile. Beyond this point, lie the doors three. They represent Christmas Past, Present, and Future. Yippee! Each door will take you to a different point in time on Christmas Day. By journey's end, we'll learn the real reason of why you feel this way."

Wendy shrugged, "It isn't like I have any choice." The pixie agreed and waved, "No, not really. Just follow my voice! If you need anything, I'll be your busy bee! All you need to do is shout, "Hey, Christmas Fairy!""

The fairy led Wendy to the door labelled, "Christmas Past." She opened the door, "Come on! This will be a blast!" Wendy was reluctant, but did what the sprite asked. The redhead couldn't believe it! She was now ten years in the past!

They stood in a better version of the Corduroy household, one that hadn't been yet damaged by Manly Dan's tantrums left uncontrolled. In the farthest corner of a somewhat messy kitchen, a super-tall, redheaded woman baked cookies as her pigtailed daughter pitched-in. The child was covered in white flour from head and toe, and her chubby, little fingers were caked in sticky dough. But the deed was finally done. Into the oven, the cookies went in. The mother tightly hugged her baby, looking over her proudly with a grin. "I'm so proud of you, my little one. You perfectly made my recipe: Chocolate-frosted Christmas trees with just a pinch of sesame. One day, you'll be able to do it alone. Maybe to impress some lucky boy, or when you have a family of your own, my dearest Wendy Corduroy."

The little girl held her mother even tighter, her hidden anxiety and social fears became a tad bit lighter.

"Mama…"

The Christmas Fairy watched the heartwarming scene with glee. "How adorable!" She turned around, finding something unexpectedly. Wendy had turned away from the memory, as she hugged her own shoulders. "Can we get out of here, please? This all is getting older and older."

The pixie sighed, as she waved the memory away. "Maybe we can find something even better here in present day." Wendy followed the fairy to the next Christmas door, "Are we almost done? I'm not gonna lie. This is becoming a chore."

The fairy reached the large door, marked with label, "Present," so that Wendy could bear witness to ongoing Christmas events. This time, she was presented with not one window, or two, but three! On her left side, Wendy could make out a familiar, half-broken Christmas tree. The Gift Shop of the Mystery Shack was decorated with green and red. A nearby buffet table held quite an awesome spread!

The new Mr. Mystery, Soos, stood at the counter with elbows resting. His saddened face was downright depressing. Melody, his girlfriend and partner at the Mystery Shack, suddenly snuck behind him and gave him a hug-attack. "Hey, why so glum, big guy?" she wondered. "Gee, Melody." Soos lamented. "This party was nothing but a blunder. Everybody went to that McGucket shindig instead. With the way things are going, maybe I should have stayed in bed. Even Wendy, who works here, couldn't even bother to attend, Let's face it, this idea was nothing but a dead end."

Melody lowered her head against Soos's shoulder fat, "Oh, don't be silly. Just you forget about that! They can have their stupid party. Let them be. We'll have our own little Christmas; just you and me! And don't mind Wendy. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you. Besides, with us alone, we can make our Christmas a bit more "blue.""

The couple's lips met as they shared a Christmas kiss, though Wendy turned her head and quickly dismissed. "Okay! Moving on!" She fled the scene with swift feet, though she secretly thought the moment was sorta sweet.

The middle window allowed Wendy to view the snow-covered woods, as four burly soldiers followed a path, their heads covered in hoods. Wendy easily recognized those running around in the dead of winter making noise, It was her father, Manly Dan, and her brothers, the Corduroy boys!

Marcus, Kevin, and Gus followed along with dear old Dad, "Keep going!" Dan barked. "Onwards, my beefy lads! Those monsters this summer were only the beginning! We'll practice and train day and night to make sure we keep winning!"

The youngest boy, Gus, started to complain, "How'd Wendy get out of this? She's totally to blame! She said she couldn't come because of work? Yeah, right! She's full of it! What a jerk!"

It was then when Manly Dan came to a stop. The boys crashed into his mighty form, and dropped. He stuck a finger in his smallest son's face. "You watch your tongue, boy! Don't be a disgrace!" That girl beat the odds and surprised us all, She helped saved this town from its ultimate downfall. Wendy's proven herself to me. My stone-cold heart she had won, I only wish she was here to show you boys how to get the job done! But my girl's not here, so us four will have to do. We'll work together on this blessed day to show the world that Corduroys rule!"

The boys rallied around their father's battle cry, and Wendy watched them march without batting an eye. "Don't think I'm not touched by Dad's words. I hate to betray his trust. I just wanted to get out of apocalypse training without a fuss. Living through Weirdmageddon was more than enough for me. After that mess, couldn't we relax and let things be?"

Wendy's attention was drawn by the window on the right. Every part of the Northwest Mansion was bathed in glorious light. Its new owner, Fiddleford McGucket, had really turned things around. To properly celebrate, he threw a Christmas party for the whole town! Mingles of classes, both rich and poor, engaged with each other without signs of bore. Gathered at a distant table were a collection of Wendy's chums, Thompson, Tambry, Nate, Lee, and even Robbie V., that gothic bum. They sat bored out of their minds, their attention spans were wearing thin, without their fearless leader to swoop in for the win. The plucky cashier's mischievous mind usually created their favorite dares, games, and pranks, and now without her around, the mellow atmosphere really did stank! Surprisingly enough, Thompson threw his fist down! "Why are we just sitting here? Sure, Wendy's not around, but would she want us to sit around and pout? No way! She'd tell us to get off our butts, no doubt! C'mon, guys. Let's make our Wendy proud! We'll cause a little mayhem and make this party loud! He lifted his half-drank cup of punch into the air, as the rest of the teens joined in with the cheer:

"For Wendy!"

Wendy backed away from the third open portal, "I'm not really sure if I get this moral. Sure, all three present views have people that miss me, but their Christmases seemed to be better if I left things be."

The pixie bobbed her head, "Oh, Wendy. Try looking at this way instead. All of these groups would be better if you were there, but in your absence, they refuse to let their Christmas fall into despair. They celebrate what they have, versus what they have not. Now, with that said, maybe is there something more to Christmas that you thought?"

"Perhaps…" Wendy said, stroking her chin with curiosity. "Great!" The fairy proclaimed. "There's one last thing to see!" However, Wendy's interests soon broke away, as the door called "Christmas Future" made her want to stay. "Hold on!" The sprite cried out. "There's nothing interesting in here, I bet, and I'm not sure if Santa wants you to see that yet."

"It's nice to want things." Wendy opened the door and smirked. "What's Santa hiding now, that big, colossal jerk?" To Wendy's amazement, she was back at Santa's workshop. The lines of elves went on building toys non-stop. The big man himself surveyed his on-going mission, as he stood at the assembly line with his newest addition. Santa patted the shoulder of the pigtailed elf with a familiar, striped uniform. Her frozen, freckled beam was anything but the norm. The elf didn't even so much as breathe or blink, as her hands blindly manufactured new goods with a "clink, clink, clink!"

Wendy covered her mouth, "No! No way! This cannot be! I know that mindless little elf – that's me!"

Wendy's stomach grew nauseous as she stumbled away. Her pixie friend pleaded with her to stay. "Please, Wendy. You don't understand! This possible future is not Santa's ultimate plan!" But Wendy refused to hear her anymore. "Stay away from me! Let me outta this place!" she roared.

The blackened arena shattered like broken glass, Wendy was back in front of Santa and his elven class. The force of the mighty ginger had broken Santa's spell, as her outburst made him land on his jingle bells.

Wendy marched towards him with a nasty glare, until she was pulled back by her ankle snare. "I've had it with you, fat man! You've hit my last nerve! Now, it's about time that I give you what you deserve! You kidnap me and bring me to this awful place, and then you turn me into one of the elven race! You threaten me with child labor? So what? Big deal! Do you know the geezer I work for? He's an even bigger heel! Then, you dare to invade my mindscape and some, and pervert my most private of memories, you scum! You wanna make me your slave? I'd want you to try. Come a few steps closer, and I'll be happy to give you a black eye! I'll give you one last chance to change your mind. I'm too generous, I know. I'm not asking, I'm telling: LET-ME-GO!"

The other elves remained silent as Santa stood upright. His demeanor had changed to that of sorrow, not fright. "My poor Wendy Corduroy. I feel I failed you. For on this night, I was unable to give you Christmas spirit renewed. Your anger and pain is just way too great, I fear this time, ol' St. Nick had arrived too, too late. Your fate has been sealed. I'm sorry it sounds so grim. I have no other choice but to leave you to…him…

With that, Santa and his elves took their leave, leaving Wendy stunned as she couldn't believe. "Where are you all going? What? The truth was too much to bear? Didn't anyone hear me? I said lemme outta here!"

Now, left by herself and trapped in the empty hall, Wendy slumped down into a saddened ball. Her green eyes grew watery, but she refused to cry. To give her captors the satisfaction, the girl would rather die. The worse thing of all no one knew she was stuck here, as they enjoyed their Christmases without worry or care.

"I can't really blame them." Wendy said, with her chin on her knees. "I know I have hang-ups about Christmas. That part's solely on me. Still, I wish that someone could look beyond their bliss, and see that I was missing and things were amiss."

Little did Wendy know, as her mind began to wander, a new portal formed on the assembly wall beyond yonder. She didn't notice the window leading away from this nightmare, until she could make out familiar voices she'd know anywhere.

"Dipper? Dipper? Are you in there? Where are you now? To where did you disappear?"

Wendy climbed on top of the conveyor belt, as the icy feeling in her heart started to melt. Dipper Pines sat on his bed, with a wireless phone in hand, as his twin Mabel charged into the room with a demand. "Dipper, come join the party! What's the matter with you?" He explained to his sister, "Mabel, it's Wendy. I can't get through! All I wanted was to wish her a Merry Christmas, but no one seems to know where she is! I tried the Shack, and Tambry and Nate and the other teens. And no one picks up at her home. The phone just rings and rings! I don't mean to be overprotective, Mabel. I know I have a choice, but I'd feel so much better if I could hear Wendy's voice."

"Oh, Dipper," Mabel sat next to him on his bed. "Quit being such a big worry-head. Wendy's a big girl. She can handle things by her own. The last thing she'd want you to do is make this overblown. It's not a big deal. Christmas isn't Wendy's thing. If she wanted to be here, she would have given us a ring. Remember last summer? Here, I'll give you a clue. You can't force someone to do something they don't wanna do. Now, come on, already! Turn that frown upside-down! Let's get back to the party before anyone notices you're not around!"

And with that, Mabel went back on her way, but in spite of her speech, Dipper still wanted to stay. His parents' party was filled with family friends unknown, and older cousins that rather spend more time on their cell phones. The thirteen-year-old felt like a stranger in his own house, wishing for something that could keep his Christmas spirit from being doused.

He sighed, and lurched forward with a sigh. "Mabel's right, but I couldn't help but try. I know Wendy's busy, but I still wish she would have come. Maybe then, this stupid party wouldn't be so lonely and dumb."

It was then that Dipper made a wish that he hoped would travel far: "I hope you're having a Merry Christmas, Wendy…wherever you are."

A heartbroken Wendy rested her forehead against the portal's seem, when at long last, her eyes started to teem. A line of tears traveled down each cheek as she started to cry. She didn't think of herself, but of her special little guy. "I'm so sorry, Dipper." Wendy sniffled. "I really made things a mess. I wish I could make it right. I should have said "yes.""

"Wendy?" "Dipper?"

"AAH!" The boy screamed as he flew off the bed, convinced at first, he was hearing voices in his head. But sure enough, in a wavy window above his room, contained the image of Wendy, with a sense of doom.

"Wendy?" Dipper asked again. "Is it really you in there?" "Of course it is, dork." She said from the portal in mid-air.

Dipper moved towards the vision of his crush, and upon seeing what was wrong, his voice went in a rush. "Wendy, what's happened? Why aren't you tall? Your hair! Your ears! And what's the deal with that weird hall?"

Wendy wiped her face and started to plead her case. "Dipper, you gotta help me get out of this place! You're not going to believe this! I'm at the North Pole! Santa kidnapped me, and he won't let me go! He's forcing me to make toys and talk to Christmas ghosts. It's like he's trying to find what irritates me the most!"

Dipper immediately sprung to the rescue. "Don't worry, Wendy. I'll find a way to save you!" He examined the portal up and down and side-to-side, But hadn't an idea how to reach his secret love without a guide. After a few minutes, Dipper stood on his bed, as no more plans danced around in his head. "I'm really sorry, Wendy. I haven't a clue. I've never seen anything like this before. I don't know how to help you."

The two teenagers stood on different borders of time and space, as they met for the first time in months face-to-face. Dipper placed a hand against his side of the plane, The shine in his eyes had vanished and drained. "I – I wish you were here with us…with me…" Wendy set her palm against her devotee's. "I do, too, buddy. Trust me. Right now, there's no other place I'd rather be…"

All of a sudden, as though a Christmas blessing, their hands were able to touch through the barrier's meshing! Wendy and Dipper's fingers entwined as they laughed in disbelief, the ability to make physical contact came as such a relief.

Dipper said, "How can this be? I don't understand. Is this really happening? Or is it sleight of hand?" Wendy squeezed harder, "Hey, kiddo? Not at all trying to be rude, but Santa's coming back soon, so please, pull me though, dude!"

With that, Dipper tightened his grip and gave a tug, His noodle arms pulled Wendy into a huge bear hug. Once the slender redhead was more than halfway through, their worries returned with a threat somewhat new.

"What's wrong now?" Dipper strained. "Of all the dumb luck…" "I almost forgot, Dipper." Wendy explained. "I'm stuck! That old fat jerk snapped a cuff on my foot super-tight, to make sure I'd stay in his crummy workshop all night!"

Dipper wouldn't stop trying. "There has to be something I can do. There's no way I'd ever give up on you!" Though the kind words touched Wendy deeply in this situation out of whack, a second later, she could feel something try to pull her back. "No!" Dipper dug his heels deep into the blankets of his bed. "Don' t think this is over! I'd rather drop dead!"

"Dipper! Don't let go!" "I won't!"

Both Dipper and Wendy screamed as they were pulled into the wormhole, They landed back at Santa's workshop back at the North Pole, where Santa awaited with a horrific beast by his side, a ten-foot, horned demon, a so-called protector of yuletide. It was bearded and dressed in tattered clothing, its appearance was terrifying and somewhat loathing. The screams of the damned came from a container on its side. It held a wooden paddle, meant to tan wicked hides. Upon seeing this monster, the partners-in-crime shrieked, holding each other in terror as their knees became weak.

Santa shook his head, "Wendy, I've tried my best to make this right, but I feel there's nothing I can do to have you see the light. There's only one way to curb your attitude so pompous. I introduce to you, the Christmas monster known as the Krampus!

The fanged behemoth unleashed an unearthly roar, that even managed to shake the whole floor. It took a hooved step forwards in its quest, far from trendy, to claim the soul of the wicked child known as Wendy.

"Wait!"

Dipper shielded his still-ensnared sweetheart, He held his arms outwards, ready to do his part. The tiny boy's eyes met with his one-time rival, "Santa…" he greeted, thinking only of Wendy's survival. "Dipper…" Santa replied in the same, sober tone. "So, how goes those "Anti-Santa" traps in your home?" "You already know," Dipper grimaced, "That they're far from okay, but that's not the reason I'm here today. I don't have all the details, but I think I know enough. Please let Wendy go, and we'll be gone without a huff! I know at first, Wendy seems aloof and really tough. But she's so much more than that! Take it from this cream-puff! I get that Christmas spirit is your thing. That's okay and fine. If it's such a big deal, then what about mine? There is nothing I want more than to have Wendy to come home with me, so I ask you kindly, can't we please just let things be? I don't have a leg to stand on. But still, I'll beg this of you today: Please, Santa. Don't take my Wendy away!"

Dipper turned back to see Wendy slightly blushing. He corrected the mistake he made by rushing.

"I mean, "Don't take Wendy away!"

Santa and his pet gave each other a quick look, Their combined decision no more than a split second took:

"NO!"

The Krampus crept by Wendy, as she froze in a trance, as Dipper fought back with a second chance. "All right! You want a bad kid to give your curse? What if I could name someone even worse? A person that definitely deserves your type of misery? Here's a thought. How about you take me?!"

"Dude, don't!" Wendy said. "You really need to shut up now! If you keep going, you'll end up as this thing's Christmas chow!"

But Dipper ignored his crush's protests, and began to list off his sins and confess. "I've lied, cheated, and stole too many times, and that's only the beginning of my crimes! I beat up a gang of gnomes and marked them for dead. I fought living wax statues and cut off Larry King's head! I raised zombies up and left those secret agents to die, and made my sister, Pacifica, and even Wendy cry. I won't fight you, creature. I'll admit I made my own bed. I'll ask you a second time, leave Wendy, and take me instead!"

The Krampus licked his lips with a sense of glee, truly fascinated by Dipper's dirty laundry. He changed course to add Dipper to his collection, as Wendy dashed in front to offer her protection.

"Ain't going to happen, ugly! Not no how, or no way! Lay a claw on that kid, and I swear you're going to pay! If you want Dipper, you'll have to go through me first! So, come on, tough guy! I'm prepared to take your worst! If anyone deserves a decent Christmas, it's Dipper, my boy! And it's gonna happen, or else, my name's not Wendy Corduroy!"

To Wendy and Dipper's surprise, both tormentors began to laugh. Santa and Krampus supported each other so they wouldn't split in half. The elder's smile returned, "See, Wendy? I knew you would come through! Your act of sacrifice shows your Christmas spirit has been truly renewed! Santa's deed has been done. There's no further need for this. You two are free to go and enjoy Christmas bliss!"

Wendy raised an eyebrow, worried if there was another trick to be found. "Seriously?" Santa snapped his fingers a third time, as her shackle opened and fell to the ground. "Seriously."

Dipper and Wendy walked to the portal shining so bright, as Wendy realized something still wasn't quite right. "Santa, my man, I really don't mean to stall, but before we go, can you please make me tall?"

Dipper elbowed his friend, "I dunno. I think I like you better this way." "Please, Dipper, don't give him ideas." Wendy whispered with dismay.

Santa let out another joyful laugh, "Oh, I almost forgot, my dear. When you go home, your natural height will return, so have no fear." He and the Krampus offered a wave as the duo traveled back to California. "Have a Merry Christmas! But if not, you can't say we didn't warn ya!"

Back in Piedmont, Wendy and Dipper landed back in his bedroom, as she discovered she was no longer fitted in elven costume. Wendy's lumberjack clothing and height were rightfully restored, as the portal closely behind them, hopefully forevermore. Relieved, they rushed in for a snuggly embrace, their hearts still racing from escaping such a crazy place.

Dipper looked up at Wendy, "Are you sure you're alright?" "Thanks to you, buddy." She grinned and held him tight. "I don't know what to say, Dipper. Tonight, you really came though." "Oh, it was nothing." He blushed. "If reversed, I'd know I could count on you."

Their touching reunion was suddenly interrupted, as from the doorway, a shrill squeal erupted: "Ohmigosh!" Mabel grabbed her cheeks. "You're really here!" She wrapped around Wendy's waist as the much-taller girl rubbed her brown hair. "I knew I heard your voice! Did you change your mind?" Wendy turned to Dipper as she was caught in another bind. "Actually, Mabel." Dipper started. "Wendy wanted to surprise us. She spent all day and night traveling here on a small bus." Wendy followed along with Dipper's white lie about her stay. "I hope I'm not too late to join you guys on Christmas Day?" "What? No way!" Mabel exclaimed with excitement and great cheer. She flew from the room, "Hey, everybody! You won't believe who's here!"

With the two following along at a safe distance, Wendy gave Dipper a love tap, "Hey, thanks again for the quick assistance." "No biggie." He said with an embarrassed modest. "But if I can ask, are you sure you're ready for all this?" She threw her arm around her favorite little dork. "Of course I am, but now, let's get to work! I have something special to share with you two. Call it an old family recipe: Chocolate-frosted Christmas trees with just a pinch of sesame."

As they rounded the corner, Mabel teased, "Hey, you two! Guess where you're below? You guys are right under the mistletoe – "

"O-kay! That's enough right there!"

Wendy leaned forward on her knees as Dipper remained cross-legged on the colored rug on the floor. They looked up at Soos, dressed in a Santa cap, as he read from a selection of his fanfiction in Stan's recliner.

"Wow…" Dipper rested a heavy head against his fists. "I really didn't believe Soos when he said he made a Christmas story starring us, but there it is…"

"What's the matter?" Soos asked with a disappointed look. "You guys didn't like my Christmas rhymes?"

"No offense, Soos." Wendy threw out an arm in outrage, "But that story was kinda sexist, don't cha think? Why was I the one kidnapped? And Dipper saving me? Isn't that sorta cliché?"

"Well," Dipper held a finger up. "There was that one time at the Dusk2Dawn…"

"Exactly, buster! One time! Check the rescue scorecard, pal! I guarantee I have more saves checked off than you. Bet on it! And you really think Santa can take me on? Let 'im try! I'll punch him in the mistletoe, and break my foot off in his ho-ho – "

*CRASH!*

A thunderous crash could be heard on the Mystery Shack's roof. The sound made all three freeze in their tracks.

"Um," Dipper mumbled. "What was that you were saying, Wendy?"

"I – I," The lumberjane rambled nervously. "Like I was saying, maybe we should take a break, and get some hot cocoa and cookies, and see if there's any wholesome Christmas TV specials on."

"Good idea!"

"Sounds like a plan!"

The boys and Wendy jumped up and left the room, pressed together back-to-back. Their eyes searched every corner, in fear of a possible yuletide attack.

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

"And from this point here, our story finally concludes. Have a Happy Holiday, my friends. And remember, Santa's always watching you…"

[donalddepatos]

Baby Ducks

When 10 year old Donald is dragged to a party, he finds @daisygoeslive and the two have semi civil meeting. Cameo from @minniehq.

If Donald had to be dragged to one more party and stuffed into another monkey suit by his uncle, he was going to explode. It wasn’t even like he didn’t like spending time with Uncle Scrooge and Della, but these parties had become more and more overwhelming over the years. It didn’t help that he didn’t really know how to talk to people at these things either. His Uncle always seemed to form a crowd of people who hung on his every word. Asking questions about his adventures or trying to learn his secrets for how he gained such a big fortune.

Then there was Della, cute and witty Della, who their Uncle held up and bragged about to anyone who would listen. And at these things that was almost everyone. She was good at this, explaining her passions and having acquired Scrooge’s skills of articulation. She also always seemed to walk out of here with some  new friend she’d met, parents setting up playdates between her and their kids with Scrooge. 

Donald wasn’t like that, he couldn’t handle the attention that came with being Scrooge’s nephew. It wasn’t like his Uncle didn’t try and brag about him, but Donald wasn’t able to add anything else to what he said. He’d stutter through answers, eventually becoming frustrated enough that he ended up mumbling too much. His frustrations only grew when Scrooge would tap him with his cane, telling him to straighten up and speak clearly.  Temper getting the best of him he’d storm off, hearing the adults' remarks over how Scrooge really needed to teach Donald better manners. 

Della would try and find him, but sometimes that was just as frustrating. He didn’t want to just be her angry twin all the time, letting her talk for him. It wasn’t his fault no one had the patience to wait for him to answer their questions. Contrary to popular belief he didn’t like to be angry all the time, he was ten, he was a kid. But everyone here seemed to expect all the kids to be mini adults already. It was frustrating beyond belief for the young boy, which is why he tended to stay quiet and wander away during one of Scrooge’s stories. 

Food was the best part about these parties, the waiters’ didn’t expect anything out of him and he knew how to at least keep his clothes clean while eating. He liked waiters, they just handed him food and let him be on his way. The rules made sense too, all he had to do was say please and thank you. See? He knew his manners! He was a good kid, he just had trouble sometimes. 

After thanking a waiter, he was wandering out of the main room of the party towards the outside area. There were a lot of pretty lights set up and even a band. That was another thing that actually made sense to him, music. He could be loud and run around when music was playing, well if it was the loud kind. He didn’t like the quiet soft kind that much, it meant he had to stay still and listen. Which was really boring, what was the point of music you couldn’t play with? 

Tugging off his bow tie, he stuffed it into his back pocket. The waiter had given him a plate with mini cocktail weenies and shrimp, along with some weird red sauce he had thought was ketchup. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but he still didn’t want to risk getting dirty. That would be its own set of problems for him. Walking away he looked around for a spot he could sit at, the few outside tables had adults all over and that meant talking. 

The music slowly faded as he wandered closer to the edge of the last tables, before he heard a weird sound. Brow furrowing he glanced around, shrugging when he didn’t see anyone. He was about to sit at the lone table to enjoy his food when that sound came out again. It sounded like...crying? Setting his plate on the table he crouched down lifting the table cloth to pear underneath it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t a girl smaller than him glaring at him. Yelping he dropped the cloth as he fell backwards, blinking in confusion he slowly crawled forward lifting up the cloth again. The girl was still glaring but now he could see tear stains on her cheeks and how red her eyes were. 

“Uh…” he vaguely heard his Uncle in his head lecturing him for that, “Hi?”

“Go away,” she snapped.

Frowning his eyes narrowed as he looked at her, “Why are you under a table?” 

“None of your beeswax,” she snapped, grabbing a handful of grass off the ground and tossing it his way. 

“Hey!” he snapped while brushing it off, grateful that it wouldn’t stain, “I didn’t do anything!” 

“I said go away! You’re supposed to go away when someone asks,” she said brushing her hand over her eyes to wipe any stray tears. 

Donald was tempted to do as she asked, but she was also kind of annoying so the stubborn part of him didn’t want to listen. “You didn’t ask,” he said smugly, “You snapped at me...that’s...uh…that’s rude!” Yea that what it was, he was the polite one for once. 

The girl looked like she wanted to argue more before her lower lip and more tears started streaming down her face. Wait no...he didn’t want to make her cry more. 

“Just leave me alone,” she said, sounding more exhausted than anything else. 

His Uncle had told him once what to do when a girl was crying, he racked his head trying to remember what it was. You were supposed to give them something...like a tissue or something. Glancing down he spotted the handkerchief on his jacket, that’s what it was! Taking it out he crawled under the table holding it out to her. 

“Here,” he mumbled, face flushing as he looked down while holding it out. 

He didn’t catch her expression as she looked at him surprised before slowly taking it from him. He felt their fingers brush as he chance a glance up, watching as she wiped her eyes and face with it. Her eyes were still a little red but she at least looked a little more put together. 

“Thank you,” she said messing with the handkerchief in her hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said. An awkward silence slowly formed and he cleared his throat, “I’m Donald De Patos,” introduced trying to remember the manner rules and held his hand out. 

He watched as she took his hand, hers a lot smaller in his, “I’m Daisy Waddles, nice to meet you.” 

Ok introductions were done, he thought, taking his hand back. So now what? God this is why he hated talking; it was hard and too much work. “So...uh why were you crying?” Ask questions about them, that was good manners right?

The girl frowned and he was worried he was going to get grass thrown at him again before she shifted on the ground. She sat up from her hunched position showing him the side of her dress. What once had been a nice shade of aqua on her dress, on her right side now had a brown stain on her middle. 

“Me and my best friend, Minnie, were trying to get some chocolate from the fountain,” she said, her lip trembling again, “She tripped and got it on me, I got mad and ran. Now she probably thinks I hate her...and we won’t be friends anymore.” 

Donald’s mind was racing, he didn’t want her crying again, he wasn’t good at this stuff. What would Della or Scrooge do? He frowned at that question, they weren’t here, so Donald had to come up with something. Without thinking he took his black suit jacket off and held it out to her, “Here, this way no one will see, and then we can find Minnie.” Maybe it wasn’t what his family would have done, but hopefully Donald was good enough for today. 

He watched as Daisy looked at him, confusion on her face, before she took the jacket. Putting it on he helped her put the two bottom buttons on, the sleeves were too long ending almost at her fingertips, and the bottom went past her waist, but she looked more cute than disastrous he thought.

Moving out from under the table, he lifted up the cloth and held out his hand towards, “Come on...um...let’s go find Minnie,” he mumbled. He felt her grab onto his hand as he led her back towards the party, his plate of food forgotten for now. 

As they walked he felt Daisy glance up at him, “Thanks Donald, I’m sorry I was mean. You’re really nice.”

Feeling his face flush,  he couldn’t help the swell of pride at having done something right. He mumbled a soft no problem as the two continued their walk back. The two walked quietly back to the party, though this time it didn’t feel as awkward to him. It was kinda nice being the one who’d done something right for once he thought. They had barely walked back into the party when a loud voice had screamed out, “Daisy!” 

Donald glanced over seeing a girl in a large pink princess dress barreling towards them. Taking a step back he’d let go of Daisy’s hand letting the girl tackle hug her. The girl was talking a mile a minute apologizing over the chocolate incident, while Daisy was getting in a word every other sentence that, yes they were still friends. 

With all the commotion, a few adults started walking over. Two said Daisy’s name, and based on how they looked he assumed they were her mommy and daddy. He watched Daisy walk over, showing her mom the stain and apologizing profusely. Minnie quickly relatching onto Daisy, saying it was all her fault, tears in the other girl’s eyes. Donald shifted uncomfortably when Daisy explained where the jacket was from. Without thinking he ducked away, missing the confused and disappointed look on Daisy’s face at not finding him. 

Spotting Della, he’d grabbed her hand asking where Scrooge was. She’d stared at him in confusion before leading him to their Uncle.

“Donnie is everything ok?” she questioned concern in her voice.

Ignoring her he marched over to his Uncle and tugged on his jacket. “Can we go home...please?” he asked, staring at the ground once he had his Uncle’s attention. 

Scrooge frowned but something about Donald’s attitude made him pause. His nephew looked uncomfortable, with a sigh he gave a nod of consent leading his niece and nephew out to go home. Once in their car he glanced at his nephew curiously, “Donald, where is your coat?” 

“I lost it,” Donald grumbled, crossing his arms and staring out the window. Leaning his head against it he closed his eyes. Well at least for once he’d done something right, though he doubted anything would come of having met Daisy. Even if she was kinda nice. 

[maarmendes]

Chapter 3: Alliance [I]

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mental illness... (the main characters are pretty rough around the edges)

Genre: OC insertion; angst; fluff.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC [Anahita Shuzenji]

Word Count: 2949

Tags: @bnhabookclub​

[Wattpad Link]

"Ana! Breakfast's ready!"

My grandma yelled out but I refused to get out from under the covers. After a good night's sleep, my fight with Bakugo seemed dumber than ever. It was none of my business, but once again I overstepped and did something stupid. I curled myself up into a ball and sighed, regretting how embarrassing this whole mess became. That's what I get for trying to fight fire with fire.

"Anahita Shuzenji! I've called you once already!" The old woman barged into my room. "Why are you still in bed? You haven't been staying up late again have you?!" I felt her poke me with her walking stick.

"I'm never going to school ever again." I pulled the covers tighter over me. "Just let me die here and then bury me in some unmarked grave in the woods or something." That won me a cane beating. She wouldn't hurt me but she did annoy me into getting up.

"Stop that, old hag! I was joking! I still won't go to school though."

"Fine." She sat next to me. "I know what this is about. Shota told me what happened with that boy and said he talked some sense into you. Do you want to talk about it with me? Maybe I can help."

Granny patted my head lovingly and my pride broke down. Since my mom's death, we promised to trust each other with everything. After all, we were all the family we had left. And so, I told her about the fight, about Bakugo and Midoriya, about what I said before and during my apology. She scolded me for wasting candy but still found it funny, no matter how embarrassed I was. She held my hand while she listened to me and I told her how much I regretted it. I knew it wasn't my place to scold him, I wasn't the perfect example of a stable person either, and it was none of my business anyway.

"You're right, you shouldn't have involved yourself." I frowned, looking down in shame. "But you did well in defending that child. It's the third day of school and he has spent more time with me than in class! His master already got an earful from me." I cocked a brow at the mention of a master but she shrugged me off and sighed. "You should try to apologize properly today and apologize for butting in where you're obviously not welcomed. Now, get up and get ready! The food's getting cold." With a pat on my cheek, she hopped down the bed.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Shota and I will be out for the day. Something about representing the U.A., probably something boring. He said you had someone who can walk you home, will you be alright?"

"It's okay, Nana. I'll be fine, promise!" I sent her off with a smile as she left me to get ready.

I was more than fine. With Aizawa and Granny out for the day, I could resume my plans. It was the perfect opening! Going to school was no longer an issue for me, the good news had revived my motivation and blew Bakugo out of my mind. He was an issue I could deal with later. I could apologize at any time, but I couldn't get rid of Aizawa that easily. I refuse to waste this opportunity.

Getting to class, there were only a few students around. I spotted Blasty at his seat, his red-haired friend telling him and some other blond guy something he was excited about. I tried to ignore him as much as possible. I knew I had to apologize sooner or later, but I had other things in mind right now. Sitting at my desk I pulled out my phone. The night of the accident, I was following a lead about a bar downtown looking for part-timers. Rumor has it that's a villain hanging spot where all kinds of shady deals go down... And it's the perfect spot to gather information. Thankfully, the ad for a part-time job at the bar was still up and I was about to answer it when someone calls out to me.

"Good morning, Shuzenji!"

"'Morning, Midoriya. You can call me Ana, you know?"

"O-oh, sorry. You can call me Deku then!" His awkward smile made me chuckle.

"How are you doing? Nana is out of campus for today but I can help you if you need anything."

"Oh, no need! I'm fine, really, you already helped enough. I actually wanted to thank you..." The boy rubbed the back of his neck and I couldn't help but feel guilty.

"It's okay, really! Actually, I... I want to apologize." I looked away from him. He babbled frantically trying to reassure me I did nothing wrong but I didn't pay attention. "Listen, I yelled at Bakugo for hurting you... And I feel like I was out of line and shouldn't have butted in between you two... Well, I'm partially sorry. I'm not sorry I told him not to be a dick and to stop hurting people." That remark earned me a chuckle from the cute boy.

"Kacchan and I... It's complicated. But you were trying to protect me, right? I don't think you should apologize for that." I gave him a worried smile at the adorable nickname he gave that dickhead. "Ah! My mom baked cookies yesterday, I brought some for you and Recovery Girl. I'm sorry for the trouble I've been causing..." He offered with a shy smile.

"Oh, Deku... You're no trouble at all!" I tried my best to hold back but I couldn't help myself and ended up pulling the boy into a tight hug, to which he winced in pain. After a couple of apologies and a few laughs, we agreed we should stop being so apologetic.

"Damn, Ana!" Mina wrapped her arm around my neck. "You threw yourself right in! Didn't think you liked them quiet."

"What? No! It's not like that!" I stumbled, trying to find the right words. "I'm so sorry, Deku! I'm just so used to getting close to people..." There was no way for me to hide my embarrassment or Mina's laughter.

"Ignore her. She's just trying to tease you too!" Jirou chimed in, pinching Mina's cheek.

We settled into a nice conversation until the bell rang for the beginning of the first period. Besides the occasional conversation with Deku or some of the girls, I kept my distance throughout the day. I was still sore from 'the Blasty Issue', and I'd rather be left alone than screw up again. No offense to my classmates who were always welcoming and inclusive, but I couldn't take any more distractions. The week I spent without training had already left me behind and I couldn't afford any more mistakes, not when I had such a good chance.

I tried finding a secluded place to eat during lunch so I could do some research and check out what I was getting myself into. I tried the library but the lady had already kicked me out for eating there before. I'd tried the roof but, as expected, it was filled with students I'd rather have nothing to do with. Besides, Bakugo would follow me everywhere I go. Even if I lost him in the hall, when I looked back he was there. He kept following me but never approached me. It was starting to get on my nerves, so I thought out a plan. I took a sharp turn at the end of the hall and ran quickly to hide in the girl's bathroom. No matter how sad it felt to eat a sandwich in the bathroom, he would never follow me here. Hopefully, no one would find me here, it'd be really embarrassing to be caught eating lunch in the bathroom. All hope was lost when I heard someone opening the door. Hiding in a stall wasn't ideal, but there was no way I'd let Bakugo find me that easily.

"I know! It's so unfair." I heard a girl whine. "We've been trying our best to get into the hero department, studying and taking tests, and some stupid bitch gets randomly transferred? Pathetic." She scoffed.

"I heard she's some pro hero's relative. I guess even U.A. can be bought into letting low-lives with no talent in, huh?" Another girl added.

"Yeah, she's that nurse's granddaughter. How can a stupid healer even be a hero? What can she do? Heal villains to death? I bet that's why her grandma ended up working here." A third girl mocked and they all let out the most annoying laughs I'd ever heard.

I wasn't known for keeping my cool and that would show well at this moment. It's not them insulting me that pissed me off. Sure, my pride was hurt but I did get transferred under 'special circumstances' so they weren't wrong. But, insulting my grandma?

Kicking the door open I step out to confront the now quiet girls.

"What? What's your problem?!" All three glared at me but I stood my ground.

"Wanna talk shit? Say it to my face." I took another bite of my sandwich as I waited for their retort, to which they laughed.

"You're the transfer student?" The pink-haired girl mocked between laughs. "They really do let anyone into 1-A, huh? How do you get into the class if you can't reach the doorknob?"

"That's all you got? Weak shit." Keeping a straight face I savored another bite. They finally got their game faces on.

"What did you say?" The middle one got closer and I assumed she'd be the supreme dumb ass of the group. "You think just because you cheated your way up you suddenly become some hot shit?!"

Suddenly something cold rains down my body. The blue bitch had her hands out, a smirk on her stupid face as the idiots laughed at my drenched look. I did say insults don't get me, but controlling toilet water and dumping it on me? Oh, that rubbed me just the right way.

The bullies kept laughing as I jumped up and hit my knee on the girl's nose, hearing a clear crack. They went quiet, watching her friend fall on her back. I threw my soggy sandwich on her face.

"You caught me in a bad mood, Sewer Hands."

Before any of them could retort, my fist hit another girl's face throwing her against the wall. Her friend tried to grab onto me, but she couldn't hold me down and ended up being thrown over my shoulder and out the bathroom. Turning back to the reason I wasn't eating my lunch anymore I see her trying to get out, holding onto her friend.

"What? Play time's over, huh?!" I catch up to them in the thankfully empty hall. Grabbing the girl - whose nose was still bleeding - by the shirt, I push her back on the floor as I stood over her.

"You're out of luck, Toilet Water. I was in need of some stretching." I got on top of her grabbing her by the tie and glared right into her eyes. "You really, really pissed me off."

I threw my arm back, ready to show them exactly what got me into 1-A, when someone gets a strong grasp on my wrist and pulls me off the whimpering girl by the waist. My instinct to fight kicked in and I dug my heels on the ground and used my free arm to elbow them in the ribs, earning my freedom. Grabbing onto their arm, I use my momentum to throw my attacker onto the floor, stepping on their chest to keep them down.

"God- FUCK! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" A familiar rough voice yelled up at me.

"Bakugo! I'm sorry, I didn't know! I- I didn't-" Getting off him, I offer a hand to help him up.

"Fucking hell, Shortie! How did you do that?!" He rubbed his head and I assumed he hit it pretty hard when I threw him down. "I gotta admit, you got some spunk, pipsqueak."

"I'm going to assume you're fine then."

Waving all the worry away, I turned to see the group of girls stumbling down the hall, helping each other run away. Scoffing I swatted a few wet bangs off my face. All of a sudden, something warm is draped over my shoulders and I look over to see Bakugo placing his jacket around me.

"You're wet. Did they do this to you?" He glared down the hall, but the bullies were long gone. I shoved him away and threw his jacket back to him.

"It's none of your business. I can handle myself."

"It is my business! I'm supposed to keep an eye on you remember?!" He threw his jacket back at me.

"Yeah, I know! I know I'm like some stupid assignment you gotta deal with but don't worry. I don't plan on telling Aizawa about this." I shoved his jacket right back.

"What the fuck are you talking about?! I'm trying to help you!" He shoved it back.

"Why?! It's not like you fucking care!" I snapped at him, throwing his jacket in his face.

"BECAUSE, I'M SORRY OK?!" He threw it back in my face and I froze, peeking at him from under the jacket. "I fucked up and pissed you off and I'm sorry okay?! Just let me help, you dumb idiot!"

He grunted in frustration and I watched him shift in place, obviously uncomfortable. It was clear how hard it was for him to talk about these things... But he tried, and I couldn't blame him for trying his best to make things right. Sighing I gave in and slid into his jacket.

"Your jacket smells like caramel. I like it." He rolled his eyes and scoffed at me, ready to retort but I stopped him. "I'm sorry too. We were both rude, but I was worse..." I looked down at my feet. "I butted in on something that had nothing to do with me, and I even said really mean stuff... I'm really sorry... But even if I don't know what's up between you two, it's not okay to hurt someone like that. Friend or foe. Don't hurt people like that, please."

I looked back up to him in time to see his expression soften and his fist unclench. With a sigh, he nodded.

"I'll try my best." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Guess I will too since I've just beaten up a bunch of bitches in the bathroom. And lost my sandwich." I frowned.

"We'll get you something to eat, but first you should change. You smell." I punched his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about, all I can smell is caramel!"

"Will you shut up?! Do you know how uncool it sounds when you keep announcing what I smell like?! It's fucking weird!" Bakugo complained as we made our way down the hall.

"But I like it! It's comforting." I nuzzled deeper into his jacket and pouted up at his flustered face. That was a first for him and I tried my best to burn it in my memory as it seemed it wouldn't be a common occurrence.

Bakugo guided me to the girl's locker room, where I quickly cleaned off and changed into my gym uniform. I hated walking around with my hair down. I liked how long it was no matter how annoying it was to keep it in place, so I usually tie it up. But since it was still damp from the shower, I had no choice. Walking out, Bakugo was still waiting for me.

"Worried I might get bullied again?" I smirked throwing him his jacket.

"More like worried you might bully someone again." He scoffed. "You're a feisty one though, aren't you? First, you cuss me out. Then, you get yourself in a three on one fight. Are you trying to beat me at my own game, pipsqueak?" He looked somewhat proud as he ruffled my hair.

"Hands off, jackass!" I swat his hand away. "This mess is hard enough to keep without your help."

"Messiness suits you though." Bakugo flashed a rare smile, turning me into a flustered mess.

"Whatever, Sweat Stain. I'm starving!" I shoved him, walking faster.

I shrugged the feeling of wanting to see him smile more away and started making my way back to class. I finally apologized to him but it didn't mean I had plans to get close to him. Our relationship was already upsetting enough, especially considering I had to find a way to fool him into letting me walk home alone today. As per Aizawa's instructions, he had to leave me with some kind of supervision, such as Aizawa or Nana. Thankfully, once the last bell rang Kirishima and Kaminari were on Bakugo, trying to convince him to go somewhere with them, which I took as the perfect chance to get him off my case.

"Bakugo, I'm headed to Aizawa's office now! You should hang out with your friends!" I called out over my shoulder, smiling and waving as I made my way out of the room. I heard him scream out to me but ignored him.

I made my way out the school as naturally as possible, with a book open in front of my face to avoid getting caught on camera. Not tying my hair up actually worked to my advantage in not being recognized. Once far enough to not be caught by U.A's security system, I declared my plan in motion.  

It's go time.

[NEXT CHAPTER]