#so i might just fully eat a block of cheese later this evening. i can have it on oat cakes and pretend it’s healthy. it’s fine

[fingertipsmp3]

Does anyone else just like… not give a fuck if they’re chopping vegetables evenly

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Five)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3631

Content Warnings: None

Sorry for such a long gap, I had a crippling bout of writer’s block and then it was suddenly a month later. But I’m pleased to announce I haven’t forgotten how to write :)

You look down warily at the creature scratching at the base of the tree you’re perched in.

This little guy is nothing like that one scary hexopard etched in your memory- the one that supplied the material for your beloved winter cloak. 

You sigh at the sight of the creature’s plush fur. You left that cloak behind when you fled the settlement, despite it being one of your favorite belongings. It just didn't feel right to take it with you after… everything… but the biting cold is really making you wish you had caved and brought it along anyway. 

This smaller hexopard’s scavenging around for food at its leisure, driven to snack on anything it can get its hands on easily to bulk up for the coming hibernation, but it’s not in a hurry. 

Because it’s not currently driven mad by post-hibernation hunger and aggression, you can probably distract it enough that it won’t view you as a tasty morsel to snack on and you’ll be able to slip away. You just need something enticing enough to hold its interest…

Then, looking down at its twitching nose, you realize that its sensitive sense of smell has probably picked up on the dried venison jerky in your pack. Your theory is all but confirmed when you pull out the pouch where your rations are from within, and you swear you can see its eyes light up.

“Alright, buddy. Follow these and not me, okay?” You say, looking for a good place to toss them. Then, you wind up your arm as best you can in your position, and chuck the pouch into the woods in the opposite direction.

The hexopard immediately lets off the tree and lumbers after the pouch, tail swishing behind it as it loudly crashes unbidden through the underbrush.

After a few moments of observation, you slip down the tree gingerly, hoping to not become more interesting than the alluring scent of dried meat. When you get to the bottom, you’re relieved to see the creature so fully engrossed in your ration pouch that you might as well not exist any longer, its snout fully covered as it roots in the opening of the leather. You sneak off quietly while you still have the chance. 

Once you get far enough away, you resume your trek at a faster pace. After another hour or so of traveling, you grin from ear to fluffy ear as the sight of the river comes into view. 

Salvation.

Your pace picks up without you even thinking about it, your morale boosted by something going right for once. Your tail curls behind you in a delight.

You’re not exactly thrilled at having to give up your only food supplies; yet you’re alive and no longer lost, and that seems like a pretty good trade-off.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the river back to town. Then, this whole ordeal will be over. You’ll be back to your old life, though now enjoying the increase in station in the guild pulling off such a momentous task surely will earn you. Who knows, maybe they’ll even splurge on a feast to celebrate! 

Now that does sound good right now.

Think about something else, you urge yourself. You need to force yourself to stop, lest your mouth start watering. Anything else… The grumbling of your stomach is distracting enough already. 

But it’s no use, you’ve fallen down the mental rabbit hole, and now only thinking of all the things you’d like to eat when you get back. You’re swept up in thoughts of whole roasted suckling pig and honeyed chestnut sweetbread… braised venison with cherry glaze and grilled root vegetables… seeded crackers with soft cheese and over-slathered with homemade berry jam… 

Hell, you’ll even take marinated eggs right now…

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It takes you a moment for it to sink in, but those are all things that you’ve been eating at the stronghold that you’re craving, not things you miss from home. All of your memories of food you miss from the past are so fuzzy. It’s hard to remember anything of note, past vague, smeared memories of nostalgic meals you ate when you were very young.

And when you get back… you probably won’t eat Orcish food again. At least not for a while.

It’s… fine.

You’ll be home, soon. And you won’t have to think about any of this ever again.

LAST SPRING

“Surely there’s something I can help you with.” Your tail swishes in agitation behind you, a clearly visible indicator of your emotional state. “You’re just being difficult.”

“Urgh- Don’t you have something better to do than bug me?” Torg rumbles, running his good hand down his face in annoyance. "Work to finish? Anything?"

His arm is still in a sling from the hunting incident. And true to his nature, he's being an absolute ass about accepting any help.

"I've already filled my quota today." You say smugly, hands planted on your hips. It's one of the rare days you've finished early and without incident, and you're quite pleased with yourself about it.

"Good, you should be off enjoying the nice weather while it’s here, rather than nagging me in this stuffy office."

"Just let me help you, you stubborn oaf!" You lean over the desk, slapping your hands down on the papers in front of him. Your loosely laced shirt hangs off you a bit with the movement. The new clothes you had made for the warm weather don’t quite fit you as close as you typically wear your shirts- the tailors here still aren’t quite used to your non-orc proportions.

Torg simply stares down at you in perturbed silence. You’ve gotten much more comfortable with the way you communicate with Torg since the hunting trip, but he is your superior. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far..

"...Torg?"

"...Fine." He grumbles, now looking at anything but you.

He really must be prideful if accepting your help makes him this uncomfortable…

"Shop taxes are due, but I don't think I'll have time to visit each one today." He makes a list of names on a sheet of paper. "You can knock out some of the collections for me."

"You're trusting me with handling funds?" You scoff.

"When you put it like that you're really making me second guess it." He chuckles, but slides the paper across to you nonetheless. "But I do trust you, if you can believe it. They'll already have the gold ready in pouches. You just have to collect them and bring them back here."

"Alright. Leave it to me." You take the paper with a grin, filled with a sense of victory at having convinced him to let you help.

He grunts and goes back to what he was doing. 

You can barely refrain from rubbing your hands together in glee on your way out. If the big man of the settlement trusts you with funds of all things, it looks like you're making progress towards your goal. Maybe having a reason to poke around more shops will give you more of an idea of where the item you're looking for is…

The first stop is close enough: a short walk to the tailor's shop, nearby in the middle of the settlement.

"Good afternoon ladies!" You say cheerily as you enter the colorful shop. Granny Ghorza is taking a break from her loom, sweeping the floor instead. She's become one of your favorite orcs here; she’s a funny old bat and makes the best sweets in the whole settlement, to boot. "The good looks must really run in the family."

Her young adult granddaughter manning the counter balks a little at the blatant flirting, but gives you a courteous smile. She's a nice enough woman, though shy and a bit forgettable. Her name eludes you at the moment…

"Mmhm, and how are your new spring shirts fitting dearie? I might have to add some modesty stitches if you're going to wear it unlaced like that, ohohoh!" She cackles, using the broom handle to pull at the front of your partially open, billowy shirt. "Looks a little breezy, you might catch a cold- or worse, someone’s attention, eheheh!”

"Ahah- They fit perfectly fine, thank you!" You act scandalized, pinching the gaping collar closed and pressing the broom handle away, before you turn to approach the counter.

"Um, what brings you here today? I don't think you have any orders waiting to be picked up..." Ghorza's granddaughter says meekly with a polite smile, looking through the ledger book at the counter. "Your items are… hard to forget, since they don't use up much fabric…"

"Ah, I'm here to collect your tax dues." You explain. "Since Boss is still healing."

"Oh. So… He isn't coming today, then…?" The young woman asks, in a curiously forlorn tone.

"Afraid not. Though, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safely transporting a gold pouch." You say and let out a friendly laugh.

"I see, I see. About time the man let someone give him a hand once in a while." Ghorza gives you a toothless smile. "Would you be a dear get him the dues, Murgol? The pouch is ready in the top drawer."

Murgol twists the hem of her shirt in her hands in displeasure, looking like she's about to break into tears at any moment. Then her lip quivers, and she unceremoniously flees the room, sniffling.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out far too long for your liking before Ghorza speaks again.

"Mmgh, that girl…" Ghorza shakes her head in reproach. 

"Is she… going to be alright?" Clearly something upset her quite badly, but you don't think you said anything that egregious… "I hope I didn't offend her…?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's sensitive when things don't go her way, but she'll live." She shuffles behind the counter, hobbling into her granddaughter's previous spot. "Let me get you the gold, dearie."

You leave the tailor shop, eating a slice of candied apricot-studded sweetbread that Ghorza definitely forced on you and you only took because you were guilted into taking. You scratch the tailor’s family name off your list as you reflect on the strange interaction with the seamstresses. 

You like to think you're quite astute when it comes to social intelligence, but you just can't put your finger on what may have been the trigger of her outburst.

Oh well. Perhaps she's just going through something personal?

You put the interaction out of your mind and head to the next place on your list.

You walk into the blacksmith's next. Luckily she doesn't seem to be too busy as the shop is currently devoid of customers, with her hammering out something at the anvil.

You’ve been friendly with her ever since prepping for the hunting trip. Apparently Lurog and her are good friends, and she was kind enough to let you use her shop to create the arrowheads you needed for your trial. You buy them directly from her now, chatting a while every time you come to replenish your supply.

"Hello Burzgob," You speak up so she can hear above the metal clanking. "Amazing job you're doing there."

“Thanks, little guy. I'm guessing you're not here to buy? Don’t think you used up all those arrowheads from the other day already. …At least I hope."

"Nope, I'm here to collect tax dues. I'm helping Boss out since he's still injured. Two hands better than one, or so they say."

She guffaws, setting the hammer down and pulling her gloves off before wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, damn. I was expecting him to be the one to drop by." She rubs her cheek with the back of her hand, still managing to smear soot there as well. “Bummer.”

"Spirits, you're not the first to feel that way today!" You say in exasperation. "I'm starting to think no one wants to see me…"

"Hahah! Nothing personal, trust me!" She grins and pats your shoulder, getting soot on your shirt as well. "Had something I needed to ask him."

"Oh, I see." You nod, and without missing a beat, nonchalantly add; "About what?"

"Hah! So nosy! Sorry, little guy. I like you, but it's a secret."

"Drat. Well, I tried…" You let out a performative sigh and shrug.

"Hey, uh… you're pretty close with Boss though, right?"

…Are you…?

You hadn't really considered it before, but over the course of training and especially after the hunting trip, you've definitely gotten used to his presence. You have something akin to a friendship now; or at least, what must look like one from a spectator's point of view. He’s quick to help you with anything, but he seems to be that way with all of the people in his charge. Though, at the very least, he trusts you enough to let you help him with this task, when asking for help with his own tasks seems to be something he does very seldomly..

"I suppose you could say that." You conclude.

"Can you deliver something to him for me, since you're going back there anyway?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Great! I owe you one, bud." Burzgob's face lights up as she grins, the silver caps on her tusks glinting. She returns and hands you a tied bundle with a letter tucked under the string. It smells like perfume. "Uh, promise you won’t read it, okay?"

You fervently promise you won’t, then bid her goodbye and leave the blacksmith's.

You have a similar experience at the tanner's, then the baker’s… and then the chandler’s…

Somehow, this seemingly easy task has left you feeling like a withered corpse. Luckily for you, however, seeing which family runs the last business on the list fills you with a sense of ease. 

The shop bell jingles as you enter, and you’re immediately awash with the pleasant scent of soap, as well as a heady mix of any sort of cosmetic salve, wax or powder you can think up.

Your self care routine took a little adjustment, being out in the wilds, now. So many of their products were completely foreign to you at first. But despite the slight learning curve, you’ve honestly never felt better. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself while hopping from flophouse to flophouse that belonged to your guild; you barely had the resources to keep yourself fed, let alone buying overpriced soaps and perfumes. But here, things aren’t too expensive, despite being handmade and about as locally sourced as something can be.

Lurog is sitting behind the counter of her family's salon, seemingly counting out the till while the shop is closing down for the evening around her.

"Hey." If she's surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. "We're closed. But if you want your hair done I can do it for you when I'm done here."

"Oh, is that Boss?" You hear one of Lurog's several younger sisters call out from farther inside the shop.

"Is he finally here?!" Another one chimes in and peeks her head around the divider.

"No! False alarm." A third one sweeping her station sighs. "Just the little kitty cat."

You quirk an eyebrow at the reception, but everyone but Lurog has gone back to chatting over their tasks.

"I might just take you up on that offer, I'm getting a little scraggly… Not what I'm here for, though. Boss sent me to collect your dues."

Lurog nods in understanding, but your attention is on the loud, spirited gossiping in the shop behind her as the women discuss their displeasure at this development amongst themselves.

"Don't mind them." Lurog shakes her head in admonishment. "They're just mad because they wanted the chance to flirt with Boss."

“Flirt?” You scoff. “Taxes really get their motors running, huh?”

“Hah.” Lurog rolls her eyes. “No, they’re just all desperate to find men to torment.”

"Oh." You say, wheels starting to turn in your head. "Do you think that's what's going on with everywhere else I've stopped today too…?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Boss would be a catch for a lot of the women in the stronghold." Lurog says simply, retrieving the gold pouch and sliding it to you over the counter. "Midsummer festival's coming up. Big time for romance. But Boss is either real picky or just not into it. Hasn’t taken any of them up on the offer yet… But he also hasn’t explicitly turned anyone down.”

“Ah, but then… Why are they all still asking? Wouldn’t he just ask who he’d like to and be done with it, if he wanted to court anyone?”

“Because with orcs it’s up to the one that’s gonna be taking it-“ She smirks and makes an incredibly crude gesture with her hands. “To ask to start the courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really now?” You feel your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Why is that?”

“Unh-uh.” Lurog shrugs. ”Just how we do it, I guess." 

Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t been getting invitations to share anyone’s bed, despite being as gorgeous and alluring as you are. What would a full-fledged orc want from you, with so many massive, hunky orc men around to choose from?

But that means you have the power to try to lure a man in.

Hmm… if you were to ask out one of the right orcs, you might have better access to off limits areas for your search…

Lurog must notice the spark of an idea in your eye of how to use your newfound power, because she quickly adds; "You should wait until the festival to harass any men. Better success rate."

“You know, you’re actually very helpful when you want to be.” You grin at her. “It’s a shame you don’t often want to be.”

“Thanks.” She snorts in a deadpan tone. “I wish I could say the same.”

You finish your friendly ribbing with Lurog, more than ready to haul back the large rucksack of gold and the almost nearly as large, cumbersome pile of offerings for Torg, and be done with this task.

You can't help but get into your own head about what's happened during this excursion while you make your way back. You can feel the irritation growing the more you dwell on it, your tail twitching behind you. 

All of the shop owners on your list were women. Specifically, women that seem to be interested in Torg. It seems far too unlikely to be a coincidence- you doubt that many of the shops in the settlement are run by eligible women fawning over Torg.

More importantly, why does it upset you so much? 

Jealousy…?  Because you’re lonely?

It must be that- because he apparently has a queue of women asking to court him when none of the male orcs in the settlement even look at you twice.

…Right. That must be all it is.

You're still a bit grumpy about it as you return to Torg's office.

"Here you are." You set down the pack with the gold pouches inside and the bundle of gifts on his desk with a heavy sigh. 

"Thanks for the help." He says, then noticing your clearly negative mood, he looks up from his task. "I hope it wasn't too much of a pain."

"No, it was easy enough.” You grumble, and go on to quip as you nonchalantly examine your cuticles; “Though… if you wanted me to host a meeting of your fanclub, you could've just asked."

"That bad?" He looks genuinely sheepish, scratching the edge of his beard.

"It was pretty bad." You put your hands on your hips, deciding that you'll give him a bit more of a hard time. "A lot of disappointed ladies giving me shit for not being you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew it would bother you, I wouldn't have given you that task."

"Apology accepted, but it seems…” You make a noise in disgust. “A tad unkind to lead so many people on like this, doesn’t it? It's not like you at all."

"I'm- Ugh. I'm not leading anyone on. At least I'm not trying to-" He runs a hand through his hair in discomfort. "I am Chieftain, I can't have so many of my people holding a grudge against me for rejecting them romantically. It would be disruptive, so I thought it would be best for me to just ignore any of these crushes some of the younger women have on me."

"It must be difficult being so popular with the ladies…" You say dryly.

"Hey, poke fun all you want, but it can be. Someone will be hurt regardless of what choice I make."

"Why not… Oh, I don’t know… pick one, then, and get it over with? Then the ones you don't pick can accept it and move on, rather than holding onto false hope."

"It's not that simple…"

"It sure seems like it is!" You chuckle. "How is it not the simplest thing?"

"Because I am not interested in any of them."

"You're telling me you have your pick of half of the young, gorgeous Orcish women in this stronghold throwing themselves at your feet," You lean over the desk and gesture to the bag of offerings on his desk. "And not one of them meets your standards?"

"No." He says heavily, clearly weary from the ongoing nature of this conversation. “Are you satisfied? Can you end this interrogation now?”

"...Okay." You relent, incredulous, but still accept his words. You've grilled him enough, you suppose.

A small smile has taken up residence on your face.  Did you really enjoy hassling him that much…?

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[hanaasbananas]

Crush

Summary: In Glaciator, while comisserating over their broken hearts, Marinette lets slip the identity of the person she has a crush on. Consequently, Adrien finds himself wondering if Marinette is really 'just a friend' after all. Inspired by the song Taare Gin

AO3

It feels so nice since this happened, my heart feels as though it is a child again.

“You’ve  had your heart broken too?”

“Yep.”

Chat studied Marinette’s profile beside him. With the moonlight reflecting off her hair, she looked positively ethereal, and it was hard to believe that anyone would be stupid enough to break her heart.

“For what it’s worth,” he nudged her gently “I’m sorry you had your heart broken.”

Marinette sighed “thanks, but it’s okay. Adrien can’t control when his dad will decide he can’t do something, so I really should have expected that he wouldn’t make it. I was just disappointed.”

Chat jerked, turning fully to face her. “Adrien?” His mind raced, trying to see if there was any other Adrien she might have been talking about, but how many Adrien’s with strict fathers could Marinette know?

Marinette hummed noncommittally. “Oh, yeah Adrien’s a friend of mine. I’ve had this total crush on him since the beginning of the year. He doesn’t know though-I can barely get out a sentence in front of him.” She groaned, dropping her head “I don’t know why I’m so upset about today-chances are I probably wouldn’t have even talked to him properly anyway.”

She looked so forlorn standing there, Chat felt a pang of guilt at being the one to cause it. Father hadn’t forbidden him, but he’d blown off solid plans with his friends-blown off Marinette- for a date with Ladybug that she didn’t even show up to.

Karma really hit hard.

Thinking for a long moment, Chat made a decision, getting down from the railing and offering Marinette his hand. “Come with me.”

***

“I’m an idiot,” Adrien groaned, dropping his transformation and falling face first onto his bed.

“Really? That’s news to me,” Plagg snarked “what did you do this time?”

Flipping over onto his back, Adrien considered confiding in his kwami-Plagg could be surprisingly insightful sometimes-but with the mood he seemed to be in, it would probably be better to just stare at the ceiling. “Marinette has a crush on me.”

“Which one is that again?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know everyone in my class, Plagg.”

Plagg sniffed disdainfully “I have an image to keep up, you know.”

“Image?” Adrien snorted, looking over at where Plagg had set up blocks of cheese on his desk and was in the process of eating them like he was Pacman. “What image? A cheese loving gremlin? No-one sees you anyway!”

“A being of darkness who cares not for petty mortal issues.”

“He cares about Pacman though.” Adrien grinned, dodging the piece of cheese Plagg threw at his face. “Alright, alright I’ll leave you alone! It’s getting late anyway.”

Despite the late hour, Adrien struggled to sleep, replaying the events of the night over and over again. Strangely, though he’d looked forward to surprising her, Ladybug’s rejection hadn’t stung as much as he expected it to. What did surprise him however, was how his mind kept straying to Marinette instead.

He’d always held a special fondness for her, but had chalked it up to the fact that she was one of his first friends at school, but what if it was something else? Adrien couldn’t deny that his first instinct hadn’t been to reject her gently, rather, he’d felt something stir inside him when Marinette had told him about her crush; a pleasant warmth filling his chest at the idea of Marinette-talented, kind, sweet Marinette loving him.

It almost felt too good to be true.

***

“Hey Marinette!” Adrien called out, waving and making his way across to Marinette as he spotted her coming down the stairs.

He realised his mistake seconds later, wincing when Marinette’s head snapped up, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise and she stared at him, not noticing how her hand fell from the railing until her foot slipped out from underneath her.

It would have been quite the nasty fall, had Adrien not rushed forward to catch her, his arms coming around Marinette to steady her. “Got you,” he murmured, unable to hide his smile when her eyes popped open at his voice and he led her carefully down the stairs.

She let go of him when they got to the bottom, following behind him as he went to meet up with Alya and Nino. “We’re all going to get milkshakes at that new place that opened,” he asked. “Do you wanna come too?”

“Uh…”

Knowing what he did now-that Marinette had a crush on him-Adrien could have kicked himself for being so oblivious.

It had been a week now since he’d found out, and he had discovered that Marinette wasn’t exactly the most subtle person in the world. In fact it was quite the opposite.

He actually found it quite endearing; the way she blushed bright red whenever he spoke to her, stumbling over her words, and in class he’d even felt her eyes boring into him from where she sat behind him in class, punctuated occasionally by dreamy sighs.

Adrien found that he quite liked the feeling of being the object of her affections, and he’d started making more of an effort to hang out with her, if only to see the adorable blush that painted her cheeks.

“I can’t,” Marinette wrung her hands together, avoiding his gaze. “I’m belping at the hakery.” her eyes widened “helping at the bakery! I’m helping maman and papa at the bakery.”

Adrien shrugged, swallowing his disappointment. “Okay. Maybe next time?”

“Totally!” she nodded her head jerkily, spinning on her heel and catching herself without stopping when she tripped, and hurrying away.

“What was that about?” Adrien turned to see Alya and Nino watching them in bemusement.

Alya wiggled her eyebrows suggestively “you’re suddenly getting very buddy buddy with Marinette...is there anything you want to share with the class?”

“Not really.” Adrien sighed. “I just want to get her to be more comfortable around me.”

“Uh huh,” Alya used her best journalist voice on him and Adrien sent her a quizzical look. “Why, because you wanna ask her out on a date?”

“Maybe,” he replied absentmindedly, not noticing the gleeful expression that took over Alya’s face at his admission, distracted by the Gorilla who had pulled up the curb outside the school. “Hey do you wanna take the car to the milkshake place or should we walk?”

***

“I think I have a crush,” Chat said out loud. Beside him, Ladybug turned to him, an amused glint in her eye.

"Really”

He smirked “you jealous, bugaboo?”

“Ha!” she scoffed “in your dreams! ”

“Not anymore,” he muttered. Chat had expected things to be awkward after his ill fated ‘date’ with Ladybug, but thankfully, in the month since she’d rejected him, their partnership had only seemed to strengthen. This was due in most part to the fact that they were now on the same page about where they stood as partners-and friends.

It was for this reason then, that he’d bought the subject up at the end of patrol when they simply sat together and talked.

Ladybug’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “Wow, it must really be serious then, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he groaned “ever since I found out she has a crush on me, she’s all I think about. And talk about-according to Plagg.”

It had been a slow process, getting closer to Marinette, but the rewards were certainly worth the effort. He could actually hold a conversation with her now, though nine times out of ten Marinette still blushed the entire time. It was adorable.

Chat sighed. “She’s just so amazing. I knew that before since we’ve been friends for a while, but I’ve been talking to her more and I can’t get over the fact that she likes me. She could do so much better, you know?”

“Hey, don’t put yourself down like that! I happen to know for a fact that you’re a pretty amazing guy-anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Heh, thanks bugaboo,” he smiled softly “enough about me-what’s going on with your guy? Any progress?”

At the mention of her crush, Ladybug blushed, ducking her head shyly. “Actually...we’ve been hanging out a lot recently-I think he’s gonna ask me out.”

“Aw that’s great!” The thought of Ladybug seeing someone else no longer caused a pang of jealousy in his heart, in fact, “I’m happy for you.” he said genuinely.

“I am too,” Ladybug paused. “Happy for you-I mean.” She clarified “I’m happy for you too.”

“Yeah, I think I got that.”

“Shut up ” she nudged him playfully. “You know, you should ask your girl out too. I bet she’d say yes.”

Chat thought about Marinette, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed; how she got a deep crease in between her brows whenever she concentrated that he had to resist the urge to smooth out; how her hair fell in dark waves around her face whenever she let it down and the way she’d stuttered and blushed after he’d said he liked it that way. How he’d planned at least thirty dates for them already, ready for every occasion, and had only realised what a goner he was after date number twenty three.

“Yeah,” he murmured, looking across the city skyline in the direction he knew Marinette lived. “I think I will”

[frightfurtabby]

Himikiyo Week 2021 Day 2! Bookstore Ambience

// Likewise with yesterdays entry, amino crossposting to be added later. i feel this one’s pretty damn cute

later edit- all links will be collected later in an individual post that will act as a guide/directory.

Word count: 1837

Link

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34138636

Amino- https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-day-2-bookstore-ambience/d3DX_eE8Sbum1JjvngPBwrwNV6mNR1eD7WR

A first date, depending on who you asked, was either more nerve wracking or less so than you expect. Kiyo wasn’t sure which they’d agree with but nonetheless they were fretting. Pacing back and forth in their office at the university. A cute teacher from another department had ended up inviting them out on a date, like a date date. They’d been on the job for a few years now but hardly socialized much outside the other anthropology staff who were understanding of at least some of their eccentricities.

Then just before the start of the previous semester the college hired a new batch of professors including one taking a spot over in the English department in a room in just the opposite hall. So they would see her often in the mornings downstairs in line at Coffee place, usually she was to the back of the line and they’d cross paths when Kiyo was going up with their usual order. The first sighting was like this, and entirely by chance as the anthropologist had to turn to answer a colleague briefly and eye contact was made with the cute redhead in line just over the other’s shoulder, Himiko Yumeno.  

They soon hit it off, spending time talking to each other in between class periods in one room, the other, or in the previously mentioned cafe. About work, future plans, what they did in their spare time. Kiyo was always busy doing work, research generally and most of their interests revolved around it and there were days in a row just immersing themself in study. It was like that for as long as they could remember, though what in particular they were fascinated by changed over time.

Legends of monsters, legends of heroes, artifacts left behind, Asia, North America, Africa, they’d deep dive into something and come out the other end being aware of enough to teach their students in extreme detail. Little did they know at the time but in a moment of serendipity just before they met Himiko they felt a pull toward researching the history of magic. And then it turned out that she was interested in that as well.

There were very few days they didn’t find a chance to talk. They had a shared routine every day, and now was a step up.

Kiyo adjusted their collar and tie before straightening out the skirt a bit more and wondered if it was all a little too formal and they were overthinking this. They did tend to do that kind of thing after all. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of an issue, Himiko was definitely understanding of that kind of thing, they knew that much already. There were also the times they’d complained of that trait and she called it “adorable.”

It was to a bookstore with a cafe in it, so they didn’t need to be terribly formal. Kiyo remembered that it was taking place at around 8 tonight and looked over at the clock and realized that it was much sooner than they thought. She would be showing up any moment. Time went somewhere while they were lost in thought so they quickly put on their shoes, grabbed an umbrella just in case and headed out to the bus stop that was only a few blocks away.

The couple met while Himiko was sitting on the bench still, tapping away at her phone to text Kiyo to make sure everything was alright.

She looked up after hearing footsteps and sighed in relief. “You never seemed much like the type to show up late.”

“My apologies.”

“You also never seemed like the type to straight up ditch either, so…” she blushed and looked over down sheepishly. “I was getting a little worried something happened and you couldn’t pick me up as soon.”

“I got a bit distracted. I-” their explanation started as they took a break with her to sit and rest, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“Was trying to make yourself extra cute for me?” the redhead teased, putting an arm around them right back and leaning in cutely..

“I… yes, I won’t deny that.” It was a cloudy evening and the autumn breeze blew downed leaves past where they had sat and began to cuddle on the bench. “You know how it is sometimes.”

“Yeah, I remember the time you genuinely didn’t grasp that the poetry I had been showing you for your input was, in fact, about you.”

Kiyo chuckled. “Oh god yeah, that took me a few to even have an inkling of it going on. I just might be the most useless lesbian ever.”

“Mmm, you’re useful for warmth sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Hehe, y-you know what I mean. Like right now, it’s a bit chilly but you being here makes it not so bad.” The first date was finally here, after they had planned it to be a day they were both free. So the woman was going to savor every moment of it.

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

The couple approached the doors of the date location holding hands, under the umbrella. Skin made cold by the walk over in spite of hands sharing warmth. Small flecks of rain along the top of the umbrella dripped down. Inside, Kiyo instantly felt the warmth of the building. It wasn’t a long trek at all, if it was they would have done this by car. Everything around here was luckily close to the campus, including home.

The umbrella was put back in its holder, so as not to drip all over the place. It would be rude to do so.

Kiyo turns and gives Himiko a peck on the cheeks. “Food and coffee first, darling?”

The shorter woman nodded and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

It was just to the back left corner from the entrance. Rows and rows of enticing books had to be passed by before you could reach it, but who would come and not buy anything? Romance, sci-fi and fantasy, Manga and light novels too were all present.

After ordering, they got one booth to share, and sat down at the same side. Kiyo’s umbrella, bag, and jacket sat on the ground on the very inside corner. Everything they had ordered would be coming up, and luckily there wasn’t that much of a line on evening’s like this. The barista was even a student from university and had recognized them. It was awkward at first but Kiyo joked that it would be interesting to see which class would become fully aware they were dating first.”Let’s turn it into an experiment. Who has more Gossips attending their lectures?”

And they were glad that put her more at ease. It felt nice gently rubbing Himiko’s shoulder with their hand as she leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek.

“Well, I sure hope it’s not mine. That’d be a pain.” she said to play into the gag a bit more. “Besides, it’d be fitting for your class.”

Kiyo feigned offense, mock gasping “Hey now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, just you observant types over in anthropology, always wanting to know everything you can about how people work. I can see that tendency being correlated.”

They had told her previously they thought about doing more research for a paper about something like that after listening to some of their colleagues, ironic though it may be, gossipping about student rumors.

“Point taken.” Kiyo returned her smooch with their own, directly on her forehead.

The coffee and tea arrived first. So the talk continued with the added benefit of drinks. Himiko changed the subject to books on her to-read list. “You know there’s this new book I’ve been thinking of assigning in a future quarter, I’d have to read it first.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about this girl that finds out that she has magical powers and gets some training, eventually she encounters a strange, beautiful spirit and they fall in love. I always feel like courses need a little more gay love. Oh, and the author is too, so the representation is genuine.”

KIyo nodded and listened. “That’s very good. Perhaps we’ll get a couple copies? I’ll pay. I’ll also be getting a few things that have been on my list for a while.”

They held hands, sat so close. Hans resting between both of their legs. It was such a good time to fit in cuddling any time there was a little lull in the action of the date. Some time to lazily place kisses.

Right on cue the meal arrived. Breakfast for dinner was a classic, from the bacon egg and cheese on croissant to the pie slices as a dessert. Reluctantly, they separated to more easily eat and drink.

“This is as good as it usually is, mmm, actually, it’s even better.” Himiko said, taking their hand again.

“I agree. I don’t know if coming alone will cut it for me any more.” Kiyo leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Shall we move on to the next leg, or savor this moment some more?”

The food was finished or wrapped up for later.

After a few more minutes cuddling in the booth, the couple looked through the aisles closer to the cafe portion first and Kiyo’s stack started, growing through each section until they had to split the load and have Himiko carry some.

“Sheesh, I thought you were only getting a few.” she complained, intending it to be lighthearted.

“My list is quite long.” Kiyo replied with a chuckle.

“Guess this is why you needed the bag then. If this was only a few I have to imagine it’s as long as you are.”

“Oh my~” the tall one replied, complete with suggestive eyebrow wiggling.

“Kiyo! Not like that, I meant your height. Did Iruma from the Engineering department teach you that one?”

As that line of discussion thankfully ceased the couple came to the one Himiko was looking for, it was up front on the display close to the cashier. She picked up one copy and put it on her pile and handed the second over to Kiyo.

“We could have, like, a little book club date. Just the two of us.” If only it weren’t so difficult to nuzzle close due to all these books, she thought.

“I think I’d enjoy that. Your company is always a pleasure darling.” They briefly leaned up close, cutely brushing against her before leading the way to check out.

Himiko blushed. “Yeah this was nice, we should do it more often.”

With a couple of coupons Kiyo kept in their pocket the price was cut down, but still cracked 12,000 yen. They stuffed the back full and carried it over their shoulder. Umbrella similarly along their back for if it would be needed again.

Arms wrapped around each other, the couple walked out and noticed the rain had stopped for now, and it would be dry on the bus trips back home.

[babblesbabble]

A Matter of Trust

Chapter Three

Rating: Explicit | 18+

Read here on AO3

Jude and Cardan kick things up a notch.

They order a number of things from the room service menu, ordering one item at a time. It is, according to Cardan, the best way to savor it and Jude has nowhere else to be tonight. It was her idea in the first place to order food, but it seems she might not be the only one attempting to use the time to their advantage. For Jude there’s not one good reason to reject luxurious food from an expensive hotel, when it’s all being paid for. For Cardan it is an opportunity to show that he’s not the same person.

They begin with a charcuterie board, fresh fruit and cheeses with nuts and bits of bread and jam. Jude would gladly live off the stuff. Then it’s plump crab cakes and a basket of the truffle fries for each of them. And of course, what’s a healthy dose of wooing without dessert? He picks the warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the bakery next door. They’re notorious on Instagram— Jude must have seen at least a dozen pictures of the large cookies with oozing chocolate chips before. They were a must have for any guest staying at Insmoor.

There is something intimate about sharing a meal with someone. Eating is not exactly the most flattering thing you can do in front of another person, but pretense is probably behind them after she’s had a mind-numbing orgasm under his direction. Jude doubts, at this point there is little she could do that would be a turn off. No, something has formed between them, tentative as it may be, that is caustic.

Jude plucks one of the last green grapes from the remains of the charcuterie board and pops it into her mouth savoring the fresh taste. They have eaten in relative companionable silence exchanging only the occasional courtesy, but she knows their business is unfinished. She has pushed off the conversation for as long as possible. If she starts now, she will feel more in control of the situation, something she is slowly taking back after opening up.

Jude takes a deep breath mentally preparing for the toll of this and beings, “An agreement, that’s what you want to make right?”

“Yes, that way we can go over what we want. What we’re okay with, or not.” Cardan leans back stretching against the chair Jude had once occupied. She tries not to get distracted thinking about what had happened there not so long ago.

“You can start,” she prompts, pulling her legs up to sit crisscross on the couch she’s been occupying. It’s adjacent to the chair and the leftover pickings of their room service is scattered on the coffee table that’s in front of them.

“For now, maybe we can do this once a week. How does that sound?” He proposes.

It’s not exactly what Jude had expected to begin with but it’s as good a place as any. “That sounds fair. We can always agree to more if we want.”

“Right, exactly. I’d also like to spend time with you outside of scenes.” His eyes try to stay on her, and Jude can tell he is nervous to ask this.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She asks slightly bewildered, a near laugh tinged to her words.

“I… I guess I am, yes. I’m not saying we have to be anything, but it could make things easier if we got along better outside of scene. From what I’ve seen tonight you weren’t all the way comfortable getting into it.”

He had managed to read her fairly well throughout their play it seems. It surprises Jude a bit, but he has been full of surprises.

“It’s vulnerable,” Jude admits. Her brown eyes moving across the room to look at the surroundings once more, all the same and becoming obviously recognizable to her. At the moment it is easier than looking at him. “I don’t ‘do’ vulnerable very well.”

“I think it’s powerful to be able to give yourself over to another. It’s not something just anyone can do.” Cardan shifts forward and carefully places a hand on hers.

She can feel the warmth seeping from his large hand that fully covers her own. It is a kind touch, an attempt at building connection.

She considers his words, “I can see that perspective, and in a way it is. But opening up is… precarious. You showed me at least today that you’re capable. That doesn’t just mean I trust you without question though.”

“I don’t expect you to, Jude. If you didn’t question me, I think that would concern me more,” Cardan laughs a little.

“I’m a bit of a challenge,” Jude shrugs. She’s practically a maze of intricacies and contradictions but she thinks he deserves to have to earn this from her.

“You're worth it,” He says confidently, but pulls back from being so close.

It’s another push of reassurance to her, he wants this with her and he’s willing to do whatever she puts in the way to make it happen. Isn’t that a twist of fate?

“Oh, I hope so. If you’re taking me out, I want an experience,” Jude sits back against the couch.

“Right, you’re a tough sell,” he sighs, but is ready to go along with it. “I’ll figure something out.”

She gives him a grin, “Glad to hear it. I’m so looking forward to it.”

They spend the rest of the night hashing out what they want from this. They discuss limits and absolute nos. Where they want this to go. It is long and not always fun or comfortable for either of them, but on the other side they’re the better for it. By the end of the night Jude would tentatively call what they have a friendship with many benefits. That, she can live with.

Later that week he took her on a trip to the Museum of Sex. She had asked for an experience and he certainly had given her one. It was on the nose for their situation and at first Jude had not appreciated it. It had felt like a joke at her expense and she had nearly walked away from the whole thing until she realized: it was supposed to be fun. Sex is strange, awkward, mysterious, demanding, and many other describable and indescribable things but it is supposed to be fun. And of all things, it had taken an obscenely large dildo and a pegging joke to make her laugh and loosen up. It made her realize that she could have fun with Cardan. Sex and friendship and them—Jude and Cardan—didn’t have to be so serious. Except for when they wanted to be.

It made things easier the next time they played in scene. They did not push the boundaries much but this time he put his hands on her as he directed her. They grazed at her sides and only brushed beneath her breasts, caressing her neck and pressing against her lips like a gentle kiss. It was sweet, delicious, teasing torture in a very pleasing way. As she had leaned back against him post-orgasm, she could feel his hardness against his thigh. He only sat there and didn’t ask for anything in return.

It had happened again the next time and the time after that as he found new ways to make her cum with his fingers and toys. As he learned the curves of her body. He never seemed to ask for anything in return at this point and Jude, only after they had parted, began to wonder if her not offering had been a disappointment. Did it bother him to give her this new world and to hold himself back? She had seen the want in him, his eyes though dark as the richest black coffee, didn’t lie.

She had to ask before the thoughts consumed her and the only way she could bear to was through text.

Jude: Do you want me to touch you?

Cardan: I’d be more than happy for you to. But, do you want to touch me?

Of course. He was waiting for her to want it, to ask for it. For as much as he was the one in control it was only on her terms as she was beginning to realize more and more.

Jude: I do. We both should be getting something out of this.

Cardan: I have been. Seeing you open up to this had been enough.

Cardan: Since you insist though, I’ll work it into my plans for next time ;)

So far, their games have helped Jude find a bit more of the balance she craves. Work may not always keep her interest and the pressure may feel as if it is closing in some days, but she always has something to look forward to at least. There is always a release around the corner.

This time she is going to his place. They had kicked hotels for the comfort and privacy for their personal domiciles. He has his own townhouse not too far from downtown, and she has her own condo in the financial district. They’ve made a lot of progress so far and Jude is ready to make more, even if her stomach twists thinking about it all. The unknown of each scene they play leaves her in stomach churning anticipation, but the new possibilities are what excites her and pushes her. Each time with Cardan was a slow expansion of what she already knows, and she is thirsty for more.

As she stood on his stoop, she felt ready for this. Jude may be plagued by overthinking and overanalyzing, but she isn’t a coward. She certainly didn’t get as far as she has in life without drive. She pulls from that to confidently bound up the steps and press her red manicured finger to the buzzer to announce her arrival.

All she can hear is the sound of the wind whipping down the block and rustling leaves, until he pulls open the door. He’s already got a smile.

The place is big for one person with large high ceilings and at least three floors. The townhouse was traditional brick on the outside, the interior modern yet tastefully decorated with a dark color palette. There was plenty of space to play around in and Jude didn’t have to worry about trying to be quiet. It also reminded her just how much money he had. Cardan inherited a significant amount of money from his father when he passed and real estate was probably the soundest thing he could have done with it.

She sits herself down at a stool by the kitchen that opens into a living area not too far into the place. “So… what’s the plan for today?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says with that familiar smirk.

“I would,” she plays it cool crossing her arms.

“We’re going to start with some new stuff first, then move to more familiar territory. That sound good?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan,” she nods approvingly.

She wants him. It’s something she doesn’t always actively think about because it is always there pulsing under the surface. He has always been frustratingly attractive, a boy with such a poor attitude gifted with such beauty. It has only grown as his temperament and behavior have improved melding into charm. Even as she is with him more and more frequently, his effect on her doesn’t wear off. She doesn’t get used to his freakishly beautiful features. His sharp cheekbones and the defined planes of his body. He is what people imagine when dreaming up heroes.

Her eyes burn across his body. He is dressed simply in jeans and a loose patterned button up she’s sure cost a grand from one luxury store or another. It’s easy to move around in and get off, which is certainly the point for today. She doesn’t really know what he does for work, it has something to do with his family’s company and he didn’t like talking about his family at all. He always seemed to be available and was always dressed more like he’s walked out of a luxury brand’s streetwear runway than from a business meeting.

“You can start by getting down on your knees,” he breaks through her circling thoughts about him.

She stands up and then slowly lowers herself to the ground in front of him. Her eyes stay locked on his own, not moving. Once she is in position she speaks, “How long have you pictured me like this?”

She’s begun to test the bounds of his patience in this. What will he allow her to get away with? Where is the line for him? For herself?

“Long enough,” he looks down at her.

He has a way of looking at someone and seeing right through them.

“Since the first time I bet, I’ve made you wait,” she bites her lip.

“You’ve done as I asked. Which is a miracle.”

“You’ve managed to keep my attention,” she says simply.

“It’s time to keep mine,” his eyes harden. Just as Jude has slipped into her role he is slipping into his. “No more delaying, if you're as brave as you pretend to be, you’ll do it.”

He’s goading her. It lights the fire inside of her, her arousal dawning as she reaches out to pull his dark colored jeans down. He’s not wearing any underwear beneath it so for the first time she’s actually greeted with his cock it’s right in her face. He never was very subtle.

“Someone’s eager,” Judge teases.

“And someone’s a brat.” He lets his hand sink into the curls of her hair, fingers tangling and tugging her forward. They’d discussed it before.

Oh, she likes that. She likes seeing him grab control. She can see just how much he wants her, as she breathes in and forgets to exhale for a moment. Her eyes flit up to his face and then back down. She’ll show him just how good she can be if and when she wants to.

Jude wraps a hand around the base of him, her grip sure. It’s almost a little gross the way her mouth waters and her thighs press together. She opens and takes him in slowly, never once breaking eye contact.

Cardan comes undone, his shoulders fall as if all the tension in his body has gone lax. There’s a vulnerability, an openness to him she hasn’t seen before. He keeps his emotions under the surface and now they have risen to the top. The way he looks at her is reverent. Like she is something worth beholding.

She likes the feeling knowing that this is all her doing. This is her power. Each inch she takes in, each squeeze of her hand reveals his desires. It is when she is as far as she can go, he groans pulling on her hair again. Another pulse of pleasure runs through her center. This shouldn’t give her as much pleasure as it does and yet his pleasure is amplifying her own.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “faster now, be a good girl.”

It echoes in her head a hazy mantra now. She moves faster, one hand gripping the back of his thigh, nails biting into skin. He doesn’t seem to mind the sting, maybe he likes it too. He’s bucking into her mouth now. The tension is high, and she wonders if this is it, if he’s going to-

He’s pulling out now and Jude lets her grip on him go a bit confused by the quick change.

“What-” she stops her voice sounding different to herself, softer.

“Lift up your shirt,” Cardan says as he languidly strokes himself, keeping right on the edge.

It takes a second, but Jude’s hands move to the hem of her shirt and she pulls it up, exposing her stomach and chest.

“Sweet Jude, my resplendent undoing,” he murmurs.

She basks in the sweetness of it—then he’s cumming over her stomach and chest, marking her. She can feel the sticky heat on her bare skin. She should hate it. She should find it degrading and cruel and everything she thought an act like this was, but she doesn’t feel that way at all. Her cheeks are heated, but there’s no embarrassment. Instead, and perhaps this is truly what should shame her, it was gratifying.

“You can put your shirt down now. As much as I admire the view, I’m not finished with you yet,” Cardan’s smirk is back, and Jude’s never seen anything better.

She smiles and lets her shirt drop, “What now?”

“You have some work to do. Come over to the table, it's all set up,” Cardan takes her hand pulling her up to her feet and leading her over. She makes sure not to wobble.

Across the way from the kitchen is a glass dining table. She’s not sure where he’s going with this until she sees at the head of the table are some papers and a pencil.

“Are you testing me?” Jude says almost baffled by what he’s cooked up here.

“You told me once that there was a certain rush that came from getting good grades,” Cardan starts as he makes sure she takes her seat. “Let’s see if it stuck.”

Jude looks down at the papers for the first time. “Are you actually giving me a test right now?”

“Yes,” he says his eyes darkening, “but I think you’ll like your reward much better than a grade.”

He’s going to make her ask, so she does, “And what is the reward?”

“Once you finish, you’re going to lay down on this table and I’m going to eat you out,” he says.

Jude is right back in at that, “Easy.” She shrugs confident she can complete this quickly, it’s only a few pages after all.

“But,” he leans forward close enough that she can feel his breath tickling her ear, “I’m only going to do it for so long. Every answer you get wrong you lose time. I won’t stop though no matter how many times you cum and how much you beg, if you have that long.”

“And if I don’t have long enough?” She can’t take her eyes off him.

“That’s not my problem, is it?” He grins, the master of this wicked delight.

“You are heinous,” Jude snaps hands gripping the edge of the table. She should hate him and in the moment, that’s almost what it feels like, but the anger isn’t true.

“Now, now don’t be so quick to anger. Think of my mouth all over you,” his lips graze her ear as he says it.

Jude’s eyes close as she pictures it, can imagine the feeling of him and the pleasure she’ll get to have. She wants this. He always manages to surprise her with new challenges, and she is game to play them all.

“Let me take the test,” she says eager. “Go stand in the corner or something.”

He laughs at that stepping away and ending his teasing of her, for the moment. He takes position at the opposite side of the table sitting down.

“Whenever you’re ready then,” Cardan says.

Jude picks up the pencil and starts. There are four sections to the test, ten questions for each section and each section a different subject: English, science, history and math. It’s no more difficult than what she learned in school; the problem is that she is out of practice now. Some of it comes easy and other questions she struggles over. All the while she can still feel his cum marking her body, slowly drying and Cardan’s dark eyes watching her from across the table. It’s a heady experience to say the least.

After one last look over, Jude flips the test back to the first page and slides it over to him, “I’m finished.”

He doesn’t say anything just takes the paper and pulls out a red pen to start grading. Jude squirms in her chair, this vision of him and a red pen shouldn’t be as sexy as she finds it. She pushes it aside; she can analyze her peculiar proclivities later.

The silence lingers until he finishes.

“Not bad, but not flawless,” Cardan says. “An eighty. Though I suspect you can do better. I’ll fix that later, homework seems appropriate.”

Each word pushes her deeper into this world they’ve created.

“I’ll do better, I can,” Jude says, she’s looking at him, to him now for more.

“I know,” he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “You did well for your first time. You still get your reward. Clothes off, on the table now.”

Cardan sets the test aside, while Jude slides out of her pants and underwear, pulls off the shirt that’s a bit stuck to her from the cum, before climbing onto the glass table. He takes his position in front of her. He sets a timer and places it down.

“Eight minutes Jude. That’s what you get and not a second more, understand?” Cardan says his thumb stroking her thigh softly.

Jude nods, “Yes, sir.”

Cardan moves in to devour her. It starts with him spreading her with one hand and licking a stripe up her core. That’s enough to make her warm body shiver against the cool glass. He doesn’t stop there, mouth latching onto her clit to tease. Her breathes come quicker, but that’s all the sound she’s making.

He pulls back just enough to talk, but his fingers caress her lips, “This is a reward sweet Jude, don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Cardan returns to her. Jude’s mouth parts letting out a moan she had been keeping in. The release adds to her mounting pleasure. She wonders how much time has passed, but she can’t focus on that for long as he uses both hands to pull her closer to him, her legs now over his shoulders.

“Holy-” she starts to say before it cuts off with a gasp.

He’s dipped his tongue inside of her now, thumb rubbing her clit in circles. Her hands slip against the glass trying to find purchase before she buries them in Cardan’s thick black locks. He does not stop his work and everything builds. She knows the rules and even as far gone as she is, she’s going to do this right.

“Please,” she says, voice breathy and quieter than she’s used to. “Please can I, sir?”

He’s only off of her for a second to tell her his approval before he’s back at it. He told her not to hold back, so she doesn’t. She pulls his hair and screams as she cums. His fingers and tongue are still working at her all the way through it and after they continue. Her body is more sensitive in the aftermath, making her squirm, but he holds her firm. She doesn’t know how much time has passed but she’s cumming again without even asking. Her toes curl and her eyes are firmly shut, and she doesn’t think she can take another minute more when the timer goes off.

Cardan pulls back from Jude careful to gently set her legs down. The timer stops it’s annoying ringing and she can only assume he turned it off. She lays there in the blissful silence until she’s ready to open her eyes. When they do open, he is right there watching over her.

“You did marvelous, Jude” Cardan says, dark eyes locked on her brown ones.

“Yeah?” she asks, not quite all the way back yet.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Are you comfortable there or do you want to move?”

She holds up a hand, “One minute.”

He waits then giving her time and when she starts to move, he offers his hand to steady her and Jude doesn’t hesitate to take it. He moves her to one of the chairs to sit and suddenly there’s a blanket around her shoulders. She’s about to question where he even pulled it from when she looks at the table. All over the once crystal-clear glass she can see the marks of her hands and body, some clear and some smudged. It’s kind of erotic in a weird artistic way.

“Do you think they’d display this in the sex museum?” Jude questions.

“What the table?” he asks, and she nods in answer. “Maybe, though a canvas would probably be better. I’d love to have a personal piece for my collection.”

He winks and Jude scoffs coming back to earth.

“This,” she gestures to the table, “is your personal piece and I expect it to be gone with some Windex before I leave,” she says.

“Of course,” Cardan sighs wistful. “I could eat with that memory here for the rest of my life, but I suppose it is unfair to force that on guests.”

“Don’t act so deprived, you got the real thing,” she pulls the blanket closer around her, relaxed.

Cardan watches her again. He does that a lot, or maybe Jude has just started to watch him more too.

“I did, and there’s nothing better I can think of,” he grins.

Jude’s heart beats faster in her chest at that dazzling smile— she’s in deep.

[writer-aspirantus]

A rant about inspiration, writers block and damning them both

So often have I stared at a blank page and thought, I don't know what to write, words have left me, and my muse is somewhere far away. And while I have had moments where I genuinely did not know what to write, more often than not, I was lying to myself.

Because I did know what to write. But if I have ideas, why can't I write?

I had entire stories, worlds and novel series planned out that will never see the light of day because of this. And there is one (simple) reason for this, which, up until a few years ago, I didn't even realize.

And yes, in my career as a writer, spanning a little more than a decade now, I have heard the phrase: 'You can edit a bad book, but not a blank page', thrown around more than I care to count, but nine out of ten times, it still didn't really help me write. And then, a few years ago, it hit me. As soon as the reason became clear to me, I really wondered how I never saw it before because it seemed so damn obvious.

I had been sitting around with my friends, laughing, and telling stories and stuff when one of them just finished explaining a detail of their story and ended with: 'if that makes sense?' And without even knowing it, they really opened up a world of explanations for me. For all those writer's blocks, slumps, and my inability to put a word to paper when I was practically bursting with ideas.

I always want to make sense. Always.

It doesn't matter if it is just a cute short story or a fully fleshed out novel I am trying to write, I need to make sense. And I realized this is also why the saying 'you can edit a bad book, but not a blank page' did not do it for me at times. Because my ideas weren't bad! Some of them might have been able to become a damn summer block buster if I could just put the pen to paper. But I couldn't.

Because when I tried to put it down, it made no sense.

The seemingly unbreakable wall I had been facing for years when it came to writing suddenly showed its first crack. And this realization caused me to come up with a new motivator.

'You can't make any sense if there is nothing to be made sense of.'

Though I will admit I am probably making this sound easier than it is. Ever since I picked up on this concept, I have been trying to put it to use, but sometimes you really can't avoid a writer’s block or writing slump. And that is okay.

They may seem long and unending, but they are temporary. About three years ago I hit the longest block I have had to face in my life so far and it took the wind out of me. For six long months I couldn't put a word to paper and the frustration was practically eating me alive, but it ended. Maybe because I kept returning to that frustratingly empty document that was supposed to be something of a story right now, or because of something else, but it ended.

But there is another thing I want to tell you.

Not every piece of writing needs to make sense. Sometimes it is best to let any feeling of sense and logics go and put the words to paper, regardless of how messy the end result might become.

Sometimes I think it would be a good idea if we followed the principles of a painting toddler. Does an outside audience know what the painting means without explanation? I bet you good money they don't. Do they make sense to the toddler? Good chance it doesn't. Is the end result a mess and is the toddler indistinguishable their canvas? They are and they're having the time of their little life.

My goal with writing is to be like that toddler I just described. Do the words I wrote make sense to anyone but me? Maybe, maybe not. Does it make sense to me, the writer? Good chance it will unless I wrote it on a drunken, sleep deprived stupor and I reread it later. Do I find joy in telling stories that are sometimes the most ridiculous, 'has more holes than Swiss cheese' stories ever? Hell yes.

Trying to make sense of something whilst also having fun has simply proven impossible to me. It sucks the joy of writing right out. I simply can't do both on a conscious level.

So, to me sense is just for editing, the rest is about having fun.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Ranked S

Tigre stood in the doorway to the dining hall of Cassell College in awe of the massive chandelier. It was gold, in the shape of a great tree under a high domed ceiling and every leaf was a light. It was the most magnificent thing he had seen in all of the College so far and it was accessible because he knew what a tree was and what a lamp was and he could see that this work of art was the two put together. What great innovation!

After spending a few hours last night with Chu Zihang’s friends, he felt too excited to sleep. He kept fiddling with the tablet computer all night, surfing the internet and googling all manner of things until the machine ran out of batteries. They had explained how to charge it, but Tigre felt a moment of great panic when the low battery warning came up. What if he tried to charge it and it didn’t work? He’d be up a creek on his first day of school.

The freshman students in green uniforms all sat at very long heavy wooden tables. He recognized the Smith sisters and waved, trotting up to them and sitting down. “Hi! I hope you feel better now!”

The Smith sisters all looked at him in silence and uncomfortable smiles. Except for Ruby. She gave a little laugh and said. “Yeah, we do… thanks.”

They all wore the same hairstyle with their hair tied up and back and the mass of curls poofed out like a bouquet of flowers. They still had the insect motif. Ruby with her butterfly earrings, Porsche with her dragonfly earrings, and Ladybug Celeste.

“Oh. What’s that on the wall? Is that dragon language too?” Tigre asked in wonder.

“That’s Latin…” Porsche drawled. “You should be able to tell if you speak Spanish.” She rested her cheek in her hand and pointed at him, doubt filling her voice.

“He said he only spoke a little!” Ruby was quick to defend him. “It’s just saying ‘Welcome new students.”

“Oh… Latin…” Now that he stared at it he could tell it was a bit like Spanish. 

Suddenly a silver platter was settled in front of him and the lid opened to reveal a plate of hardboiled eggs, bread, cheese and ham. He yelped in surprise. “Woah!”

Ruby laughed again. Even Celeste cracked a smile. “You must have grown up in the boonies. You act like you’re in Disney World.” She said, chuckling.

Tigre was already stuffing his face with the bread and eggs and mumbled. “No, I’m from Mexico.”

Celeste shook her head, covering her smile. “I know! What I meant was… you know what? Never mind. It’s nice to meet someone who’s not a sourpuss.”

A sudden hush fell over the dining room and a few students stood up as Lu Mingfei entered accompanied by the members of the Student Union Elite and a beautiful woman walking behind him. “That’s Lu Mingfei, S ranked President of the Student Union. I hear he’s back from killing a real dragon.” Ruby explained in a hush whisper. “I hear he’s the strongest student the College has ever had.”

“Really he did?” Tigre watched in awe. This guy was so quiet and normal and humble, he never imagined that he could have killed a dragon. “I heard he was President of the Student Union. What does that mean?”

“There are many clubs here but two main ones. The Student Union and Lionheart. The Student Union was run by Caesar Gattuso who killed the King of Bronze and Fire two years ago. He passed his club to Lu Mingfei. Lionheart was run by Chu Zihang who killed the King of Earth and Mountains year before last. They had a great rivalry but Lu Mingfei doesn’t seem to be interested in continuing that and Lionheart leadership has been hollowed out. Chu Zihang, Susie, and Lancelot all graduated. They were all the Lionheart elite.”

“Was run? Chu Zihang doesn’t run it any more?” 

“No, he graduated recently and was sent on missions. In fact, they’re all graduated now. Caesar is in Rome in the Italy branch.”

Tigre’s chewing slowed and he swallowed. “Graduated… so Chu Zihang doesn’t go here any more…”

“No, he was just here recovering from his last mission. He’ll probably go back to work now that he’s fully recovered.” Porsche shrugged.

He sighed and lowered his eyes. “Oh… he… he didn’t tell me that.”

Celeste’s elegant eyebrow raised. “Why would he tell you that? Do you know him?”

For the first time, Tigre seemed genuinely sad to the sisters. He stopped eating and hung his head. “Yeah. He saved my life.”

“Get out!” Porsche’s eyes were wide in her head. “How did that happen?”

Tigre looked on the verge of tears. “It’s kinda sad but I was not let out of a prison all my life. Chu Zihang broke me out of that prison and that’s how I came here. He gave me a computer tablet. He didn’t say he was leaving.”

The sisters all fixed him with sad serious gazes.

“No wonder you don’t know anything…” Ruby sighed.

“I… I’ll send him a farewell message later I guess.” He mumbled. He understood that Chu Zihang had to leave, but did he have to leave without saying anything? The tablet computer must have been a goodbye gift as well as a welcome gift.

The Smith sister’s eyes all went wide at the same time, like a row of kittens. They were looking behind him and when Tigre turned around, Lu Mingfei was standing behind him. 

“All settled in?”

“Yes… sir?” He asked.

“Oh no, not you too with the sir stuff.” Mingfei lamented, one hand on his head. 

“I’m sorry I just heard you were the strongest student in Cassell!” Tigre explained quickly.

Lu Mingfei winced slowly and sighed. “Anyway. I wanted to ask you if you’ve settled in alright.”

Tigre nodded. He noticed that all the students in the dining hall were staring at him. Some of them whispered to each other, their eyes fixed on him as they did so.

“I heard Chu Zihang was leaving. Do you know when?” Tigre asked quietly sad.

“Oh… yeah he left last night. He didn’t tell you?” Mingfei’s eyes widened slightly.

Crestfallen, Tigre shook his head. 

“Ah… Senior Brother is always like this. He comes and goes without a word and doesn’t understand how that might affect people. He thought a lot of you. Anyway, We can talk later, don’t take it so hard, okay?” He gave Tigre an awkward pat on the shoulder.

The sisters were rendered speechless. Lu Mingfei walked away to the Senior Student’s table where he sat down, surrounded by men in suits as he was served by three separate waiters. It seemed like he was in the lap of luxury, the King of Cassell. Yet, looking at him, Tigre couldn’t help but think that Lu Mingfei was very lonely. He didn’t really talk to the people next to him, just lowered his head and ate like a horse in a stable.

A hand suddenly slammed into his view. “Hey, I’m talking here.”

“Charles Xavier!” Tigre exclaimed.

The boy with dark hair and eyes who challenged him before apparently had been trying to get his attention when he was looking at Lu Mingfei.

“My name’s not ‘Charles Xavier’ I was messing with you!” He wrinkled his nose and glared his eyes down at him. “You know Lu Mingfei? How the hell?”

“I… I met him yesterday after the test. There was a little party at Chu Zihang’s house.” Tigre answered honestly with an owlish expression.

‘Charles Xavier’ massaged the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut like he suddenly had a massive headache. “You were at… Chu Zihang’s party?”

Tigre flinched. “Uh… Yeah… Sorry, if I knew you wanted to go I would have invited you…”

Celeste and her two sisters all lifted their coffee cups in unison and sipped, watching this scene with great pleasure.

‘Charles’ cleared his throat. “Well then… allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Robert Musonda, of the Musonda copper mining company in Zambia. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh… nice to meet you too.” Tigre accepted the offered hand.

“Have you decided which club you were going to join? I personally have not. I was waiting to see how things were. With all the elites gone, things could go either way. The Student Union could fall, or Lionheart could resurge.”

“I haven’t… really thought of clubs. I…” Tigre looked to Ruby for help. She’d been very helpful so far.

“Lionheart and Student Union were huge rivals before. I think people are expecting that to continue but it doesn’t have to. It depends on leadership. I think Lionheart will really push hard to regain some ground after losing so much to Student Union.” She nodded to him.

Robert Musonda clasped his hands behind his back. “In fact, leadership itself is up for grabs at Lionheart. A lot of freshmen are thinking of going to see if they can snatch the spot. With you being good friends with Mingfei and Chu Zihang, you’d be a shoe in!”

“I wouldn’t call myself good friends… We just met yesterday…”

Robert Musonda leaned forward. “He came over here and greeted you and only you… I call that good friends.” He patted Tigre on the shoulder the same way Lu Mingfei had and dropped his card next to him. “Let’s chat after class.”

Robert sauntered away. His card had a small floral scent but was simple and white with black block lettering of his family business and name along with a phone number and email.

As they were leaving the breakfast hall, Tigre’s tablet computer chimed. When he looked at it, he had a new message in his inbox. “Oh. I got my exam results.”

“Quick check your email!” Celeste exclaimed.

Apparently all the results were posted publicly and at the same time.  Students all stopped what they were doing and were looking at their results, heads bowed over their phones. Some students cheered and pumped their fists. Others gave each other high fives. Some students huddled together, giving consoling pats on the back. They were listed in order by last name and, since Tigre didn’t have a last name, the null entry in the last name field put his name right at the top.

Name: Tigre

Resonance Test result: S

Attached to his email was several pages of materials. Based on his ranking, he was afforded a stipend of money. $100,000! He also had a lot of privileges like first pick of meals and he could call the train to take him to Chicago whenever he wanted.

“Congratulations on your high level of Ranking.” It said. “With these privileges also come responsibilities. You are expected to perform at high level in the college in both class attendance and performance. If you fail to perform, you will be downgraded and your privileges will be revoked.”

He looked up at Ruby, relying on her once again for guidance. “What classes do I have?”

“You have to pick your own classes.” She said, with a trembling voice. “I can’t believe you’re S ranked. That’s insane. Are you half dragon?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Tigre shrugged.

Celeste stepped in, pushing Tigre forward. “There’s a link to register for classes. But let’s not do this in the hallway where everyone stares at us.”

She leaned over to him, smiling gently. “So, do you have a roommate yet?”

“Uh… I don’t have a dorm.” He said quietly.

“Then you should stay with us. We’ll help you.” Celeste smiled at him.

“Yeah!” Porsche said, glancing at her Celeste and holding his hand. “We’ll start by registering you for classes and stuff. Do you have anything you need to move?”

“Not… really? Just a few things.” Tigre said nervously as he was herded out of the Dining Hall by the three women.

Ruby clung to his other arm. “Then I’ll help you move!”

“Move? Move where?” 

The triplets turned and looked at him with shining brown eyes. They beamed at him, speaking in unison. “To our dorm silly!”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Projectiles

You absolutely terrorize your dad, Sebastian, and you don’t feel bad about it at all.

-

           “Why are you home so early?” Your dad was about to eat a sandwich and raised it to his lips before stopping, realizing that it was barely noon and you were home already.  He put the sandwich down an looked at you like you had two heads.

           “Nurse told me I could go home,” you shrugged. You held a bag from the drugstore down the street, backpack on your back.

           “And why?” You looked at him, holding the bag up. “Oh.” You could tell he didn’t fully get it, but you didn’t need to say anything else. He was slow, but he could figure it out eventually.

           “Yep. I’m going to take some pain pills.” You walked up the stairs to your room and set up your cave for the afternoon. You must have gone through half a season of Schitt’s Creek before you dared to even went downstairs to get your backpack to start doing homework. Your dad was putting his jacket on, obviously about to leave.

           “You want anything specific for dinner?” He asked you, looking you up and down. You looked like a wreck, but your entire body hurt so badly that you just didn’t care.

           “Death,” you responded dryly, walking past him to go to the kitchen. You grabbed a box of cheese-its, not even that you really wanted them. You just wanted food in general.

           “Okay,” your dad said quietly, taken aback at your statement. “Well, text me if you need anything. I won’t be late.” He walked out to go to his meeting, leaving you all alone. You needed a dog, you thought. You really needed a dog. So you scrolled through your phone and spammed your dad with pictures of puppies in the greater Manhattan area, all of which he said no to. You knew exactly why you were crying over pictures of pitbull mixes, but that didn’t make it any easier.

           You thought you were going to throw up when you smelled the smell of pizza down the stairs right as your dad walked back in the house a few hours later. You loved pizza, normally, but now it was just reminding you of the acne on your face and the fact that you were totally and completely nauseated.

           “How much do you want?” He asked you as you walked into the kitchen.

           “None,” you replied. “I’ll have some tomorrow.”

           “You told me last week that you would literally die for Luigi’s pizza.”

           “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

           “Do you have a fever?” You glared at him, again. He nodded in understanding. Truth be told, he was still having a tough time being a single dad to a teenage daughter. He had to deal with a numerous amount of things that he didn’t think he would have to deal with. Periods was one of them. You’d had it for a few years now, but yours was different. You gave him a heart attack at fourteen when you said it was so bad that the doctor wanted to put you on birth control, and two years later you were still struggling with the fact that it was completely random if you even had it at all. And this was the first time in a couple months, so of course it had come back full force.

           “I’m eating saltines, I guess,” you sighed. That was the only thing you could think of that wouldn’t screw with your stomach.

           “Honey,” your dad said back, turning from his chair to look at you.

           “Do you want to clean up my throw up?” He didn’t answer you, which you took as a hard no. “That’s what I thought. I’m taking the couch.” You walked into the next room and curled up on the couch, pulling your favorite fuzzy blanket over you. You turned on Bones and ate the absolutely pathetic sleeve of crackers that was your dinner.

           “Honey?” You heard after four episodes. Your phone told you that it was almost 1 in the morning, and your dad had gone to bed hours ago. Or so you thought.

           “Don’t call me that if there isn’t a sentence attached to it!” You said. He sighed from the stairwell and walked into the living room, rubbing his eyes at the bright TV you had playing.

           “You should go to bed. Especially if you’re tired.” You sighed and got up, letting him walk you back to your room. You finally settled in, turning your own TV on so you could sleep to it, and fell asleep.

           You woke up four hours later to the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. And indeed it was; your bed looked like an absolute massacre. You’d fallen asleep with the wrong kind of tampon in. Again. Your blue-gray sheets were stained already, your favorite sleep shorts were stained, and you almost started crying as you walked into the bathroom. It was so early in the morning that the sun wasn’t even up yet, and there you were, crying and carrying your things all the way to the stupid basement. You tried to get the stain out of your mattress pad, but there was no changing it, so you gave up. You put everything in the laundry with a high soil level setting and set an alarm to get back up later to deal with it. And then you fell asleep on your couch again, still crying, and in absolute misery.

           “Y/n?” You heard your name the next morning and woke up, rising from the makeshift bed you made out of your couch. Your dad was obviously ready to get started with his day. You’d missed your alarm again because your fucking phone was dead.

           “What?” You groaned, about to start crying again. Your dad held his hands up in surrender.

           “I was going to ask if you wanted to come take a quick walk to get some coffee with me. We’re out. And it looks like you need it.”

           “Will you buy me a chocolate croissant?”

           “Of course. I’ll be downstairs.” You changed your clothes and went to put everything in the dryer, making a mental note to ask your dad if you could use his card later to order more sheets. And then you started walking down to your favorite café, twelve blocks away.

           “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” Your dad asked you as he pressed the crosswalk button. He was the only man in Manhattan you knew that would wait for a crosswalk light to turn, but you followed along with him. You stuck your hands in the sweatshirt you’d used to hide the fact that your stomach was twice its normal size.

           “No,” you responded. “I need new sheets.” He understood.

           “I’m sorry. We’ll get some at Target on the way home.” He gave you a small smile and herded you into the coffee shop. Normally he would try and tell you just to get something small, but he let you get whatever you wanted and he didn’t complain at all. You almost forgot about how terrible everything was when you got home later with a new set of sheets to put on the bed. These were darker ones, so even if they did stain they wouldn’t look too bad. He handed you the dark towels, too. And then you ended up raiding the fridge later. You looked like an absolute hermit with your hood pulled up and the drawstrings tightened up to your neck.  

           “So you refused the hot, fresh pizza last night and now you’re eating it, cold, right out of the fridge?” Your dad was standing in the kitchen, extremely confused, and about to go to the gym when he saw you with the cardboard box open, grabbing a slice in each hand.

           “What about it?” You asked in a slightly threatening voice.

           “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just admiring your creativity. I’m about to go to the gym, but I’ll see you later. Tell me if there’s anything you want me to get on the way home.” You nodded, knowing that you were probably scaring the living daylights out of him, and started eating one of the slices of pizza, closing the fridge door with your foot.

           You laid out on the couch for a few hours before deciding to take a nap. This time you didn’t wake up to a massacre, but you weren’t exactly in a good mood either. Your dad figured that out when he came back into the house. The light in the hallway wasn’t helping your migraine, so you did what any angry teenager would do. You found your slide sandal on the floor and picked it up and threw it in the general direction as the light.

           “Jesus, Christ!” Your dad exclaimed. “Honey, why are you throwing projectiles?”

           “I have a migraine! Turn it off!” You whined. He did what you asked, leaving the whole apartment in darkness.

           “I got you some of your favorite candy, if you want it,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind of sour patch you wanted so I got three kinds, the watermelon and the normal and then this new one they had, and then I got you some chocolate ‘cause your mom always wanted chocolate, and then we can get some ice cream or something later if you want.” He walked toward you and handed you a bag from the store. You sat up, taking the bag, and felt really bad.

           “Thank you.” He backed away from you like you were a dog about to bite. “I’m sorry I’m being a bitch.”

           “I get it. I probably would be too if that was happening to me. I think you might need to go back to the doctor, though, if it’s hurting you and you’re blee-” You found the other sandal and threw at him, this time in point blank range. “I’ll go call them and leave a message so they’ll get back to us on Monday. You just, uh… yeah. Please stop throwing things at me.” He walked out of the room and you could hear his footsteps quicken as he walked up the stairs to his room.

           A/N: I feel so bad for Seb here, but it had to be done. I hope you like it! A reminder that this will be my last post until the weekend probably, since I’m driving halfway across the country. I’ll be back as soon as I can!

           Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message with what all you’d like to be added to!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[voldemorthatesnose96]

EXHALE

My very first crackship (Max and Lola) in skam fr tag and also first time since forever of posting a fanfic under this tag too. Nonetheless, hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer : English isn’t my native language so there’s gonna be grammar error here and there and if any of you think Max or Lola’s characters are a bit ooc, then I apologised in advanced but these all based on my imagination about them

Please be kind if you want to make a critic about it💕💕💕

“I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but I’m very proud of you and your progress, Lola.” says the therapist. And yes, she’s been getting the same positive words from the people around her regarding to that, but it still makes her smile nonetheless; it feels nice. Truly.

“Merci!”

It’s crazy how this small, gloomy office is becoming one of the most important and prominent thing that ever happened in her life. It used to be a torture, just by thinking about sitting here, facing the same therapist over and over again, pouring her heart out like she wanted to do it and not feeling obligated at all. Crazy how those feelings happened less than a year ago. But it doesn’t mean she never feels like the old times again, it’s just... less and less brutal, if she might adds. The fact that Daphne and her step-dad also going through therapy making her feel less lonely. When she’s too absorbs in her thoughts, her stomach suddenly begins to make a grumbling sound. Loud one too!

The therapist laughs, “ah! want an apple?”

Lola shakes her head, a bit embarrassed. She hasn’t eat anything for breakfast because she was in a hurry to get here. Damn that broken alarm clock!

“No, thank you. I’ll be going with my friend to have some lunch after this.”

“Then, I’ll be sending your report about your progress by e-mail as usual, later tonight?”

“Thank you very much.”

“No no, Lola,” the therapist smiles softly. “Thank you for being here, thank you for helping me helping you.”

After saying goodbye, Lola leaves the office and stops her step to take out her phone. Just before her fingers begin to type, a familiar and gentle voice greets her.

“I’m already here.”

Lola looks up and sees Max making his way to her. His steps aren’t slow, aren’t fast either; they’re perfectly balanced, won’t making you feel left out. Walking besides him, even in silence, brings her a lot of comfort; something she never felt before, not even with her old crush Maya, whom she’s still a good friend with by the way.

“Good. You saved me from wasting my time typing.”

Max gives her a little smile that could make Lola’s heart doing this funny sommersault like in the WWE. How could that happened? How did he do that?

Poker face, Lola. Poker face, she thought to herself while her heart is screaming “lies!” every seconds. Putain!

“Glad I could be your saviour then,” he playfully adds. “Shall we go eat now? I’m starving.”

Remembering the embarrasing incident at the office not long ago, Lola nods and walks beside Max. It feels almost natural to be besides him like this. One of the wonder she can’t grasp why, yet.

“Where and what do you wanna eat?”

“Anything will do,” Lola shrugs. “But better be affordable, though.”

Max takes a glance at the girl beside him when she’s not looking. Her hair is slightly swept by the wind. His nose catches the smell of strawberry and cream altogether.

“I know just the place. Not far from here. Come on!”

The place where Max was talking about located only five blocks from the earlier place. Because it’s lunch time, of course it’s crowded but somehow they manage to find an empty spot outside. Not gonna lie, Lola’s a bit intimidated when she’s looking at the menu.

“I told you to go to the affordable place and this ain’t it, Max!” she hisses while pointing at the book menu.

“Well, it’s affordable for me, though,” he grins, and before Lola can speaks again, he continues, “it’s on me.”

“Pardon?”

“I never give you anything, as long as I remember and now I got the chance. Believe me, it was an impromptu idea.”

“No.”

“No?” Max repeats, brows furrowing.

“No,” Lola shakes her head, also a bit annoyed now. “You don’t need to buy or give me anything. I still have money.”

“I know but it’s just for one meal. I promise. No ulterior motives whatsoever.”

Because her stomach is making a nasty sound again, Lola unwillingly says yes to Max’s offer and without thinking, she orders spagetti marinara with extra cheese on top because he says it’s one of the best dish this restaurant have. They eat in comfortable silence, and as Max has said before, the spagetti is indeed, sublime. Even better than the one Daphne’s usually making—Lola silently apologised to her about this. Less than fifteen minutes later, her plate is already clean.

“Glad you’ve been enjoying the food.”

“You’re right. This is amazing!”

Seeing Lola smiles brightly, especially at him, makes Max’s heart soars. Sometimes Max can’t help but laughing at her dry jokes, looking at her way or stealing some moments just to talk to her for few minutes. The rest of the Lamifex is suspecting about his feeling about Lola, but he never says a word about it. Yes, he wasn’t really liked her at first. Yes, he was being cold towards her. But like most people in the world do, his perspective of her changed almost drastically when both of them shared bits of their life’s journey while waiting for the other Lamifex members to showed up at the usual place many months ago. From his eyes, Lola is actually funny without even trying, brave enough to own her mistakes and apologises for them too, really caring about the people she loves and cares about—sometimes Max wondering to himself if he’s one of those people, if he could ever be one.

“It’s too early to daydreaming, no?”

Max blinks rapidly, “sorry. Too lost in thoughts.”

“What were you thinking, then?”

You, “nothing.”

Lola crosses her arms while leaning back to her seat, “usually when someone says nothing, it’s actually everything.”

“You’re not wrong,” Max replies, as the corner of his lips is going upward. “Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?”

“Where?” Lola’s eyes and voice are in full alert mode now. If he’s taking her to a rather expensive place again, she swears to God! No matter how she’s having a crush him, there’s no doubt that she’ll throw darts if he dares to do it again.

Wait! A crush on him? On Max?! As in the romantic way? Oh putain! No no no! This is bad! Red flags!

But even though her head screaming no, her feet are following Max’s steps to the place none other than the riverbank of Seine.

“My second favorite place in the whole city. Probably the world too.” Max proudly declares as he stares into the calm river.

“You’re usually coming here, then?”

“A lot, yeah,” he nods, sitting besides Lola. Not too close, yet not too far to touch either. “Maybe the only place that I can make myself to think clearly. It’s even more beautiful at night.”

“I know. Sometimes I’m also going here alone, just because.”

The wind is exceptionally strong today. It makes her hair feels like flying all over the place, slapping her face here and there. When Lola tries to shield the hair from the wind, the next thing she knows, Max puts his usual black snapback on her head and brushes few strands of her hair off of her lips and cheeks, then places them behind the ears. This is the very first time they’re making physical contacts like this, and surprisingly, Lola doesn’t mind it.

As if Max is strucks by lightning, he quickly making a distance between Lola and him; a bit farther this time. He also fully realises that it was their very first physical touch and the last thing he wants is for Lola feeling uncomfortable, even just a slightest bit.

“Why do you sit so far this time?”

Max can’t look at her, “no reason.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

Still can’t look at her, “It was nothing, Lola.”

Something utterly familiar catches his nose, but stronger this time and suddenly feels something touches his right shoulder—it’s Lola’s head. For split seconds, Max is too shocked to comprehend the whole situation; wanted to slaps himself, to make sure that this isn’t a cruel dream but it’s not a dream. Pretty much real. As real as the sun in the sky right now and they’re both basking underneath it.

“You don’t mind me doing this, do you?” Lola asks, slowly without tearing her gaze from the Seine.

“Not at all. Stay as long as you need.”

Lola smiles at this, “I might hurting your shoulder for resting my head too long.”

“I don’t mind.” Max gently replies. His hands are itchy to brush Lola’s... just for a second, or less than that. But he can’t. He doesn’t want to ruin this small precious moment between them, have to control his desire or else, she’s gonna pulls back again.

“By the way, metaphorically speaking of course,” Lola starts to speak again after five minutes being quiet. “If I tell you that I have a crush on you, what would you do?”

“Then I’ll metaphorically answer that I’m flattered and honored.”

Lola doesn’t say anything, but somehow her face looks solemn.

“Can I ask something in return?”

“Sure.”

Max isn’t sure if it’s a good idea, but the hell with that. It’s now or never, “if I tell you that I want to hold your hand, even for a minute or so, what would you do?”

There’s a sudden pause between them again, and Max instantly regretting the things that he said. What a stupid buffoon!

When he’s about to apologise, Lola’s voice stops him.

“Metaphorically?”

“Literally.”

Neither of them knowing that both of their hearts are palpitating and doing flips. Stomach begins to churning, a whole zoo inside it too. Though somehow, someway, both are also managed to stay calm; as calm as the water flow in the Seine. Instead of answering, Lola takes Max’s hand and entwining it with hers. So this is how it feels of finding the the perfect puzzle piece in someone.

“Then I’ll literally gonna answer why it took you so long to ask me that.” Lola says as she rests her head again on Max’s shoulder, who’s now also puts his head on top of hers and inhales its pretty scent.

Both are lost in their own thoughts. Is it going to be a new start of their relationship? Maybe not. Is it going to change almost everything between them? Probably. But those questions about time and other endless possibilities aren’t exactly proper right now. There are only them, the chilly autumn weather, Seine as far as the eyes can see, the warmth of their bodies sitting close and uncertainty of life—and sometimes, it’s all that really matters.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 38: Nocturnal

[Am I procrastinating by writing yet another chapter? Yes I am. Pls send help.]

I wake up only a couple hours later to find Arthur is gone. He must have gone back to write in is room. I don something comfortable and pick up my blood soaked clothes from the bathroom floor to wash them. Though Sebastian knows what I did, I don’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night for this. He has done enough already, and I can deal with the stains myself.

I fetch a bucket and a jar of salt from the kitchen and bring it back to my bedroom before filling it with cold water. I then proceed to scrub as much as I can off the clothes inside the shower, using a thick salt paste, and when the water stops running red, I lather them in soap and leave them to soak in the bucket. The stains are fairly fresh, so hopefully they will come out in a day or two.

After drying myself off, I leave to aimlessly roam around the mansion. I need to do something, anything, to keep my mind occupied. I eventually end up in the attic, crawling onto the roof through the dormer window. I am pleased to find Jean is there. I don’t think I could handle being alone with my thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, knocking on the window frame. Jean turns to glance at me before shuffling over, making space for me beside him on the edge. “This is becoming a habit, huh?”

“It’s not one I’m opposed to,” he shrugs. I light a cigarillo, and he looks at it disapprovingly. “Unlike that one.”

“Sorry.” Before I can smother the flame on the roof tiles, he holds my hand to stop me.

“I was joking...” he mutters. “I don’t mind if you smoke.”

I... did not think Jean had a sense of humor. His is a lot like Mozart’s, I think, in the sense that it’s hard to tell when they’re kidding. I chuckle and look up at the sky. The sun is still nowhere near the horizon. It must be around 3 in the morning.

After exhaling a cloud of smoke, I glance at Jean to notice him staring at my arm. My sleeves are still rolled up from the laundry, and most of my tattoos are fully exposed.

“Is that some sort of plant?” he shyly asks. I nod.

“A monstera adansonii. I used to work in a flower shop, and this is my favorite plant that we sold,” I explain. Though it is commonly referred to as ‘Swiss cheese plant’, the holes on its leaves have always reminded me of the craters on the moon.

“I own a shop too,” he quietly informs me, catching me by surprise. “I sell weapons.”

“Sounds about right,” I chuckle. His fascination with the objects is evident in his bedroom. “Do you make them yourself?”

“Only some of them. I mostly just make slight alterations.”

“Must be a lot of work, if you also own the place,” I ponder out loud. “No wonder I rarely see you during the day, you must be so busy.”

“Napoleon helps me with the paperwork. I wouldn’t be able to manage without him.” I tilt my head, wondering what he means by that. “I, uh... I can’t read or write,” he explains.

“Oh.” It makes sense, given the time that he lived in. Most people back then were illiterate. I open my mouth when a thought occurs to me, but quickly close it and sink down against the chimney, resigned.

“What is it?”

“I was going to offer to teach you, but I’m not much better off myself,” I chuckle. “I could not spell in French if my life depended on it. I can kind of read it, though. That, I might be able to help you with.”

“... Thank you,” he murmurs after a brief pause, before turning to look at me with his good eye. “I am glad that you are staying here, Anaïs.”

“Yeah, about that...” I mutter. “I think I understand how you felt that night. These baby vampire impulses are... a bit too much to handle. It’s rough.”

Jean nods slowly and looks away from me, as if thinking about something. When he finally speaks again, his voice is even softer than usual.

“You slipped, didn’t you?” His unexpected question makes me tense beside him. I guess he feels it, because he continues. “I was up here when you came back. I saw you.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I sigh. “It was bad. I mean, it was self defence, but that doesn’t make it any less awful...”

“It does,” he declares. “Do you think that person would have died if they hadn’t attacked you?”

“Not really, but-”

“Then they deserved it and their blood is not on your hands,” he cuts me off. “Not literally, at least.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. The logic in his argument is not exactly airtight, but it’s better than blaming myself for what I did. I helped Jean hate himself a little less, it’s time to let him do the same for me. Satisfied with my new mindset, I bring the cigarillo to my lips and inhale a deep puff.

“... People,” I finally correct him after I blow out the smoke. He looks at me, confusion in his ocean blue eye. “There were two people.”

“And you took them down on your own?” he inquires. I shrug. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. “Impressive. I didn’t think a frail little woman like you could defeat one, even as a vampire.”

“Hey, I’m stronger than I look,” I laugh. I am still not sure whether he was teasing me or not, but I chose to take it that way. He looks at me before shaking his head.

“Nah, I don’t believe that.” Yeah, he is definitely messing with me this time.

“I am, I swear!” I play along, gently smacking his muscular arm. “Wanna take this to the training room?”

Instead of replying, he gets up and offers me his hand. I take it, letting him effortlessly pull me to my feet, and follow him back inside.

“You know,” I say on the way there, “I’ve been wanting to learn how to fight properly for a while. Ever since I saw you and Napoleon on my first day here.”

“How about I teach you that, and you teach me how to read?” he suggests. I smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

When we enter the training room, Jean turns the switch on the wall, making the lights turn on with a flicker. I wonder how he feels about all this new technology, so unfamiliar to him. He seems to have gotten somewhat used to electricity and running water, at least. Although I’m pretty sure his brain would implode if he saw the things that are common in my time.

He exchanges his rapier for a wooden version of it he takes from the rack in the corner, and hands me another one, identical to his. It’s heavier than I expected. I hold it between my thighs to tie my hair up as Jean expertly waves his sword around with a flourish, getting accustomed to the different handle in his hand. What did I just get myself into? Whatever it is, it’s going to be fun.

“En garde!” He takes a stance, and I try to mimic it, but my thin right arm is unused to the weight of the weapon, so my left hand instinctually joins to support it. “No, use only one hand,” he instructs. “Like this.”

I am surprised to see I can easily hold it up once I get past the mental barrier of what my human body was capable of. I am stronger and more resilient than I have ever been, though I think I’ll need some time to get used to that.

“Alright, I’m going to attack now. Try to block it,” he warns be before lunging forward and thrusting his sword towards my stomach. The movement is deliberately slow to give me time to deflect it, which I successfully do. 

He slashes at me again, stepping closer. I push his sword to the side with my own, but it comes back in full force. I barely manage to block it this time, reeling backwards.

“Focus,” he orders me. “There is more than one way to avoid being hit.”

I nod, taking the hint. When he attacks again, I am quick to dodge his sword, focusing on agility rather than strength. While I struggled significantly to parry Jean’s hits, I can effortlessly jump and twist out of the way without ever having to lift my own sword. His movements accelerate, and I follow along, resulting in a graceful dance between us. It reminds me of waltz with Mozart, how he had spun me around the ballroom until my vision blurred and I struggled to keep up with his quick footwork.

“Ow!” I cry out in pain when Jean’s sword hits my hand, right on my knuckles.

“Désolé! (Sorry)” he apologizes, lowering his weapon. “Not bad, Anaïs. How come you’re so fast? You’ve never trained before.”

I simply point at my skates across the room, the red suede boots having become part of the training room’s vast collection of equipment over time. I started leaving them here, on the floor near a corner, when I realized I could never use them outside of the mansion.

“When you’re falling from a triple spin in the air, you gotta be quick or you end up breaking your leg, or something,” I chuckle. Jean nods, his eyebrows raised, as if he just considered that possibility for the first time. He probably did, but to be fair, he has been watching me skate for a month now. He should know better.

I slowly flex my fingers over the sword’s handle, but wince in pain when I try to move my pinky. It’s too sore for me to continue training.

“Are you hurt?” Jean asks, concerned. I shake my head.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just my pinky,” I brush it off. “It will be healed in a day or so.”

“We should continue another day, then.”

I want to argue, but he’s right. I can barely hold the sword straight. My pinky might have taken the brunt of it, but the dull ache expands through my entire hand.

“Okay, but I’m gonna skate instead, if you don’t mind,” I finally give in, walking to ‘my’ corner of the room, before kicking my shoes off. “I have way too much energy. I fear I’ll end up eating someone again if I don’t get rid of it somehow.”

As I struggle to tie my laces with a semi-numb hand, I remember something. I look up at Jean and stare at him for a few seconds before voicing my thoughts.

“Do you know any songs?”

“Yes, why?” he asks, confused.

“My headphones are dead.”

“Headphones?” He sits on the floor beside me and tilts his head.

“Yeah, you know those little things I wear in my ears sometimes?” I remind him. “They play music. And, well, it’s kinda weird for me to skate without music, so I was wondering if you could sing something...”

“Did I accidentally hit your head?”

I snort at his genuine question. Of course, he seems even more confused by my explanation. It is then that I remember my phone still works. I turned it off after my first night here to preserve the battery. It must be in my room somewhere, along with my wireless earplugs.

“Wait here,” I tell him, quickly pulling off my skates. “I’m just gonna show you. I’ll be right back.”

That said, I jump up and run barefoot out of the training room. I have no idea how I’m gonna explain this to Jean without him thinking it’s witchcraft, but it might be better if I just let him see it for himself.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: It’s been a while. My days off were spent with writing rather than posting. Now? It’s time to catch up a bit. Have an edited version of a story I’d only just begun getting into before I’d left Tumblr at the beginning of the year. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block. 

Also, this is NOT hate against Danneel. It’s a piece of fiction using real humans as the base. There will be NO negativity against her, the Ackles family, or anything tolerated here.

Upcoming Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Angst. Death. Grieving process. Upcoming smut. Age Gap. And more. Each chapter will be labeled accordingly.

Word Count: Roughly 3,700

“How's he holding up?” Genevieve Padalecki was an actual goddess as she sat across from you in the sunken living room. A loose, white tee paired with ripped jeans while resting on the navy blue couch. Even as drawn and tired as she appeared in that moment, beneath the LeMay hummingbird art, she was incredible. Somehow held mostly together even with the circumstances in front of her. You yearned for that kinda strength.

“He's been trying to smile... Laugh for the kids.” You answered quietly, not wanting to wake the napping children. Or, the resting widower.  As if your voice could carry that far in the massive home. But, it was the first bit of real sleep any of them had gotten since the nightmare had begun. You wouldn't chance it. They needed all the rest that they could muster. “It's falling short...but he's trying.” Your own tired eyes met the red rimmed dark orbs in front of you. “How about you and Jared?” She shook her head, slowly. Her actress's facade crumbling all at once.

“God, I miss her.” The once smooth voice cracked as she fought back the tears. Finally giving into the grief a little. “So...so much...It hasn't even been two weeks, yet, Y/N.” She looked so broken. So defeated. “How am I supposed to survive the rest of my life without my best friend?”

You wanted to give an answer. Wanted to be able to tell her it got better. But, you couldn't. It'd be a lie. Nothing was better in a world without the sunny smile the Mrs. Ackles had bestowed, undoubtedly, every time you turned around.

“I ask myself that question almost every second of everyday.” Jensen's deep voice was ragged as he stood in the hallway. His hair was spiked from the tossing and turning he'd done while he'd tried to escape the reality of his new life. Your heart shattered again at the sight.

“Jens-”

“It's okay,” He was gruff, but not harsh as he cut Genevieve off. Too worn to even begin to try to be angry. His jeans and shirt were wrinkled. Beard untrimmed. Eyes red and glazed with grief. “We're going to be okay. Danneel...she'd want that.” If he said it enough, he might just believe it. “Kids still out?” You could only nod. A lump too large for words to pass rested in your throat.“Good.” His head bobbed with that. As if in a trance. “I'm gonna take a walk...head down to the lake.”

He didn't ask if anyone would watch them. That's what you were there for. His pockets were filled with his beefy hands, and then he was gone as quickly as he'd come.

“I don't know if I can stay here.” You uttered when he was out of hearing range; tossing your hand through your tangled hair. Somehow even more ragged from the brief interaction.

It was all too much. He needed assistance with the twins and J.J. You knew that. But, it was terrifying having to face the grieving process head on. To feel the weight of a love lost residing in the air. Having to stand up to it all while losing your friend in the process. Needing to try and fill the void that was left behind after the accident while holding an entire family together. Anyone would strain under that level of responsibility.

Running would be easier. That was a fact you couldn't seem to escape. It always had been. God knows you'd done it enough in your life. Everything inside of you begged you to take the chance. Flee. And yet...you hadn't quite gathered enough courage to actually try it. Leaving yourself in an odd sort of purgatory.

“He'll understand.” Gen didn't even bother to look back at you. Having latched onto an image of the deceased in the corner. A happy little number showing her and her children.

“Will he?” You didn't believe it. Not even a little. She wasn't there to see the worst of his grief. How alone he was. Your fingers ripped at a hangnail as you pondered over it all.

Jensen had lost his entire future. And with that? He'd lost his focus. The undying optimism he'd once held. His charming dash of humor. Maybe once, he'd have forgiven you walking away. But, not anymore. The kids, his job, and the brewery were overwhelming at the best of times. It was unmanageable even with the help, then. He needed you more than ever.

That's why you'd been hired, initially. To break up the load. Or, so Danneel had claimed. In reality? She'd held everything down just fine with a babysitter on the side. She'd just used it as an excuse to draw you in. Now? It was time to live up to the promise.

You were pulled out of your thoughts with a small sigh, “Even if he doesn't?” Your heart ached at the thought. “You have your own life, Y/N...it's your choice.” Her final words went straight to the point. Injuring you with the bluntness of it. “And if there's anything we learned from all this? Life is too short to fuck around with.”

With that, she took her leave. Needing to find some air. Get back into a head space to handle the other half of the grieving family she was returning to.

You craved the same escape. Instead, the twins appeared. Miniatures of their parents clad in Paw Patrol footie pajamas. Hair mused as they crawled into the comfort you could offer. Solemn, as if their young minds could fully grasp the idea of death. Hours later, JJ walked in the large wooden door. A deep frown etched onto the smooth lines of her face. Her bag dragging the ground as she and Jensen joined. The false cheer emitting from the booming voice only made the tension in the air increase. It was cloaking.

As the night went on, things grew worse. A tight hold on the back of your neck crept forward until your entire skull felt as if it was being crushed. Far from the first time. Zep didn't want the lasagna you'd made. His once ravenous appetite long gone. Justice Jay was trying to step up; telling him how he needed to eat. How her mom would have got him to, and that anyone who couldn't get the boy to wasn't trying hard enough. Arrow sat crying, too distraught to take even a  bite.

Jensen had looked so damn lost while sitting in the tan backed kitchen bar-stool that you'd had no choice but to pull out a whistle. Danneel had used it during a girl scouts meeting months before. And then had brought it back around any time the family got to be too chaotic. Another brilliant idea from the lost soul.

Zep settled for a small, microwavable macaroni and cheese that had been reserved for emergencies. J.J was talked down, gently. Not taking away from her grief; simply bringing her back to a softer place. Arrow was able to eat on your lap; settling into the comfort of a woman's touch gladly. The widower watched in a daze. Being the only one in the room you hadn't needed to fix. Until you noticed that he wasn't eating. Leaving you to discard your plate even longer while you coaxed him into following his kids' lead.

Bed time didn't come nearly fast enough. Dishes with two toddlers flinging soapy water across the designer kitchen. Another night of fighting over homework with Justice. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and never leave.

With a weary sigh, you left the room Arrow occupied to herself. Moving down the stairs as fast as you could to give yourself some distance. Slamming your hand through your hair all the while. Not sure how much longer you could go on, taking care of everyone. You never had time to process. To breathe. God, how you wanted to breathe again.

Your back pressed against the wall after you hit the main floor. Utter relief filling your veins at the lack of noise. Slouching, you turned to look out at the darkened lake. Hoping the peace of it would trail to you. Only to shoot straight up seconds later as footsteps lumbered down the stairs.

“Thanks,” Jensen appeared, looking worse for the wear. Before you could even think to start, he continued, “Seriously, thanks. I don't...I don't know what I'd do...” His throat worked as emotion threatened to spill over. “I know we're a lot.” That was the understatement of the century.

“Jensen-”

“Don't try n' down play it, Y/N.” He kept going. As if he had no choice. Almost as if he could feel your desperation to run, and was trying to stop it. “We're a wreck, right now. But, you? You make...make it a little less chaotic.” His eyes were watery as he talked. The dam threatening to spill over. Guilt snaked through you at the words. And then he pulled out the last batch of words you wanted to hear. “You're a lot like her. You know that?”

“I don't want to...to take her place,” Your words were garbled as you swallowed the emotion. Terrified that you'd be trapped into the empty space she left behind. Breaking all the while. “I don't...I don't want to just step into the role.” Your own eyes watered as you aired your fears. Gasping for some kind of air. “I don't know how...how to play mom full time. Or step in as the pretend wife of a TV star. I can't even take care of myself. That's why she brought me here.” The emotional fall had been doomed to show up, eventually. You simply hadn't expected it to be so soon. Or so in his face. But, that didn't stop the tirade of emotion leaving your lips. “I want her back, too. I want her to walk...walk back through the door, like every time she's left. To thank me for looking out for you guys... T..tell me how strong I was for holding down the fort... until she got back.”

Because that's the kind of woman she was. She'd loved her family. Her friends. Her careers. And most of all, life. She'd built everyone up. Having her gone had tore them all down.

A tear trailed down your face as you realized Jensen was openly crying. Silent as the water ran down both cheeks. Drop after drop as he fought back a sob. You comprehended then, the enormity of what you'd done.

“Y/N-”

“I'm sorry!” Cutting him off, you tried to find something to say. Anything else. But, words escaped you again. A gasp left your lips when he brought his hands up to your arms, but you didn't have a chance to pull away. He tugged you close. Breaking you further. His arms encompassed you as you both cried deeply. Letting out everything you'd held back since you'd gotten the call about the accident. “I'm...I'm s...so...s...sorry.” You hiccuped into his chest. No longer feeling the need to be strong. His own body shook as he tried to settle back down. “I'm...I'm such a...such a bitch.”

“You're a good friend.” He breathed out in a broken sigh when he could finally gain enough composure to take a step back. But, he didn't break the contact. Needing the sense of closeness as his world spun. “She would have been...she would have proud of you, you know.” You lost it again at that one. Thinking back to the day that had wrecked all of your lives.

Danneel had been going to the brewery. Just as she had everyday. She should have come back. She should have never have been found on the side of the road. A hit and run. The bastard who was guilty had yet to be found.

“I'm sorry,” You pulled away from his grasp completely that time. Wiping at your face clumsily.  Snot plugged up your nose. Your cheeks were stained from the tears. “What I said...I didn't mean it.”

“You did.” Jensen stated easily, falling back onto the closest couch. His head resting in his hands. “That's okay, though.”

“It's not.” Your eyes landed on the image from the wedding that rested on the coffee table as you dropped beside him. It was the closest you two had been in the entire time you'd known each other. Picking it up, you looked closer. Basking in the bit of joy that still resided inside the walls of the home. “She was beautiful.” Your thumb stroked over the image. “And, funny. Smart as a whip.” You'd thought you were all dried out, but another piece of water made its way down your face. “It was hard to not fall in love with the energy she put out there.” Gen had said Danneel had been her best friend. She'd been yours, too. Even though you'd only held her in your life a short time. “She saved me from myself...did you know that?”

“Kinda,” He answered carefully. His own eyes drawn to the ten year old image. “She never gave me the full details.” He leaned in closer, the pad of his finger brushing away the small piece of dust that gathered in the corner. “She just told me that you needed help...and to pretend that she did.”

“That sounds like her,” You whispered, your lips tugging up in a lopsided smile. Thankful to the ghost in the room. “I'd been kicked out of my boyfriend's place. He got bored, or something. I really haven't figured out the 'why' if I'm being honest with myself. Can't even remember why I was with him.” Your hand came back up to wipe against your face as your mind trailed back. You'd lived down the road. Only for a week or two. A perfect stranger. Your bag had hit the grass as she walked by with the twins. A daily stroll turned into more. She'd watched as you stared at the door in disbelief after it slammed shut. “She asked me if I was okay. I lied and said I was...she didn't believe me.”

“She's...She was good at that.” He caught himself trying to keep her in the present. You didn't bring attention to it. Didn't want to hurt him anymore than you already had.

“Dee didn't think twice. Packed me up and took me to a motel. Took my phone number to check in...” If you tried hard enough, you could still remember her holding out her phone. A simple smile on her face as she waited for you to do as told. Knowing you'd cave. You hadn't expected her to really call. Had been oddly relieved when she had. “I had trouble finding work, so she offered a place at the brewery. I didn't know how to take that kind of an offer.”

“Now that you mention it...” His head dropped to the back of the couch as he got more comfortable. Eyes closed as he traveled back in time mentally. “I remember that,” He looked a little lighter as he thought back to his wife. The frustrated call he'd received while on set about the woman who 'needed to come to terms' with Danneel's assistance. “The more you resisted, the more sure she was that she was going to help you out.”

“She used the twins.” Not that you'd complained. They were great. You'd spent hours making faces, drawing pictures, and the works with two of the sweetest children you'd ever met. “She was working on handling the paperwork, and asked me to play with them for a bit. Reeled me in like a fish.”

It had started with one day, with food as your payment. Then, it was for a few hours daily for food and some cash. Next thing you knew, you were in a small guesthouse they'd added to property. It had been the beginning of the best six months of your life. Helping with the kids, the brewery, and animals. You'd gotten a side job, but your notice had gone in as soon as you'd been able to. Jensen had needed all the help he could get with Danneel gone.

“Do you regret it?”

“She gave me a whole new life,” You sighed out, not quite answering the question. Looking at the animated face that rested in the frame. “And instead of being able to hold up? I break in half of a month...” Shame coursed through you.

“To be fair,” His voice was scratchy, “we're all a bit broken right now, Y/N...” No truer words had been spoken.

“What do we do, Jensen?” Your head rested against the back of the couch as he took the frame. Wishing like hell he could travel back to the day encased in ink, you were sure.

“We take it one day at a time,” It's all he knew how to do. Nothing else made sense. It was all too unpredictable. “It's hiatus...We don't have to worry about the show, for a few months. For now?” He tapped the glass, “For now, I'm going to take care of her babies.” The determined, pained note in his voice made your chest ache. “I know that I haven't been helping much-”

“Don't...” Letting him tear himself down wasn't something you could stand. “You're doing better than anyone would dream.” Your hand reached over and squeezed his. Offering a bit of comfort. Not knowing how else to handle it all. “Take care of yourself, too...Eat. Try to sleep. Take your time to clear your head.”

“You could stand to do that, yourself, Y/N...” He swallowed tightly. His own guilt raising its head. He'd been so stuck inside his own mind that he'd missed all the warning signs. How slow you moved. Raw pain lining your features. All of it amplified by how long it had been ignored. “Go... get some sleep. We can start looking for someone else to take over, tomorrow...if that's what you really want.”

With that, he led himself to his room. Leaving you to rest on the couch. Trying to decide if that's what you really needed.

–

“Morning, sleepy,” You whisked the batter. Working to get it as smooth as you could. Zeppelin rubbed his eyes deeply. The green dinosaur pajamas seemed shorter than they'd been the night before. He was growing fast. He'd need more soon. “Blueberries in your pancakes?” A tired nod was your answer as Arrow trailed behind in her favorite Elsa covered nightgown. “Chocolate chips?” Another sleepy, head bob followed. Justice Jay wasn't quite as easy. She was filled with seven year old independence. Ignoring the clothes you'd set out the night before in a way that only a strong headed child could. Instead, donning herself in a purple top with yellow leggings. Her hair, all but the back, brushed neatly. “Strawberries?”

“I can do it,” Her eyes turned up to look into yours. Demanding independence. After all, she was woman of the house, now.

You simply nodded, handing over a bowl of batter and the strawberries she wanted. They were pre-cut. All she had to do is mix the two together. You even let her flip them; feeling more than generous. It was the weekend, after all. And she needed to feel in control of something. Her mood increased slowly, but surely. Maybe I'm onto something...

“Smells good,” Jensen's lips smacked as he walked into the room, as you served up the first round of food.

His casual clothes were less wrinkled than the day before. He seemed more alert. Less like a bottle waiting to explode. The crying, despite how much everyone hated it, was good at clearing some of the pain. At least, enough to make everyone semi-functional.

“Good,” You gestured as you poured a bit of batter from each bowl onto the griddle. “Eat.”

“What about you?” His brows snapped together.

Gone was the mess he'd witnessed the night before. Mostly. The bags still rested beneath your eyes- something he hadn't noticed until tears had caught on them. However, he couldn't help but to zero in on every detail.

“I'll eat in a minute. I'm almost done.” The spatula waved his way. Killing any hope of him taking over. “Now, you eat.”

“Yes, ma'am,” He grumbled, sitting down with his children. Muttering about you being a bully to earn little giggles.

Slowly their personalities began emerging for what felt like the first time in forever. Zep was making zooming noises as he splashed his plane shaped- or as close to it as you could replicate- pancake into his syrup. Arrow was humming to herself, kicking her feet. Spreading more than enough butter across her crown shaped breaded breakfast- princesses were her current favorite thing. Dark hair bouncing on her head as she moved. Little J. Bird was telling her daddy about the animals they'd seen on their school outing the day before. And Jensen? He was enthralled. Giving her every bit of the attention she needed.

Your lips tugged up as you pictured Danneel watching over her family in the back. Her little content smile resting on her face as she looked at all of those she loved. She'd be leaning against the counter, ankles crossed with a headband holding back the hair that escaped her bun. Happy as a lark.

With a deep breath, you walked over to the table with the second plate to ensure that everyone got their helpings. When Jensen's eyes met yours again, he mouthed 'thank you'. You sent back a 'you're welcome' quietly before turning back to Zeppelin as he let out a mini roar, seeking the attention on him. In that moment, you understood. You weren't going anywhere...

Part Two

@winchester-ofthe-lord​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​

[mopeytropey]

What if I told you that I received so many lovely messages about fond apu memories and autumnal weather ... that I felt inspired to write some bonus content about our two, favorite beer nerds?

Well, you’re in luck. Because I did.

“Hey, babe!”

Clarke’s voice greets her from out of sight as Lexa toes off her running shoes without bothering to untie them. She deposits them neatly, beside a pair of Clarke’s shoes, against the wall of the entryway as the front door clicks shut. Frank, their recently adopted rescue, comes skittering across the tiled flooring in a bundle of excitement, panting and pushing his cold, black nose into Lexa’s calf muscle. Squatting to her haunches with a grin, she scratches the ringlets of white fur behind his lopsided ears.

When she rounds the open doorway into the kitchen, Clarke is stood at the island chopping fresh herbs. The air is fragrant and the kitchen is warm, awash in bright, morning sunlight that reflects off the harbor. Music plays softly and Clarke is radiant. Lexa smiles.

“Hey.”

“How was the run?” Clarke asks without looking up from the cutting board.

Lexa heads for the fridge to remove a canteen of water. “It was good. The temperature along the water is perfect today.”

“I miss summer,” Clarke sighs and nearly pouts.

“You love the fall.” Lexa takes small, measured sips then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s your most preferred season. You haven’t stopped talking about the foliage along High Street for weeks.”

“Still, I miss summer. The boat. The beach.”

“Clarke, it was practically summer weather last weekend. We were on the boat for hours on Saturday.”

Clarke’s pout intensifies. “Bikinis.”

This produces an actual laugh, and Lexa shakes her head. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll parade around in swimsuits in the dead of winter. You keep it warm enough in here.”

Clarke’s face breaks into a bright smile as she looks up from her chopping. “Promise?”

Lexa smiles as she takes a longer sip of ice-cold water from her canteen. Clarke is dressed for the brunch they’ll be hosting shortly. Casual in her striped sleeveless top and fitted jeans, but nicer than her typical Sunday morning wardrobe of pajama shorts and baggy tee shirts. Nice enough for Lexa to take notice.

“It smells good in here,” she says, moving closer to where Clarke is stood chopping. A hand finds its way beneath the loose hem of Clarke shirt as Lexa’s mouth softly touches Clarke’s bare shoulder. “And, you look nice.”

“Oh my god—you’re so sweaty.” Clarke squirms from Lexa’s touch with a laugh, all the more incentive to move in closer, bodily pinning her against the edge of the island. “Lexa!”

Laughing, she finally steps away as Clarke turns from the counter with an expression that some might mistake for exasperation. Three years on, Lexa knows better. Still smiling, she takes another pull off the water bottle before using the hem of her shirt to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Good, you stink,” Clarke laughs, poking a finger against Lexa’s bared abdomen just before her damp running shirt drops back into place. “And, your shirt is soaked. I love you, but I’m not changing my outfit just because all that adrenaline has made you handsy.”

Lexa heads for the stairs with a laugh. “Drenched in sweat from a long run used to do it for you, you know.”

She pulls her shirt over her head as she climbs, stopping at the landing to turn towards Clarke who has trailed behind her and paused at the base of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, I’m definitely still appreciating the view …  from afar.”

Lexa’s aim is impeccable. The damp shirt hits Clarke square in the face as she squeals in disgust, and Frank barks while dancing at her feet. Lexa laughs all the way to the shower.

:::

“Better?”

Clarke looks up from the big block cutting board with a smile as Lexa shuffles into the kitchen for a second time. She is now slicing strawberries and mangoes, and Lexa does a slow spin as if to show off her clean clothes and freshly blow-dried curls.

Clarke leans forward, wordlessly requesting a quick kiss, and then hums against Lexa’s mouth when she closes the distance. “Well, you definitely smell better,” she says as they separate.

“What can I do?” Lexa surveys Clarke’s array of prep stations along the island countertop—freshly diced fruit, ramekins of chopped herbs, and blocks of cheese, waiting to be grated. Aromas of ground coffee brewing and warm pastries baking have begun to fill the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

She is still mostly relegated to making fried eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches for them to eat, but over the years Lexa has found her place in the kitchen. Clarke is as efficient as she is talented as a home chef, but she always appreciates Lexa’s company as she cooks. She often works alongside Clarke as an adequate sous chef.

“Grate that cheese for me, and I’ll do dirty things to you later.”

Lexa responds to Clarke’s titillating grin with an arched brow and smirk of her own. “Go on.”

“Honestly, after we survive this brunch, I fully plan to do dirty things with you either way.” Clarke widens her grin and bats her eyelashes. “But, the grating would still be very much appreciated.”

Lexa returns her smile while reaching for a wedge of cheese. “Okay, how much of these do you need?”

“I would do half a block of the gruyere and fontina, go heavy on the sharp cheddar.”

Lexa begins her task, dropping a few shreds of cheese to the floor where Frank sits expectantly, tail wagging against the wood floors like a miniature dry mop.

“I saw that.”

Lexa smiles over at Clarke, whose eyes remain on her knife as it deftly slices a strawberry. “Saw what?”

Moments of comforting silence pass, and then Clarke releases a long-suffering sigh. “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“What’s got you feeling so anxious?”

“I’m not anxious just … anticipatory.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting anxious,” Lexa counters. And then, her voice softens to gentle concern. “We’ve hosted brunch a hundred times, Clarke.”

“Okay, but you know this brunch, in particular, is going to be different. You don’t feel at all anxious?”

Poised to respond, Lexa sets down the cheese grater and opens her mouth just as Clarke continues to ramble on with her train of thought.

“Of course you don’t feel anxious—you’re the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met. How many times in your life have you been nervous about anything? Twice?”

Smiling warmly, Lexa shrugs. “At least three times.” Her eyes slide to the bowl of fruit that she knows Clarke has been marinating in a light but sugary glaze of orange liqueur. “How much of that fruit do you think we’d have to eat to feel a little drunk? Or, I could slip some amaretto into your coffee.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Clarke laughs. “You know that if Abby shows up to a social event and can tell that I’ve been drinking before any guests have arrived, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lexa moves in closer, and this time, feels Clarke sink against her as arms coil around her waist. She kisses Clarke’s hairline, the skin of her shoulder. Tender endearments that she has expressed hundreds of times.  She inhales as Clarke exhales, a synthesis of their familiar proximity.

This feels different, Lexa thinks.

There is a subtle distinction that buzzes through her, warming her skin and causing her stomach to flutter. An embrace that could be almost perfunctory at this stage, is somehow much more. She wonders briefly if Clarke feels it too.

“I love you.”

“That helps,” Clarke mumbles, having nestled into the crook of Lexa’s neck and shoulder.

Lexa takes a quick breath, settling the nerves that she conceals too well. “And, Frank loves you too.”

She glances down to the floor, Clarke’s gaze quickly following, to see their fluffy companion bumping against their shins, not wanting to be left out of the affection.

“Oh, I love you too, Frank!” Clarke squats, cooing as she accepts sloppy kisses and scoops the small, eager pup into her arms, her anxieties momentarily forgotten.

:::

“Which one of you is pregnant?”

“Raven …”

Clarke is always scolding, exasperated, appalled, or any combination of all three, and Lexa doesn’t know why she still bothers. In all the years that she’s known her, Raven has never once been cowed to socially appropriate conversations no matter the reprimand.

“Don’t get mad at me—you’re the one who’s acting weird.” Raven sits across from them with a calculating stare, flanked by Lincoln and Anya and wielding her fork like a weapon. The tines point accusingly at she and Clarke as Raven says, “Something is up.”

Lexa’s gaze flicks to Anya for any hint of culpability. To no surprise, her face remains placid and untelling.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not pregnant!”

“Esquire?”

“No one is pregnant,” Clarke reiterates.

The oblong dining table is overflowing with food and drinks. Clarke’s mother, who sits beside Lexa, makes an appreciative sound as she takes a bite of quiche.

“This is wonderful, Clarke.”

Clarke offers a grateful smile for Abby’s efforts to redirect the conversation, but the end result is predictably futile. Raven’s lines of questioning are often like a speeding, unmanned freight train. Virtually unstoppable.

“The food really is excellent,” Lincoln echoes with his soft smile.

“Quiet, you,” Raven snaps playfully. “Come on, Griffin. Spill.”

Beneath the table, Lexa finds Clarke’s fingers.

“We wanted you all here to tell you that—“ Clarke exhales, squeezing Lexa’s fingers. “Lexa and I got married.”

The house falls quiet for three, tense seconds, and then Octavia speaks, her voice taking on a sharp tone of mistrust.

“You mean you’re getting married.”

“We were married last week,” Lexa corrects with an easy smile.

Octavia blinks slowly, her gaze calculating between the two of them. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Clarke answers, the waver in her voice beginning to settle now that they’ve aired this secret to their closest friends. “In New York.”

Early autumn in her city. Lingering summer warmth but with a touch of color on all the trees in the parks. The promise of changing seasons ahead. Clarke stood in the courthouse in jeans and one of Lexa’s favorite tee shirts, wearing the brightest smile Lexa has ever seen. It was nothing she had ever planned for herself and somehow everything she had ever wanted in a ceremonial exchange of vows. That it was Clarke sat beside her, signing her name just below Lexa’s, no doubt made all the difference.

“You run away to New York,” Raven is saying, “exchange some secret nuptials, slink back into town as if nothing has changed—“

“Okay, you’re being a little dramatic. The plan wasn’t really that nefarious,” Clarke says.

“—and then wait an entire week to tell us?”

Lexa tries very hard not to be entertained by Raven’s exasperation, but she finds herself fighting a smile as Clarke’s best friend struggles to work out the new information.

“You were on that extended project at work,” Clarke reminds her.

“I was in Rhode Island, not orbiting in space.”

“To be fair,” Octavia chimes in, “you never check your phone when you’re locked into a project.”

“You could have texted me,” Raven argues.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I got married over text!”

Lexa watches the pure shock and mild affront ebb from Raven’s features. “Oh my god, you’re married.”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles, squeezing again to Lexa’s fingers.

“Hang on, why are you not more shocked by this?” Raven has turned her attention to Abby, who sits at Lexa’s right-hand side.

“Oh,” Clarke clears her throat after finishing a sip of her mimosa. “My mom was there.”

“Clarke asked for my discretion,” Abby responds calmly. “Of course I deferred to hers and Lexa’s wishes.”

“I can’t believe,” Raven says to Abby in dismay, shaking her head like an unforgiving betrayal, “after all these years, you’re still playing favorites with Clarke by keeping secrets from your other children.”

At this, Abby laughs and the atmosphere around the table decompresses. Lincoln extends his glass across the table towards Lexa.

“Cheers, buddy. Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.” Lexa smiles, clinking their glasses together. Clarke’s hand is still in hers, and Lexa’s palm suddenly perspires.

“Yeah, took you two long enough.” Octavia’s grin is smaller, more resigned, but she too extends her glass to join Lexa’s and Lincoln’s.

“Can you estimate just how long you plan to sulk about this?” Clarke is saying to Raven as everyone else tucks into their food.

Raven clicks her tongue, though she is smiling as she says, “Ten, fifteen years tops.”

Anya has had her arm draped carelessly along the back of Raven’s chair since they sat down, and now briefly runs her fingers across Raven’s shoulder cap. “Relax, I got some pretty nice photos of the courthouse I can show you.”

Raven nearly flinches in surprise. “You were—ugh, of course you were there.” She huffs in defeat, rolling her eyes and reaching for her half-empty glass of champagne and orange juice (heavy on the champagne). “Okay, somebody needs to get me a refill because I need all the details and this mimosa is going to go down quickly.”

“It was simple and more-or-less unplanned,” Clarke explains with an easy sigh. “We drove down last weekend to visit Gus. My mom was already there on business, and … it just felt right.”

Lexa picks up the thread where Clarke leaves off. “We chose the courthouse where Gus signed the papers to make my adoption official.” She looks at Clarke, heart flapping wildly. “It was nice.”

Something softens in Raven’s features at Lexa’s words, and she exhales as Anya is refilling her glass. “Okay, that is some cute shit.”

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” Clarke frets.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. You surprised the ever-loving hell out of me, but—I mean, jesus, you two have been grossing us out as a married couple for years.”

Clarke blows a kiss at her from across the table. “Next time I get married on a whim, I’ll text you.”

The humor drops from Raven’s face as she places a hand flat against the table. “I swear on my love of science, Clarke, if you ever soil this marriage with Esquire, I will seriously consider blocking your number indefinitely.”

Lexa grins, oddly comforted by Raven’s threatening tone. “Thanks, Reyes.”

“I’m obviously kidding!” Clarke leans over to kiss the line of Lexa’s jaw as if to underscore her joke.

“Okay, so let’s hear it. Tell me more,” Raven demands.

Lexa smiles, remembering the day. “Gus took us out for ramen afterwards.”

“Then I took them out for shots,” Anya says.

“It really was quite lovely,” Abby chimes in, understandably eager to finally have the freedom to speak of their nuptials. “The courthouse, I mean. And dinner. I’d rather not know about all the drinking that followed.”

“Aw come on, Mama Griffin. You know you’ve got some good kids,” Octavia says.

Abby agrees without hesitation. “The very best.”

Lexa feels her chest bloom with warmth to be included in the sentiment, and luckier still to have acquired such a profoundly superior family.

:::

Clarke, her mother, and their other guests have moved into the sitting room while Lexa tidies the kitchen. Still within earshot, she listens for the bright notes of Clarke’s laughter and curbs her own smile at the sound. Anya hands her items off the dining table while Lexa wraps the leftovers and loads the dishwasher. The routine between them is practiced and familiar, running through motions they have done together since childhood.  

“Keeping this little secret of yours is going to have me in the dog house. No offense, Frank.” Anya looks to the dog that has fallen asleep near their feet where she and Lexa are leaned against the island.

The kitchen now more-or-less spotless, Lexa pushes off the countertop and reaches into the fridge for two beers, popping their lids before offering one to her sister.

“My condolences,” she answers with a grin. “When do you go back?”

“Few days.”

Lexa sips her beer. “Plenty of time to reconcile then. Anyway, she doesn’t seem upset anymore.”

“At you and Clarke, no. At me?” Anya runs a hand through her hair with a long-suffering exhale that brings a smile to Lexa’s face.

She is easily amused by seeing Anya—so stoic, so stable, so disaffected by almost everything else in her life—navigate the delicate nuances of a sustained relationship. Particularly with Raven Reyes.

“What?” Anya scowls as she notices Lexa’s amusement.

Lexa shrugs, finishing another sip of beer. “Nothing. You’re just very domesticated these days.”

“Says the married one.”

Lexa’s stomach jumps as she thinks of Clarke sitting in the next room. “It’s not so bad. You should try it.”

“It’s been seven days, kid. Talk to me in seven years.”

“I will.”

Anya’s narrowed gaze moves from Lexa’s smug confidence to the floor. “Your dog is sleeping beside a Yankees emblem.”

Without turning around, Lexa knows she will find Frank curled around the offensive dog toy—a plush baseball with navy stitching, emblazoned with the infamous logo—that arrived to their house the day after the cursed New York baseball team made the playoffs. Her shoulders tense even as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s a situation that is being handled.”

“It looks like he’s fairly attached to it,” Anya prods.

“The dog’s sight is impaired, Anya. He cannot be held accountable for poor judgement.”

Frank, having lost an eye to irreparable damage before he was rescued, had immediately stolen Lexa’s heart. One look at him at the adoption event earlier that summer, and she knew he belonged with her and Clarke. They have been fairly inseparable ever since.

Anya very nearly smiles. “If you say so.”

“You’re involved in a serious, long-distance relationship with a devout supporter of the Yankees—is this really the fight you want to be having right now?”

A barely audible laugh—just loud enough for Lexa to hear it—and Anya concedes with a bowed head. “Clarke won’t let you throw it away, huh?”

Lexa takes another sip of beer then exhales in frustration, her eyes finally dragging over to Frank and that damn baseball. “No.”

:::

Brunch turns into beers and board games and more coffee, Abby excusing herself after a few hours to rest before her flight the following morning. She leaves them all with lingering hugs, motherly reminders to stay safe, and reiterated congratulations to Clarke and Lexa. By late afternoon, after another round of coffee for their guests, the house is finally empty and quiet, and Clarke collapses onto the sofa with a soft grunt of exhaustion.

Lexa sits at the opposite end, near her feet, and pulls Clarke’s legs into her lap. She begins to mindlessly rub her thumbs into Clarke’s calves as her head tips back and her eyes fall closed. They are peaceful for several minutes before Clarke’s voice scratches out softly.

“That went well.”

Lexa hums. “Raven’s outburst notwithstanding?”

“She was being really dramatic.”

“Have you met Raven before today?”

Clarke laughs, poking her foot into Lexa’s stomach. “Hush.”

At the sound of her laughter, Lexa’s head rolls to the side. She opens her eyes to find Clarke already looking at her with drowsy eyes. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

Clarke hums as Lexa’s hands continue to work against the tense muscles of her legs and feet.

“Is this impending nap just a precursor to you ravaging me later?”

“Mmm. Yes.” As Clarke smiles, her eyes fall closed again. “Need to restore energy.”

“Okay, I’m going to go read for a bit.”

Clarke pouts as Lexa shifts from under her legs and stands beside the couch to stretch her limbs.

“No. Stay and cuddle.”

Lexa bends to kiss Clarke’s protruding lip. “I’ll cuddle you later when we have less clothes on.”

“I feel objectified.” Still with her eyes closed, Clarke finds the crook of Lexa’s elbow, keeping her close with a loose grip.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa smiles, and kisses her again.

:::

It’s just under an hour later, the sky streaking in hues of burnt orange and fading pink, when Lexa glances up from her book to see Clarke shuffling towards her. She is still wrapped in a blanket that she must have grabbed from the sofa during her nap. Lexa smiles at her sleepy frown and places her book on the wide arm of the deck chair just before Clarke crawls onto her lap.

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

“Much warmer now,” Lexa says, hugging Clarke closer as they shift against the wooden chair to find an optimal snuggling position. “How was the nap?”

“Mmm,” Clarke hums. “Productive.”

Her voice is that fraction of an octave lower, that sensational rasp that sends a tingling chill across Lexa’s shoulders.

“Productive?”

“Yeah, I had a nice dream about my wife.”

Lexa can’t help the small giggle that erupts as the tips of her ears go red. It will take some getting used to—having a wife, being someone’s wife—referring to Clarke as such and hearing the same in return. Thinking of herself in this way still feels a bit like walking around in shoes that are too big for her feet. A week on, and being Clarke’s wife has not yet lost its clumsy weight.

A nervous energy, not unlike the jittery uncertainties that new relationships breed, has been Lexa’s stasis for a solid week. She likens this new adjustment to the flurry of unrestrained feelings she experienced during those early weeks with Clarke. When she first reached for Lexa’s hand in public without warning, or the effort it took to calm her anxious breathing when they undressed each other for the first time. Lexa’s nerves are similarly frayed now, replaying this new epithet in her mind over and over.

My wife. 

She focuses instead on Clarke’s potentially filthy dream and clears her throat. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

In response, Clarke laughs against her neck and kisses just below her ear. “I bet you would.”

The next kiss, pressed against Lexa’s mouth, is even more languid, growing a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. “So, about that dream.”

“Yeah—can we go inside now?” Clarke laughs against her lips, stealing another kiss as Lexa’s hands slip beneath the wooly throw blanket to find an excessive amount of bare skin. “I’m officially cold.”

“Clarke, you’re not wearing any pants.”

“You know I can’t fall asleep in jeans, babe.”

As she stands with a smile, nearly tipping Clarke out of her lap if not for a sure grip, Lexa thinks of all the other things she knows about the woman clinging to her shoulders.

Not just how she takes her coffee or her favorite movie, but the brand of dish soap she prefers and the way her voice shatters just before she cries. The slow rumble of her snores and the color of her eyes when they darken in a flash of anger.

That she is selfless to a fault, often putting her own wellness at risk for the sake of others. She knows the songs that Clarke refuses to listen to because they are such visceral reminders of Jake. Lexa knows when she needs space and the times she will want comfort, even if she is too scared to ask.

These and so many more—the myriad quirks that arise out of sustained intimacy.

Once indoors, Lexa deposits Clarke onto the bed before falling gracelessly beside her in a tangle of limbs.

“So, the big secret’s out. Everyone that matters knows that we’re married.” Lexa swallows. “How do you feel?”

Clarke rolls over with a sigh, her eyes scanning the ceiling above them. “Better. A lot better, actually.”

“Yeah? No turning back now. You’re officially stuck with me.”

Even as she jokes, her heart hammers a steady beat. The light teasing easily drags Clarke’s gaze back to her, and Lexa tempers her smile enough to accept a lingering press of Clarke’s mouth.

She answers as they slowly break apart, her hands latched at the back of Lexa’s neck. “I think we both know I was stuck with you a long time ago.”

:::

[jlalafics]

“You, soft and only, you lost and lonely”-an Everlark Halloween fic

This isn’t technically scary, but I was going for supernatural rom-com. Hopefully this lived up to that.

Happy Reading!

Summary: Peeta couldn’t remember who he was. However, he knew he didn’t want Katniss Everdeen invading his apartment. Based on the movie “Just Like Heaven”.

__________

Daylight licked me into shape

I must have been asleep for days

And moving lips to breathe her name

I opened up my eyes…

-The Cure

_________

Peeta hated driving in the rain. However, what he hated more was breaking promises.

Not to mention, Alba would never forgive him if he didn’t show up and she would get his sister on him as well.

Making a sharp right leading to the freeway, Peeta looked down at his pager quickly to make sure that there weren’t any pages coming in. Finding it completely silent, he turned up the music on his radio and prepared himself for a night of lectures and meatloaf—

He never even noticed the truck barreling towards the passenger side of his car.

++++++

“Cole! It’s time for dinner!”

Katniss set down the bowl of mac and cheese—her son’s favorite—onto the beautiful cherrywood dining table. She had been lucky to score an apartment so close to her new job and even luckier that it came fully furnished. Hopefully once everything slowed down, they could actually find time to make it a home.

Her son rushed into the room, all smiles and a G.I. Joe action figure in tow. “I’m starving…but can I eat in my room?���

“Are you not finished unpacking?” Katniss asked the young boy, her hand pushing his dark locks from his stone colored eyes.

“No, I want to eat with my new friend,” Cole informed her with a beatific smile. “He likes mac and cheese, too.”

Katniss nodded in understanding. Cole was getting to the age when imaginary friends came into play. Also, for now, he was the new kid in town.

“Does your…friend want a bowl as well?”

“Yes, please.”

Taking a bowl from the open moving box, she scooped a spoonful and handed the bowl to her son.

“That’s not going to be enough, Mommy,” he replied. “He’s a big guy, you know.”

“Oh—” Katniss scooped a little bit more. “How about this?”

Examining the bowl, Cole nodded in approval before taking the bowls and rushing down the hallway toward his new bedroom.

“Here you go, Pe—”

He shut the door before Katniss could catch his words.

“Huh…it’s a he.”

Scooping a bowl for herself, Katniss settled in for a lone dinner of mac and cheese.

And, maybe a glass of wine.

++++++

It was during her fourth glass of wine that Katniss started to get curious about the previous owner. Cole was long asleep—after three stories and one lullaby—and in his own words, dreaming of going to Hogwarts instead of a regular old school.

Katniss couldn’t recall when she had told him anything about Harry Potter.

She began to peek around each room, pulling drawers open, and peeking into cabinets. When Katniss went into the master bedroom, she went immediately to the closet—a tiny thing, really—and looked inside. There was a single shelf at the top and a rack below it. She reached up, her hand moving over the dusty surface when she felt the familiar coarseness of paper.

Pulling it down, Katniss looked at the crayon scrawling of two people, a little girl and a man in a meadow with a house in the back. The sun, of course, was obscenely large.

“Why do children always draw the sun so big?” she whispered, her fingers tracing the writing on the picture’s corner. “From Alba…”

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Katniss whipped around at the deep timbre of a man’s voice, her heart practically exploding from her ribcage.

There was no one there.

“Shit,” she breathed out. “How much wine did I drink?”

The windows were shut and there were no vents that might allow a neighbor’s voice to invade her bedroom. Katniss walked out of the room, quickly checking on a serenely sleeping Cole, then down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen.

Nothing but deathly silence.

Going back into the kitchen, her eyes focused on the wine bottle, still mostly full. She felt her anxiety abate and her hand reached for the bottle—

“Do you really need a fifth glass?”

“Okay.” Katniss put her hands up in surrender; the wine was obviously laced with something. “I’m going to bed.”

That would be the last time that she would buy wine from a discount mart.

++++++

The girl was a damn lush.

The boy, Cole, was not so bad.

He watched her from…wherever…take over his apartment with tacky plush pillows with generic sayings and frilly pillows on his king-size mattress. The quilt—he cringed thinking how somewhere his Calvin Klein sheets were probably lying in wait—was multi-colored and so…old.

She was preparing dinner—lasagna—and he was suddenly aware that he could not smell the melted mozzarella that accompanied the dish, nor could he feel the heat emanating from the oven as the woman leaned down to pull out the steaming tray.

He had to admit—she had a nice ass.

Somewhere in the distance…there was a faint beep…then he could feel it.

He was fading again.

Peeta was no more.

++++++

“You look horrible.”

Katniss turned to her fellow nurse, Johanna, and glared.

“Gee, thanks. You’re making me feel real good about the transfer.” However, she went to the coffee machine across from the nurses station. “I haven’t been sleeping well since the move.”

“What? Is the place haunted or something?” Johanna sat down at her computer to begin her reports.

“Maybe.” Katniss took a long sip from the scalding coffee; she was going to feel that later. For now, she needed it to get through her shift. “Sometimes, I think I’m hearing things…but I don’t know if it’s the wine or stress. Also, lately I’ve been feeling…judged.”

Johanna raised a brow. “How?”

“Like there’s this aura of disapproval in the apartment,” Katniss explained.

“So, your apartment hates you?” Johanna supplied. “I’m sure that you’re just settling in.”

“Probably,” she responded. “I mean, it would be really uncomfortable if someone was there during my ‘lonely’ nights.” Her cell phone started ringing from her scrubs and Katniss looked at the screen. “It’s Cole’s school.” She picked up quickly. “Hello?”

“Miss Everdeen? This is Alma Coin, Principal of Panem Elementary. We have a…situation with your son and we’ll need you to come immediately.”

Katniss felt a prickle of fear rush down to her stomach. “Is Cole alright?”

“Other than the cut lip, he is fine,” the woman assured her tersely.

“I’ll be right over,” Katniss assured her and hung up. “Shit.” She turned to Johanna. “Cole is in trouble.”

“Go.” Johanna waved her off. “I’ll find someone to cover you today.”

“You’re the best,” Katniss told her gratefully.

“No, I’m just the head nurse,” her friend replied. “Go!”

+++++++

Katniss opened the door to their apartment, leading her son in quickly. “On the couch. Now.”

Cole flopped on the couch, arms folded and his late father’s scowl on his face.

“Now…” Katniss joined him on the couch. “Can we talk about why you hit that boy?”

“He was making fun of one of the girls in my class,” Cole explained. “So, Peeta told me to hit him.”

“Peeta? Is he another boy in your class?” she asked curiously.

“No. He’s my friend,” her son replied. “The one who plays action figures with me.”

Her spine stiffened at the thought of Cole’s ‘friend’.

“Sweetie, you can’t blame what you did on your invisible friend,” Katniss explained as calmly as she could.

Cole shot up from his seat. “Peeta is real! He’s my only friend here!”

“Well, if that’s the kind of friend you have, then I don’t think you two should be friends anymore,” she responded firmly.

“I hate you!” Her son’s face was wet with tears. “I wish we never came here! Daddy would have never made us leave our house!”

Katniss knelt before him, her own mouth beginning to tremble.

“I know.” Her hands went to Cole’s shoulders. “I wish we could’ve stayed, too—”

Her son let out one plaintive sob before turning and running off towards the hallway. Katniss cringed hearing the door of his bedroom slam shut.

“Don’t cry,” she hissed to herself.

The tears came anyway, and Katniss angrily wiped them away. She hated herself for letting things get all out of control…for losing their house to pay off Gale’s medical bills…for losing her job because there weren’t enough hours in a day to be a widow and a newly-single mother—

Getting up, her feet took her to the kitchen where her shaking hands reached for the fridge door, ready to open the Moscato chilling in the back—

“If I knew you well enough, I would probably tell you that you have an obvious drinking problem.”

Katniss jumped, turning quickly to find a sandy-haired man standing in her kitchen.

++++++

“H-How did you get in here?”

Peeta searched his mind; he couldn’t quite figure it out. He just blinked and suddenly he was watching the boy’s mother reaching into the fridge for one of her many wine bottles.

He shrugged. “Not sure. What I do know is that you’re squatting in my apartment.”

“No, it’s my apartment,” she said in a tight voice. “Now, how did you get in?”

“How one usually gets in,” Peeta told her. However, he felt at his pants pocket and couldn’t find his keys. “Where are my keys?” He glared at the woman. “What did you do with them?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Katniss replied. She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out her keys. “But I have my set…” Backing herself against the kitchen counter, Katniss reached behind and, feeling around for the first solid object, presented it to the man before her. “Now, get out of my house or I’ll—”

Peeta smirked. “Ladle me to death?” He approached her boldly. “Also, that’s my ladle.”

Without thought, Katniss swung and Peeta reached to block her hit.

Only he couldn’t.

Because the head of the ladle went right through his hand.

His blue eyes widened in shock. “What the hell?”

Then, just like that, Peeta disappeared.

++++++

“Explain this to me again?”

Katniss, her grey eyes wide with terror, stopped mid-rock on the couch before looking to Johanna.

“There was a guy in my apartment, and he said that it was his…so I reached for the first thing I could find—a ladle—and it just went right through his hand!” She took a sip of water from the glass that she held; there was no way that alcohol would be touching her lips tonight. “Then, he vanished!”

“Katniss.” Johanna sat down next to her, eyes roving over her trembling friend. “You’ve been going through a lot lately, with the move and Cole trying to adjust. I mean, have you been getting any sleep?”

“I sleep…kind of.”

“And, have you been drinking more than usual?”

Katniss tried not to think of the condescending ghost who scolded her for her nightly wine glasses.

“Not more than usual,” she informed Johanna.

“I think you might need to see someone…like a priest or a counselor...or just anyone to talk to,” Johanna told her gently. “These hallucinations are not good for you.”

“He’s not a hallucination,” Katniss argued.

Johanna looked at her doubtfully. “Maybe not. Either way, this isn’t healthy.” She stood up. “You need some more time off—get this situation figured out and get back to work okay. I’ll just let the hospital know that there was…a home issue.”

Katniss nodded tiredly. “Thanks.”

Her friend went to the door before suddenly turning to her.

“You know, if this ghost is real, then there’s a reason he’s stuck here,” Johanna said. “You might want to figure out what it is if you want some peace of your own.”

Katniss snorted in response. “Great—a week of exorcisms.”

“Or watching Ghost Whisperer,” Johanna cracked. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Her friend closed the front door behind her, leaving Katniss to the silence of her apartment.

Getting up, she went to check on Cole and found him fast asleep. Walking into his room, her hand found its way to his soft locks and Katniss leaned down to press a kiss to his temple.

“Mommy?”

“Hey kiddo.” She smiled gently at him. “Just checking on you. I know that our last conversation didn’t go so well.”

“I’m sorry.” Cole’s eyes shone up at her and he blinked, letting his tears fall. “I miss Daddy.”

“Oh baby…I miss him, too,” Katniss said thickly. “But he wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad either,” her son told her.

“So, we’re just going to have figure out how to get out of the sads, right?” Katniss pressed a kiss to his cheek, blowing a raspberry and making Cole giggle. “Tomorrow, we’ll start to make some plans—maybe decorate your room and make this place our own?”

Cole nodded excitedly. “Yes, Mommy!”

“Now back to bed.” Katniss pulled the blanket over his shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

She gave him one last kiss before getting up.

As Katniss reached the doorway, something came to her mind.

“Cole?”

“Yes, Mommy?”

“What does your friend Peeta look like?”

“He has yellow hair and blue eyes…he’s tall, but not as tall as Daddy was.” Cole looked at her, his eyes beginning to droop as a yawn escaped his lips. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Good night, sweetheart.”

Closing the door behind her, Katniss went to the kitchen.

Was she really going to try this? This would really solidify that she was most likely having a mental breakdown.

Taking a deep breath, Katniss closed her eyes and called out, “Peeta?”

Nothing.

“Peeta? I’m sorry for trying to hit you with a ladle…” She walked around the kitchen, trying to see if she could catch a glimmer of a spirit. “I think you know my son, Cole. He gave you mac and cheese.”

Silence.

Katniss went towards the fridge.

“I think I’m just going to have one glass of wi—”

“There you go again with the booze!”

Got him.

Turning, she found herself looking at what seemed like a solidly formed Peeta. He wore a simple pair of dark grey slacks and a white button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up and she looked at his forearms to see if there were any distinguishing features.

Katniss could see nothing but smooth skin and faint blue veins running along to his wrists.

“I’m Katniss.” She sat down at the table next to the fridge. “You must be Peeta.”

After a moment, Peeta nodded. “I am.”

“What’s your last name?”

He looked at her for a moment and in the depths of his cerulean eyes, Katniss could practically see him searching for the answer.

Finally, Peeta replied. “I don’t know.”

“Have a seat.” Katniss gestured at the chair across and was surprised when he easily joined her. “I think I can help you find out what’s going on. However, I think you’re just going to have to acknowledge and accept one thing—you’re dead.”

++++++

Dead?

He couldn’t be!

“How can I be dead?” He looked to the woman in front of him. “I have no recollection of it happening or any events leading up to it.”

“The dead often don’t know that they are,” Katniss replied calmly. “I think that what you need is…to go into the light.”

Peeta looked around in confusion. “What light?”

“You don’t see any sort of portal?” she asked. “Like something from above…or below?”

“No and definitely no,” Peeta argued. “I’m not dead.”

“Then why can’t you tell me anything about yourself?” Katniss’ eyes, smoky and deep, peered deep into whatever kind of being he was. “Can you remember anything from the past few days?”

“No.” He sunk into his seat. “It’s like I’m here…and then I’m not.”

Katniss looked at him with sympathy. “Maybe this is limbo?”

“Or maybe I’m not dead!” he burst out.

“Okay…okay—don’t wake Cole!”

“Cole is your son.”

“Yes.”

“And, where’s his Dad?”

Katniss’ eyes shone with pain and he wanted to shake himself for being so crass.

“He’s wherever I guess you were supposed to go,” she said somberly.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta attempted a smile. “Cole’s a good kid.”

“By the way, thanks for telling him to hit that kid.” Katniss glared at him. “I had to miss a day of work to get lectured by his principal.”

“That kid was being mean to A—” He stopped and she straightened, watching his expression. “It’s like the memory is there, but I just can’t reach it.”

“So, you have some sort of ghost amnesia.”

“I’m not a ghost!”

“Okay, a corporal being amnesia,” Katniss said, trying to maintain peace. “I have some time off because my friend and co-worker thinks I’m delusional—thanks a lot—so maybe I can start asking around the building about you.”

“That sounds good.”

“Hey Peeta?” Katniss’ expression suddenly flushed. “You haven’t watched me at other times, right? Like not on Wednesday nights around 11:00?”

“No.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“But your vibrator is pretty loud so I really wouldn’t need to look to know what you are doing.”

Katniss scowled; her face bright with embarrassment. “Damn you!”

It probably wasn’t the best time for him to mention the few times that he may have peeked in during her shower time.

++++++

“Oh, the guy upstairs.” The woman leaned against her doorway in thought. “Yeah, I don’t recall ever seeing him. Actually, for a while, I didn’t even know that someone lived up there.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” Katniss said before she bid her goodbye. She looked to the man beside her. “Did you talk to anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Peeta replied with a shrug. “I think I’m a friendly person.”

Katniss didn’t even attempt to hide her eye roll. “I’m sure you were.”

She walked up to the next door and knocked.

The man who suddenly stood before them seemed to be glistening, his upper body highlighted and contoured to show every single abdominal muscle on his golden skin.

“Hi!” He gave Katniss a bright grin, revealing straight, blindingly white teeth. “How can I help you?”

Katniss started. “Oh…yeah hi. I just moved into the apartment on the third floor and was wondering if you knew anything about the guy who lived there.”

“I think I ran into him once…seemed like the kind of person who was just too busy to give anyone else a second thought…” He thought for a moment. “A little cold, too.”

“Hey!” Peeta was genuinely offended. “Doesn’t anyone have anything nice to say about me?”

“Like he was someone who’d kick a puppy?” Katniss asked, a gleam in her eye.

“Exactly!” The man let out a riotous laugh. “I’m Marvel, by the way.”

“Katniss.” She shook his hand. “I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe we could have dinner sometime,” Marvel suggested.

“Really? This guy?” Peeta scoffed. “Yeah, he’s jacked but who the hell is walking around shirtless and oiled up on a weekday afternoon?”

“I’ll think about it,” Katniss said congenially.

“She has a kid!” Peeta yelled into the man’s ear.

Marvel touched at his lobe. “Weird. Got a buzzing in my ear…” He smiled easily. “I’ll see you around.”

“Better go add more oil to your arms. You’re starting to look less than perfect,” Peeta called out.

The door closed and Katniss turned to him. “Are you seriously jealous?”

“Of the meathead?” He shook his head vigorously. “Never.”

Katniss laughed as they continued down the hallway.

“I have to pick up Cole. I don’t know the whole logistics of ghosts, but can you leave the building?”

She walked out of the front door and held it open for him before walking down the stairs.

Peeta easily followed her onto the sidewalk.

“I guess I’m okay.”

The two began their walk and Katniss examined the man beside her. He seemed so real. The light of the sun still hit his skin and she could see that small glisten of sweat above his upper lip. In death, didn’t bodily functions usually cease?

“What if I was a horrible person?” he suddenly asked. “Nobody in my own apartment building knew me. I didn’t participate in any neighborhood events or even open my door for trick-or-treaters. What kind of person was I?”

“I think you would be in a much different place if you were bad,” she told him. “We will find out who you are. Maybe I could call the landlord.”

“They would never give that information,” Peeta replied. “Confidentiality and such.”

They reached Cole’s school, sitting on a bench just across the street.

Panem Elementary was a beautiful building, all brick with its old school bell still hanging in the tower.

Peeta could appreciate old architecture—

A girlish laugh…crayon drawings…golden hair…

“I think I just had a memory.”

Katniss looked to him in shock. “Of what?”

“They were like flashes…of a laugh…golden hair…drawings—”

“Hi Mommy!” Cole rushed over to them, a bright smile on his little face. “Hi Peeta!”

“Hey kiddo,” Katniss stood up and took his hand. “You ready?”

Cole nodded but not before waving at the girl across the street, who waved back.

“Alba!”

The girl turned at the call and joined her mother, disappearing into the crowd of children.

++++++

“Maybe we could look around here?” Katniss said as they stepped into the apartment. “Can you tell me if the layout of the furniture is the same?”

“What are you doing?” Cole asked as he took off his jacket.

“Your mommy is trying to help me,” Peeta told him. “I think it looks the same…there were some photos on the mantle.” He struggled to remember what was in those frames. “I think they were a dark wood with carved designs along the borders.”

“That’s a start,” Katniss mused. “How about the kitchen?”

The trio went to the kitchen and looked around trying to see if there was a semblance of anything that spoke of the man who once lived in the apartment. Peeta surveyed the room, moving along the l-shape of the counters then to the fridge.

He turned to the mother and son. “Nothing.”

Katniss gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry.” She tapped her finger to her chin before pressing the pad of finger to her lip in thought. “I tried the landlord and he hasn’t been very helpful. Maybe I can do some internet research or ask my realtor…”

“Why don’t you look in the drawers?” Cole asked suddenly.

“I’m pretty sure they’re empty—or they should’ve been,” Katniss replied as she headed towards the closest drawers to her. “I mean, I haven’t been able to unpack everything but—”

She stopped suddenly at the piece of paper laying plainly inside the empty drawer.

Peeta joined her. “What is it?”

“A note.” She frowned as she picked up the paper. “I don’t know if this is your writing, but it’s atrocious!”

“Hey!” Peeta looked at the chicken scratch. Yes, it wasn’t the best penmanship, but he was feeling very attacked for someone who wasn’t sure if he was alive. “I might’ve been in a rush.”

Cole pulled his mother’s arm so he could see the note. “Is that a 2 or a 3?”

“I’m not sure,” Katniss replied and held the note to Peeta. “You try deciphering this.”

Peeta examined the words in front of him. “It says, ‘Buy wine. 14…2 Sun Valley Way’.”

“That’s not too far from here.” Katniss gave him an encouraged smile. “See? We’re getting somewhere!”

“Thanks to Cole.” Peeta looked down at the boy. “Thanks bud.”

“No problem.” Cole beamed up at him. “Will you help with my homework?”

“Sure.” Peeta looked to her, his blue eyes warm. “Thanks.”

She nodded, her face flushing. “Of course. We’ll go tomorrow after dropping Cole off at school.”

Peeta’s hand suddenly reached forward, stopping short of touching her hair.

He stepped back, eyes darting down. “There was some hair…out of place.”

Katniss tucked it quickly behind her ear. “Better?”

His eyes met hers. “Lovely.”

“Peeta…stare at Mommy later! Word problems wait for no one!”

Cole rushed off to his room.

“I better go.”

“Sure.” Katniss went to the fridge. “I’ll get dinner started.”

Peeta walked out of the room and she opened the door of the fridge, leaning in to look for a semblance of something to make for dinner.

And, to cool herself off.

++++++

Katniss stepped out of her car, looking around the neighborhood and then at the house in front of her. It looked like every other house on the block; two-storied with brick steps leading to a wide porch. There was nothing decorating the steps unlike some of the other houses sporting ghoulish decorations—Halloween was coming up in only two days.

“So, should we go up?”

She jumped at Peeta’s voice. “Shit—you need to stop popping up like that!”

“Sorry.” He grinned roguishly at her. “It comes with the spirit territory, I guess.”

Together, they walked up the steps and at the top, Katniss knocked on the door.

They waited hearing quick footsteps heading towards them.

Peeta let out a quick breath. “Here goes.”

The woman in front of them took them both by surprise—blonde, buxom, and wearing a crop top and leggings. “Hello.” She flashed a sparkling white smile at Katniss. “How can I help you?”

“Uh…I was wondering if you know a guy named Peeta.” Katniss looked quickly at the man next to her. “Blond, cerulean eyes, has a cute, crooked smile…”

Peeta smirked. “You think my smile is cute?”

“I know a lot of guys, sweetie,” the woman in front of them replied. “I don’t usually know them by name, though.”

Katniss looked to her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m not sure what your husband may have told you, but Cashmere does not do refunds,” the woman continued, her eyes narrowing at Katniss. “I did my service, discreetly I might add, and I was owed the money. I keep a quiet living in this neighborhood and don’t appreciate being harassed.”

She slammed the door before Katniss could say anything else.

“Oh my God…” She turned to Peeta. “Did you pay that woman for sex?”

“I don’t know!” he yelled as Katniss stomped towards the car. “I don’t remember anything!”

“You don’t remember if you were a pervert?” Katniss glared at him as she opened her door. “I mean, how could you not remember those tits?” She got inside her car and slammed the door shut. “They didn’t move at all…”

“Are you seriously jealous of that woman?”

She started, seeing Peeta suddenly sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“No…I am not jealous of Cashmere’s perfectly manufactured body. I am perfectly happy with my normal-moving boobs.” Katniss started the engine roughly. “And maybe I don’t have abs—but I really like fries and am way too busy to do crunches.”

“Hey.” Peeta raised his hands in surrender. “I agree. I like your regular boobs. Feel free to stop wearing bras in front of me.”

Katniss chuckled in spite of herself. “You really are a perv.”

Peeta grinned. “But you love that about me!”

She let out a peal of laughter before pulling out of the parking space and driving away.

The occupant of 143 Sun Valley Drive stepped out of her house, going to her mailbox to take out the mail. A gust of wind hit, causing blonde tendrils to fly in all directions and she quickly tucked her hair back. Her eyes went to the car heading out of the neighborhood.

Cashmere must have had another visitor.

++++++

“That’s not right, Mommy!”

Katniss looked up at Cole. “I’m not an artist, sweetheart.” She continued her work, biting her lower lip in concentration.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped, streaking the green shirt and then glared up at the man before her.

“I thought I would get more used to you just popping up like that!” Katniss groaned, looking down at the mess before her. “This doesn’t look good at all.”

Cole nodded. “I agree.”

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Peeta said as he examined her work. “Just add some shadowing here…here…and here.” He turned to Cole. “What are you supposed to be?”

“The Hulk!” Cole told him excitedly. “And, he has lots of muscles!”

“Okay, that explains why your mother is painting abs on your shirt.”

“Yeah, we’re going trick-or-treating!” The boy was practically bouncing. “Can you come with us?”

Peeta looked to the woman currently contouring the set of pecs on the shirt.

“If your mom says it’s okay.”

“Sure. I could use a second set of eyes on Cole,” she told him. “There.” Katniss held the shirt up in triumph. “Now, it just needs to dry.”

“Thanks Mommy!” Cole exclaimed. “I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

The boy rushed off to his room, shirt carefully held out so it could be hung to dry.

Katniss pushed herself up onto the couch and smiled ruefully at Peeta.

“This will be the first Halloween that he’s gone trick-or-treating since Gale,” she explained. “We’ve been kind of hiding out for the last two years. I wanted him to have something special and handmade.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Peeta said gently. He sat next to her.

“He just started to get these really bad headaches…” Katniss wrapped her arms around herself. “Then one day I got a call at work that he had a seizure—and before I knew it, he was gone.” She trembled, pulling herself in. “And we were alone.”

“It was tumor, wasn’t it?”

Katniss nodded as she sniffed back her tears.

“It grew quickly and just took over before we could even try to fight it.”

“I’m so sorry, Katniss,” he said softly. Something ached seeing her so broken. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“It’s alright,” she replied. “Just you sitting here is enough.”

Peeta felt tongue-tied as he spoke the words that he knew that he shouldn’t speak.

“I wish…I wish I could just…hold your hand…or let you cry on my shoulder.”

They fell silent.

Katniss shifted, moving closer to him.

“I wish that you could, too.”

++++++

The streets were littered with children. They had decided to come to neighborhood where the infamous Cashmere resided since it was apparently the place to be when it came to trick or treating. However, Katniss made it a point to avoid that side of the street altogether.

“Okay, I didn’t prepare for this craziness,” Peeta said as they moved past a set of crayons followed by a man in a ketchup bottle costume. “This is ridiculous.”

“Well, this is Halloween with a kid,” Katniss replied, twitching her painted nose.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked, eyeing her all-black ensemble.

Katniss shrugged. “A cat…or a mouse?”

“Mommy, I’m going there!” Cole pointed to the house with fake webbing on its hedges and ghoulish pumpkins along the staircase.

“Sure. Just wait for us,” she said before sprinting up the staircase to join Cole, who was already ringing the doorbell.

Peeta joined seconds later as they waited for someone to answer the door.

The door opened and a little blonde girl greeted them. She was wearing a pair of child-sized scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck and a head covering atop of her golden hair.

Something jarred Peeta’s senses.

“Trick-or-treat, Alba!” Cole greeted the girl happily.

“Alba Grace—I told you to wait for me before opening the door.” A pretty blonde-haired woman with bright-blue eyes greeted them with a wide smile and a bucket of candy in her hands. “Hello!” She put a handful of treats into Cole’s bag. “Cool costume.”

“Thanks,” Cole said shyly.

“I know her,” Peeta said suddenly.

Katniss fought the urge to look at him in front of the woman and her daughter.

“Mommy, Cole was the boy who protected me when Charlie Banks was being mean to me,” Alba informed her mother. “Cole punched him and almost got in big trouble—but not as much trouble as Charlie did.”

The woman looked to Cole. “Thank you so much.” Her eyes went to Katniss. “I’m really sorry that Cole got in trouble.”

“He was just doing what some other kid told him to do,” Katniss muttered. “I’m Katniss Haw—Everdeen.” She let out a breath before starting again. “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

“I’m Prim Masters,” the woman introduced herself. “Why don’t you come in? It’s just me and Alba for now. My husband, Cato, is an EMT and doing a late shift so he could have the day off tomorrow.”

“Come on, Cole. We have brownies!” Alba reached out and took the boy’s hand to pull him in.

“I guess we’re coming in.” Katniss said with a smile.

“Of course! Welcome!” Prim stood aside to let her in.

Peeta walked past the woman and a wave of familiarity hit, followed by a hard pounding in his ears.

“I know her, too,” he told Katniss.

They walked into the living room to find Cole and Alba sitting on the couch, brownies in their hands. As Peeta entered the room, he felt Alba’s eyes on him. She suddenly stood up to grab another brownie. However, instead of eating it, she placed it on a paper plate on the coffee table before meeting his eyes.

“I like your costume, Alba,” Katniss said.

“Thank you,” Alba replied sweetly. “I’m a doctor—like my Uncle!”

“Alba…” A pained warning came from Prim and Peeta felt the need to protect the grown woman.

The girl ignored her mother’s call and jumping from the couch, she took Katniss’ hand to pull her toward the mantle. She pointed to the set of photos, stopping at a picture of Prim and a young man in scrubs, grinning from ear to ear.

“See—this is my Uncle Peeta and my Mommy on his first day at Panem Hospital!”

Katniss froze seeing the photo and picture frame that surrounded it—dark wood with carvings along the edge of the frame.

++++++

“No wonder I told Cole to hit that kid,” Peeta said later that night. “I needed to protect my niece!”

“Prim looked shocked at the mention of you,” Katniss said as she opened her bedroom closet. “Honestly, I am too.” She turned to him, a piece of paper in her hands. “The first night that I heard you I found this.”

Katniss presented him with the drawing. “It’s from Alba.”

Peeta looked at the drawing over her shoulder and smiled.

“I remember this. Prim sent this to me last Christmas. Alba wanted me to remember her, so she drew a family picture,” he explained. “I couldn’t come home last year. I was always busy…and I think that’s why they moved here—so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“That must have been the reason that you were bringing wine to their house.”

Katniss laid back on her bed.

“Prim was very evasive about your whereabouts, but she looked upset.” She turned to the opposite side where Peeta perched himself. “What if you are dead?”

“Then I figure out why I’m here,” he told her simply. “You’re not going to miss me, are you?”

“I might,” she admitted, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “When Gale died, I lost everything. We had to sell the house and leave everything behind because of all the medical bills and funeral expenses. We weren’t prepared for the unexpected. I lost my job because I didn’t have enough accrued hours to go on leave to take care of everything.” Katniss let the tears fall. “It was a very low point for us.” She took in a shaky breath. “Then by some miracle, three months ago, Panem Hospital offered me a job—and I was able to get this apartment. It was like someone was watching over us.”

“I think it was Gale,” Peeta said softly. “Maybe he’s looking out for both of us because he knew that we needed help during this…transition.”

“Maybe—but Gale had a jealous streak so I don’t know why he would pick someone like you,” she retorted.

Peeta chuckled. “So, he was not into blonds?”

“He probably wouldn’t have picked anyone so McDreamy-ish.” Katniss looked to him, a grin on her lips. “Oh, just admit that you probably fancied yourself Panem Hospital’s version of Derek Shepherd!”

“I watched that show once and was a little intimidated by how good Patrick Dempsey looked.” Peeta shifted, resting back against the headboard. “No one really looks good in scrubs—except for you.”

Katniss smirked. “You like nurses?”

Peeta shook his head. “Nope”

She frowned.

Their eyes met and his mouth fell into that easy smile that shook Katniss to the core.

“Except the one lying next to me.”

++++++

Katniss returned to work the following Monday. Over the weekend, she and Peeta figured that he would come along so they could try to get information about what may have happened to him. They separated in the lobby where he would try and gather details about his time at Panem Hospital.

“It’s good to see you back,” Johanna greeted her when she reached the nurses’ station. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Katniss replied.

Truthfully, she felt much better.

She and Cole had an actual dinner last night, courtesy of the Mellark roast chicken recipe that Peeta happened to know by heart. Then, while he watched Cole, Katniss got to actually take a quiet bubble bath followed by her first restful sleep in a long time.

Johanna moved closer to her. “And…the ghost?”

Katniss could suddenly feel Peeta next to her.

“Johanna, was there a doctor named Peeta who worked here?”

Her friend’s face went stark white. “How do you know Dr. Mellark?”

“That’s my last name!” Peeta shouted. “I am Peeta Mellark!”

“Well…the ghost…is him,” she told Johanna. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t know him…but I know of him,” her friend replied. “Saw him around once in a while with his mentor.” Johanna’s dark eyes bore into her. “Is he really here?”

Katniss looked over to where Peeta stood right behind Johanna. “He’s right behind you.”

“Then how many fingers am I holding behind me?” Johanna retorted.

“Two,” Peeta told Katniss.

She met Johanna’s gaze. “Two.”

“How about now?”

Peeta was lightning fast in his response. “Five.”

“Five.”

Johanna was looking a little doubtful. “And, now?”

Peeta guffawed. “She’s giving me the middle finger.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “You’re giving him the finger.”

Johanna almost doubled over. “You can see a ghost.”

She nodded. “I can see a ghost.”

Johanna looked around.

“Well, sorry for messing with you, Dr. Mellark…also, sorry for checking out your ass that one time.”

Peeta smiled. “Tell her it’s okay.”

“He said it’s okay,” Katniss assured her. “Now, can anyone give me any information about him?”

“It was all very hush-hush, but you should go speak to Dr. Abernathy on the twelfth floor,” Johanna informed her, her eyes somber. “Just…take care, okay?”

++++++

“This doesn’t look good.”

They were watching one of the nurses speaking quietly to Dr. Haymitch Abernathy, Peeta’s mentor. The tall, dark-haired man looked at her before nodding at the other nurse.

“Why?” she asked Peeta quietly.

“They’re giving you that look like they’re about to tell you that I’m dead,” Peeta told her grimly.

The man approached, looking her over, before holding out his hand.

“I’m Dr. Haymitch Abernathy,” he started. “Before we go on, how did you know Peeta?”

“Tell him that we were involved,” Peeta said quickly. “He won’t tell you anything unless we were…intimate.”

“My name is Katniss Everdeen.” She shook the man’s hand firmly. “I’ve known Peeta for awhile now. We were…” Her face went warm. “Intimate.”

“That’s surprising,” Dr. Abernathy said. “I’ve known Peeta for a long time and he never mentioned you or any other personal relationships.”

“It was an on and off thing,” she explained. “I was living somewhere else with my son and just recently came to Panem. Can you tell me what happened to him?”

“There was an accident,” the man began. “Peeta was leaving the hospital about three months ago and…”

Suddenly, Peeta remembered.

He was on his way to Prim’s house to celebrate her official move to Panem. He had checked his pager and then turned up the radio as he made his turn. He remembered not looking forward to Prim’s daily lecture on meeting the right girl.

Then, there was the crash and…nothingness.

The loud thumping in his ears interrupted his memories…and he was moving…gliding…

Peeta blinked and when he opened his eyes, he was staring at himself.

In a hospital bed.

++++++

“Oh my God, you’re real.”

Peeta turned to see Katniss approaching his unconscious form.

“That’s me.” Peeta smiled dolefully. “Live and in living color—kind of.”

She approached his still body, her eyes roving over him. “You truly are a handsome man.”

“Better than Marvel?”

Katniss looked over at him, giving him a wink.

“Way better. When you’re awake, we can compare biceps—oiled up and everything.”

He looked over at the machines he was hooked up to. The machines were standard ones, measuring his heart rate and brain activity, while his stats were being recorded daily in an open notebook next to the ventilator.

They didn’t look good.

“Katniss, I don’t know how much you know about patients in a state such as mine but being in a coma for this long is never good,” he told her. “Day by day, my body becomes more dependent on these machines.”

“Then, try to get yourself back in there!” Katniss urged. “Dr. Abernathy only gave me a few minutes and we have to try to give you whatever chance we can.”

Peeta looked at her helplessly. “I’m afraid.”

She sat down in the chair next to his bed and looked up at him. “Why?”

“If it works, what happens…to us?”

“Us.” The word trilled in her chest like a songbird. “I didn’t know there was an us.”

“I didn’t think it could ever be possible,” Peeta admitted. “But…” He knelt before her so that he could meet her eyes. “…for the longest time, the only thing that I’ve wanted is just to hold your hand.”

“Then try, Peeta,” she pleaded. “Try for us.”

Peeta nodded resolutely.

Turning to the body in the bed, he carefully placed his hand over his physical hand. However, his hand just seemed to pass through, and he couldn’t feel…anything.

“It’s like there’s no connection,” Peeta told her. “What if I can’t get back?”

Katniss shot up. “No. You’re still in there,” she told him resolutely. “Close your eyes.”

He quirked a brow but did what she asked of him.

Carefully, she went to his bedside and took his hand. His skin was warm and when she reached to his wrist, Katniss could feel the strong pulse of the man in the hospital bed. There was still life and fire in him, but they just needed to find the key to making him whole once again.

“Katniss…” His voice trembled. “I can feel you.”

“You see?” Katniss turned to him. “There is still a connection to this body.”

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Abernathy stepped inside. “Miss Everdeen, I’m afraid your time is up.”

“I’m going to stay,” Peeta told her. “And, I’m going to figure this out.”

“Alright.” She gave his hand a squeeze before meeting his eyes. “Come back to me, Peeta.”

++++++

Peeta wasn’t sure how much time passed once he and Katniss separated. After she left, he had continued to try to anchor himself to his body even trying to lay his spirit self into his physical self. It did nothing but discomfort him.

He watched the array of doctors come in to check on his progress. They shook their heads at his dwindling body functions and lack of response. Sometimes Dr. Abernathy would come in, pulling up a chair close to his bed after his shift was done. The man would simply sit, clasped his hands together, and just…pray.

Peeta was surprised and touched by his mentor’s dedication to him. After, he would give Peeta’s hand a gentle squeeze and go home to his dear Mrs. Abernathy. Effie, Haymitch’s wife, came by in the daytime to knit by his bedside and chide him for his lack of a social life when he was not comatose.

“I met the nicest girl for you,” she told him one day. “Johanna, the Head Nurse on 8 introduced us, and she is just lovely. Her name is Katniss and she has the prettiest shade of grey eyes.”

Oh, he remembered those eyes. Peeta ached to see them.

His favorite days were when Prim and her family came. Cato, his brother-in-law, would talk to him about the latest comings and goings during his shifts. He had known Cato Masters since his family had moved into the house next door to theirs. They would build forts together in the fall, went to the local pool in the summer, rode their bikes around the town in the spring, and build snowmen in the winter.

Then years later, when Peeta returned from his freshmen year of college, Cato had fallen in love with the girl next door.

During visits, Prim was the one that would get all the reports from his doctors. Most of the time, it would be Haymitch who would talk to her since he was practically their surrogate father since their parents had long passed.

The rest of the staff was a little afraid of Prim; she looked sweet with her round blue eyes and golden hair but had a mouth on her that sent people running. She was especially this way when it came to Peeta’s care.

She really was the best sister.

Alba would sit with him, telling him stories about her days at school. Sometimes, she would sit and draw or read from one of her assigned books.

Today, she leaned forward into his ear.

“Cole really misses you,” she said—but her gaze went directly to where he stood across from her.

“Tell him that I miss him,” he replied, not even sure if Alba would be able to get the message. “And, his Mom.”

His niece simply nodded.

“No!”

Peeta turned to see Prim sitting at the adjacent table with Haymitch. He hadn’t even realized that Haymitch had come in, so focused on Alba and her revelation about Cole.

“My brother would never decide on something like this,” Prim insisted. “He would never just decide to leave me alone.”

“I know he wouldn’t,” Haymitch replied patiently. “However, when doctors are employed by this hospital, they are required to make medical plans which include life-sustaining policies and that’s what Peeta did. He did require a three-month wait before we ceased life support.”

Peeta froze. “It can’t be three months.”

“I’ve pushed to three and a half, Prim,” Haymitch explained. “But, the board—”

“The board wants to pull the plug,” his sister said tersely. “Well, what if we have him moved?”

Peeta walked toward them. On the table was a closed folder, his name written on it.

“There were stipulations on that, too,” his mentor continued. Haymitch moved the folder towards Prim. “But from what I have read, he didn’t want you to suffer financially. He recognized that private facilities can be expensive.”

Prim looked to Dr. Abernathy. “What do you think? And, don’t tell me what you want me to hear.”

Haymitch sat back for a moment, hands clasped in front of him as he thought of his answer.

“Based on the numbers and his progress, I would say that it would be best to acknowledge his wishes and let him go. Personally, I want to keep him with us forever.” Haymitch cleared his throat and Peeta could see the anguish in his eyes. “I’d do anything to get him back to us, Prim…but I know, more than anything, Peeta would hate to know that we’re all in pain. So, I can’t give you a definite answer.”

There was a knock at the door and Cato entered. He immediately sensed the heaviness in the room.

“What’s going on?” He moved towards them, placing a kiss on top of Prim’s head.

“Maybe you two should talk this over,” Haymitch said as he stood up. “I’m so sorry, Prim.”

With one last nod, Peeta’s mentor left the room.

Cato sat down on the now-empty chair, taking his wife’s hands. “What happened?”

Prim burst into tears, crumbling against him.

Lost in their pain, they failed to see Alba’s trembling mouth as she sat next to Peeta’s bed.

Peeta rushed over, kneeling before his teary-eyed niece.

“Alba, I don’t know if you sense me or hear me or even see me,” he told her. “But I’m going to find a way out of this. I promise.”

He had to get to Katniss before Prim made a decision.

“Alba…do you understand?”

Slowly and with her head down, Alba nodded in understanding.

“I’ll be back,” he assured.

Closing his eyes, Peeta thought of his safe place…of dark waves and captivating smoky eyes…and of mac and cheese…and action figures on the carpet…and of that longing of just being a lifetime away from even holding her hand…

Then, Peeta was gone.

Alba looked up, scooting herself off the seat before going to her parents.

Placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder, she offered her a smile.

“Uncle Peeta will find a way out of this. He promised.”

++++++

“Come on, kiddo.” Picking Cole up from their couch and turning off the television, Katniss headed down the hallway. “Time for bed.”

“I’m not sleepy…”

She could already feel Cole drooling on her shoulder.

Walking into his room, she placed him gently on his bed before pulling his blankets over him. Giving him a quick kiss, Katniss backed out towards the hallway before turning off the light and closing his bedroom door.

Entering her room, she closed her door and grabbed a set of pajamas from her dresser. It was another early night in—another quiet one, really. She missed the laughter that once filled their apartment when Peeta was present, but Katniss wanted to give him the time he needed with his family.

She sighed, pulling her shirt off and reaching to the unclasp her bra—

“Katniss!”

Peeta was suddenly standing in front of her.

“Peeta!” She took the shirt thrown on her bed and pressed it to her chest. “What are you doing here…in my room…while I’m half naked?”

“I’ve seen your boobs,” he told her easily. “Accidentally ended up in the bathroom during one of your showers.”

Katniss quickly pulled her pajamas on before turning back to him. “What’s going on?”

Peeta sat down on her bed, telling her about his past plans regarding his medical treatment and sustaining his life. Then he explained that Haymitch had extended his stay for as long as he could, but the board of directors were pushing for Prim to make a decision.

“I mean, I could understand from their perspective,” he said after he was finished. “I am dead weight.”

“Not funny,” Katniss told him. “You gave most of your life to that hospital and now they’re treating you like you’re just squatting in their hospital room! Not fighting for your life!” She sat down next to him. “Now what do we do?”

“Just hope that Prim decides against it,” he told her. “That she gives me more time.”

“She’s going to,” she said. “I’m not letting you go without a fight. I lost one man to a tumor and I’m not losing another because Prim is being pressured.”

Peeta smiled at her vehemence. He was sure that if he wasn’t so…corporal that he would be able to feel his heart pounding at the sight of her, all fire and beauty wrapped in cotton pajamas. He would feel the breathlessness and anticipation of feeling her kiss.

He would feel all of this because she was just so…her.

Peeta had to ask. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” Katniss said it with no hesitation. “Because when we were apart, the thought of not seeing your crooked smile really broke me.”

“Damn.” He took that feeling in and it was almost as if he could feel the blood rushing through him. “I better wake up.”

Katniss snorted. “Why?”

“Because I owe you one hell of a kiss.”

++++++

Taking a deep breath, Katniss hesitated as she stood in front of the hospital door.

“Katniss.” She turned to the man standing next to her. “This is not going to be easy.”

“I know.” Katniss knocked on the door. “But I have to try for you…and for us.” She pushed the door open and peeked inside. Prim was sitting at the chair next to Peeta’s bed, where his motionless body lay.

The young woman turned as she approached.

“Hey Prim. Don’t know if Dr. Abernathy mentioned this, but I work here, and I just wanted to check in with you.”

“Of course,” Prim replied hoarsely. It was apparent that she had been crying, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy. “I guess he told you about my brother.”

Katniss nodded. “I actually stopped by, a few days ago. I know your brother.”

The woman looked to her in surprised. “How?”

“Tell her we took a class together at Penn,” Peeta said.

“We took a class together at Penn,” Katniss told her, biting her lip. She really hated to lie to Prim, especially with everything happening.

“Oh.” Prim smiled softly at her. “I thought you might’ve dated. You look like his type.”

Katniss felt her face heat up. “I don’t think he would’ve given me a second look.”

Peeta gave her a smile. “I would’ve looked.”

���Anyway,” Katniss continued. “I just wanted to say that, if possible, that you give Peeta some time. He’s in there, I know it—”

“It’s been so hard.” Prim’s mouth trembled and she took a breath. “On our family…on Alba…on me…” She looked to her brother. “And, I read over his plans…it’s what’s right.”

Katniss felt her chest tighten. “What are trying to say?”

“I signed the papers,” Prim told her hollowly. “About an hour ago. We’re going to do it tomorrow morning—while Alba is in school.”

“Why?” It came out louder than Katniss expected, and Prim jumped in surprised.

“Because he’s suffering!” Prim turned to her brother’s body. “Being in that body is like being in a prison!”

“Prim, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Peeta is here!”

It came out without a single thought, but there was nothing more Katniss could do.

Come hell or high water.

“He is here and he is begging you to not do this…” Peeta stood motionless, next to his sister as Katniss continued. “I know I sound crazy but it’s true. I moved into to an apartment and it turned out it was his. Then, he just started appearing. I mean, he’s standing right next to you.”

Prim turned quickly and Peeta moved closer to her. “Prim, listen to her. I’m right here.”

They went silent as Prim processed Katniss’ words and for a moment, Katniss thought that the woman might believe her.

Until Prim looked up.

“Get out,” Prim said coldly. “It’s obvious that you need help, Katniss, and if you value your job, I suggest that you never come in this room or near my brother again.”

“Please—”

“You have ten seconds, or I will call security.”

++++++

“Now what?”

They returned home, worried that Prim would make good on her words and contact security.

On the couch, Peeta inched closer to Katniss, the longing to hold her hand overwhelming him. He could see her suffering and it made him think of that same look in Prim’s eyes as the two women talked in his hospital room.

Everyone was suffering because of him, but he wouldn’t let that happen anymore.

“I think we just…let go,” he replied tightly. “I don’t want to spend what time I have left here fighting.”

Katniss brushed away her tears quickly. “Okay. What do you want to do?”

Standing up, Peeta nodded towards the hallway. “Come with me.”

She followed stiffly as he led her into the bedroom. “What are we doing?”

Peeta went to the bed, patting her side of it. “Lay down.”

Katniss let out a wet laugh. “I’m sorry, but nothing is happening in that bed.”

“Yeah, I think the small problem of me not being able to touch you is going to negate whatever you had in mind.” He laid back on her other pillow. “I just want to pretend for a moment.”

Katniss went to her side of the bed and laid down. She turned to him. “Pretend what?”

“That we’re just a regular couple coming home from work and relishing that time that we have together before picking up our kid at school,” Peeta said. “Maybe we’re trying to figure if sex is possible before then.”

Katniss chuckled. “Maybe not. I like to take my time.” She sighed. “A make-out session would be more in our favor.”

“I never really took that time, you know,” he told her. “To sit down and have a relationship, to focus on just a kiss. I regret that. I never took the time to fall in love and now you’re here—and it’s too late.”

“I thought this was pretend,” Katniss admonished. “Stick to the script. Just lay here and pretend to be in love with me!”

“Katniss.” Peeta reached, his hand just a brush away from the tip of the braid she wore. “Who’s pretending?”

++++++

“Peeta, why did you decide to become a doctor?”

Cole stared up at him with those doleful eyes, Katniss’ eyes, from his bed.

“Well, I wanted to help people,” Peeta said. “I wanted to make an impact on the world. I guess that’s what being a doctor meant to me.” The boy nodded in understanding. “But making an impact in the world is not just having the big, fancy job. People make an impact in even the smallest ways.”

“Like what?”

“Like you, Cole—you saw me when no one else could,” he told the little boy. “You trusted me without thought even if I might have steered you wrong. I hope you know that it takes a lot to have such amazing faith in people. That is your impact on people—your faith in the good of people. Promise me that you’ll always remember that, even when you become old and grey.”

“I don’t want to be old and grey!” Cole protested.

“That’s my biggest wish for you,” Peeta told him thickly. “To become old and grey, to live the life that wrinkles your skin and puts laugh lines on your face. I just want you to really live until your skin is fully lived in. You understand?”

The little boy nodded solemnly. “I think so.”

“Just remember everything I told you, okay? Lock it up and when you have a little boy of your own, you tell him everything I told you.”

Cole smiled tiredly at him. “Thanks, Peeta.”

He closed his eyes, memorizing every bit of this moment. Peeta would be sure to tell Gale all about his son—wherever he ended up.

“Your father is very proud of you.”

The young boy was already asleep.

Standing up, Peeta turned and found Katniss in the doorway, dressed in her scrubs. “What are you doing?”

“Come on. Johanna is already here,” she simply said.

Together they walked to the living room and Johanna jumped up from the couch.

“Do you really want to do this?” The woman asked worriedly. “You’re risking a lot.”

“It’s just something that I have to do,” Katniss replied. “School is at 9. Feel free to use my bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Resignedly, Johanna nodded once more and taking her keys, Katniss stepped out of the apartment with Peeta in tow. Her silence was enough for him to know that it would be in vain to ask where they were going or what she was planning to do.

Once they were on the road, Peeta had an idea of where they were going.

“Why?” he asked her.

“Because…no one should be alone at a time like this,” Katniss replied as she made a turn into Panem Hospital.

In her scrubs, Katniss looked like any other nurse coming in for a night shift. Security didn’t bat an eye as she walked past them and continued, occasionally, watching the monitors.

Katniss entered his room easily. The night nurse had already done her rounds according to the chart at his bedside and, unless there was a sign of distress, she wouldn’t have to check in until the end of her shift.

“Why are we here?” Peeta asked as she sat in the chair next to his bed.

“Like I said—no one should be alone at a time like this,” she whispered. Her eyes went to his body and carefully, Katniss reached for his hand. “Your hand is warm.” She examined his hand, her eyes caressing his skin. “There’s a scar here.”

“Friend nicked my skin while we were ice skating,” he told her. “Just barely missed slicing off my hand but got that sliver of skin. I remember how much it hurt; how red the blood was against the ice and I was afraid…but this feels a lot scarier. Not really knowing what happens on the other end.”

Katniss stood, bringing down his bed railing before perching carefully at his side.

“Don’t be afraid.” Her hand reached to his cheek, feeling that bit not covered by his breathing mask. “Even if it was just for a moment, we really had something. People go their whole lifetimes never feeling the way that we do. I was lucky. I’ve had it twice.”

“I’ll have you with me,” Peeta promised. “Always.”

She looked to him, not even bothering to hide the tears running down her cheeks.

“Always.”

++++++

Someone was shaking her awake.

“Katniss, you need to get up—now!”

Blearily, she opened her eyes to see Johanna looking down at her.

“What?” she asked.

“They’re coming, Katniss.” Her eyes shot up to where Peeta stood in front of the bed. “Prim and her husband, Haymitch, along with the rest of the medical team. It’s time.”

“We really need to leave,” Johanna urged. “Your job…your license is at stake!”

Katniss stood up; her eyes resolute. “No. I have to see him to the end.”

The door opened and Dr. Abernathy stepped in along with Prim and Cato.

Prim looked furious. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just about to take her out, Dr. Abernathy,” Johanna told the man. She looked pleadingly at Katniss. “Let’s go, Katniss…you’re not part of this.”

“I am part of this,” Katniss replied. “I love him. I’ve loved him for as long as I’ve known him—maybe even before I knew him…” She looked to Dr. Abernathy and then Prim. “Please.”

“Please,” Peeta whispered into his sister’s ear.

Prim blinked, her eyes suddenly widening before she turned to Peeta’s mentor. “What do you think?”

He stared at Katniss for a long moment. She stood firm, relaxing against Johanna’s hold.

“I think…that she needs to say goodbye as well,” he concluded. “But I’ll need her resignation immediately after this.”

“Fine,” Katniss responded.

The medical team entered, beginning the removal of Peeta’s IV and monitors. Prim rushed forward, sitting at her brother’s side while Cato stood beside her, an arm around her shoulders.

Katniss remained behind, her Peeta standing in front of her.

“Don’t watch this,” he told her. “Keep your eyes on me.”

The team shut off his ventilator and Prim wailed as they removed his breathing mask.

Still, Peeta remained right in front of her. “Sweetheart, just keep looking at me.”

Katniss felt her chest tightening, her breaths growing shallower. “Don’t go…”

“The breathing tube has been removed, Dr. Abernathy,” someone from the team reported.

“This is it,” she told him, not caring if anyone heard her. “After this—”

“It’s okay.” Peeta reached for her. “Because you’re going to be my last vision in this life—I’m leaving looking at the woman I love.”

She could see him growing dimmer as his time neared.

“I love you, Katniss…always.”

Katniss nodded, the hot tears burning her skin. “Always.”

The heart monitor let out the flatline signal.

Her eyes remained on him as he began to fade into nothing, that crooked smile of his the last imprint on her heart.

Katniss was faintly aware of everything going on around her, her eyes still trained on the spot where he stood.

Somewhere in the distance, Johanna was trying to pull her away…Prim was crying into her husband’s shoulder and Dr. Abernathy was recording the time.

Still her eyes remained on where Peeta last stood.

‘Beep…beep…beep…’

“Doctor!” someone shouted. “We’re getting something!”

Katniss’ vision cleared and she looked to see Prim peeking down at her brother.

“Peeta?” Prim whimpered.

The room stilled, the only sound the sudden steady beeping on the heart monitor.

A cough erupted from Peeta’s chest and she felt Johanna’s hands drop from her shoulders in shock.

Dr. Abernathy rushed to the bed where Peeta was slowly moving his head. “Peeta, can you hear me?”

Then, “Of course…I have perfect hearing.”

Prim burst into tears, pressing her face against her brother’s chest while Cato gripped the railing as he wiped his eyes. Dr. Abernathy was shouting orders to the medical team, his hands shaking as he began to examine his student.

And, Katniss—was now just a stranger.

“Let’s go,” she told Johanna.

Her friend looked to her. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t belong here anymore.”

++++++

Three Months later…

“Alba said her Uncle Peeta was asking about you.”

Katniss looked at her son as they headed home. It was strange; three months had passed, and it was like Peeta had been a dream to her son. He never mentioned him anymore nor did he say anything about ever seeing him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Cole replied. “She said that he asked her if she ever saw you when you dropped me off.”

“That’s interesting,” Katniss responded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Alba said he asked if you looked alright,” her son told her.

“What did you tell her?” she asked curiously.

“I told her that you look liked…Mommy,” he replied. “And, that we were spending a lot more time together since you don’t have to go to work anymore.”

Katniss had turned in her resignation that very day per Dr. Abernathy’s stipulation and she hadn’t looked back. In truth, it would have been too strange to be at a hospital where she’d be known as that nurse who spent the night with a comatose patient.

She had saved a good amount of money, so they were okay for the time being—or until Katniss found something where they didn’t need references.

“Hey look!” Cole pointed ahead. “It’s Alba’s Uncle.”

Katniss froze seeing Peeta standing in front of their building steps, his gaze trained on her.

She could feel her heart beating in her ears as they made their way closer—closer to him.

Peeta smiled at her son. “Hey Cole!”

Cole grinned up at the man. “How do you know my name?”

He looked to Katniss in question and she shook her head.

Recovering quickly, Peeta gave him an easy smile.

“Alba has mentioned you a few million times. You two sit next to each other, right?”

“Sweetie, it’s getting cold. Why don’t you go up while I see what Mr. Mellark wants?” Katniss handed her keys to Cole. Hopefully, she didn’t look as shaky as she was feeling. “I’ll be up in a few to start dinner.”

“Okay, Mommy!” Cole waved to Peeta. “See you later!”

He rushed up to the main door but upon reaching the top, Cole suddenly looked to the man.

“Do you like mac and cheese?”

“Love it,” Peeta told him.

Content with his answer, Cole walked into the apartment building.

Peeta approached her. “You disappeared on me.”

“I had to give you that time with your family,” she said, her eyes on him. “I had months with you.”

Peeta looked healthy and strong…and so alive. Katniss could feel that familiar pulsing in her body in his presence. Somehow, all he had to do was stand next to her and she could already feel herself coming undone.

“Plus,” she continued. “I promised Dr. Abernathy that I would resign if they let me stay during…the procedure. Also, your sister thinks I’m a nutjob and everyone knows me as that nurse who was in love with the coma guy.”

“Prim doesn’t think you’re a nutjob,” he assured her. “In fact, once I explained everything, she went to Haymitch and demanded that they get you back. You’ve been dodging his calls.”

“I’m on a different path now,” she said wryly.

“So, I’m not the only one,” Peeta said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” He sat down on the apartment steps, patting the spot next to him. Katniss joined him and Peeta scooted closer to her. “I’ve spent so much time saving lives that I think it’s time for me to focus on my own life. So, I’m currently living at my sister’s house since my apartment is now occupied and trying to find my new happiness.”

“Hmm…” Katniss nodded thoughtfully. “Any ideas?”

Peeta reached over, taking her gloved hand, and removed the covering finger by finger. Her hand unclothed, he intertwined their fingers and she gasped at the rush that filled her.

“Felt that too?” Peeta looked down at their joined hands. “I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to do this.” His gaze went to her and he reached, cupping her cheek. “Also, I remembered something.”

Katniss leaned into his touch. “What?”

“I owe you one hell of a kiss.”

Then, his lips were on hers.

Her arms wove around his neck as Peeta deepened the kiss—this honey thick kiss that made every part of her come to life, that made her long for more. When he groaned into her mouth and swept his tongue along hers, Katniss shivered in pleasure feeling his hum against her lips.

It was all real. He was real.

Tears filled her eyes at the thought that once-upon-a-time, the thought of even a small touch was impossible.

Finally, and reluctantly, they pulled apart, both breathless.

“How was that?” Peeta gasped, his cheeks pink.

“I think we should continue this at my place,” Katniss told him. “After Cole has gone to bed.”

“Well, you are technically squatting in my apartment,” Peeta said as he helped her up. “So, you owe me.”

Katniss grinned. “How about your own side on my bed and all the mac and cheese you can eat?”

“Throw in a first date, a few make-out sessions, accepting my proposal, and a kid or two and we have a deal.”

Turning to him, Katniss pressed a kiss to his lips. “Deal.”

Hand in hand, they made their way home.

FIN.

The title comes from the lyrics of “Just Like Heaven” the song from which the movie title was taken from.

Anyways, Happy Halloween!

Till next time,

JLaLa

[tigerintokyo]

Izumi Mitsuki [RabbiTube] RabiTV - Episode 1

Izumi Mitsuki [RabbiTube] RabiTV

Episode 1: Spending Time with Mitsuki

(other cards / parts in the directory)

Translation under the break.

-

Staff: .......That's all for the outline of "RabbiTube."

Staff: I'm planning to introduce a part of the video in "NEXT Re:vale" as well!

Staff: We are hoping to show a side of you that people usually can't see on TV. We leave it in your hands!

Momo: I'm looking forward to it! 

Yuki: Really anything, it's okay to strip down and show everything. 

Mitsuki: Hahaha, please be gentle with me! I'll have to take a look and study up a bit....! 

Gaku: You know, Tenn, you were watching videos on RabbiTube the other day, right? It could be helpful as a reference. Did you figure anything out from it? 

Tenn: .........I was just watching a cat video. 

Gaku: What, it was just a cat video? That's not helpful. 

Ryunosuke: .....No, the cat videos could be helpful too! Like with what kind of behavior can entertain or give people a sense of healing..... 

Gaku: Wait, Ryuu. We can only use a few of them as reference. 

Yuki: .....Cat Gaku, that would be nice. 

Tenn: ..........Hehe....... 

Gaku: Hey, Tenn, were you laughing at me just now?!

Riku: A cat......! Like, a video of Iori going to a cat cafe?

Iori: Please stop. Why would it be me?

Yamato: Wait, if it is a video like that, I don't want to do it...... 

Tamaki: I wanna do "Terrific Pudding"! 

Sogo: ........If we're choosing, I want to try doing "The Top 100 Spices in the World"..... 

Nagi: I want to have a Kokona watch party!

Mitsuki: Isn't that just the same as always for you guys?! 

Iori: .....wait.... a video petting animals is a little cliché,  but it has a certain charm to it..... 

Riku: Did you say something, Iori? 

Iori: No, I didn't say anything.

Momo: Hahaha! Great! You all have some great ideas!

Momo: This is what I am talking about! I hope to show off the "everyday you" on RabbiTube!

Yuki: Well, I'm looking forward to working with you all this year as well.

IDOLiSH7 & TRIGGER: Thank you for this opportunity! 

Riku: This year's birthday project is to become a RabbiTube creator......! 

Sogo: We always have so much fun hanging out in the RabbiChat. I might miss doing it like that. 

Mitsuki: ....... I might miss it too. Even though it's nice we can give a video to fans, I still want to celebrate with all of us together!

Yamato: Well, we've been doing it all this time, haven't we? 

Nagi: ...... But, we've been doing a lot of work separately lately. I can understand how difficult it could be to schedule it....

Tamaki: So we can't eat the cake Mikki makes for us? 

Mitsuki: I will definitely be making a cake! Right, Iori?!  

Iori: Yes, of course. I’ll help you. 

Riku: Hm.... Celebration....... celebration.... 

Riku: Aha! Okay, well, how about we take the birthday person somewhere? We can all plan it and go out together. 

Riku: It might be hard to all go out together...... Let's ask the managers to schedule it so then the ones who can make it can all go out together! 

Mitsuki: Going out.... Until now we've been partying in the RabbiChat, so it could be fresh and new!

Yamato: It would be a shame if we all can't go, but maybe deciding where to go together could feel like a party too.... For me, a beer brewery would be good. 

Mitsuki: You can't just choose by yourself! 

Tamaki: Then, we can take a lot of photos and videos for the ones who can't go. We could send them in the RabbiChat. 

Nagi: OH! That's a wonderful idea. It'll make it feel like we are partying together. 

Iori: People might be happy if we upload it on Rabbiter (twitter).

Sogo: Sounds like fun.....! How about talking to the manager about it tomorrow? 

Riku: OK! ...... It's going to be another year of fun birthdays! 

Mitsuki: Awesome....! I didn't realize there was a festival this close to us with outdoor theaters this big!

Iori: There are also food stalls and other small attractions. 

Iori: Nii-san, I hope you can do something here with a movie that you like. 

Mitsuki: .....Thanks, Iori, Yamato-san. You've really put a lot of thought into it for me. 

Yamato: I didn't do anything. Ichi came up with the idea, since you're so into movies. 

Iori: .....Nikaido-san was the one who came up with the festival though? So, I'm the one who didn't do anything. 

Yamato: No, no, if you didn't have the idea, then I wouldn't have searched for it, Ichi. 

Iori: But, all I could think of was like going to the movies or doing a pilgrimage of Nii-san's favorite movies. 

Mitsuki: Iori...!

Iori: Ahh... 

Mitsuki: Well, that doesn't change that you both really thought about it, right? Thanks! Really! 

Iori: .....no...... As long as you enjoy it, Nii-san, then everything is OK. 

Yamato: Ichi and I already did the RabbiTube video, so we had a lot of time on our hands. We can fully enjoy it. 

Mitsuki: It's kind of funny that I'm going to be entertained by the two of you. 

Yamato: Wait, do I have to entertain you?

Iori: Leave it to me. I've done a lot of research. 

Tsumugi: I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting.... The parking lot is really far away.... 

Mitsuki: Oh, hey! Manager, you made it! Isn't it great?! Iori and Yamato-san found this festival for me!

Tsumugi: .......Wow.....! It's a really amazing place! It's really calm even with all these people! I can even hear the movies being played. 

Tsumugi: It's the perfect festival for a movie lover like Mitsuki-san. 

Mitsuki:  Right? To be honest, I thought we would be going to a cooking studio or a futsal [1] field. 

Yamato: Ichi was obsessed with finding a great movie. 

Tsumugi: Did you have a reason for that? 

Iori:  ....... When I was young, I went to the movies with Nii-san, and I was really annoying to him.

Mitsuki: Huh? I don't remember what happened....!

Iori: The theater was so loud and dark, I cried and caused a scene. 

Mitsuki: Ah........ I  think I remember that! You really have a good memory!

Yamato: From that, it sounds like a really funny story..... 

Iori: ..... Because I started crying, we had to leave in the middle of the movie, so we couldn't watch the movie Nii-san liked. 

Iori: That was the last time I went to the movies with Nii-san. 

Mitsuki: ........Iori.....

Iori: You might have not thought it was a big deal, but for me, it was really important. 

Yamato: Alright, so today you'll have your revenge. 

Tsumugi: So you had that kind of reason for all this.... 

Iori: Yes. I've already researched all the attractions and booths perfectly.

Iori: Nii-san, if there's something you'd like to eat or do, just let me know. 

Mitsuki: .......haha. This place feels even more special than it did just moment ago.

Mitsuki: Iori, let's have fun today!

Iori: OK.....! 

Yamato: Uh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I? It's alright for me to be here?

Iori:  Far from it. Nikaido-san, you'll have an important role to play.

Yamato: Eheh........ 

Iori: They have a theater zone that is 18+. 

Iori: I can't go in, so you'll have to take my place. 

Yamato: There's a zone like that? Well, would you want the manager to go in with him? 

Tsumugi: What?! 

Iori: ......I'm not sure what you're thinking now, but it's a place that older people can also enjoy. It's not anything weird, like you're thinking.

Yamato: What the heck..... 

Mitsuki: You don't have to be so obviously let down!

Mitsuki: Is it okay to go to that theater zone without Iori, though? 

Iori: Yes. In the meantime, I have some things to get ready with our manager. 

Mitsuki: What would that be?! 

Tsumugi: You'll have to wait to find out! .....Alright, everyone, let's all enjoy this wonderful place together....! 

Mitsuki: Ha....... It's like I'm in a dream or something.... 

Iori: The set recreation exhibition was really amazing. 

Tsumugi: Yamato-san, thank you for saving a spot for us. 

Yamato: Oh, I think I got a really good spot. You can look forward to it. 

Mitsuki: Oh, Yamato-san, try this one!

Yamato: Wow, what is this? It's completely brown..... noodles? 

Iori: It's a mix of two different types of noodles, stir-fried and topped with block-cut meat. 

Mitsuki: A movie meal! They're selling recreations of the food in movies! 

Yamato: Th--thanks for the food. ............ It's good! 

Mitsuki: Right? This is so exciting! 

Iori: Let's make this one at the dorm later. 

Mitsuki: Good idea! We should call over Yaotome or Yuki-san!

Iori: That would be a lot of fun. 

Yamato: It's like a movie club. I don't want to get involved, so I'll just hole up in my room that day..... 

Iori:  Nikaido-san, did you get a tent space in the theater zone? 

Yamato: Wow, you already knew? There was a spot open that looked like a camping spot, so I reserved it. I heard you could play whatever you want in your own tent? 

Iori: You got it.....! Thank you. I could attack you with a hug right now, Nikaido-san. 

Yamato: What? It's that great?

Iori: Well, I won't actually hug you, though. 

Yamato: I feel like I just got rejected.

Mitsuki: Oh, what would we do there, in that place you were just talking about?  

Iori: .....I would like to show you a video that Nikaido-san, our manager, and I have prepared. 

Yamato: Ah, that's what you're talking about....!  

Iori: I'm surprised that Nikaido-san is so bad at guessing, but we've been recording birthday messages for Nii-san from a lot of different people. 

Mitsuki: Eh..... But how? You guys have been so busy lately.... 

Tsumugi: Everyone has been really supportive, and they all wanted to say happy birthday to you, Mitsuki-san. 

Tsumugi: Mr. Shimoka, especially, was into it....! 

Yamato: It was good that you could do all this, Ichi. 

Iori: No, this time it just went really well and it was the right time and place. 

Mitsuki: ......Th--thank you.... really.... I, I don't know what to say.... 

Iori: Nii-san, all you have to do is smile. That's the best thank you. 

Mitsuki: Haha..... ...... OK!

Yamato: Save your tears until you actually see it.

Tsumugi: Hey, let's all take a picture together to remember this moment....! 

Tsumugi: OK, cheese....!!!

-end of Episode 1-

-

T/N

Futsal is an indoor soccer-like game: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Futsal

Please do not use my translations without my permission.

[megalony]

Protect you- Part 3

Here is another part of my bodyguard! Ben Hardy series, I hope everyone is enjoying it so far and thank you all for the lovely feedback it is appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod @coldmuffinpartycloud

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Setting down the tea towel in his hand, Ben rested his hip against the cupboard beneath the counter in the kitchen as his arms folded over his chest. His stance didn't look relaxed, but then again Ben never looked nor felt relaxed. He looked like he was thinking or analysing, ready to strike if needed which was the way he liked to be.

He let his eyes lock on the girl sitting on the sofa who was capturing his attention but not fully, he always had to keep his mind working, keep the ball rolling just for precautionary reasons. But she did look like a beacon of light to Ben and he could do nothing but admire her.

The blond scanned his eyes over her as he watched her work. There was a rather large stack of papers sitting on her lap which were joined together by a hole punched into the corner with a treasury tag looped through them. This allowed (Y/n) to easily highlight words or sentences, add a hyphen, comma or full stop here and there. She used red ink for mistakes, green for added words or phrases and black for general notes in the margins. There were small rectangle sticky notes on some pages in the right-hand corner placed very carefully and neatly in all different colours to code what they were for.

(Y/n) had her highlighters and pens lined out on the coffee table in front of her laptop which was open on a thesaurus page for when she couldn't think of the right word. Ben found himself internally smiling when she would pull back, tip her head back and spin her finger or hand in a circle in the air when she tried to think. She would quietly mumble the sentence to herself to try and get her brain to find the word she was searching for before ultimately turning to the computer for help.

It seemed like a fulfilling job to have, being an editor because (Y/n) got the satisfaction of helping to write and perfect a novel without having to go through writer's block or creating the characters or the plot.

(Y/n) could make the phrases make sense or add punctuation to make them easier to read. She could highlight the good parts and highlight lines that just needed tweaking. She could feel happy that she was reading yet improving the story at the same time which readers never got to do. Plus she could work from home. She could get up whenever she wanted or sleep whenever she wanted as long as she got a substantial amount of work done so that she didn't go over the due date.

Ben also noticed another nervous habit that (Y/n) had.

She seemed to be under the impression that if she had both earphones in at the same time, she would be in danger. That maybe someone would come through the door and she wouldn't notice or that something would happen without her notice. So she wore one at a time, switching every now and then to stop her ears from feeling the fuzzy, uneven way they did when you listened to music through one ear for too long. She didn't seem to realise that Ben had ears to and that if something happened he would most likely be the first one to notice.

"Want something to eat?" Ben questioned when he moved to stand beside the sofa she was perched on, looking rather comfy.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) paused the music playing from the laptop before turning her attention to Ben. A small smile on her lips as she glanced to the time before thinking over his offer. He noticed that when she was engrossed in her work, she seemed to forget that she was meant to eat and drink.

"I guess I'd better since it's past lunchtime." (Y/n) spoke quietly as she put the lid back on her pen before setting the stack of papers into her satchel that was resting by her feet. Ben watched in amusement as she packed her pens and highlighters back into her case before pushing herself to her feet. Following him through into the kitchen as he went to the fridge, scanning through the food they had stocked up on a few days ago.

"Pasta?" Ben questioned when his eyes set on the sauce in the fridge, reminding him of the pasta in the cupboard. He grabbed the sauce when he heard (Y/n) already getting two pans out and the pack of pasta.

Both of them stood side by side so their arms were lightly brushing against one another as they started to make dinner. the atmosphere feeling calm, normal even when (Y/n) turned the radio on to play quietly in the background. When the sauce and pasta were cooking on the stove, (Y/n) grabbed some plates ready as Ben took out the cheese from the fridge for later.

Turning his head, Ben looked at (Y/n) when she perched herself on the counter, her hands resting on her lap as she started to twirl the ring around her finger like the first time they met. He studied her for a moment as he leaned back against the counter behind him next to the stove. Watching as she looked down at her hands but lifted her eyes to look over at him as if she was plucking up the courage to ask or tell him something. Ben knew this situation was different for her and maybe it was hard. He doubted she found it easy to trust or talk to people and yet here she was with a bodyguard. That can't be easy for her whereas for Ben this was normal this was business as usual for him.

"Everything okay?" Ben asked, his head tilting to the side as (Y/n) looked up from her hands.

"C-can you tell me about yourself?"

Ben brushed a curl away from his eye as his brows rose at the question he wasn't expecting. This wasn't the same as the other jobs Ben usually did. The people he normally looked after had more people around them meaning that Ben wasn't particularly close to them. He was always around them and he protected them from any threat but Ben didn't get personal. He knew who he was protecting them from, what their routines were and any meds of problems but he didn't know them and they had no reason to know him.

With (Y/n) it was different.

(Y/n) didn't hang around with many people or work with people, she didn't have a busy life going here, there and everywhere. Ben was the only person around her at the moment and he knew about her and her life which didn't normally happen with his clients- not that he minded at all. He just wasn’t used to talking about himself, he didn't normally get personal or friendly because it could take his mind from the job. But recently his life was spent with people for such a long time and he didn't get out with friends. Making a friend this way wasn't so bad or so different. It might do them good to get a little closer, there were no rules holding them back.

"If you shouldn't, I- I get it-" The longer it took for Ben's response the more (Y/n) thought he was trying to think of a kind way to tell her there were boundaries between them.

"No, no it's okay... I just don't usually find myself talking to the people I protect about personal stuff. It's nice. What do you want to know?" Ben rubbed his hand along his sharp jawline before he turned so his side was facing (Y/n). Allowing him to stir the sauce and pasta around so they didn't stick to the sides of the pan.

"Just... your life. What you studied, any places you've been to... why you chose this job. Maybe if I... I know I can..." (Y/n) knew what she was thinking but she couldn't find a way to say it.

Her life had been plain, then frightening and then back to worrisome plain again. She didn't travel, she didn't have friends apart from Joe and about two people she wasn't really in contact with anymore. She had this job all her life, only went to college and not university. (Y/n) was too afraid to have hobbies or go out very much but Ben was different. He had a different and intriguing job and life, he had done more than she had and she wanted to experience that through his memories.

"You think if I tell you, you won't have missed out." Ben spoke in a rather soothing tone that showed he understood. Watching as she bowed her head but nodded all the same. "Well... I took photography and drama at college, photography at uni which I really enjoyed, that's where I met Joe. I used to play rugby with a few mates at the weekend, that was when I used to work at a club as a bouncer. It was alright, but I wanted something different... protecting people seemed interesting to me. Just after uni me and three of my mates went on a sort of 'boys holiday'. We went to LA and then Vegas, I didn't like the heat but Vegas was really fun. You ever gone anywhere, love?"

Ben continued to stir the pasta and sauce for a moment longer before turning so he was fully facing (Y/n). Resting his hand beside her on the counter as he watched the unhappiness flood her eyes as she shook her head.

"Family holidays to Scotland or Dorset before... everything happened. I couldn't face university. Joe bumped into me at a coffee shop but I just stay home other than seeing him. How long have you been doing this?" (Y/n) didn't want the conversation to dwindle to nothing but it would if they continued to focus on her. She wanted to know Ben's life, she wanted to live it and see what he liked and what made him choose this life.

"Ooh... about four years now, since I was twenty-four. I like protecting people who need it. It's satisfying, empowering." For the first year or two, Ben had to build up his career. He went from stopping people from entering clubs or throwing them out to walking in front of beside someone who needed helping. But that meant he took any job he could get and some of those were people who really didn't need protecting they just didn't want to bother with the media. When people took him seriously and saw he was good at his job he took on people who were helpless, who were vulnerable and needed that extra help to get through the day or to get someone to leave them alone.

"What's the longest you've worked for someone?"

"Five months, when I was starting out. I don't have a time limit, if someone- you, for example, need me then I won't leave you. It's my job to protect people no matter how long for." If someone needed Ben to stay he could never just quit but if they wanted him to go then he would leave then and there because there was no point following them around and guiding them when they weren't in danger anymore.

"Doesn't that... screw up relationships and friendships?" (Y/n) knew what it was like to ruin a friendship but Ben was different. He was normal, he could have friends and he could go out without fear. Surely being someone's bodyguard for weeks or even months on end would ruin any relationship he tried to have or friendships.

"Relationships, yes. Friendships, not so much. Friends are different, they don't rely on you in the same way. My friends know my job and we still meet up or call. I've made it work once, it didn't end because of my job but others have. I don't really mind, this is what I want to do. What about you, love? I'm guessing staying in here doesn't always help you either?"

Ben couldn't always be there when a partner needed or wanted him to be. He protected people and a lot of the time that was twenty-four-hour protection, it was hard being in a relationship when he worked those kinds of hours and for long periods of time. But Ben loved his job and he didn't want to stop just yet, a relationship wasn't needed anyway, he was fine as he was. But he guessed with (Y/n), she stayed at home, she worked at home, she felt safe here. Going out into the world and being with someone would take her out of her comfort zone which Ben guessed she didn't leave very often.

"I... I've never..." (Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line as Ben's eyes went wide but he didn't laugh or smile or taunt her like she was afraid of. He looked... sad.

"No one?"

"I didn't really leave home... people at school knew about the trial and at college I was that kid that went to the tutor's office or had a panic attack. I don't go out, kinda hard to meet people from in here."

Moving his hand, Ben rested his palm over the back of (Y/n)'s hand as a small but sad smile pulled at his lips for the first time since they had met. He couldn't help but feel it was a sad shame for her, she was beautiful, clearly intelligent and yet she felt the need to hide away for her safety. Those men were in prison and yet she still didn't have that safety or confidence to go out and meet people.

He wanted to help her change that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Glancing his eyes from the dimmed screen of the phone in his hands to the door, Ben narrowed his eyes as he saw (Y/n) standing in the doorway to his room- well, her spare room. Looking back to his phone Ben noticed it was half eleven at night. (Y/n) had gone to her room about an hour ago and Ben hadn't heard her moving around for about half an hour. It seemed to be normal that after two or three times of her moving around the room or looking out the curtains, Ben would head in and stay with her until she fell asleep. He would either sit in the old leather armchair by her bed or lean against the wall and look out the window to calm her down.

He thought she would have been asleep by now.

"You alright, love?" He questioned as he turned on the side lamp before locking his phone and setting it on the table. He pushed himself to sit up as his eyes analysed (Y/n).

She was gripping the door handle with her left hand as her right hand was pressed to her lips, showing she was biting down on her thumb out of old nervous habit. Ben could see there were fresh and old tears marking her features and her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Either she was too afraid to sleep or she had tried and it hadn't worked very well.

(Y/n) felt stupid, she felt childish like a toddler who was going into their parent's room during the night because they were afraid of the dark. But she didn't know what to do. It got so hard when nightmares or flashbacks plagued her mind. Sometimes she would cry, sometimes she would sit and stare at the walls until she felt like she was going insane. Other times she could rock herself back and forth until her mind was so exhausted she had to lie down and everything slowly turned black. But tonight was different. Ben was in the next room and screaming or crying would alert him. Going insane always felt awful and she wanted help.

"I... I don't know w-what to do." (Y/n) pressed her lips together to stop her lower lip from wobbling but a shudder ran through her as tears soaked into her features. She didn't have to explain for Ben to know she was having a rough time sleeping and both of them were unsure what Ben could to do help but they both knew he would try.

Moving his hand, Ben waved her to come over to him rather than standing a few feet away hiding as if he was going to shout at her or tell her to go back to bed. (Y/n) chewed on what was left of her nail on her thumb, feeling like a child as she closed the door before slowly padding along the grey speckled carpet before sitting on the edge of Ben's bed with him. She didn't know what she was expecting Ben to do, wave a wand and make everything okay, hug her, talk to her and calm her down. Just to calm her down and make her feel safer than this.

"Nightmare or no sleep?" Ben questioned as he thought of the best way to go about this.

Slowly he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to see if the touch was alright before he tugged her so she was laying down. He moved the cover over them both before turning off the lamp which was beginning to hurt his eyes from being in the dark for a while. Ben knew this wasn't strictly professional, he was meant to protect her not cuddle her but at the same time, he could still protect her from her fears.

Keeping his arm around her waist, Ben lifted his head as he watched (Y/n) burrow her head into the pillow. Her hand moving to take his own, their fingers interlocking.

"Nightmare." (Y/n) whispered, feeling Ben's breath fanning against the back of her neck.

"I'm afraid I can't stop them from happening, love. But I can stay and try to chase them away with you." Ben couldn't lie, he couldn't tell her that no nightmares would plague her when she was with him here because that would be lying. But he could promise he wouldn't leave her and that if she tried to overcome this, he would try and help.

(Y/n) pulled Ben's arm that little tighter around her, feeling his chest pressing a little closer to her back as she felt her brain calming down significantly than to when she had been sat on her own in the dark.

"I'll protect you."

[firesign23]

WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday)

So, I had this almost ready to post last night, ran into a formatting issue, then didn’t manage to get back to the laptop. Still haven’t sorted out the formatting problem, and it’s now Thursday EVERYWHERE, but I’m posting this anyway. Out of sheer spite for Tumblr being dumb and my HTML skills too rusty to deal with it. You can see a bigger version of the picture here, because fuck it.

From a later fic in the MinigolfAU series, where Brienne gets roped into attending a school fundraiser for the Baratheon children, unaware until after committing that it includes a bachelor auction. Three guesses who is on the auction block.

After the performances are done, the children are sent off to eat dinner--pizza, because they are children, with organic arugula and goat’s cheese, because their parents’ world might end if their precious spawns’ lips ever touched a piece of pepperoni--and Jaime has a five minute lull before he needs to be backstage for the auction. Even in the dim lighting, he catches a glimpse of Brienne’s head near the bar and bites back a smile. She’d been too late into London to talk to her before the event, but this might be better--Sansa had told Myrcella and Myrcella had told him that Catelyn Stark had moved mountains to get Brienne a suitable dress, and Catelyn lives to piss Cersei off. He’s willing to bet just about anything that trumps even her long-standing loathing of Jaime, and Brienne’s going to be looking classy but lethal.

He is still not prepared when he sees her. 

Oh, she’s still the same Brienne, but her flaws have been spun to her advantage--she’s wearing heels rather than fretting about her height, her hair softens the high forehead and blunt features, the neckline of her dress flatters her shoulders , and its print in creams and browns make the freckles look deliberate. But mostly it’s that when she spots him coming she smiles; not broad and delighted, but a small and relieved tilt of her lips that fill him with inordinate fondness.  

“The kids were brilliant,” she says as he reaches her. “And the whole thing is running on time, which is nothing short of a miracle.”

He laughs. 

“Tommen started rehearsing twice as long when he heard you were coming,” he admits, and Brienne blushes. 

“Shouldn’t you be…?” 

She gestures towards the stage where he will shortly be paraded like livestock. 

“It can wait,” he says. “I need you to do me a favour.”

“I thought this was my favour.”

There’s a small smirk on her face, like she’s fully aware she holds all the cards. Which, to be fair, she does, but she’s also too nice to turn this into some mad play for power. It’s one of her better features.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were teasing me, and on this day of my great trauma,” he says in mock-horror. “But this is an extension of the favour, you have to say yes. You promised.”

“I promised Myrcella.”

He pulls a small envelope from his tux, and passes it to her. She opens it slowly, a frown crossing her face as she spots the contents inside.

“What’s this?”

“A cheque.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why?”

He gives her his most charming Lannister smile, trying not to laugh when her eyes narrow suspiciously. It’s not even the most goading tactic he has in his arsenal, and he’s going to need most of them to get her to agree. 

“Why, I thought it was obvious, HoneyBrie,” he says. “I need you to bid for me.”