#tempting fate by putting this in the tag but like seriously

[princekirijo]

if i see another half assed makoto is a bootlicker take im gonna fucking s c r e a m (not directed at u just agreeing with ur post)

Oh yeah no you're absolutely right like it's true that Atlus are very tone deaf when it comes to Makoto and her whole wanting to join a police but that's on ATLUS not Makoto herself as a character because like it doesn't even make sense for her??? Like she's seen her father get killed on duty and her sister be corrupted so to speak by this line of work so why the fuck would she want to go into it and change? Especially considering P5 SHOWS US how corrupt the cops are so it's just really weird writing... On ATLUS' part... Idk it low-key makes me annoyed that people are able to forgive bad writing with certain characters but not extend that same curtsy to Makoto.

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by the lovely @inafieldofdaisies

no pressure tags: @marivenah @sstewyhosseini @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @voidika @shegetsburned @florbelles @detectivelokis @corvosattano @jackiesarch @kyber-infinitygems @simonxriley @jinfromyarikawa @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy + anyone else that would like to share a wip!

In a shocking turn of events, I actually started writing a bit for Lorna! No clue where it’s gonna go, but I’ve been inspired by my recent gameplay

Lorna laid her foot into the gas pedal and reveled in the purr of the engine on the open road. On a bright and sunny day like this, the black paint of her car would bake her from the inside out, but with all the windows rolled down and the wild wind in her dark, choppy hair, she wasn't bothered by it. Her favorite classics blasted through the stereo and she could almost pretend it was just a regular old Sunday afternoon. Almost. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Lorna noticed movement in the sky. She glanced out of the driver’s side and spotted one of the cult’s dogfighters circling in the distance. They were too far away to cause her any trouble, but she kept moving. She wasn’t in the mood to tempt fate with that thing.

Just as her anxiety began to fade from the looming threat, she turned her attention back to the road. She peaked over the crest of a hill and saw a thin column of black smoke next to a line of white trucks about a couple hundred yards out. Another goddamn barricade. 

“God forbid I drive a fuckin’ mile in this county,” Lorna grumbled to herself. She slammed on the brakes, turning the steering wheel with a screech of rubber on asphalt to place her vehicle perpendicular on the road. 

Lorna swung the car door open impatiently and walked around to retrieve her sniper rifle from the trunk. Picking the Peggies off from a distance always seemed the best strategy for her. Or maybe she just enjoyed watching them scurry for cover through her scope. 

The long barrel of her rifle rested on the roof of her beloved 1970 Kimberlite ZZT as she took aim. It had never been that pristine of a ride to begin with, but every bullet hole, dent, and scratch from the cult left her as furious as seeing her fellow deputies in peril. Add it to the list of things they’ll pay for, she silently vowed. I’ll sure as hell make ‘em feel it. 

Lorna’s bullets found the skulls of three Peggies before they even noticed what happened. Another man tripped over himself while he tried to scramble away. She put him down with a shot in the back. It might not have been the classiest kill, but she was too tired to fight honorably anymore. 

“Maybe don’t block the damn road, dumbass,” She said under her breath and aimed at the last man standing. Almost done. 

This Peggie had a handgun in his grip, but he didn’t aim it at Lorna. She saw his arm shoot upwards and they both pulled their triggers at the same exact time. His body went down. The flare went up. 

“Shit.”

Lorna’s head jerked behind her to where she saw the plane a few minutes earlier. The aircraft in the distance immediately changed course in her direction. Its chrome plating flashed so brightly in the sun that it made her squint. She had about fifteen seconds tops before it converged on her position. 

With the barricade opened, she might stand a chance to flee. There were enough pines to make it too difficult for the pilots to get a clear shot. But Lorna realized she didn’t want to run. If she wanted Eden’s Gate to take her seriously – to think twice about the power they held over Hope County – well, Lorna would have to continue pulling off extraordinary feats to keep their attention. 

“Oh, fuck it,” she groaned.

The deputy marched down the middle of the road. Away from her car. Away from any cover whatsoever. She wanted them to see her as clearly as she saw them. Then she knelt on one knee and hefted her rifle up, staring down the scope and watching the plane draw closer. In order to get the best opportunity, she would have to wait until the last possible second. 

They spotted her. Lorna saw the tip of the plane dip into an almost nosedive, their guns aligned and ready to fire. Her finger hovered over the trigger as the sensation of her heartbeat overtook her whole body like a heavy drum being struck inside a silent opera house. 

They got within range and Lorna heard the whirl of the plane’s weaponry. A few bullets peppered the road around her, but her coiled muscles kept her locked in place. The closer they got, the more accurate their aim was. She needed to see the shape of the pilot’s head at least. 

“Come on, come on,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

Finally, she made out a silhouette in the cockpit and fired. With a small spark, she saw her bullet ricochet off the metal frame of the aircraft. Miss. It swerved left and circled for another attack. Lorna shifted her weight in frustration and leaned back into the stock of her rifle. She was determined, even if it took the entire magazine to take this damn plane down.

The plane lined up once more and didn’t hesitate to begin firing on the lone deputy. Lorna wouldn’t wait either. Don’t think too hard or you’ll fuck up your aim, a familiar gravel-rough voice echoed in her head along with the memory of the comforting scent of tobacco. She didn’t really need to see the pilot to know where they were. All she had to do was fire into the cockpit and have faith. 

Her finger gently squeezed the trigger and the kickback punched into her shoulder. This time, there was no spark. Lorna blinked and the aircraft suddenly dipped downward and spiraled out of control. She tracked the plane’s descent all the way into the field to her left. A broad grin gradually came across her face as it tore up the soil and brush with a loud crash, the accompanying fireball more satisfying than the illegal mortars her father would buy for the Fourth of July. 

Lorna let out a sigh of relief and straightened, nodding at her own accomplishment. “That’s fucking right.”

One less buzzard off her back. Not a bad day’s work.

[cyberp-1-nk]

Okay, so here is an idea I have that I'm super stoked for!

So the gods are discussing random things, Akuma goes on about murdering the other proxies and Enid just kinda rolls her eyes and disregards her. Then suddenly she gets an idea. She loves to gamble a bit and so she wanted to make a bet with Zalgo, since Zalgo was talking about Amber and how powerful she is with his powers. So Zalgo and Enid make a bet, they each choose a proxy to fight on another. So Enid picks Anni, and Zalgo picks Amber, thinking that Anni would stand no chance with Zalgo's influence.

So Anni and Amber just duel it out and everyone is watching, the gods, the other proxies from both sides, and maybe even Royce. So Anni is getting beat up, as usual and she is managing to stand her ground enough to not get killed but Zalgo is just eating that up and is convinced he's going to win the bet, but suddenly Amber's little powers start to wear off and Enid just gives Zalgo the biggest smirk of the century and Anni kills Amber at the end of the fight, winnning and Royce and the others are just standing there....like wow....

(feel free to add anything, change anything, or ask any questions if you have any about the fic or Enid!)

[ Tempting fate. || simp party. ]

Warnings: Violence, slight gore.

Tags: @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N: Dayum- I wrote way more than I had expected LOL. The fact I'd only do this much oc writing for the beloved simp party members.

Word count: 3,229

"Are you seriously worried about your one proxy?" Akuma slammed her fist onto the large circular table, and successfully startled the large man infront of her— the snow-haired man got incredibly startled. He was extremely afraid of this insane pink-haired woman, that devilish smirk that constantly tugged at her lips only further indented dear into his body.

"Xaverius is the only proxy I have— and he has his whole life ahead of him. I just want to ensure that he's safe." Damon's eyes were concealed by the white hair in front of his face, nearly hiding his emotions from the world. Snowflakes dangled from his fingertips, and little bits of ice inhabited his pale skin, his sapphire eyes flickering back to Akuma, who continued to smile at him.

"Oh please— I kill my proxies off whenever they become useless to me. That's what you're supposed to do." Akuma leaned in the palm of her gloved hand boredly, already exasperated from the talk of empathy. Akuma stopped and looked up at Damon with a snarl that had turned into a smile. She laughed a bit and fiddled with her hands, picking at the candy on the table as she licked her lips. Slowly, her pink eyes stared up at Damon once again, making another shiver go up his spine with unease, "You can't let yourself fall victim to such human emotions. It's so…pathetic"

Enid's eyes rolled upon seeing the woman on the other side of the table being eccentric. She put her wine glass down and clasped her hands together, leaning forward on the table with her elbows resting against it. Zalgo narrowed his eyes as he fumbled with his fingers, his movements becoming slightly erratic— smirking at her.

"So, as I was saying— Amber has exceeded my expectations. Her status in the arena is nearly flawless, and she kills people without any sort of problem. If I'm being honest, it's quite pleasant to see this finally happening, after all I've had her train for the longest time." Zalgo smirked, settling his chin on top of his clasped hands, "I'm confident that she could kill any one of those God-forsaken Slender-proxies. They often interfere with my work anyways." 

"Kill any of them you say?" Enid clasped her hands together, leaning forward as her ruby eyes glistened, clear excitement washing over her face, "Well in that case, how about a little wager, hmm?" She traced her fingertips onto the rim of the wine glass, a little smirk tugging at her lips— her eyes sparking with mischief.

"Oh? Another one?" Zalgo every nerve is on edge at her mischievous interaction. He feels like this every time he talks to this strange deity— but it was intriguing every time. "I have a feeling this will be interesting. Go on, I'm listening." Zalgo leaned over in front of her and poured a small bit of wine in her pristine wine glass in front of her. 

Enid looked up at him and saw the amusement written across his face. She soon huffed and smiled, knowing it was now or never with how he peered down at her Taking the glass, she gripped it in her fingers, "In the arena, let's see how talented that Amber you keep boasting about— let's see what she's truly capable of, against the proxy of my choosing." 

"And that proxy is?" He questioned.

Enid struggled to hide a stale face and managed to put on a poker-face, setting the wine glass back down onto the table. Zalgo set the glass of wine he poured in front of her and she took it, sipping on it, "Anni."

"Interesting choice." Zalgo lifted his glass and nodded at Enid in thanks for the friendly invitation and gesture. The two toasted their glasses together, clinking the glasses together, "May the best win!"

— . — . —

The crowd of entities below the Gods, roared with cheers at such a velocity that it echoed throughout the entire arena, the demons all simultaneously gathering to see the fight between two famous proxies— they began chanting for the fight between them to start. Zalgo set his chin on top of his already intertwined hands, his lip started to pull up in that wicked, devilish smirk that could make cold chills run down anyone's spine. He was confident Amber would win against whatever the little human had to offer.

Edin— the temptress of fate herself, awaiting to see what this proxy was truly capable of. She took the glass and put the rim to his mouth, tilting some of the wine into her lips. Her face remained as a poker-face turned to as she put the glass down. Everyone of the Gods on the balcony watched in silence and anticipation as Edin swallowed the alcohol, a little twitch at the corner of her mouth. Every single of the Gods were present during this fight, judgmentally viewing this battle of the ages from their designated seats above, with sharp observational eyes—  Despite Slenderman's seemingly steady voice, he was obviously anything but pleased. The malice was evident in his aura, and his temper was loosening by the minute. He had hoped Anni wouldn't lose against this pathetic Zalgoid, it would be such an embarrassment to his reputation amongst the Gods.

Down in the arena bleachers below, stood the many proxies, awaiting in anticipation to see who was going to win. 

The Gigglers all twitched violently, they barely could manage to keep still in such conditions while the five of them were tearing apart human flesh— just so they could be kept from interfering the fight in any way. Meanwhile, the calmest Giggler of them all, stood quietly, her emotionless ruby-colored eye observing the scene in front of her— awaiting to see what would happen.

The Slenderman proxies all anxiously watched in pure distress of the situation in front of them— especially Varrick. Varrick held his breath, feeling sweat drip down the side of his neck, fearing the possible consequences of such a vicious fight. Masky glided a gloved hand to Varrick's shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly— they often had their differences, but they shared a mutual worry for Anni's well-being. While they were reasonably worried— the Zalgo proxies watched distinctively.

Royce crossed his arms, anxiously biting the inside of cheek. He didn't like coming in contact with his ex-girlfriend, or even watching her in her fights. He crossed his arms, stuffing fries into his mouth, "I hope that Slenderman proxy beats her ass."

"My my, angry are we?" Xaverius' democratic grin juxtaposed the venom he threw, it's rancid and acidic, burning Royce act to a sludge, leaving him in shame. And before he could even reply to his passive-aggressive undertone, Xaverius interrupted him— something he was known for, "You can't possibly be thinking about Amber, it's been almost a year, Royce. I thought you'd be able to get over it," Xaverius flicked one of the crumbs that tumbled from one of the fries, into Royce's face with judgemental behavior.

"Fuck off." Royce mumbled through a face stuffed full of fries, "The hell are you doing here anyways? I thought you were too high and mighty to watch other proxies fight."

"I am. But, I thought this would be fun. Being the strongest means easier and more boring fights. I need something to entertain me once in a while," Xaverius looked to be around Royce's age, probably in his early twenties. The proportions of his face were perfect, nicely framed by his white hair that fell loosely around his face. He was ridiculously tall to the point that he had to lower his head just to taunt Royce— who had been sitting down and angrily munching on fast food. "Thought maybe I could find someone that would be capable of being entertaining,"

Xaverius did not miss how Royce's eyes narrowed ever so slightly when he revealed his intentions. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough for him to recognize the emotion on his face. Royce wasn't usually so aggressive— but Xave could be so annoying at times. Both of them instantly shut their mouths upon the start of the fight, the thousands of gathered crowd becoming quiet when Zalgo stood up. The rusted gate was reeled up by the demonic guards, hurriedly doing so— 

Arriving from the first gate, Amber had a Chesire-like grin carved onto her face— demon horns poking from her head and absolutely bathed in the cheers the crowds had been shooting at her. Her eyes traveled up, looking up at the blue sky, eyes squinting slightly the two blood suns glinted at her from her peripheral vision. It was midday and Anni already felt like going to bed, she was exhausted and her body felt heavy, and she was feeling the absolute heat crackle into her veins.

Roars from the crowd erupted as Anni entered, and she could feel the burning gazes of Zalgo and Enid staring down at her— but none matched the look Amber had been giving her. Anni narrowed her eyes, tightening her grasp along her blade,

"Bring it on you ugly whore!" Anni shouted— and the crowd cheered, loving her energetic behavior. Royce chuckled.

The demon screamed with rage and lunged towards Anni, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall behind her. Anni coughed out and Amber grabbed her arm and threw her across the arena once again, this time, into a window. Anni fell face first to the dirty floor as glass erupted from the window and plunged onto her body. She felt the sharp incisions clutter her hands as she tried to protect her head the best she could. Her face flicked up when she heard a low growl sound from the throat of the ghost, seeing her on the approach once again, 

"You gotta do better than that!" Anni groaned as she tried to stand to her feet, feeling the hard hands of the demon grabbing onto her shirt once again. With all Amber's strength, she let out a blood curdling wail and hurled Anni over the ground into the arena wall. The wall nearly faltered under Anni's weight and she exploded onto the other arena wall with a loud thud, skidding across the ground and coming to a stop, as rubble slammed itself onto her face. She hissed through her lips and her mouth gaped open to try and suck air into her lungs, but the force she experienced knocked the wind out of her. Zalgo smirked, his eyes leering towards Enid, while she continued to watch the fight with a stoic expression. 

"Anni!" Varrick's voice was frantic, and jagged around the edges when he gripped the arena rails— you could tell from his voice that he was both furious, and worried— the slow snarl before the biting and the lock of the jaw before he began glaring at her opponent. It took every ounce of patience in himself to not just jump in there, and fight in her place. 

Varrick's shouts echoed through Vince's ears as he turned his head, seeing his lips moving and his strong arms holding his brother back from jumping into the arena. Varrick ripped away from his grasp, and Vince sighed, "She'll be okay. Just trust her." 

Power pulses through Amber's nervous system, allowing her to accumulate her immense strength, her legs breaking into a brisk run— charging towards Anni with the immediate intention to kill. Anni sat motionless against the wall of the arena, with a blood-stained shirt draping over her shoulders. Her outgrown brown hair was cascading over her eyes, though her vision narrowed and focused. However, it was then that Anni realized her ears were ringing, it was such a high pitch ring that she hadn't recognized it at first. As the pitch began to fade little by little, the sound of familiar yelling started to form, it was barely audible, and it sounded gurgled almost as if it were underwater— but it was enough to get Anni to move.

"ANNI!" Cassie screamed, pushing off of Vince's grasp, and dangerously climbing onto the rails of the arena, "KICK. HER. ASS!" The young girl finally cussed— and it sounded as if she were mimicking Varrick.

Anni manages to snap her eyes open upon hearing the youthful girl she held dear to her, and realized she wasn't going to let herself die today. The crowd roared immensely when she shakingly pushed herself off the ground, and onto her feet— 

"Come on Anni! Don't let her take you down, you're tougher than that!" Anni's ears perked at the sound of Vince's voice calling out to her. 

"You really don't want to mess with me right now Anni; I'm not in the mood for your bullshit." Amber sneered.

"Neither am I anymore." Anni retorted before latching her free hand on Amber's extended arm. She turned and shoved her knee as hard as she could into her gut, Amber's breath escaping  her mouth with a choke and her deadly grasp on Anni's Wrist faded. Amber wrapped her arms around her hurting stomach and Anni wrapped her forearms around her neck, turning, and flipping Amber over her shoulder. 

Anni ran forward and shoved her foot against the chest of the large demonic woman, her feet stumbling back from the sheer force of Anni's  weight. Anni pressed forward once again but doubled back when Amber reached for her out of nowhere. Her hand jumped out and slashed her knife across Amber's face— the Zalgo proxy just barely missing the hit. Anni shoved all her weight forward, Amber slamming to the ground under her strength. 

Amber ran at her again and Anni kneed her in the

stomach, feeling her hands gripping her jacket once again as Amber slammed her against the dirt. Anni wriggled her foot into her opponent's stomach and kicked her as hard as she could, sending the demon careening through the air.

Anni feet scrambled to get her back upright

and Amber was swift to beat her at her own game, gripping her large hand around her throat and digging her fingernails greedily into Anni's pale skin. Anni latched onto her wrist and squeezed as tightly as she could to pry Amber off, but she knew that there wouldn't be a possibility. Thinking fast, Anni bent her arm and with nothing but blunt force, her elbow crashed down against Amber's forearm and snapped the bone. 

The demon's hand released her and she stepped back, watching Amber grip her now burning arm and stare at her hatefully. Her chest bounced up and down in pants, her icy eyes turning dark, "I'm getting sick of your shit, Anni." Amber's eyes flicked black once again, Anni narrowing her eyes in disgust at what Amber was.

Anni threw all her body weight into her fist and Amber blocked it with her broken forearm, kneeing her in the gut and knocking the breath from her lungs. She growled and felt a tingle between her shoulders when she shoved her elbow down on her back; her legs kicked her forward and she tackled her to the ground. Anni's legs gripped Amber's sides tightly as she sat on her chest, her arm reaching back and sending an unrelenting force of brutal strength into Amber's face.

Over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. The crowd winced.

Finally giving Amber what she deserved, the palm of Anni's hand rested against the demon's disordered face and she gritted her teeth, focusing all her energy into her hand. Amber plunged her knife into the front of Amber's head, twisting it, and popping it back out of her skull. Blood stained her hands and as she looked up to where the Gods sat, she could see a slight disturbance in Zalgo's demeanor upon witnessing her actions. Anni felt Amber's head go limp in the tight grip of her hand, along with her body, and Anni dropped her face. Her legs shakily pushed her feet under her and back to the familiar upright position, the crowd absolutely roaring, screeching her name. 

Amber landed on his back with a loud thud and the two proxies who watched— both Royce and Xaverius— stared in awe, their mouths dropped and their eyes wide. Royce even choked on his fries, desperately trying to get the food out of his windpipe while he continued to watch in shock. "Holy shit— did that Slenderman proxy just fuck up Amber?" Xave leaned in, this human girl certainly caught his interest.

"Damn.." Royce mumbled, watching the auburn-haired girl take down his shitty ex. Like Xaverious, his interest peaked at this moment. "What's her name again? Anni?" Royce didn't say a word as he was still a bit shocked, his eyes trailing down to the bloodied human-proxy.

"I think I might fight this chick," Xaverius mumbled a bit. The twitch in his lips crack to the thinly veiled venner behind— his voice as gentle and steady as the wind. His eyes tilt towards Royce, “You’re staring,” Xave notes as he sits back down near his enemy, “again.”

Royce's eyes stay glued to the woman in the arena. “Don't make it weird,” he retorts tiredly, his stomach churning whenever Xaverius teases him for the stupidest reasons— it never fails to make him cringe. The singular proxy who had worked for Damon was strange in all sorts of ways.

“Sounds like someone doesn't wanna open up his heart.” Xaverius sarcastically remarks— cringing at himself for the phrasing he used. He takes a bite out of Royce's, noticing how Royce left his food untouched for a while. He must be really intrigued. How unlike him. “What, are you scared or something?”

At that, Royce finally tears his eyes away from the spectacle. “Me? scared?” he exclaims, clutching his chest. His frost eyes flit over to where she was again. “I'm never scared. Plus— I don't even know her! Stop being weird Xave, not everyone acts like a man-whore like you. Some of us just prefer to be single." Royce stuffed a fry into his mouth, rolling his eyes.

"Sounds like you're just scared of relationships because of Amber."

“I'm not.” Royce skillfully lied through his teeth, though not necessarily at Xaverius. He's annoyed with himself for letting things get so out of hand. He was scared of those types of things, and it was one of his biggest fears after what had happened— relationships of any type are just not his thing. He wasn't a fan of becoming friends with women he'd possibly fall for either— There's no way all those little touches here and lingering gazes there are what friends do when they feel platonic feelings towards each other, he had experienced it before with his past female friends. With that in mind, Royce sighs and continues, “Plus, this line of work doesn’t really leave space for romance and sweet lovin’, Xave. it’d suck if I ever actually were to fall in love with some girl and then… one of us died.”

“I guess,” Xaverius replies, shrugging. 

On the podium, the Gods all quietly clapped their hands— beside Zalgo, who had been completely shocked.

"Quite the underdog, isn't she?" Enid mused, a large smile carving itself onto her face as she leaned in towards the growling demonic God— she took a sip of her wine, "I had no doubt that she'd win against that pathetic proxy you have."

"How did— I—..." Zalgo was at a complete loss for words. 

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey I love your blog! If it isn’t too much trouble, could you do one of the companions reacting to Sole getting an unsolicited dick pic?

FO4 Companions React to Sole Receiving an Unsolicited Dick Pic

So I know the ask said one of the companions, but I just did 'em all cuz I got carried away (as I always seem to). This was definitely an interesting one to think about, and suuuuper fun to write. Thanks for the ask!

I ended up doing a little scenario at the top that'll apply to all of the reactions, and just kind of give context for the fateful event to take place (since phones/the internet aren't really a canon element in FO, I put this scenario together instead.)

Given the nature of this ask, there's a just bit of NSFW under the cut!

Sole had woken up like any other day. Heading down the stairs of their Diamond City home to make breakfast, trying to be quiet in order to keep from disturbing their companion in the other room. However, as they passed their front door, they noticed something peeking out of the mail slot.

The paper isn't meant to come out until tomorrow...

Curious, Sole reached for the little white square of photo paper, and noticed some writing in the corner. There was an address and the words, "if you like what you see, meet me here tonight," accompanied by a little arrow pointing to flip the photo over. Their intrigue got the better of them, and Sole did as the writing suggested, turning it over for a brief second before immediately regretting it. They recoiled at the phallic image, their surprise evident in the small yelp they uttered in response to the sight before them.

They heard their companion stir from the other room, and then their footsteps sounded from behind as they approached questioningly.

"What have you got there?" They asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sole said, turning to face them, "just some mail, is all." Sole's words dripped with distaste, and yet... they felt an overwhelming need to share their unsightly discovery with the person in front of them.

"Wanna see?" They asked, mercilessly turning the picture so their companion could clearly make out the offensive image.

Cait:

*scoffs*

"What, they think that's somethin' te brag about? The damn thing's so wee, I almost couldn't make it out." She'd say with a smile, offering up her hand so she could take the picture and tear it in half. Cait effectively would make the decision for her companion in regards to the comment on the back of the photo. She knows this type of man, and she'd be sure that Sole wouldn't be meeting the asshole anywhere tonight. However, should she be able to sneak away while Sole is sleeping... Cait might just pay a visit to the specified location, where she'd surely give that asshole a piece of her mind, and at least one taste of her fist.

Curie:

Her eyebrows would furrow, and the synth would cock her head to the side in her confusion. Being locked away in a vault with three men for so many years, acting as their doctor, meant she had seen her fair share of the male sex organ. But now, Curie was confused, why did this man feel the need to send Sole a photograph of his penis? Was there something wrong with it? Did he want them to examine it? Sole was not a doctor...

"Why 'ave you received zhis, madame/monsieur? What does zhis man want from you?"

Once Sole explained, Curie would be quite upset by the concept.

"But... you did not ask for zhis, did not want it, and yet, he sent it anyway. Why would you want to meet someone like zhat? It seems very rude to me." She's still confused about it, and may ask a few more questions. Has this happened to Sole before? Does it happen often? Does anyone actually like to see such things when they are unprompted like this? If not, then why do these men continue to do it?

The scientist just wants answers.

Danse:

The soldier would physically recoil at the sight of the photograph, eyebrows raised high as he took in the image, before jerking his head and eyes away from Sole and the picture altogether.

"That-- that is highly inappropriate and an overwhelmingly vile display." He would say once he recovered from his initial shock, still refusing to look back towards Sole, "I suggest you dispose of that filth immediately. Why anyone would reveal themselves in such an unceremonious fashion is beyond me. You would do well to forget such graphic imagery. I know that I will certainly try."

He wouldn't even entertain the idea that Sole would go through with meeting the man behind the picture, but in the off chance that they decided to tell him they wanted to, Danse would spend the remainder of the day convincing them otherwise. He would almost be tempted to go to the location himself in order to lecture the man for his crude and inexcusable behavior, and blatant disrespect to his companion, but in the end, he decides that the man is not worth his time.

Deacon:

Ginger eyebrows would raise slightly over the frames of the glasses for the briefest of moments before he recovered his cool demeanor.

"Ah shoot, did the postman just put it right back into the mail slot? Didn't mean for you to see that, my bad. Here, I'll just deliver it myself."

The sarcasm was evident in his voice as he strode forward and plucked the photo from Sole's hand, examining it for just a moment, and grimacing a bit at the sight.

"Man, Dr. Rich Cockwood does not photograph well. I swear, it's bigger in person." He'd wink at them before glancing down at the picture again, scrutinizing blue eyes pausing to peruse the words on the back as he folded the paper up to put into his pocket. He'd quickly change the subject, trying to keep Sole's mind off the whole thing as he devised a way to sneak out that night and get some intel on the asshole who decided it was a wise idea to put Sole in this position.

Hancock:

*Squints*

"Oh shit. Looks like you've got an admirer there, Sole. " In his sleepy state, it took Hancock a minute to figure out what he was even looking at. Upon realizing that it was, in fact, what he thought it had been, he takes the picture from Sole's grasp and flips it around to glance at the back.

"Look at that, you've even got a date tonight. Must be somewhere romantic, I can tell this guy's old school." He nodded, flipping the photo over to glance once again at the offensive imagery on the front. "Yeah, real traditional, I'd say. Hmm... Mind if I tag along? Could be fun." There was a certain sort of glint in the ghoul's eye that made Sole's spine tingle.

Perhaps neither of us should go... Sole thought, noticing how Hancock's other hand toyed absentmindedly with his combat knife as he furrowed his brows at the photo one last time, before shoving the paper into the pocket of his coat. There was a certain sort of intent behind his actions that made Sole re-think even showing him the image in the first place. Hancock had killed people over less; that, Sole knew for sure.

MacCready:

"Ahh! What the heck are you doing?! I don't need to see that!" He'd squeeze his eyes shut just as soon as he was able to make out the photo, shoving his hands in front of him as though they would be able to push the image out of his mind.

"It's too early for this, what the heck is that guy's problem?" MacCready shuddered as he pulled his hands slowly from where they covered his eyes, glancing quickly at Sole before lowering them down completely, a relieved expression on his face as realized the picture was no longer in his line of sight. Noting his dramatic reaction, Sole considered toying with the mercenary a bit. They asked him what was wrong with the image, stating that perhaps they would pay this man a visit tonight. It had been so long since they had been out on a date, might as well go for it, right?

MacCready's eyes would simultaneously furrow, and widen at their words as he stuttered, finally finding his voice after a moment of shocked, choked silence.

"What?!" He exclaimed, "You're not seriously thinking of going, are you? That guy seems like such an ass-- Well, he just-- I mean..." He took a breath, and Sole had to bite their lip to hold back their grin. "Look, not that it's really any of my business or anything, but... don't you think you could do better than that guy? Like... a lot better?"

Sole couldn't hold back their grin any longer, but MacCready wouldn't meet their gaze. Instead he looked down at the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, a nearly unnoticeable blush spreading over his cheeks.

"That guy just seems like a real jerk, and you? Well... Yeah, you deserve better than that, I think." He finished rather awkwardly, finally looking up to meet Sole's gaze before returning their coy smile.

Nick:

The synth would a have a brief moment of raised eyebrows as he took in the details of the photograph, and then the inevitable scowl of disappointment would spread across his face.

"You know, you'd think this guy would understand that no one in their right mind wants to see that particular... angle. You don't think that's his good side, do ya?" Sole would smile a bit at that, and as the synth turned to walk away from the offensive image, they told him about the writing on the back.

"Hey now, wait a minute. You're not thinking of paying this guy a visit, are ya? If so, that's a pretty poor decision on your part, I think."

Sole would shake their head, telling Nick not to worry as he fixed his inquiring yellow gaze on them. He nodded in response, seeming satisfied by their answer. In the next moment, a thought seemed to claim his attention.

"Hmm... I think I might just know the perp, actually. Ellie's got a few reports back at the office mentioning some similar events. Guess it's possibly one of the guards on night duty who goes around with these to see if he gets any takers."

Sole almost spoke up, but as they opened their mouth, Nick's words seemed to take their idea straight from their head. "On second thought..." He said, "You got any plans for this evening?"

Piper:

"Ahh! Blue! Why would you show me that!?" She'd physically cover her eyes with her hands, taking a few steps back and away from the picture for good measure.

"Look, I don't care what you do with it," she'd tell them, "just don't let me see it again!"

Sole would thankfully oblige, but before disposing of the image, they showed Piper the writing on the back. At the sight of the man's suggestion, Piper snatched the photo from Sole's hand, glaring at it furiously.

"Ohhhh no he doesn't. If he's sent crap like this to anybody else, I'm going to make sure no one falls for this."

And Piper kept her word, as the next morning's addition of Publik Occurrences contained a small piece written on exactly this subject, titled: To the Asshole who sent the Sad Little Picture to a Disgusted Citizen; No One Wants to See That! Sincerely, Everyone who has.

Preston:

"O-- oh! Um, that's-- okay. That's just wrong. Do you want me to get rid of it for you?"

Preston's face would wrinkle up in his clear distaste before bringing a a hand up to shield his eyes. When Sole had lowered the picture, he removed his hand, and looked them in the eye, refusing to pay the photo any more attention, but extending his hand out to take it from them so he could dispose of it properly.

"Are you... okay? I can't believe how rude some people are. Who would want to see that?" He'd flash a sympathetic smile at them, as he folded up the photo and prepared to throw it away. He didn't read the back himself, but if they told him about the words that were written there, he wouldn't even entertain the idea of Sole going, just shaking his head in disappointment at the man's poor and rude way of trying in vain to woo his General.

"Some people... The nerve. If you don't mind me saying, General, you deserve much better than that anyway."

X6-88:

His eyes would be locked to Sole's, but as they presented the photo to him, his gaze would fall to the image, and an ever so slight furrowing of his brows would take place above his silver eyes. A brief moment would pass, and X6's gaze would be back on his companion's face.

"Ma'am/ sir, why did you feel the need to show me this?" He's also quite confused, this was not a common occurrence in the Institute, and once Sole gave him an explanation, his expression would remain blank. For the most part, anyway. A small huff of laughter would escape him, prompting Sole to be the one giving him the questioning look now.

"If this filthy wastelander believes he can disrespect the future director of the Institute without facing consequences, he is sorely mistaken." He said, his gaze unbroken as he made Sole this promise, "Don't worry, I will take care of this filth at the specified meeting time and location. You will not hear from him again."

He doesn't necessarily intend to kill the man for his unseemly behavior; X6 is a courser after all, and he knew this man would be scared shitless if X6 were to so much as look at him the wrong way, but should the man make any... poor decisions in response to the courser's confrontation, well... certainly X6 can't be held responsible for the behavior, or the fate, of a mere stranger now, could he? Especially after his heinous actions.

[phemiec]

I don’t wanna be too evasive and feel free not to answer this ! But you and shauna have such a good relationship and it makes me feel like love might be actually real. How do u do it ?

Not sure how to answer this without being cliched or annoying but i’ll give it a shot? i have a relationship advice tag too that i’ll put this in, but most of my posts in there are from like 6 years ago when Shauna and I had only been together 2-3 years, so they’re a little more honeymoon-phasey I guess

A big part of it is luck in finding a person who wants the same thing from a relationship that you do, Who’s willing to work at it with you and meet you halfway.

Big obvious thing is, communication, don’t bottle things up, don’t go to bed angry, don’t fight an argument over subtext in your head. This is especially important if you/your partner have anxiety or other mental health issues. If concerns or problems or doubts or any bad feeling come up, talk them out right away. Listen to what your partner is actually saying, not what you think they might be subtextually implying. And when you are discussing your feelings with them be as honest and transparent as possible. A relationship without trust and honesty cannot last.

Check in with your partner, ask for help when you need it and offer it in turn. In a long term partnership especially when you live together, there will develop a balance of responsibility and caretaking, and ideally, always try to be contributing to that balance more than you’re taking from it. Justin McElroy said in one of his podcasts once that in a marriage the effort into the relationship should be 60/40 with both people trying to be the 60 and expecting their partner to be the forty and I really agree with that.

Of course we can’t always be at our best, but in times when we have no energy, or are in a bad space, it’s especially important to be as loving, patient, and appreciative as we can with our partners who are there with us through the hard times. If you want to say “thank you”, don’t say “i’m sorry”. When we feel like burdens it’s sometimes tempting to take out our own self hatred and frustration on the people who love us, fight this impulse. Let your partner know how much you appreciate the effort they put into your relationship and gracefully accept their love, absorb it and feel it and let it uplift you in the hard times. I promise, the opportunity for you to return that effort for them in their dark times will also arise. 

On top of all that heavy stuff of effort and communication etc. Don’t underestimate the powerful tool that is humor and silliness! Keeping playfulness alive in your interactions esp with a romantic partner is, I think, just as vital as communication. When things get really dark in life, shared humor and levity can be a lighthouse! Don’t take yourselves, each other or even your relationship too seriously. Be goofy and dorky with each other, play and laugh and do things to make the other person smile. Playfulness and curiosity is also, I think, vital to keeping a romantic/sexual spark alive in a relationship, if that’s something that’s important to you. Be curious and excited to keep learning new things about your partner, when you’ve been with someone a long time you can start assuming you know everything about that person, which of course isn’t true, we’re all always learning and growing and changing. Give your partner room to change and grow, and give yourself that permission too, and then have fun reintroducing yourselves! :p

Anyway yeah.... that’s what I’ve got!

Tl;dr 

Communicate openly and honestly, show appreciation, let yourselves grow and change. Be kind, generous, playful, curious, trusting and vulnerable with each other. The rest is up to fate and finding a person willing to do those things equally for you.

[minor-solemnity]

Invention and Intrigue pt.3

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons​ @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.

“And that’s what we are? Friends?”

You start meeting him more regularly after that. He finds you after dinner most nights and you spend hours in abandoned classrooms, researching and practising obscure forms of magic. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring any more fluffy animals for practical demonstrations. You swap theories and notes on cursed objects; delve deep into the histories of generational bloodline curses; and break down spells - both light and dark - into their most base forms to learn their mechanisms and constructions.

Honestly, it’s strange how easy it is to sit in companionable silence reading from the ancient tomes that Riddle has somehow managed to source. Riddle is patient and oddly kind when he explains aspects of magical theory that you don’t understand; he’s a good teacher. Given his reputation for being a studious, polite, and unendingly fair young man you don’t think this should shock you, but it does nonetheless. 

More interesting is the gratification that lights his expression when he succeeds in performing a spell for the first time, and the morbid curiosity he has for everything that could be classified as ‘dark’. You think that you should be concerned or nervous or scared but it’s difficult to summon those (very sensible, very reasonable) feelings when you are just as interested in what you’re discovering as he is. 

It’s nearly seven o’clock and you think you should probably be thinking about heading back to your common room in case Melanie starts to wonder where you are. Except… From where you’re sitting on the floor with a large, dark green blanket wrapped around your shoulders that Riddle had conjured for when when you’d complained about being cold, you can watch him without him noticing. You can study the way he curls over the book on legilimency he’s reading, head bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes and casting shadows along the sharp planes of his face. He pauses every so often to scribble down a thought or annotation and you watch the crease that forms on his forehead whenever he reaches a part of his reading that particularly interests him. He looks calm is the thing. Content. Peaceful. 

Unbidden, an image of him stretched out on a sofa, a book in his hands, you curled at his side, springs fully formed to the forefront of your mind. You can picture the way he might absently run a hand through your hair, or maybe it would be you tracing patterns against his chest… It’s a horrendously tempting portrayal of domesticity. You’re so lost in your fantasies that you don’t realise that you’ve been staring until he coughs politely and you’re brought thundering back to reality. He’s watching you with an expression that reads as part amusement and part consideration and you feel your cheeks grow warm under his scrutiny.

You get up and brush yourself off, folding the blanket over your arm and studiously ignore him. “I should… I need to get back. It’s getting late.” You say and are proud that your voice only wavers slightly. 

He hums softly in contemplation and nods. Once you’ve both gathered your things, he offers you his hand and you are reminded of the first time you’d spoken. You slumped against the wall, shivering and scared and him, holding his hand out to you like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Let me walk you back,” He says. Just as before, he doesn’t let go of your hand until you reach the entrance to your common room. When you try to return the blanket, he shakes his head and presses it back into your hands. “I conjured it for you. I’d like for you to keep it.” 

Just as before, he departs and you’re left holding the blanket, soft and warm and deep emerald green. Slytherin colours. His colours.

***

Three days later, you’re ready to take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about Riddle. You are seriously regretting ever having caught his attention. Sure, it’s been fun, you’ve learnt a lot of interesting things, and you’d be lying if you said that you’d not been enjoying getting know Riddle beyond the persona he puts forward to the rest of the school, but none of that can make up for the fact that he is leading you down into the bowels of the castle once more without a care in the world for your comfort or sanity.

“You don’t like the dungeons very much, do you?” He asks, taking in your jumpy demeanour and suspicious gaze with a sardonic smile. “Why is that, I wonder? Too scary for a good little girl like you?” The emphasis on the word ‘good’ serves both to underline the obvious sarcasm in his words and make your stomach clench in a way that is entirely inappropriate for the conversation at hand. You could curse yourself for the incredibly misplaced crush you’ve apparently developed.

You fold your arms over your chest and stare at the floor, unwilling to let him see how much his comment has affected you. You let out a shaky breath and murmur, “Self-preservation is not the same as being scared. Excuse me for not wanting to actively tempt fate and die in some godforsaken dungeon.” You snip, well aware that you’re being a little bit dramatic and not caring in the slightest. 

Riddle purses his lips together in a hard, thin line and it’s not difficult to see that you’re irritating him. “You seemed perfectly capable of defending yourself the last time you ventured down.”

“Just because I can defend myself doesn’t mean I want to have to.” You snap, following him through the door he’s holding open for you and glancing around in case this has all been some elaborate hoax Lestrange is waiting in the shadows to hex you to hell and back.

The door slams shut behind you and you whirl around, your wand outstretched. Riddle leans against the closed door, arms crossed, looking incredibly bored. “I would have hoped you’d have a little more trust in me by this point.” 

And well… He’s right, as much as it pains you to admit it. He’s only ever been kind to you - maybe a little condescending and arrogant at times, but that only serves to add to his charm. With a twinge of embarrassment, you stow your wand away and clench your jaw, unwilling to admit defeat quite so soon. “Yes, well, that was before you decided to lure me into the dungeons, Riddle. Forgive me for being—"

“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You stare at him blankly. Because… Well. You’re not. Friends, that is. Up until a few weeks ago, Tom Riddle hasn’t spared you a second glance since first year and why would he? You are… Well, you’re you. Angry at the world, melodramatic, and apparently, a budding dark sorcerer. It’s strangely reassuring to realise that it’s these things that he likes about you.

“Why wouldn’t we be? We’ve been spending plenty of time together, we have similar interests, we know things about each other that no one else does,” He’s circling you now, sweeping closer and closer until he’s right in front of you, perched elegantly against one of the desks. “What else would you call us?” He sounds so… calm. Congenial. Like it’s the most obvious and simple thing in the world. Except that there’s nothing congenial about the heat that flickers in the depths of his eyes. 

He cocks his head to the side, as though considering something very carefully, and then reaches out and catches your hand. With the same surprising strength that he’d displayed the last time you’d been in the dungeons alone with him, he pulls you forwards. Velocity and inertia work in tandem and you stumble towards him, prevented from collapsing against his chest only by his hand that moves to clasp your waist. Unbidden, your hands move to rest on his thighs. You can feel the way his muscles tense under your touch and you wonder if he’s as affected by the sudden proximity as you are. You wonder if his heart is tripping over itself the way yours is. You wonder (and a distant part of your mind laughs at the ridiculousness of the thought even as you think it) if he wants you the way you find yourself wanting him: entirely. You want to wrap yourself around every part of him, insert yourself into every aspect of his being. You’ve never considered yourself to be a possessive person before; you might have to start reconsidering that now.

You feel, more than you hear, his short sharp intake of breath and he spreads his legs just enough to provide a space for you. You press forward, tucking yourself between his legs, hands on his thighs, emotion and heat and, god, want flooding through you with all the unstoppable force of a tsunami crashing over a seawall. His eyes flicker between yours as he brushes a lock of hair away from your eyes, tucking it carefully behind your ear. He tilts your head up and lowers his until his lips are barely grazing yours. There’s something almost tentative about the way he holds himself, as though he’s holding himself back. 

Nervous. You think he might be nervous. And isn’t that just the most delicious thought?

Your heart thrums wildly in your chest and your fingers tighten instinctively against the fabric of his trousers. “Definitely not friends,” You whisper against his lips before you finally give in to the want that’s been building inside of you for weeks. 

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

[sparrowsingsstories]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron

I DO have a WIP...it's growing and growing and growing...and growing...

From Cry Mercy - my FO4 fic with a poly crew of MacCready/Deacon/Sole Survivor/Jake Evans

The trip to USAF Olivia didn’t take overly long. A few hours of walking down the road and up a hill got them to the road near the station. The radio tower’s dish was visible from the road. Mercy crouched down in some bushes and looked up at it.

“There’s a walkway that goes up the dish, to a small building, then up some more and around the base of the dish. The walkway can be shot through to hit raiders, which is nice. On the flip side, they can shoot us so…evens out. There’s a shack at the base of the dish, and then the main building that has the trap door down. 

“Size of the raider group?” MacCready asked.

Mercy looked at Jake, who shrugged. “Enough to make me second guess going in alone.”

“So what, more than two?”

Mercy smacked MacCready’s arm. He chuckled, reaching out to tug one of her braids. “No hat today? Your head is too visible.”

“I can fix that. Be right back.” Jake shuffled from the bush and then jogged a short distance away. 

Mercy looked at MacCready, eyes narrowed, “Be nice.”

“I am. I just don’t know him. Or trust him. I know Deacon. At least enough to know he won’t leave you high and dry.”

Deacon looked put-out. “What? I mean, of course I wouldn’t but why trust me? I’m not trustworthy. I’m the opposite of trustworthy.”

MacCready and Mercy ignored Deacon. Mercy poked MacCready’s chest, “Just, be nice. Jake’s a good guy.”

“You assume,” said Deacon.

“I mean, I also assumed you weren’t going to drop me when you carried me away from those raiders. And I was right.”

“You should let me look into him,” Deacon said. “Seriously, Fox.”

She sighed, “Would it make you feel better?”

“Yeah. It would. At the very least, we could pull trouble to him. I’m not too worried about MacCready. He’s plenty of trouble himself. But Jake? I don’t know Jake.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine.”

“He gets points for getting you to agree to bedrest if you get shot, though. Which is, frankly, better than I managed,” Deacon said.

“I didn’t want to stay in HQ. It’s…dark. And Carrington is there.”

Deacon and MacCready snickered. Quiet steps had both of them raising their guns, then relaxing when Jake reappeared with what appeared to be a modified batting helmet on his head. 

“Well Darlin, I have something for your head.” He plopped a helmet down on Mercy’s head. 

“Is this a…batting helmet?”

“Modified to withstand bullets. And super mutants punching it. I had a feral try to eat through mine and it couldn’t. I think you’ll be safe with it on.”

Deacon snickered more. “It suits you, Fox.”

“Fox, huh. I like it. Suits you, Darlin. Like that helmet. Now I know it’s faded something terrible and it’s not fashionable, but safety isn’t usually pretty.”

“It’s also pink.”

“No it isn’t!” Mercy pulled the helmet off her head and looked closely at it. “It’s…a lightish red.”

“Fox,” Deacon sounded pained. “That’s pink. Lightish red is pink.”

“I think she should keep it on no matter the color,” MacCready said. “It’s better than her knit cap.”

“I agree. No need to tempt fate. Might want to look at your chest armor later. You said you got shot in the chest? Might be time to replace it,” Jake said.

Mercy rolled her eyes so hard her vision went funny. She plunked the helmet back on, tucked her gun against her chest and crept forward, refusing to acknowledge the guys. She heard the softest movement of branches, meaning they were following her. After a few moments, her thoughts quieted and she was able to push aside all annoyance.

The satellite dish loomed over them as they reached the fence line. Above on the catwalk, stood a raider. Mercy settled onto her knees and fit her rifle against her shoulder. Next to her, MacCready did the same. Deacon had a rifle of his own that he slung from his back. 

The three of them watched the raider. Mercy counted the rise and fall of her breathing. Next to her, MacCready slowly lowered his rifle. Deacon followed. Mercy tilted her rifle up till she had the raider’s head in her crosshairs. She slowly inhaled, held her breath, and shot the raider between the eyes. 

The raider crumpled, catching on the catwalk’s railing. Mercy inhaled and began to track across the catwalk looking for her next target. Next to her, MacCready’s gun made a puff of noise. She heard something hit the catwalk. A man appeared at the base of the catwalk, looking up to find out what the clang was. Deacon took him within a breath. 

All three snipers sat still, barely moving, as they waited for an alarm to sound. When none did, Mercy nodded at the fence. Deacon and MacCready headed for an opening, climbing through the fence and moving across the open ground in opposite directions. 

Mercy swung her rifle over her shoulder and pulled out her laser pistol. “Okay. I’m going to let them snipe. I’ll stay with you. We’re going to head to the doorway. If somebody sees us, just shoot them.”

Jake nodded. “That was some shootin, Darlin. Real impressive. All of you.”

“Sweet talking will get you everywhere,” Mercy teased. 

“I’ll remember that,” Jake said. 

[spencers-renaissance]

A Chronicle of Loss

Summary: 5 people Spencer Reid lost and 1 person he gained. A look at the traumas Spencer faces over the series, and giving him the happy ending he deserves.

Tags: grief, loss, abandonment issues, insecurity, depression, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, getting together, ‘didn’t know they were dating’, protective derek, autistic spencer

TW: self-harm, drug addiction, grief

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

The Inescapable Unravelling (<)

1. William

Spencer’s only ten years old when he watches his father pack his bags in his parents’ bedroom, watches as he smiles sadly at the sorry sight of him and his mother begging him not to leave, only to ignore their pleas and walk out the door. He remembers the anxiety written on his mother’s face, the shame in her eyes at being left in such a cruel way, the uncertainty as to whether they’d cope without William like it’s branded onto his skin, an egregious mark he can’t ignore. 

Just like that, he became the man of the house. He became the voice of reason, the sensible one, the person dealing with Diana’s episodes, all while balancing his school work in a desperate attempt to live a different life to the one he existed in as a child. 

He knows it wasn’t solely Diana, or Riley Jenkins, or any average marital issue that caused him to leave, he knows it was partly that William simply didn’t know how to handle an autistic child prodigy. He had a genius son who struggled with communication, had no friends, and refused to engage in any of the bonding activities he came up with. In the end, Spencer being different only compounded his desire to leave and, eventually, he stopped suppressing it and gave in.

He’d never blame his mother, but her confusion in her episodes often sent him flying down half a flight of steps or clutching a stinging cheek or banging his head on a door frame. She called him clumsy and he didn’t correct her. She called him ‘crash’ and he accepted the nickname. Without William there, he was completely and utterly alone, left to deal with the grief of losing a father and a schizophrenic mother who struggled to look after herself, let alone him. 

He still thinks about it all these years later. He thinks about what his father said to Diana when he left: “you refuse to take care of yourself.” He reflects on the fact that he was well aware Diana wouldn’t be able to take care of him, that he would be left to fend for himself, that a 10 year old can’t provide adequate mental health support no matter how hard he tries, and he still left. He thinks about what that meant, how little his father actually cared for him. 

He still thinks about it, and he still cries. His first encounter with grief, and he was only 10 years old. 

2. Innocence

Spencer had joined the BAU at 22: three PhDs under his belt and a lifetime of expectation on his shoulders, but somehow he’d managed to remain the most innocent member of the team throughout the first few years of his job. Until Tobias Hankel had taken it and completely obliterated any shreds of naivete he had left. 

Of course, he knew evil. He’d even experienced it first-hand, he’d been viciously bullied growing up and he’d encountered his fair share of violent, deranged serial killers, but Tobias -- or, more accurately, Charles and Raphael -- introduced him to evil on a completely new scale. The pain and fear that had tormented him in that cabin lived in a secluded, festering part of his psyche, reproducing at a terrifying rate in his memory, never resting, never quieting, unless dilaudid was streaming through his veins. 

His innocence was gone; there was only darkness, loneliness, corruption, and he was grieving for something he’d never get back. His life was now separated into two distinctly different eras, marked only by his kidnapping, by the cruel torture he’d been subjected to. 

Along with his innocence, he’d lost his relationships, he’d lost the family he’d found and loved so dearly. Nobody tried to help him escape the clutches of his PTSD or addiction, he felt like he was drowning right in front of his friends while they talked and laughed among themselves, muffling his desperate cries for help, and the frustration and abandonment joined the pain and fear in their festering corner of his mind. 

He eventually gets clean, he eventually recovers. But he’s never the same. He’s forever tainted by the actions of one man -- a man he struggled to blame -- and he can’t help but mourn the life he had before Tobias, the optimistic, brightly coloured world-view he used to hold before it was ripped up, stamped on, and burned to ashes right before his eyes. 

3. Gideon

Gideon leaves. Gideon leaves and the blow is almost as crushing as it was when he was ten. His mentor, his father figure, his friend abandons him with no warning, no goodbye. It hurts that he didn’t think Spencer worthy of anything more than a useless fucking letter that he left for him in a cabin because he knew that Spencer loved him enough to drive out there and find it; he knew that Gideon was much more special to Spencer than he ever was to him.

This pain feels almost worse because he’s surrounded by people feeling the same way, if to a less extreme extent. He finds himself comparing himself to Hotch, Derek, the whole team: it makes him feel as though he’s overreacting when even Penelope, arguably the most emotive member of the BAU, seems back on her feet within a few days and Spencer still feels as though he’s been hollowed out and all his insides replaced with the smouldering ashes of grief filling him up, weighing heavy in his stomach, climbing up his throat and choking him. 

He drags his feet, he doesn’t sleep, he drinks coffee, he runs on auto-pilot. Others notice, of course they do, but there’s nothing any of them can say to make it better, not even Hotch when he’s pulled into his office and sternly told that he needs to open up. Spencer just looks at him with empty, exhausted eyes and shrugs. Weeks ago, he would’ve cried but there aren’t anymore tears to cry, he’s reached a truce with himself. He isn’t happy but he isn’t crushingly depressed anymore: he feels nothing, an abyss of grey matter circling around inside him as he struggles to perform basic functions. 

“It’ll get better, kid,” Derek says seriously one day when he sits down at his desk, dullness settled deep in his eyes and numbness deep in his veins. It doesn’t feel like it. 

Rossi joins the team and he’s nothing but cold towards Spencer and the rejection only adds insult to injury, and nobody seems to care. His stomach hurts all the time and he’s losing weight again, he knows, but he can’t seem to put any effort into anything at all, least of all trying to be happy, trying to look after himself. 

He’s lost his protector and he’s replaced by another person who sees him as an intentional but irritating robot to be used and discarded, not thought of again until another geographical profile is required, or an obscure fact would help the investigation. The agony of existence for almost a year after Gideon’s disappearance feels almost too much to bear, even if Rossi does warm up to him, even if he does eventually begin to heal and forgive. It’s the first time grief almost kills him, and he isn’t even mourning the dead. 

4. Emily

Emily’s death tears him apart. For the first time since the year after Hankel, he considers many things. He buys dilaudid and fiddles with the bottle every evening, torn between the sweet relief he knows would be guaranteed the second it’s flooding his bloodstream and the torment of knowing it was Emily who helped him get clean the first time, how disappointed she’d be if she knew he was throwing away all those hours she put in, disregarding the belief she had in him. 

He holds a razor over the top of his thighs and slashes as deep as he can bear, daydreams about burying the blade deep enough to slice open his femoral artery and give up, embrace the darkness that’s been living inside him for years anyway. But he can’t stand the grief it would bring JJ, losing another sibling to suicide, even if he isn’t blood related. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone but himself, but it’s so cripplingly tempting and the frustration at not being able to give in to any of his darker fantasies has him tearing his heart out. 

Instead he cries, sobs, weeps, over the death of his best friend, shouts in anger at the unfairness of Emily’s life being taken by a dirty criminal while he gets to live as she’s six feet under, dark and cold in the ground. Images of her beautiful face he loved so much rotting away, turning into something grotesque and mangled roam around in his brain and he berates himself relentlessly for not appreciating her wide grin and teasing eyes more, hates himself for not appreciating every single moment with her that he could. 

And when she miraculously rises from the dead, he can’t even appreciate it because he feels as though he’s lost another friend. JJ, the one person he tried every day to live for, pictured in his mind every time he considered ending everything, had deceived him, had held him while he cried, held a cool washcloth to his forehead after he threw up from the force of his crying and the extremity of his grief, had watched him writhe in agony, all while having the power to stop it and doing nothing. 

The betrayal dizzies him: he doesn’t know who he can trust and the shock of Emily’s return leaves him reeling. He’s cold to the people he loves, and he can’t rejoice in Emily’s return, can’t sit down with her and chat like they used to, or hug her again, or joke with her, or prank Derek together. Again, he’s drowning and this time everyone’s focus is on him but he’s refusing their hands reaching out to help, stubbornly accepting his fate, too scared to take an outstretched arm in case it lets him go again. Surely the cold darkness of the cruel waters is kinder than another rejection or deception?

Finally, finally, he decides to trust one hand and he’s pulled above the waters again, not quite out of the ocean but at least he can breathe. Eventually, he finds the strength to walk to shore and he’s wrapped up in Emily’s strong arms, burying his face in her hair and swearing he’ll never let go again. 

5. Alex

He never, not for a moment, blames Alex for her decision to let go. If anything he admires her for it, he’s proud she made the right decision for her and her family, and at least he saw this one coming. He’s lost enough people by this point that the loss doesn’t ache and burn and fester in the way it used to, and they stay in contact; they have a bi-weekly FaceTime call and she texts him memes that he doesn’t understand and book recommendations regularly. 

But that’s not to say that losing his maternal figure on the team, the woman who he’d connected with the fastest out of any BAU member, who had understood him in a way no-one else could, who loved and cared for him like a son, doesn’t stab him in the gut. 

He’d take a bullet for absolutely everyone on the team, but he hadn’t taken a bullet for Alex out of some misguided loyalty to a coworker or because she was a member of the BAU, he’d taken a bullet for her because she was the best person he knew, and - plain and simple - some inner, more primal instinct within him wanted to save her life. And she’d stayed with him at the hospital, a little due to her guilt, a little due to her seeing Ethan in him, but mostly because she loved him. 

And he loved her. So seeing her walk down those stairs and knowing she wouldn’t walk into the bullpen the next morning - no matter how much he knew that this was the right thing for her to do - left him feeling hollow again, a little broken, a lot sore. He missed her deeply, both because she was an amazing asset to the team, but also because she’s a beautiful person who brought sunshine to his gloomy world. She had an indescribable talent for making him happy, and he felt her absence in his every-day life bitterly.

Although she’s still around, she still finds ways to brighten his day, still has some creepy telepathic ability to know when he’s down and exactly how to make him feel better, it’s another loss to add to the many he’s somehow managed to have collected over the years. And he can’t seem to tell the grief in his heart any different. 

At least this time it can be temporarily alleviated by a text message. It’s more than he could have asked for, really. 

The Gradual Intertwining (>)

+1 Derek

He falls in love with Derek like the kind of slow and steady drizzle that’s almost indistinguishable from heavy mist; so easily confused for the ordinary, familiar platonic feelings he’s harboured for years. It’s because of this that he doesn’t put up an umbrella, he continues walking as he’s gradually soaked in deep, entrenched yearning, until one day, he finally realises it’s raining. 

It’s on the morning of Rossi’s 60th birthday party that it finally clicks and, suddenly, it’s obvious. He let Derek carry him to bed last night after he fell asleep watching a movie, for God’s sake: he’d even woken up on the way but faked it just so he wouldn’t put him down. He’s known for years that a 187 IQ doesn’t mean his emotional intelligence is excellent, too, but this feels ridiculous even for him. He’s practically been in a relationship for years and he had no idea. This must be why he always got that strange feeling in his stomach when Derek talked about literally anybody else.

This is not an ideal realisation to come to when Derek is currently cuddled around him, about to wake up any minute. Spencer tries very hard not to think about the fact that he won’t blink an eye at their entwined limbs and what that means, but he’s not exactly in control of his thoughts right now. 

He feels like he sleepwalks through the morning, trying to pay attention to what Derek talks to him about as he cooks him breakfast, but his mind has sort of short-circuited, not knowing how to adapt to this new information. His brain is not equipped to process being in love, and zoning out is as good a coping mechanism as any for now. It’s not until they head back to the bedroom to get dressed and ready for the day that he snaps out of it.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says loudly, clicking his fingers in front of Spencer’s face to get his attention. 

“Hm?” Spencer hums, feeling the world fade back into focus despite the haze of confusion still dizzying him somewhat. 

“Alright, you’ve been spacy with me all morning,” Derek says, shifting his weight slightly as he levels Spencer with an inquisitive gaze. He can’t help but feel a cool kind of dread pour down his spine at the idea of that look figuring him out. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Spencer says, forcing himself to snap back into action as he attempts to compartmentalise. “Just… didn’t sleep well, I guess.”

Derek looks doubtful but takes him at his word. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “Better get dressed, though. We’ve got a lot to get through today.”

“We do?” Spencer asks, ignoring the fact that he’s still stood in his ratty, oversized shirt and underwear in front of the man he’s deeply in love with, maybe for the sake of his sanity, maybe because he finds it hard to be embarrassed in front of Derek Morgan, not after all these years. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, like it’s obvious, “we gotta run to the grocery store and pick up a present for Rossi - probably some food for this barebones apartment of yours, too - pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, and swing round Penelope’s to give her the blender I borrowed back. And I know for a fact you have some work to do on your latest paper, as well.”

Spencer, with his new perspective on the situation, considers the fact that Derek has included him in errands that are pretty exclusive to his own life. He also considers the fact that he never would have stopped to think this odd if he didn’t have the knowledge he has now. Unfortunately, simply considering does not shed much light on the situation. 

Because of this, Spencer does what he’s always done. He nods and gets ready for his day of driving around with Derek doing very mundane chores and wonders why he feels so excited. 

(While they’re out and about, it strikes Spencer why the realisation that he’s in love with Derek feels so paralysing: almost everyone he’s ever loved has left. He’s 34 and he’s never had a loving, committed relationship, and that’s for a reason: there’s only so much grief one heart can take. How could he ever give himself over to someone, hand them the key to his heart, open the door into his life, knowing that they could leave? Forever simply doesn’t exist, not for Spencer anyway. And truly, he doesn’t think he’d survive the loss of Derek, he can’t think of anything in the world that would be more painful.)

Despite the emotional exertion of the day, Rossi’s party is actually fairly enjoyable, probably aided by the glass of wine Spencer had accepted immediately upon entering the garden, he bloody well deserved it after the day he’s had. He gets chatting with JJ and Hotch and he barely even notices the absence of Derek by his side, having been roped into a conversation with Rossi and one of his famous poker friends that Spencer wouldn’t be able to place with a gun to his head. 

It’s not long before they reconvene though, programmed with some kind of homing instinct that always leads them back to one another, and Derek’s leaning a bit too close. Spencer finds it a little hard to breathe with his body pressed so close to his own, Derek’s warm, wine flavoured breath on his ear making his insides flip and setting butterflies free to roam his stomach. 

They spend the rest of the party like that, pressed away together in a corner, tucked inside one another’s pockets, and Spencer knows that he’s responsible for at least half of the instigation: he’s pressing back against Derek’s side with just as much pressure, leaning in closer, laughing a little louder, not bothering to hide the adoration that must be plainly written across his face. 

“Wanna come back to mine for a drink?” Derek asks as the night draws to a close, and how can Spencer refuse? They spend more nights together than apart at this point, and the last thing he wants is to feel lonely tonight, not after today.

“Please,” is all he says.

No-one says anything when they leave together, Derek’s hand loosely placed on his lower back. 

Derek’s apartment is warm and tidy, the opposite of Spencer’s, but it feels just as much like home as his own when he steps over the threshold. He’s about to tell him just that, but as he turns around to face him, Derek’s looking at him in a way he’s never seen before and his breath catches.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” 

Derek steps a little closer, crowding into his space even more. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Spencer doesn’t bother answering, instead closing the gap on his own and pressing his lips to Derek’s. His hands go to Derek’s side on instinct but as he kisses back, Spencer feels one hand tangling itself gently in his hair, and another cupping his jaw and he gives way, melting into the touch. The whole thing goes right to his stomach, feeling it bottom out as the intensity of the moment threatens to overwhelm him before a small sound escapes Derek’s lips and he’s reminded who’s kissing him, whose hands are on him, who’s making him feel these things. All of a sudden, it’s easier to let go.

Their lips mould together as they collapse into one another, the final piece of the gradual intertwining of their lives and bodies over the last twelve years. A fire lights under Spencer and he feels his world tilt on its axis, except unlike previous life-altering experiences, this time it feels like its tilting into place, as though he’s been off-kilter this whole time, finally returned to his natural state. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” Derek whispers as they pull away.

“Why didn’t you kiss me sooner, then?” Spencer asks. 

“Today is the first day you knew you wanted it,” Derek replies, before he’s kissing him again. 

(Later that night, when they’re tucked into Derek’s bed, Spencer lies with his head on his chest, comforted by the steady, reassuring heartbeat as Derek whispers promises of forever into his hair. Spencer knows that nobody can ever really promise anything, but for the first time in his life, he decides it doesn’t matter. They’ll have to part some day, in one way or another - maybe Spencer will be the one to go first this time - but he realises that he’d rather have known Derek like this, to have known how it feels to love and be loved back, only to have him leave, than to have him stay and never know it at all.)

@criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: frost on the frozen ground

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Qiren, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing, Fourth Uncle, Jin Zixun

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Bad Uncle Lán Qǐrén, Anxiety, Confrontations, Family, References to Depression, Bunnies, Found Family, Podfic Welcome

Summary: Wei Ying and A-Zhan are still dealing with the fallout weeks after the public arrest of Meng Yao and Jin Guangshan cleared Wei Ying's name, when an uninvited visitor shows up. Second in the moonlight falls corporate spy AU series, inspired by @angstymdzsthoughts.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

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Wei Ying was exhausted. It wasn’t even a physical sort of exhaustion, but one brought on by the absolute circus the last few weeks had been, following the very public arrest of Lan Xichen’s fiancé for the exact corporate espionage Gusu Lan Tech had accused him of and ruined his life over five years ago. 

Trust Nie Huaisang to somehow convince the FBI to arrest Meng Yao during a major family dinner for the grooms that was well-attended by the media as a sort of social gala, and to also ensure they arrested Jin Guangshan at the same time. He was only the head of Jin Enterprises, so it’s not like it didn’t send that company’s stocks tanking immediately while also humiliating Gusu Lan Tech. 

Nie Huaisang did petty well. 

Wei Ying just wished the aftermath hadn’t meant reporters hounding him and A-Zhan almost constantly, though that wasn’t Huaisang’s fault. At least, that he knew of—his old friend hadn’t reached out, and Wei Ying didn’t know whether to expect him to. 

They’d had to start screening their calls and if they did go out, it was wearing disguises and usually separately. 

It had started when Jin Guangshan’s shitty nephew had attempted to ambush interview them while they were shopping for groceries with A-Yuan. 

Everyone knew he was a hack. Jin Zixun had majored in history at a university his uncle was on the board of (the only reason he was even admitted) and barely got his degree. He’d been resoundingly rejected by every reputable employer despite his uncle’s best efforts, and could only get a job at some hack blog site pretending to be news and to have journalistic integrity. He was largely known for ludicrous conspiracy theories, vehement misogyny, and, weirdly, white nationalist talking points, but his articles and livestreams apparently got enough advertising revenue to merit his continued employment. 

He had the nerve to imply Wei Ying had somehow framed Meng Yao and Jin Guangshan. 

On the bright side, the camera had been livestreaming, and A-Zhan had verbally eviscerated him and implied that he probably had a hand in the corporate espionage, that maybe the investigation should look into him. 

“I recall your name and the insulting things you said and wrote about Wei Ying. You claimed, without evidence, there was a connection with Compu-Jiang, and then they took a financial hit. Trying to take out your uncle’s competition?”

Jin Zixun’s face had turned interesting colors and he cut the camera, but the damage was done. They learned the next day he was canned from the pseudo-journalist farce and the FBI had declared him a “person of interest” and seized his electronics. 

The interest in that led to more media coverage looking at the Weis, rekindling interest in the false accusation and Wei Ying’s blacklisting from the industry. Uncle Four had banned reporters from the premises, and since he owned the building that meant they at least weren’t buzzing the apartment from the lobby or, worse, somehow getting in and knocking on their door, for the most part at least. Now they were simply waiting across the street and accosting them if they spotted them, something that most often happened if they were together, and less if they were separate. 

Wei Ying didn’t want to revisit the year or so following the blacklisting. Even with A-Zhan beside him, it had been like a montage of humiliation and pain. He hated that these reporters wanted to put all that on display again.

The Wens had been amazing, often bringing them groceries and cooked meals, but they couldn’t stay cooped up—they had a son, and he was fond of parks and libraries. Sometimes his aunts or uncles or Granny would take him out for them if there was a congregation of reporters, and that had at least ensured the parasites hadn’t caught on to A-Yuan’s existence connected to them yet. 

As a bright spot, A-Li had contacted him. With her father-in-law in prison for the corporate espionage Wei Ying had been framed for, her husband had consented to let him meet his nephew. She was excited to meet A-Yuan. They were just waiting for some of the furor to die down. 

Even though it was Saturday, Wei Ying was finishing a coding project while A-Zhan was taking A-Yuan to the library and then a different park than usual. He wished he could go with them, but it was better not to tempt fate. 

He was nearly finished sorting out a coding error when the bell for the apartment building buzzer rang. Sighing in irritation, he stalked to the door and pressed the button to respond, careful not to press the one that unlocked the door.

“No comment. Please leave the premises.”

“I am not the press,” a gravelly male voice responded.

Wei Ying blinked. He knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it.

“Name?”

“You know perfectly well who I am.”

It was the haughtiness of the tone that pinged his memory. How could he forget, being lectured by Lan Qiren on his ungrateful nature and ruining of his nephew when he was being fired?

Just the memory made him nauseous. As far as he knew, Lan Qiren hadn’t reached out to A-Zhan, though Lan Xichen had, apologizing that they would be dragged into this again.

Quickly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and fired a text message off to A-Zhan. 

Your uncle is here

“You’ll need to make an appointment,” he said blithely. “Have Lan Xichen set it up with A-Zhan. He has his number.”

His phone dinged as the uninvited visitor made outraged sounds that he very carefully refused to allow to register as words. Then the buzzer started up again, and he ignored it.

Not invited. Do not let him in.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Wei Ying had to smile over his husband’s use of proper punctuation and capitalization, ever proper even via text.

on it, he replied. will let you know when clear

The noise from the intercom/buzzer ceased, thankfully, and Wei Ying moved back toward the office, stepping over the barrier that kept Turmeric from getting to all the cords. As he did, he texted Wen Qing to let her know what had happened.

a-zhans uncle buzzed from lobby

told him to make appt

idk what he wants

He sat down with a sigh and stretched before trying to immerse himself back in the code. He’d just found his line of coding error when a knock on the door reverberated through the apartment. Before he could even contemplate getting up, his phone chimed, a text from Wen Qing.

Auntie 6 came to me

He followed her in

Uncle 4 and I are on it

Which meant, of course, that Lan Qiren had breached the building, likely not even registering that he was trespassing, or so privileged that he felt trespassing laws didn’t apply to him.

Fuck.

He could feel his anxiety rising, something he didn’t need. Now was not the time for a Xanax, no matter how much his heart was fluttering at the idea of having to deal with A-Zhan’s uncle.

lmk when i can escape, he sent back.

Then he texted A-Zhan.

breached perimeter

qing-jie & unc 4 to rescue

will come to u

where r u?

Wei Ying crept to the living room, trying to stay quiet as the intruder knocked again, more forcefully. He debated for a moment, fiddling with his phone nervously before slipping it in his pocket, then grabbed Turmeric’s carrier, leash, and harness. The bunny needed some outdoors time, and Wei Ying would probably be able to meet A-Zhan and A-Yuan at the park.

The knocking continued, and he was certain before long Lan Qiren would lose all sense of decorum and start yelling through the door. 

plz hurry, he texted Wen Qing.

He donned a hat A-Yuan had gifted him for Father’s Day, an adorable white bucket hat with bunnies and carrots on it, and a pair of big sunglasses. He was wearing torn jeans and a black t-shirt with a binary code motif Wen Ning had given him for Christmas—it read “fuck off,” but wasn’t too inappropriate given that only coders could read it. He was as decent as he was going to get.

Wei Ying opened Turmeric’s hutch and scooped him gently into the carrier, hushing him even though he was completely quiet and cooperative. He felt like an intruder in his own home, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Finally, he could hear voices outside the door—Uncle Four’s boisterous voice asking what he could do for “the gentleman,” Wen Qing mentioning trespassing, Lan Qiren’s haughtiness slowly sputtering out, growing distant as they led him away.

His phone dinged twice, A-Zhan texting the location of the park, and Wen Qing giving the all-clear. Wei Ying grabbed his shoes, keys, and wallet, Turmeric’s crate and his sundries, and slipped out of the apartment in socked feet, easing the door shut and locking it as quietly as he could.

He practically tiptoed down the side staircase, the one that didn’t lead to the lobby but straight outside, and slipped his shoes on in the vestibule before slipping outside into the sunshine, making sure the door shut behind him without anyone getting in.

The park, thankfully, was not too far away, and he didn’t see any reporters on this side of the building. Likely they had seen Lan Qiren enter and were all crowded on the side near the lobby hoping to see something good.

Fat chance.

Wei Ying booked it the first few blocks before he felt like he’d escaped and started to calm, but he didn’t really relax until he could see A-Zhan in the distance, looking in his direction, A-Yuan beside him sipping on a boxed apple juice. His husband folded him into a hug, and he could feel the tension ease from his body with a soft sigh.

“I brought Turmeric. He could use some outside time.”

The tiny smile he got from A-Zhan finished the job of easing the worst of his anxiety, and they sat with A-Yuan on the grass to bring Turmeric out of the carrier and belt him into his little harness.

His fingers fumbled on the buckles and he sighed in frustration. 

“Sit, A-Ying,” A-Zhan said. “Relax.”

There was a bit of worry in his eyes, and that told Wei Ying he must look frazzled. A-Zhan knew his anxieties, knew what Lan Qiren had said to him, something he’d opened up about long ago, when they’d learned to communicate and work as a team, and when Wei Ying was learning not to push him away. 

And so Wei Ying settled back and let him finish with Turmeric, focused on the sunshine and the breeze and the soft grass beneath him. His fingers itched to pull out his phone, though he’d received no notifications, and he resisted it, instead rubbing his hand along the surface of the grass, letting the individual strands tickle his palms.

Before long, their absolutely adorable second son was contentedly exploring the grass, and curious children were starting to gather. A-Zhan explained bunnies didn’t like loud noises and sudden movements, and told them if they had permission from their parents, they could approach one at a time to pet him. 

A-Yuan tumbled into Wei Ying’s lap, content to watch Turmeric from there, and he had no doubt his son had picked up on his anxiety. He was a bright boy. 

Eventually, the children wandered away, a calm bunny only so interesting, and A-Yuan was half-asleep on his lap. A-Zhan’s phone dinged, and he handed the leash to Wei Ying before fishing it out. A bit of texting and a few alerts later, his mouth was downturned. 

“A-Zhan?” he asked.

“I sent Xichen to retrieve Qiren, but he insists he must speak to me.”

Wei Ying fantasized briefly about Lan Qiren being led from the premises in handcuffs, yelling, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. It could well make things worse, so he wasn’t even able to enjoy the fantasy. 

“The board voted to remove xiongzhang,” he added. “Likely he wishes to insist I take over the company.”

He felt his chest clench at that. Pity toward Xichen, who had done what he could to keep Wei Ying out of prison even if only for A-Zhan’s sake, and the grief he was facing as his life fell apart around him. But more, there was fear that A-Zhan would take it, would leave him behind—not a rational fear given everything they had weathered together, but anxiety was cruel. 

“You can take it if you want it, A-Zhan,” he said after a minute. 

A-Zhan made a noncommittal noise. 

“I am texting Wen Qing to prepare a conference room so we need not open our home to him,” he replied after a moment. “I should hear him out.”

Wei Ying looked away, swallowing hard at the taste of bile. His vision was blurred, but he kept a handle on it, refused to cry again over this.

“I… I’ll stay with A-Yuan while you meet him.”

He startled when A-Zhan knelt in front of him and took his hands.

“We are together in this and all things. Granny will meet us and watch A-Yuan during the meeting. I need you there, A-Ying. I will say no.”

Wei Ying glanced up at him.

“He will hound us until I meet with him, but I will not go back to Gusu Lan Tech,” A-Zhan said, his voice insistent, worried. “My place is with you, at Dafan.”

“You’re sure you don’t want it?” he couldn’t help asking.

This was, after all, a chance for A-Zhan to reconcile with his family and further his career. But his husband’s expression turned stormy at the question.

“They will never admit to having wronged you, A-Ying. I cannot abide that.”

Wei Ying manages a weak smile. 

“They’ll never admit they wronged you, either.”

A-Zhan nodded, the corners of his lips taut with stress. 

“Wen Qing will sit in with us since this is now a Dafan Applications matter. Uncle Four, too.”

Wei Ying blinked at him blankly for a moment before he understood. Technically Gusu Lan Tech was trying to poach A-Zhan from Dafan Applications, which made it company business. Lan Qiren was trespassing on Uncle Four’s property, which made it his business. And it meant they’d have witnesses. His husband was clever, and so was Wen Qing. 

“A-Die, baba, okay?”

A-Yuan looked up at them solemnly. The poor child had been with them at the grocery store when Jin Zixun had ambushed them, had seen so much these past weeks that he didn’t understand. He deserved some explanation. 

“We are, baobei,” Wei Ying said firmly. “Bad things happened a few years ago. Someone made it look like a-die did something bad, and they just got caught.”

He could see the moment their son understood. 

“That’s why the mean man said it was your fault?”

Wei Ying nodded, and A-Yuan squirmed out of his lap to give him a giant hug. 

“Thank you. Now baba’s uncle wants to talk to us, so we need to go home. You’ll visit with popo while we find out what he wants, okay?”

A-Yuan bit his lip, looking more anxious than a child his age should.

“Baba’s uncle won’t be mean to you, will he?”

His heart broke at his son’s concern. It was clear he’d picked up on undertones they thought they’d kept away. A-Zhan wrapped A-Yuan in a hug. 

“Baba won’t let shufu be mean to a-die,” A-Zhan said seriously.

“And your gugu will be with us, so she won’t let him be mean to either of us,” Wei Ying added. 

A-Yuan brightened—Wen Qing had a reputation, one even her five-year-old nephew was aware of. He trusted her to protect his dads. 

“Okay,” A-Yuan said. “If you bring Turmeric with you, he’ll comfort you if he’s mean!”

Wei Ying smiled at that.

“That’s why we’re leaving Turmeric with you, so he can comfort you. I know you’re worried, but baba and I will be okay. We’ll come right home when we’re done and snuggle with you and Turmeric.”

Their son seemed to accept that, and A-Zhan deftly removed Turmeric’s harness and placed him in the carrier. He pulled their disguises from a bag. Wei Ying was delighted when A-Yuan put on his brown bunny bucket hat, and he reached out to arrange the ears once the boy had it on. A-Zhan was wearing his own bucket hat, green with frog eyes, also a Father’s Day gift from A-Yuan. 

Honesty, he hadn’t expected that fatherhood would make A-Zhan even sexier, but he wasn’t complaining. 

The walk home was quiet. Wei Ying dreaded reaching home and hated that he felt that way. The home he had made with A-Zhan and A-Yuan was precious to him, and it felt like a sacred space had been violated. 

As they drew nearer, they planned to separate, A-Zhan taking A-Yuan to one side staircase, and Wei Ying taking Turmeric to the other, the plan to meet at the apartment. 

Wei Ying was actually surprised when it went off without a hitch, and he opened the stairwell door to see A-Zhan unlocking the door, Granny already hugging A-Yuan. Just a few years ago she’d have picked him up, but he was a bit big for that now. 

She smiled at his approach, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. 

“Aiya, you look so stressed. Popo will make dinner,” she said. “Auntie Three is making baozi for the building, too.”

Several of the aunties loved cooking different things in excess, so every few weeks they would make a huge batch of something delicious for the whole building, since everyone in the building was family. Auntie Three’s baozi were a favorite of his; she remembered his love for spicy food and always accommodated that in his. 

“Extra spicy for A-Ying,” he chirped, though popo clucked softly in a way that let him know she saw through his attempt at cheer. 

She headed straight for the kitchen, where she would likely catalogue the fridge to decide what to cook. Whatever she made, it would be delicious; his mouth was almost watering just thinking about it. 

He focused on getting Turmeric settled in his hutch, and A-Zhan got A-Yuan situated with a coloring book and crayons. 

“I should change,” Wei Ying said, remembering his torn jeans and the shirt Lan Qiren might be able to decode. 

He’d probably think Wei Ying wore the shirt on purpose to send a message. Frankly, Wei Ying wouldn’t mind that interpretation, but he didn’t want to antagonize. 

“What you are wearing is fine,” A-Zhan said, catching his wrist. “He interrupted our day, and he can get us as we are.”

A-Zhan was still wearing the frog bucket hat, with apparently no intent on removing it. His light blue shirt, Wei Ying noticed for the first time, was the one with a print of a rabbit wearing glasses and a bow tie, with ‘daddy’ in script underneath. Wei Ying snagged his hat with the bunnies and carrots motif from where he’d placed it atop the bunny hutch and put it back on. They’d match, to a certain extent, present a united front. 

“Be good for popo,” A-Zhan directed A-Yuan, as though their son would ever be anything but good. 

The boy simply nodded and discarded his crayon to run over and hug them both. 

The first two floors of the building were Dafan Applications office space. Though the first floor also held a lovely coffee shop and several other stores open to the public, the core of the building was the headquarters. An elevator and staircase serviced the offices, accessible with employee IDs. Each office was accessible only by swiping employee IDs, and record was kept of who entered and when. 

Since the apartments were held entirely by family, it might have seemed paranoid, but Wei Ying was glad for the security the building had—after all, the lack of it at Gusu Lan Tech had led to him being framed for corporate espionage. Poorly, but it ultimately hadn’t mattered. 

He hadn’t understood why he’d been framed, only that he’d had to correct Su She’s subpar coding many times when he’d worked there, so it wasn’t very surprising that he’d fuck up installing the code to the point where it would be caught before it could do damage. Since he’d never been anything but pleasant to Su She, that he’d been targeted had surprised him. 

When he had mentioned his confusion to A-Zhan, about a week after the news broke, he learned that Su She had tried to tell A-Zhan that Wei Ying was a poor choice as a romantic partner, implying he would be better. 

“I told him he was not qualified to speak with me,” A-Zhan had recollected. 

It made a sick sort of sense—if Wei Ying was out of the way, fired or imprisoned, Su She might think he had a shot. And given that Lan Qiren had hated him even before he and A-Zhan started dating, the frame up job was sufficient.

A-Zhan took his hand and led him into the elevator, and he realized he must have blanked out because he hadn’t even heard it arrive. His husband was watching him in concern, and he hated how much this invasion by Lan Qiren was messing with him, but he absolutely wasn’t going to abandon A-Zhan to face him alone. 

“I’m okay,” Wei Ying said. “I just want to get it over with.”

Uncle Four was waiting for them by the elevators. He offered a smile.

“I’ll bring by a few bottles of my newest brew later,” he said in greeting.

“That bad, huh?” Wei Ying asked ruefully. 

“I don’t wish to speak ill of A-Zhan’s family,” Uncle Four said deferentially. 

‘But that man…’ was heavily implied. 

A-Zhan inclined his head. 

“He decided Wei Ying’s guilt on flimsy evidence,” his husband said, his tone dismissive. 

Wei Ying squeezed his hand—it was as close to disparaging as A-Zhan had ever come toward his uncle. More often, they simply pretended he didn’t exist, which prior to this had been fairly easy. When they had spoken of it, when he had finally told A-Zhan in one of his darker moments what Lan Qiren had said to him when running him out of Gusu Lan Tech with security, his husband had simply folded him in his arms and told him he was wrong, over and over again, and reiterated that he had chosen Wei Ying. 

A-Zhan was angry, he realized. Perhaps over Lan Qiren returning to their life with all of his customary arrogance, or perhaps in defense of his brother, who was being excised from the company. He remembered, early in their relationship, learning that both brothers had been told what to major in, prepped for what Lan Qiren thought their careers should look like at Gusu Lan, which was why A-Zhan hadn’t been able to pursue music as he had wished. It was why he had expected him to break up with him, as ordered. 

He wondered what Lan Xichen had given up, what dreams he had let go to serve his family. 

“Tomorrow,” he told Uncle Four. “I think we’ll need tonight for us.”

The older man offered a sympathetic smile and escorted them to the conference room. 

It was the ostentatious one they used for particularly obnoxious or status-obsessed clients, with handsomely-carved panels with the Dafan Applications logo and an imposing table that looked expensive but were actually the work of a family member with a woodworking hobby. It had two doors, one on either side of the long table, which was ideal—they wouldn’t have to walk past Lan Qiren to get in or out. 

When they entered, Wei Ying’s gaze was drawn to Lan Xichen first, seated at the side of the table. He looked… defeated was the first word to come to mind. He glanced at his husband, could see he too was looking at his brother, concerned lines at the corners of his eyes betraying his emotions. 

“Finally,” Lan Qiren commented, drawing their attention. “I don’t have all day.”

His gaze was, as usual, disapproving, and he completely disregarded the fact that he had been the one to crash their day, not the other way around.

“My husband told you to schedule an appointment,” A-Zhan said in lieu of greeting.

He tugged Wei Ying to the head of the table, where someone had thoughtfully placed two chairs. Qing-jie was his guess, letting them present as the team they were. She was on one side of the table beside the seats, and Uncle Four sat on the other, probably as owner of the building. Wen Ning was too faint-hearted to handle this, he knew, even though he was technically the head of Dafan Applications.

“An appointment, to see my own nephew?” Lan Qiren grated, glaring at Wei Ying like it was his fault.

“You told me five years ago that I was no nephew of yours,” A-Zhan said, his voice dispassionate.

Wei Ying knew how much that had hurt A-Zhan. Part of him wanted to tell Lan Qiren that, rail at him over every emotional scar he had inflicted on the both of them, but he also knew there was no point in it—he wouldn’t listen, and he knew well enough that it wouldn’t be cathartic. It was better to let A-Zhan get this over with and be here to support him.

“You were making a mistake!”

His continued glaring at Wei Ying made it obvious what “mistake” he was referring to, and he barely managed not to flinch. It was clear this conversation was not going to be pleasant. A-Zhan took his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. 

“As I recall, the evidence that he was not making a mistake has been all over the news,” Wen Qing drawled.

“What business is it of yours?” Lan Qiren demanded. “Why are you here?”

“As witnesses,” she replied. “And A-Zhan and A-Ying are family. We’re here for them.”

Warmth spread through Wei Ying’s chest at her pronouncement—he often referred to her as Qing-jie, but hadn’t known the sentiment was returned. 

“And I own the building in which you are currently trespassing,” Uncle Four added.

Where he was normally a jovial and friendly man, his expression was serious and bordering on unwelcoming. Apparently Lan Qiren had made quite the impression on him. 

Lan Qiren sniffed disdainfully, but finally focused on A-Zhan. 

“The board has decided Xichen’s… indiscretions make him unfit to head the company. You have been appointed in his place. You will, of course, be expected to take the Lan name again, as will the child you’ve adopted. I’ve taken the liberty of securing housing for you, and I suppose we can find a place in the company for your husband, on a provisionary basis, of course.”

Dead silence followed his pronouncement, and Wei Ying felt dizzy with the presumption of all of this—A-Zhan was being ordered back to Gusu Lan Tech as though this wasn’t the first they’d seen or heard from Lan Qiren in over five years, clearly expected to obey without question. 

“Provisionary?” A-Zhan murmured, his voice icy with what Wei Ying recognized as fury. 

He squeezed A-Zhan’s hand, silently asking that he not be angry on his behalf. After all, he expected nothing but this treatment from Lan Qiren, so he wasn’t surprised to receive it. 

“He’ll be expected to prove himself, of course.”

“He already has,” Wen Qing cut in. “He’s been an asset to Dafan Applications since the day we hired him, paramount to our success.”

Lan Qiren sniffed dismissively. 

“Yes, well, his previous stint of employment at Gusu Lan Tech left much to be desired.”

A-Zhan’s jaw clenched. Wei Ying’s stomach roiled, remembering the constant criticism he’d faced there, how ultimately he wondered why they’d even agreed to hire him.

“I will not subject my husband to further abuse at the hands of the company that attempted to ruin his career.”

To his surprise, Lan Qiren looked satisfied by that statement. 

“Then we’ll arrange for your move. You’ll be expected to dress more professionally in the future, as the representative of the company.”

He eyed A-Zhan’s hat and clothing with distaste.

Wei Ying stole a glance at Xichen, who looked haggard and drained and was barely listening to the conversation, and felt empathy for his situation. Xichen had always treated him kindly, until he went no-contact after A-Zhan’s resignation, something he was likely ordered to do. Even so, he also sought to warn them of what had happened, and had informed A-Zhan of Lan Qiren’s intentions. And he had stood fast against the board’s desire to have him prosecuted. 

And now the man he had been set to marry is in prison, having brought Nie Innovations to its knees and attempted the same with Gusu Lan Tech, and what happiness he’d been looking forward to was just so much smoke. 

“You misunderstand,” A-Zhan said. “I do not intend to relocate, or take on the Lan name, or chair Gusu Lan Tech. I will continue to work at Dafan and live in my apartment with my husband and our son. I will remain Wei Zhan.”

Lan Qiren looked shocked, almost as though he had been physically slapped, and then the anger returned. 

“You leave me no choice. It will be a simple matter to buy out Dafan,” he said. 

Wen Qing laughed at the threat. 

“Dafan Applications is a worker cooperative. You have no power.”

For the first time he’d known him, Lan Qiren seemed incapable of words. After all, it meant that he and A-Zhan were part owners of Dafan, as all employees were, something he would never offer at Gusu Lan. Wei Ying privately hoped he was having an internal fit over the socialism of worker cooperatives. 

A-Zhan, however, had plenty to say. 

“You disrupted our Saturday after five years of silence to demand I change my life to suit your whims,” A-Zhan said coldly. “You didn’t even have the grace to apologize to Wei Ying, whose life and career you tried to destroy.”

Lan Qiren’s expression turned stormy. 

“You chose this ill-bred miscreant over your family, and you expect me to apologize to him?”

“No,” A-Zhan said. “I chose the truth. I chose love. A-Ying is my family.”

“You,” Lan Qiren snarled, turning his attention to Wei Ying. “This rebellion is all your influence! A-Zhan was filial until you came along!”

Wei Ying stayed silent. His anxiety spiked but was soothed by A-Zhan’s hand in his, in the feeling of his fingers entwined. Lan Qiren could do nothing to them—he’d already tried, and they’d ultimately come out stronger. They’d built a life and found new family. 

There was so much he could say, but he knew better than to think Lan Qiren would listen; he was a convenient scapegoat, and nothing would convince him otherwise. 

“Have you nothing to say, you ingrate?” Lan Qiren demanded.

A-Zhan tensed, but Wei Ying squeezed his hand.

“I see no point in speaking to you,” he said honestly.

“You dare!”

Lan Qiren stood, quivering with rage.

“You broke our family as completely as you broke the Jiangs, and you have the gall to sit there smirking, enjoying the mess you’ve made!”

Mention of the Jiangs hurt—it had been weeks and only A-Li had reached out, but she had never broken contact to begin with. 

Wen Qing slapped the table and stood, startling them. 

“I’ve heard quite enough. You can’t bully your estranged nephew into uprooting the life he built after you alienated him, so you go after A-Ying again. You act the victim, but you drove A-Zhan away with your unmerited vitriol toward A-Ying.”

Uncle Four stood as well. He was a calm man, but Wei Ying could see him tremble—in anger or nervousness, he didn’t know.

“You are not welcome here, Lan Qiren. Leave or you will be removed.”

“And given that you attempted to poach two of our best employees and threatened our company, you can tell your board that Dafan Applications will never do business with Gusu Lan Tech,” Wen Qing added. 

Wei Ying knew her level of petty and wondered if their new apps would unexpectedly glitch on Gusu Lan products in the future. Probably not, since she was focused on user experience. 

Maybe he was the one feeling petty, but he doubted anyone who mattered would judge him for it. 

“Clearly attempting to reason with any of you is an exercise in futility,” Lan Qiren said.

It took far too much energy to suppress a nearly-hysterical giggle building in Wei Ying’s chest at his complete lack of self awareness. 

“Come, Xichen. We’re done here.”

A-Zhan bristled further, glancing at Wei Ying with a question in his eyes, and he nodded. Xichen deserved to know he still had family. 

“Xiongzhang may stay for dinner, if he wishes,” A-Zhan said. “Our son would love to meet his bobo.”

A tiny smile lit up Xichen’s features, and Wei Ying got the impression it was the first time he’d smiled since his fiancé’s arrest.

“I would be honored to,” he said softly. 

His voice was hoarse, as though he was no longer used to speaking, or was overcome with emotion. It could easily be both. 

“Thank you, didi.”

Lan Qiren scoffed, and Wen Qing pointed at the door, raising an eyebrow. When he stomped out, she and Uncle Four followed him to escort him from the premises, leaving the three of them alone.

“Were you offered another position in the company?” A-Zhan asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

Xichen shook his head, the fleeting smile gone. 

“No. Uncle believes I need time to reflect on my mistakes.”

Wei Ying didn’t hold back a scoff, given that Lan Qiren had referred to him as A-Zhan’s mistake. 

“You didn’t make any mistakes. You had no way of knowing.”

The smile Xichen offers is wrong, bitter. 

“I should have done more. Instead of letting them scapegoat you, I should have insisted on a full investigation. Maybe we would have uncovered the truth and protected you. Maybe we could have prevented the damage to Nie Innovations and Mingjue’s health, too.”

He had forgotten that Xichen and Mingjue were friends somehow. Wei Ying wanted to tell him the guilt he carried was a burden that shouldn’t be his, but he also knew from struggling with his own that it was something Xichen would need to come to terms with himself. 

“You should reach out to him,” A-Zhan said, looking at Wei Ying like he knew what he was thinking. “I doubt he blames you, and perhaps he could use the help.”

Xichen looked torn on the idea. Wei Ying could almost see the thoughts running through his head—that he would be unwelcome, a burden on his friend, but that it was a way to do penance for the sins he believed he’d committed. 

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

Wei Ying walked around the table and patted his shoulder, gesturing to the other door, the one that led to the interior of the building. A-Zhan had offered an olive branch with the invitation, and this was his. 

“Come on. Popo is cooking, and Auntie Three made baozi for the whole building. And A-Yuan is waiting.”

The smile returned, a little stronger this time, and Wei Ying smiled back as Xichen levered out of his seat to follow them home. 

-------------

Jin Zixun’s background is maybe based on a very well-known “journalist” who just constantly looks confused and outraged. To narrow it down, John Oliver did a segment on him recently. Uh, and maybe slightly on two other conspiracy theorists who pretend at journalism, one of whom keeps getting sued.

Also, I am old enough to text in full sentences most of the time. I had some friends check over Wei Ying’s panic texts so hopefully they’re believable.

This was difficult to write because of the anxiety Wei Ying was feeling and the uncomfortable conversations.

Also, I forgot the Nie company name and had to check—I couldn’t remember if it was Nie Innovations or Nie Industries. Turns out I accidentally used both in the first fic in the series. Fixed it now.

I maybe spent too much time researching worker cooperatives and employee-owned companies. It’s not a major part of this fic, but I thought it was a cool detail to bring in.

The title is, again, from the Li Bai poem.

[seanfalco]

"I wish you would write a fic where...", maybe, if your inbox is not full, after the pregnancy scare Nathan and the reader get, she decides to get the matter in her hands and gets a contraceptive implant like Nexplanon? I got one of those myself. They're effective and they last up until 3 years. I dunno, I feel like it would be a nice and realistic solution for the two of them, at least for a while. If you're comfortable with that, obviously. If not it's totally fine. ❤️

word count: 757 a/n: i actually had this thought lol, so since you read my mind, here is it!  The follow up to False Positive

——

“Well thank God for that,” Kelly exclaimed, flopping back on the couch as you joined her.  “I bet you’re dead relieved.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you replied, grabbing the nearby throw pillow to hold as you crossed your legs under you.

“So, what’re you gunna do now?” she asked and though the question was vague you knew exactly what she was talking about.  You couldn’t continue to keep tempting fate like that or you were bound for another pregnancy scare, or worse.

“I dunno, was thinkin’ bout goin’ back on the pill, but I’m so shite at remembering t’take it,” you mused, picking at the pillow in your lap and Kelly nodded thoughtfully.

“Y’know, I’ve got a friend who has one of those implants,” she said, and you tilted your head as you listened, interested.

“How does that work?  Is it painful?” you asked, flinching slightly.

“Nah, she loves it.  Apparently you get it put in your arm or whatever and yeh don’t hafta worry about it for like three years.”

“Wow, that sounds… really low maintenance, which is kinda perfect for me actually,” you murmured with a laugh and Kelly gave you a knowing look.

“Yeah, no shit, especially with how often you and Nathan go at it.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, giving her a light shove.

“Oh, please, you guys are like rabbits, I swear,” she countered with a playful huff.  “Seriously, how can anyone be that horny?”

“Kelly!” you cried, bending forward to press your warm face into the pillow.  Despite your embarrassment you knew your friend had a point and you resolved to make a stop at the clinic to find out more.

Rolling on top of you, not wanting to break the kiss, Nathan threw his hand out toward the bedside table, nearly knocking the lamp off as he fumbled with the small knob to the drawer, sliding it open and reaching inside blindly, rummaging around for a fresh condom wrapper.

Ever since your little scare, as much as he hated it, Nathan had taken to wearing protection again, not keen for a repeat of the month before.

“Where -- is it?” he groaned, pulling back with a huff to actually look for what he’d been searching for, frustrated at being interrupted.

“Nathan, what’re you doing?” you asked, rolling over to see what he was up to as he’d finally slipped off the bed to empty the drawer out.

“Lookin’ for a condom.  I swear I had at least one left!” he cried.

Smirking, you grabbed his arm, pulling him down to the edge of the bed.  “S’alright,” you murmured, pushing up to your elbow to press a kiss to wherever you could reach, which happened to be right above his hip, planting your lips to each tiny tattooed star there.

“No, [y/n], don’t you understand?  This is a tragedy of immense proportions!” he whined, clearly having an internal battle of wills, but you cut him off, pulling him back down on top of you, your insistent mouth muffling his further protests.

“You don’t hafta worry bout that anymore,” you murmured between kisses and instantly Nathan froze, his eyebrows raising as he looked down at you.

“Oh?  You on the pill?” he asked hopefully, excitement flashing across his face.

“Even better,” you purred, squirming enticingly beneath him, begging to be touched.

“What’s even better than that?” he asked incredulously.

“Well…” you began, your hands sliding up his chest and over his shoulders, “I decided t’get one of those fancy implants.  We’re good for the next three years,” you explained with a smirk.

“Wait, so does that make you like a sexy android or somethin’ now?” he joked, his lips twitching in amusement.

“You fuckin’ dork,” you huffed, swatting lightly at his head, but his grin only widened.

“Why didn’t y’tell me?” he asked instead, his gaze softening as he watched you.

“Wanted t’surprise you,” you answered coyly.  “You’re not the only one who’s not fond of the feel of rubbers,” you admitted, Nathan’s thick brows climbing even higher, “specially when you have such a nice feelin’ cock,” you teased, half serious.

“Y’like my cock, huh?” he drawled, waggling his brows, “well, then --” he exclaimed, trailing off to kiss your neck, his hand sliding down your waist to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip as he ground against you.

Your laugh at your boyfriend’s enthusiasm quickly turned to a throaty moan as he kept it up, teasing you til you begged him to put it in you, giving your new implant a test run.

————————

tag list: @imagine-you-are / @magic-multicolored-miracle / @etherealsxnder / @iamsexytrash / @thehrgreeves / @itsmetaphorbriansblog

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather  3/?

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Benedict Bridgerton Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

“You have to help,”  Eloise said into her cell.  She called Benedict early in the morning. As the sibling she considered herself closest to, she was desperate for his advice on how to stop Colin from ruining her life.  That was the only outcome she could see happening if she allowed Colin to get his hands on her best friend.

She could hear her elder brother yawn into the phone. “You’re seriously calling me to complain because you think that Colin might have been about to kiss Penelope,”  she heard him laugh.

“There is no think. If I’d not interrupted, they would have tainted the sanctity of the game room,” Eloise bellowed into the phone.

“Are you sitting?”  Benedict asked in the phone.

“Well… yes,”  Eloise said from where she was sitting on her bed.

“I’m going to tell you something and it might come as a shock to you,” Benedict started.  “I’m only going to tell you this because I love you.”

“What?”

“You need to mind your own business,” Benedict told her simply.

“Pen is my business,” Eloise argued into the phone.

“If that was true, you’d know that this was always going to happen.  You  can’t possibly just now be noticing the way they act with each other,” Benedict told her.  “I mean,  Daph, Anthony and I sort of have a gambling pool going about it.”

“You’re making bets over it?”  Eloise asked incredulously.

“This is why we didn’t let you in on it.  For the record, if it happens between now and Christmas Kate wins,” Benedict told her.

“Kate is in on this too?”

“And Simon,” Benedict noted.

“Did anyone at least take a stance that it won’t happen?”

“Nope. We’re all in agreement that it’s going to happen.”

Eloise glared at her phone.  They were all traitors. That was what this came down too.  Not a single relative was loyal.  They were all making bets, assuming that something was going to happen; something that she wasn’t sure that she wanted to allow to happen.

“I hate every single one of you,” she muttered.

“You love us.  Don’t do anything stupid.  You can’t stop the inevitable.”

“You wait and see.”

“Well if you delay it until after Christmas, I win.”

That was enough for to end the call.  Clearly she wasn’t going to get the commiseration or help she was looking for.

“Bye.”

“Oh don’t be a –“

Eloise clicked to end the call, throwing her phone on her dresser.  That hadn’t gone the way she’d planned.

--

Colin was remarkably quiet through most of breakfast and lunch, keeping mostly to himself. He wouldn’t have said he was avoiding anyone but he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to approach the conversation or if he should.  He and Penelope had always had a bit of banter between them and maybe things had escalated but it hadn’t crossed the line into action.

It had come as close as it ever had though.

If Eloise hadn’t interrupted, he knew he would have done something. He would have acted on impulse and he wasn’t completely sure what he wanted.  It was one thing to make moves on a stranger and another to do that to someone who he’d known since they were a child.  Penelope was his sister’s best friend. If he misread the signals, he wouldn’t be the only one who suffered because of it. As much as he loved tormenting his siblings, he didn’t actually want to do anything to damage them.  

“I’m going for another ride,” he announced to them in passing, leaving them to their lounging and reading.

He needed the fresh air, needed to gather his thoughts more than anything in the world.  If he was out of the house he might have a fighting shot at it.

He was half way out the door when he felt a hand reaching out grabbing his wrist as if to give him pause. He didn’t have to look back to know whose hand was on him.

He turned back, eyes gazing on her face which in that moment was a mixture of apprehension and something unreadable.

“Can I join you?” Penelope asked him.

The smart answer was no.  He ought to tell her to stick around and hang out with his sister.  It wasn’t what he wanted though and he found himself nodding before he could formulate words.

“Of course,” he told her, forcing his usual grin on his features.

She released her grip on him and he led the way to the stables.  It normally wasn’t this quiet between them but he wasn’t going to push it and neither was she.

“I usually ride this one,” he said pointing to his horse as he went to place a saddle on it.  It was a large, healthy stallion.  He was fully prepared to set her up on one of the others.  They did have a few to pick from.  He knew that Daphne’s horse would probably be the best fit. “I’m thinking maybe Daph’s for you.”

“I was thinking I could ride with you,” Penelope said after a long moment.

Colin gave her a long look, thinking over her suggestion.  He’d raised his horse since it was a foal. It was sturdy, dependable and could certainly handle the load.  The saddle wouldn’t work for it though. They’d have to ride bareback.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked, removing the saddle he’d already put into place. “It won’t as comfortable without that.”

“I’m not so delicate that I can’t handle it. Besides, I want to experience your equestrian skills first hand instead of observing them,”  she told him.

He didn’t have to be told a second time.

“Let me give you a leg up,” he said before he helped her climb astride before he managed to pull himself up behind her.  He handed her the reins once he was secure before wrapping his own arms around her middle.

In an instant they were in motion. It was much easier to let her lead the show him give her instructions on what to do.  He had full confidence in their combined ability to do this.

“Which way?”  Penelope asked, her body shifting backwards against his slightly with each stride of the horse.

“I’ll show you my usual route,” Colin told her, trying to not to think too much about the jut of his body against hers with every movement. “Or rather he will. He knows the way.”

The stallion didn’t really require much guidance. It was normally fairly easy to zone out and enjoy the scenery. It was innocent enough at first. That certainly didn’t last for long though.   It was an impossibility when he was already struggling to maintain some distance and the very nature of this required a complete lack of it.

It was difficult to be a gentleman with her pressed against him. He had to lean against her, if he wanted to keep them both astride.  There was something pleasant about the closeness. The friction of her hips moving backward against his own was distracting, especially when she let out audible moans when he got bumped especially hard toward into her.

“You’ve got to stop,” he murmured close to her ear. There was a hint of warning to it not that he was really sure what he was going to do.

Penelope apparently wasn’t ignorant to what she was doing to him. He was pretty sure he felt her intentionally shift back against him, which earned a groan.  She was going to be the death of him. He was certain of it.

“Stop what?” she asked.  He could hear the mischief in her voice and it confirmed the suspicion. There was no hiding what she was doing to him anymore. She undoubtedly felt how hard he was.  If she was trying to tease him, she was doing a hell of a job.

“You’re playing with fire,” he growled, turning his head enough to bury her face in her neck, mouth ghosting the skin there. Her hands moved lower on her hips to at least try and control the way his hips moved forward into hers. “I thought you wanted to ride a horse not a Bridgerton.”

“The horse was an excuse to spend time with the Bridgerton,” she confessed, eyes closing and a breathy-sigh escaping her as her knuckles tightened around the reins.  Thank God the horse knew what it was doing and could complete the loop of the property to get the back to the barn.

“You don’t have to have an excuse to spend time with me,” Colin told her simply, honestly. Her words were enough to shame him into behaving. She thought she needed an excuse to spend time with him when the truth of the matter was that he loved spending time with her. He pressed a light, affectionate kiss to her jaw. He felt her shiver and he knew that needed to put some distance between them before more could happen. “You never have and you never will.”

Colin’s hand moved to take the reins from her long enough to get them stopped. He slipped down before offering her a hand to assist her down.   They were close enough to the barn and he could easily get the creature secured again.

“Do you mean that?” Penelope asked quietly, her legs still a bit wobbly and her mind still racing. She followed him diligently though, sticking close by.

“Yeah,” Colin said lamely trying to get his brain and body to behave.   “I like being around you… even when you’re tormenting me.”

“That wasn’t my initial goal,” she confessed. There was something rather alluring about her red curls so messy and windblown combined with the innocent yet mischievous smile on her face. “I can’t say that I didn’t like it though.”

“I had a sneaking suspicion that you did,” he told her with a light smile.  He wanted to kiss her then and there, see what other forms of torment she could appreciate but he kept himself in check.  There was only so long they could hang out before Eloise would come looking. He wasn’t willing to tempt the fates on this.

“Maybe next time we hang out you’ll get to torment me,” she offered.

Those words alone were enough fodder to keep him happy for the rest of the day. He offered his arm, planning to guide her back to the house.

“Let’s go find El,” he suggested.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

You didn’t speak to Sehun as he pulled into the garage and shut off the engine. Hell, you were half tempted to jump out of the car when he’d first rolled onto the grass, but you thought that might be a little overdramatic. Besides, slamming the door to his “baby” as hard as you could was much more satisfying. You caught the flinch as soon as the metal hit and echoed through the building. Yes, satisfying indeed. 

“(y/n)….”

Nope. You were not in the mood to listen to anymore of his doubts or his tries to persuade you out of your opinion. 

Your anger and frustration must have been written all over your face. As soon as Soomi saw your face, she jumped up from the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

You glanced over your shoulder as Sehun’s sour face before replying. “Nothing.”

Clearly ignoring the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it, Soomi looked to the wolf behind you. “What happened?”

“(y/n) thinks she knows who the woman is, but I disagree,” he said in a very simplified version. 

Soomi’s eyes lit up with hope. “You do? Who?”

You swallowed thickly. What if she had the same reaction as Sehun? What if absolutely no one believed you? “I think,” you said quietly, “that it might be Mina.”

“Mina? Dana’s friend? Why?”

“Because she looks like the woman in my visions,” you explained confidently. 

“Whose face you’ve never seen,” Sehun argued as he stepped up next to you, an annoyed glare in his eyes. 

You didn’t even look at him. “No, but I am the one who has had the visions, so I have the clues, as I said before.”

“But there are millions of people with blonde hair and pale skin,” Sehun pushed further. “That’s hardly enough to go by.”

“I don’t know,” Soomi muttered, her eyebrows knitted together as she weighed the issue in front of her. Just when it seemed that you would be on your own once again, she surprised you. “The timing is suspicious. For her to show up now and look so similar….”

“Oh, come on, Soomi, not you, too,” Sehun whined. 

“What’s going on?”

Junmyeon entered with Kita by his side and several others behind him. Why did every little happening in this house have to have an audience?

“(y/n) thinks Mina might be the woman from her visions,” Sehun grumbled. It seemed he, too, was a little irritated at how big this was scene was getting. Since you saw it as his fault, you didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. “I’m trying to make her see that there’s no way it could be Mina.”

“You don’t know that,” Hae In interjected. Oh thank god someone had some sense. 

“She’s Dana’s friend.”

“So?” Hae In snapped. “We don’t know her. I’d trust (y/n) over Mina.”

Sehun rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust (y/n). Of course I do. But I don’t think we should be jumping to conclusions. Blonde hair and pale skin? That could describe you, Hae In.”

“Maybe it is me,” she smirked. “Maybe I got sick of you and decided to form a rebellion and take (y/n) with me.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Baekhyun muttered. 

“Kyungsoo would kill you if he heard that,” said Jongin. 

Luhan shrugged. “I doubt it. He’s not a big fan of Mina either.”

“But Mina is still Dana’s friend,” Kimberly argued. “I don’t think we should be singling her out off of circumstantial evidence.”

“Another wonderful sentence from the future crime reporter,” Jongdae grunted. Jongin didn’t take too kindly to the remark, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” Junmyeon barked. Shifting his attention to you, he said in a calmer voice, “(y/n), thank you for bringing this to our attention. We’ll keep a close eye on Mina. I’ll go call Kyungsoo. It’ll be difficult, but he should be able to keep this from Dana for the time being. We don’t want to cause her unneeded stress.”

You nodded, accepting that answer for now. It felt nice that you were being taken seriously by at least one of the alphas. But that didn’t make the initial betrayal hurt any less. 

Pushing past the crowd, you took the stairs two at a time until you reached the second floor in record time. You should have known better than to try and use this place as an escape, but there was no turning back now. 

“Hey, wait-”

“I don’t feel like talking to you right now.” You tried to open the door to the bedroom, but Sehun put his hand over yours, holding it shut. Damn the contact, you snatched your hand away. You were sure the boys used the hormonal seizure that happened in the mates’ body at the skin to skin contact to their advantage. This would not be one such occasion. Not on your watch. 

“Well, I do,” he grunted as he pushed himself between you and the door. 

“Unless it’s a genuine apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry that I can’t believe that it’s Mina.”

“Wrong kind of apology.” You tried to shove passed him, but the big lug wouldn’t budge. 

Sehun roared. “Why are you so difficult?”

“Why can’t you just trust me?” you fired back. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you! I just don’t want you to jump to conclusions!”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, I’m following the clues!” You wanted to rip your hair out. Why wouldn’t he just take you at your word? “I can’t change what I saw in my visions!”

Sehun shook his head defiantly. “Sometimes I really hate that you have those.”

Knife? Meet heart. 

Yes, you hated them sometimes, too, but at the end of the day they were still apart of you. They were a part of your gifts – gifts that frustrated you and put you on the outside, but still yours. You couldn’t get rid of them, you couldn’t just make them stop, so you accepted them. It was one thing for you to have animosities about the visions, it was another for him to. Saying that he hated your visions made you feel like he hated a part of you. Those visions were the reason you were here in the first place. They were what brought you to the farmhouse where you could meet this so-called love of your life. This was the man who was supposed to stand by your side and accept every part of you. Apparently, nice things didn’t last too long in your life. 

“Excuse me, then, I’ll just turn them off for your convenience.”

Sehun groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what could you have possibly meant, Sehun? Huh?” You didn’t really give him a chance to reply. “Why don’t you just admit that being mated to me wasn’t all you thought it would be?”

Sehun’s eyes widened in shock. “(y/n), where is this coming from?”

 A million little facets of insecurity and doubt, that’s where. But you decided to throw his behavior in his face instead. That was a less vulnerable - and not as truthful - “Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you’re fine until the topic of my powers come up. Then you start acting weird and change the subject. Everyone else wants to see them, but you just sit there with this sour frown on your face. You used to be fascinated by it too, you know.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Fantastic. There was no way for you to hide them, so you just let them collect and pool. “You used to stare at me in awe when I used my powers. It’s part of why I fell for you in the first place, before knowing I was your mate. But now I just feel like a burden to you.”

“You have never been a burden, (y/n).”

“But it’d be easier, right?” you snapped back. “Now that the shine is gone, it’d be easier if I were normal, boring human like the others, wouldn’t it? Less complicated that way?”

At first, he said nothing. He stared at you with his mouth pressed in a tight line, the same look he always had when he was thinking hard. His hesitation wasn’t doing your self-esteem any favors. Air blew out of his lungs, ending the pause. 

“Yes, it would be, but-”

You shook your head almost violently. “No, thanks. I don’t need any explanations. Not from you.”

“(y/n), listen to me-”

Slam! You’d made it to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door behind you before he could even finish his sentence. 

You hated him. You hated him more than the ones who used to torture and bully you for being different, for being more. It was idiotic to feel accepted and at peace around him. You’d settled into content and it’d blown up in your face. He’d backed away as soon as things didn’t line up for him perfectly. 

“(y/n)! Open the door, please! Just let me explain!”

No. He didn’t give you the benefit of listening to your suspicions, why should you listen to him now?

You didn’t yell at him to go away or to shut up or any words at all. Instead, you sat there on the cold tile silently, legs folded and back against the wooden door. Each time Sehun knocked against the thin barrier with his fist, you felt the vibrations through your shoulder blades. Still you didn’t moved. 

Eventually he gave up and you listened to his footsteps fade away through the hall and down the stairs. 

Now would have been the time to cry. Now would have been the time to let out all the tears. The wall of hurt that had built up inside you, each brick of molded out of the words and doubt given by Sehun, would easily come crashing down upon if you simply tapped on it with your finger. But you never touched it. 

Sitting there you were just… existing. Time no longer felt real the longer you stayed in that small room. You could almost imagine yourself living inside a bubble connected to another dimension, another world. If only you could really escape to another place and no longer have to deal with the happenings of this place. But that wasn’t possible. Even magic had its limitations. 

But you could do something. 

You needed space. You needed to get away, have some time to yourself, and maybe even find some proof that you weren’t crazy. Maybe if you could connect more dots between the visions and Mina, you could-

You weren’t sure what you wanted at this point. To be right? To get back at Sehun? There was no telling what currently drove you. 

Leave. Now. 

It almost felt like a whisper in your ear, urging you to get up and go, to not waste time, but no true source could be found for the urge. 

Taking a risk, you peeked out the bathroom to check that the coast was clear before scurrying to the bedroom. You didn’t stuff much into Soomi’s knapsack she packed for emergencies as you figured you’d only be gone for a day or so. It was fully your intention to be back before the blood moon. So with the pull-string bag slung over your shoulder, you checked the hallway once again and headed back for the bathroom. 

You knew that your best bet of getting away was to make them think that you were still locked away in the bathroom throwing a tantrum. So you headed back, locking the door once again as quietly as you could before going over to the window.

The drop didn’t seem that bad, but it would have been dumb to jump and hope for the best. To your luck, however, there was a bush off to the side. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on the leaves and branches of the plant, imagining them growing and expanding into a pad that was safe to land on. By the time you opened your eyes, your imagination had become reality. 

You gritted your teeth as you swung a leg over the sill. And then another. 

Were you really about to do this?

Sehun’s face floated in your mind. 

Yes. Yes, you were. 

Shoving off, you twisted your body so you landed on the oversized bush on your side, rolling off the branches and landing a bit hard on the grass beside it. But you didn’t have time to think about the pain as you jumped up to your feet and ran for the forest. Breathing grew difficult the farther you pushed yourself. However, slowing down was not an option. 

The closer you made it to the treeline, the more your determination grew. You were going to show him and you were going to do it on your own. 

**

Sehun sat at the breakfast booth, staring at the glass of alcohol he’d poured with himself. He hadn’t touched it. The ice was melting and small dots of condensation were building up on the side of the cup, sliding down the surface before pooling on the table top. He’d poured it more out of habit, like a ritual that would suddenly make him feel better. But he knew that was a crock. The only thing that would make him feel better would be you talking to him again. 

He knew he messed up. He should have just kept his mouth shut no matter what he thought. How could he explain that he didn’t sense any danger from Mina and that’s why he didn’t think she was behind the coming danger? Wolves had a knack for this sort of thing. 

In the end, he figured that you needed space. After you’d calmed down, you’d let him explain what he meant by the words he’d said. Especially the stupid response to you being a witch. 

He loved that you were different. He loved that you grew up in the same world as he did. It was a connection that was missing from the other couples. But you didn’t know how worried he was. You didn’t know that the reason he made that face every time you used your powers in front of the guys was because he was worried about you. He worried about you losing control and hurting yourself.

The fire still haunted him, even though he’d never admit it outloud. He’d been able to sense the danger and make it to before the flames got out of control, but who could say he could it again? He needed to protect you. It was his very instinct.

He wouldn’t change a single thing about you. And you needed to know that. 

Sliding out from the booth, Sehun headed back up the stairs. It was worth another shot getting you to talk to him. 

With an unsure fist, he knocked against the door. “(y/n)?”

No answer. 

He tried the handle, but it was still locked. So you were still in there. “(y/n), can we please talk now?” You still didn’t reply. Wow. You were really going to keep going, weren’t you? “Okay, fine. Keep the door between us, but please listen. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want to rush to judgement. Dana’s been through… a lot. And Mina’s been her closest friend for years. I didn’t want to ruin that without being absolutely sure. Of course I trust you. I know that you’re the only one who has seen - well, what you’ve seen.”

Still nothing. What was he going to have to do to hear your voice again? Keep apologizing was the only thing he could come up with. 

“And… I know that you said you didn’t want to hear anymore excuses, but I have to say it. I don’t care that you’re a witch - no. I love it. I love how special you are. I wouldn’t change that at all. It- It’s just complicated. If you were human, I could protect you differently. I could make sure that you’re out of danger. But with as powerful as you are, I know I can’t keep you out of the fight. I can’t sideline you like Evie or Jiyeon or Kita. And… I’m scared. I’m scared to death to lose you. But I think I might have done that anyway.”

He waited. With no air leaving or entering his lungs, he waited. But no response to his confession came. In fact, no noises whatsoever came from the bathroom. Now that he was concentrating, he realized that not even your heartbeat was reaching his ears. 

“(y/n)!” 

Screw propriety. Kicking his foot out, he broke the lock and swung the door open. 

It was empty.

[euaxel]

heyyy, eonia. i’m reid, i’m twenty-three, still can’t read, and all i know about pjo is that it fucking rocks and the protag has the same learning disabilities that i do! also, i picked hypnos for this punk mainly to be mean to him and because in the hades game hypnos bullies me every time i die and i’m kiiiinda into it. hmu on discord one on one for the best plotting experience, but i’ll be around plenty to bug y’all in the gc too. you can read about bastard boy number one right here and under the cut we’ll get down to business. 

⟨ ELLIOT FLETCHER. TRANS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AXEL EVERETT is actually a descendent of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-TWO year old VIDEO GAME DEVELOPMENT & COMBAT TACTICS MAJOR from BROOKLYN, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite WITTY & SELF-DEPRICATING.

be advised, axel’s a pretty heavy character.  i’m gonna keep it brief for the bio & need-to-knows, tag around the parts with bold applicable triggers so you can skip around as needed, and tag this post accordingly, but just let me know if i miss anything and i’ll fix it & be safe reading. godspeed and i apologize in advance for bringing you all my personal punching bag as my first muse. 

the main triggers that are gonna come up are: parental abuse, alcoholism * major, mentions of bullying, drowning * major, religious trauma, and drug abuse with some harder drugs ( particularly, weed, pills and cocaine / nothing with needles. )

general stats. 

— full name ,  axel harley everett.  — nicknames/alias ,  axe, ax, wolverine jr, tyler durden jr, trouble, Who? - every professor he’s ever had. — house,  hypnos and mad about it.  — age, 22, as of today. also mad about it.  — gender,  trans male.    — pronouns,  he/him.  — sexual orientation, bisexual with a somewhat heavy masc lean.  — d.o.b, january 1st, 1999. ( generally unknown to anyone but maybe siblings, he will probably lie and say Nobody Knows... I Just Am unless he really fucks with you. ) — hometown,

phys. 

— height,  5′0ft even. furious about it. — eyes,  brown. — hair, brown.  — face claim, elliot fletcher.

misc.

— zodiac,  capricorn. — alignment,  chaotic good. — character inspo,  lip gallagher, steve rogers ( young ), ellie from tlou1, logan howlett, stiles stilinski ( if anyone says shit i will scream ), probably someone from euphoria but i’m too scared to watch that, peter parker ( andrew garfield ), shinsou hitoshi, finn mertens, marceline the vampire queen, dipper pines, this is all over the place but it’s there.  — most played spotify songs, passion for publication by anarbor, sober haha jk unless by hospital bracelet, nobody by mitski, class of 2013 by mitski, king princess’ cover of monster from adventure time, way too much phoebe bridgers, in love or whatever by future teens, and the entire front bottoms discography but especially in sickness & in flames with the hard way & bus beat well at the top of his loop.  — aesthetics,   bloody knuckles, left open and tipped over prescription bottles, walking on the carpet with socks to get that tingly feeling, skateboarding inside, dozing off at the bar, tangled legs in messy sheets, ten pillows on a twin sized mattress, laying down in the shower, brian sella’s cracky singing voice. 

bio. 

— axel was born and raised in brooklyn, new york, and he was claimed at thirteen, on his thirteenth birthday, by hypnos. — the day he was claimed, axel ceased contact with his human mother and his step-dad, and he attended a camp for half-bloods that wasn’t far from home. he spent his adolescence there year round for safety from monsters at home and abroad, then moved on to eonia.  — ( parental abuse tw, drowning tw begin ) i don’t want to be too graphic here so i’m going to plainly say that axel’s mother was a very, very bad person, and the man she married was absent at his best, physically abusive at worst. axel’s powers (  hypnokinesis, namely )  were potent and difficult to control at a young age, and as a deeply religious catholic woman, this scared his mother and influenced most of the animosity in their relationship. she was convinced that the defensive visions he created and his ability to put her to sleep ( an attempt to help her, on his end; insomnia plagued her and later, it would him, too ) were of demonic origin, and tried to drown him more than once; cleansing, she claimed. the worst instance was the day he was claimed, actually — new years day, 2012; his life was saved by hypnos, and that was the last he saw of her.   ( parental abuse tw, drowning tw end. )  —  that said, he’s a little ( very ) hydrophobic. poseidon kids do NOT fucking interact ( i’m kidding. kind of. he Will avoid a little though ) —  anyway! moving on. all of this aside, axel did his best to put his past behind him, and he was actually super stoked to learn that his powers came from somewhere good and that there was places out there for kids like him; to learn he wasn’t any kind of monster. ( still working on believing that, though.. marcelines monster.mp3 right here )  — he’s less stoked when he starts having trouble falling asleep, and really, it feels like a more cruel twist than any other fate has thrown at him ( his upbringing was chock full of mean twists, so that’s saying something ); and really, it’s more like insomnia just full on kicks in, but he can put other people to sleep. great, right? whatever, though — combat classes are kickass and he’s surrounded by babes that think he’s hilarious so things could be totally, way worse.  — ( bullying tw (brief) ) for the most part, axel was pretty well liked among his peers. he was bullied as a young kid (pre-claim), but he bit back and he bit back hard, and sure, some of that followed him into his teen years but he’s more confident by then; less fun to poke at, and absolutely unhinged when provoked, so people learn better of it. the only real lasting effect was one instant that hit him a little too deep in the inferiority, when he was seventeen — he fell in love with a girl, told her that, and found himself at the end of a very mean spirited prank. he shook it off like he did anything else, or at least — he told himself he did, even if the hurt hit him somewhere a little too deep rooted ( ie. being god’s most unlovable son would naturally land him here, right? ) love’s kinda stupid anyways, so what the hell, right?  (bullying tw end.)

— ( alcoholism tw, drug use tw begin ) this is already obscenely long so i’m just going to keep it to the point here and say he began drinking when he was sneaking booze in to camp at fifteen, and it just never stopped there. he’s also a massive stoner, which is all well, harmless and good for the most part; he’s always grinning, half-lidded, and has a room full of smoke at any given time. it’s the pills that do him in, and he did them at first just so he could get some shut eye, and... well. after that, because he’s dependent on them. but he keeps this part under wraps for the most part; it doesn’t have to be anyone’s problem but his, and it’s not a problem until it is one. partying’s fun, so is coke; so is taking a few too many xan’s, mdma.   ( alcoholism tw, drug use tw end )

FUN FACTS!!! 

— i swear he is not as doom and gloom as he sounds from the bio, and yeah, writing that made me so sad i feel like we absolutely must hone in on the fun and cute things about him!?!  — he loves dnd. he can talk about it for HOURS and if you let him, he absolutely will. — adventure time makes him cry. he’s a baby don’t let him fool you.  — very into cryptids, aliens, horror stories, conspiracy theories, in love with ryan from watcher, wanna be shane medej.  — he loves to draw! the one thing he loves about his power is what it’s done for his imagination, and sure, he mostly draws horror things, but it’s why he went into video game development. he wants to be a concept artist.  — his double major is in combat tactics because he loves fighting. he thinks it’s so fun. he’s a little nuts, actually — i mean, get hit in the face and come up grinning. all he’s ever wanted is to run a fight club and be the shortest, baddest little bitch on the planet.  — he tends to nod off in weird places because he doesn’t sleep enough at night, which is sad, but; he can seriously fall asleep anywhere. standing up, in a tree, you name it.  — he’s a hobby musician! he loves singing and playing guitar.  — he’s a huge flirt.  — loves to scare people. he’s harmless, though. like, honestly. he might make you think you’re seeing a walking toadstool but he’ll probably apologize later.  — he’s very much a singing in the shower type?  — clothes thief. friends and significant others beware.  — actually, just kind of a thief? but of weird, little things. like, just the left shoe. puts them in a little corner in his room that he has set up like an exhibit. “things you thought you lost lol” is written on the whiteboard on the wall above it. he likes collecting rocks too. he’s a little freak!!  — he’s better at the memory retrieval part of his power than the rest. naturally, as this mostly applies for other people. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. im literally so tired of hearing myself talk... 

friends/squad. self explanatory!!!  he’s friendly, a class clown, and a loyal friend through and through; he’s also adaptable, and his demeanor is very relaxed and inviting. he’s probably gonna have 2-3 people that he’s really close with, and he’d do quite literally anything for them. seriously, don’t tempt him.  a best friend.  so this is kind of vague but. i’d really love for him to have one person that is just a tier above the rest? they’d know things about him that are like pulling teeth to find out ( aka, anything deeper than his most recommended podcasts and loudmouth opinions on non important things ), someone who will call him on his shit, and maybe take care of his stupid little self when he gets too fucked up, because they’d be someone he trusts enough to let them.   enemies?    he probably gets along with most people until given a reason not to? but he is a loud mouth and if one of his friends gets into drama, he will stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and he will throw hands, so it could happen.

harmless rivalries. maybe even steamy ones. he’s a little shit and he likes banter so, so, so much? if given the opportunity and if someone rubs him a certain type of way, he’s so not above being a menace, although never super maliciously. just, you know, annoying the shit out of them on purpose, for fun. he’s also not above blowing a few kisses their way.

current hookups. self explanatory too. he’s a little harlot. HFBHVFNJ. it’s gonna be kinda hard to go beyond sex with him because he’s very deep in his own insecurity but he does catch feelings, he’s just mad about it when he does. i’m mostly gonna go off chem for that though! an ex. could be on friendly terms? but, it should be noted that he could’ve ghosted someone too; or pulled from the relationship when things got serious and he couldn’t choke out that ‘i love you’, even if he felt it. worse, if he did choke it out, but they didn’t feel the same way.  siblings. hypnos kids he is gonna be so protective of all of u... family is hard for axel, i’m ngl, but he really wants one is the tragedy of it all, i guess? so he just really wants to be a good brother. he thinks hypnos is kind of a dick for making him but he tries not to fault him for his existence. fuck u dad i dont wanna be alive feels a little unfair. HDBHFDSJ. anyways he’s a good brother even if he is absolutely so reckless and terrifying in regards to himself but his siblings. his siblings he will do anything for. ALSO!!! FOUND FAMILY!!!! it would be kinda nice if he bonded with someone a little older maybe, could be outside of the hypnos house even, someone he’s kind of a bratty-little-brother type with.... or bratty older brother that takes your things and makes you laugh, y’know. 

PERSONALITY.  just tacking this part of the app on at the end too to highlight parts that i think are important for understanding who he is, and just so it’s all in one place!

toothy grins, half-lidded eyes, and keepin’ them laughing is what it’s all about, baby. axel walks with more confidence in his posture than he’s earned ( or claimed, for that matter ), and it’s the backbone of what gets him by. he’s a glowing example of the fake it ‘til you make it mentality, and he knows what he wants, usually how to get it, and doesn’t mind letting you know that. there’s an ever present mischievous glint in his eyes that says more about what to expect from him than he does, and that’s still not much? he likes to have fun, and there isn’t a whole lot of regard for righteousness or responsibility on his end, but hey! it’s usually only ever at his own expense, so what’s the damage? he’s an absolute clown and he knows it.

axel loves people. he does — you might not guess that with how elusive he is, but it’s true. there’s nothing he likes more than a good conversation with someone interesting, or maybe not even then; if there’s a sparkle in you, he’ll see it. ( might even draw it, not that you’d ever know. ) he’s warm, loyal, compassionate, relaxed, and understanding; and none of that is at the cost of being passive, or lacking passion. 

as long as the vibes are right, he’s happy to just be; though, he’s known to have a fuse for certain provocations, and will jump readily at chance to fight in someone else’s honor. also, it’s not unlike him to spar for the sake of sparring; but that’s all in good fun, no worries.

there’s no way to sugarcoat it — axel has an inferiority complex. where that stems from is something he’s more self-aware of than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t have the patience or the will to dissect it; much less do anything about it, and he’s as bull-headed as they come — especially regarding anything related to the psyche. how much this impacts his demeanor and relationships with others varies on the situation, but one constant is that he’s going to retreat before things get bad; even if ‘things are getting bad’ exists only as his own paranoia-born hypothetical.

things can’t go bad if you don’t let them, and he’s content to keep it that way; even if it means being stuck in the stasis of missed opportunities. it’s when he’s retreating into himself that he can get irritable, anxious, jumpy; secretive, defensive, even. he’s personable until he isn’t, essentially.

[missbugaboo]

Soulmate Scam (2)

Adrien knew who his soulmate was. Period. Ever since he’d first met her, ever since his heart had made that cheerful dance of recognition in hist chest, he’d had no doubt that she was the one – the only one – destined for him. If only said destiny didn’t have other plans for him.

All sides of the love-square, though mostly Adrienette, SOULMATE AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

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tagging @magnitude101999, because they asked me too ^^

Chapter 2: The Look in Your Eyes

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was months away from her sixteenth birthday and yet, she was hardly calmer than her blond friend that night.

Or on any other night in the preceding week, to be frank.

Now, if one knew Marinette a little bit, they were not at all surprised by the situation or the reasons behind it. Each and every one of her classmates – all except one – could easily notice her nervousness as well as answer the question of why she was like this in the first place. They didn't judge her or tease her (not too much, anyway); they just smiled a little pityingly and shook their heads at her, though again, most of them cheered for her silently with all their might at the same time.

Marinette knew it and even though the thought still made her blush, she couldn't feel anything but grateful for that.

Now however, was not the time to think of her friends, or her best friends, or even about the one most important boy in the whole world that had been the direct cause of her distress in these past few days; and the reason for it was simple.

She was, once again, horribly late to school.

"Come on, come on, come on!" she cried out with despair as she ran around her room, looking for the small parcel she had prepared last night but which for some reason could no longer be found in the morning. "It has to be here, somewhere! I made sure to get everything ready last evening so that this wouldn't happen. Ugh! For once I absolutely can't be late and of course, this happens!"

"Well, it's not like you can be late on other occasions, really," she heard Tikki's sweet, though slightly teasing voice coming from behind. "And it's not like it's the first time you are, either."

"Very funny," Marinette replied wryly. "But it's really not a good time for jokes. I need to find that gift, Tikki, or it's all ruined! Again!"

"Don't you think that 'ruined' is a rather strong word?"

"It's the only fitting one! It's Adrien's sixteenth birthday and you know how important it is for everyone, and especially for him, even though I know he's done all in his might to seem indifferent in front of us and... And if I fail to give him his present properly this year, I may never have another chance! For all I know, he will be spending all of his next birthdays with his perfect other half and it will be just weird for me to gift him with anything then, and even if he doesn't I will sure have lost all faith in myself by that time. I mean, if I can't do it for three years in a row, why should I expect it to happen on the fourth. And this is my third attempt, so -"

"Okay, okay, calm down silly," Tikki cut her off with a small laugh. "First of all, you gave him wonderful little gifts both on his last birthday and the one before that. The first time there was a misunderstanding you chose not to correct; on the second there was one of the toughest akuma attacks we've seen so far, so as much as I wish you hadn't forgotten to sign the gift, I'm not at all surprised that you did. And unlike last year, you'll actually have a chance to see him at school today."

"Yeah, unless Hawkmoth decides to use today for yet another ploy of his," Marinette mumbled angrily as she bent down to search for the lost package under her desk. "I don't know what it is he's got against Adrien, sending an akuma on his birthday each time. Or mine, for that matter."

"It's probably just a coincidence. Everything will be alright today, you'll see!"

"I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, it doesn't matter if Hawkmoth strikes today or not if I can't even find the gift in the first place!"

Tikki let out a long sigh. "Have you checked your backpack?"

Marinette straightened up abruptly at the question – or she would have, if not for the desk that happened to be right above her head.

"Ouch!" she groaned, annoyed, before turning towards Tikki again. "My backpack? Of course I have. It's the first place I looked into!"

"And you're sure it's not hidden in one of the many pockets it's got?" the kwami insisted. "Or maybe hidden under your sketchbook or tablet... Or that fabric sample you shove inside for Alya to see? That parcel really was tiny, it wouldn't have been difficult for you to miss it; especially in such a frantic search."

"I -"

"Marinette!" she was once again interrupted, this time by her mother calling from downstairs.

Still massaging her head, the girl sighed impatiently.

"I'm coming!" she called back; then she turned towards Tikki once more and said, "Fine, I'll check the backpack. Can you please pass me my phone while I do?"

Too much in a hurry to wait for the confirmation, Marinette took her backpack in her hands and rummaged through it, hoping against hope that Tikki's advice wouldn't prove as useless as it had seemed to her at first. To her surprise, her quiet prayer was answered, as her fingers soon brushed against the slick wrapping paper. She grabbed the item and pulled it out, just to make sure it was what she was looking for – and sighed again, relieved, when her assumption turned out to be correct.

"Okay, you win this time," she grumbled playfully and put both the package and her phone into her backpack before reaching out to scratch Tikki under her chin. "Though I am a little suspicious. Are you sure you didn't put it inside when I wasn't looking?"

"I wouldn't dare," Tikki responded with mock seriousness, but chuckled right after. Marinette joined her readily...

...and then she remembered how late it really was.

She was out of her room and house in no time, sprinting towards her school as if her life had depended on it. Not for the first time, she thanked the fate for living so close to the old building; and as she looked at her phone now, her gratitude grew even more.

"Five full minutes before the class? Now that's something I did not see coming today!"

Marinette turned around abruptly and saw her best friend of three years laughing good-heartedly at her. She rolled her eyes at the display but smiled fondly all the same.

"I see I'm going to be an object of jokes all day today," she replied with a feigned offence. "Now that's exactly what I need to keep me going."

"Oh, come on, you know I'm kidding," Alya responded with a playful nudge. "Also, you know my assumption was well-grounded at least. After all..."

"It wouldn't have been the first time I was late. Yeah, I know."

"And today is important."

"Yeah. I guess."

"You guess?" Alya's warm smile turned derisive. "Girl, it's Adrien's birthday. Don't even try to pretend that you're anywhere close to being cool about this. I know that you're not."

She was shoved away by her blushing friend before she'd finished talking, but only laughed at the display, making her companion roll her eyes at her. Although unable to restrain from smiling herself, Marinette could do nothing but roll her eyes at Alya's childishness while simultaneously wishing to respond with a just as childish gesture of sticking out her tongue on her part.

Tempting as it was, she limited herself to the former.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you traitor," she replied, feigning offence. "At least I won't feel obliged to tell you anything about how it went when I have talked to Adrien and given him what I have prepared. Which is really good, as it's one thing fewer to worry about today..."

With a smug expression reflecting on her face she turned away from the other girl and began to ascend the wide stairs the led towards the entrance of her school. She had not made two steps however, when she was pulled back by the arm again and swirled around to face her friend, who had somehow managed to get herself more pumped about all this than Marinette was.

Or at least, more than Marinette seemed to be, anyway.

Heavens knew how much of a mess Marinette really was inside.

She needed to keep appearances up, however, or all of her hard work would go down the drain, again. It wasn't because it would change the way Adrien perceived her when she finally did talk to him – she knew for a fact that no matter how much of a crazy, stuttering disaster she was, he was still going to act with the same kind understanding towards her.

Here was the thing though: she didn't want to be a disaster anymore. She was perfectly aware that it was hardly possible for her to act all cool and confident around him of course, and certainly not at the time so critical as this; but that was something she was okay with. Still, she hoped she could find her place somewhere in between those two extremes, and since keeping up a slightly fake image seemed to be working just fine, she certainly wasn't going to change her strategy in that regard.

And if it meant seeing Alya freak out in her stead, then it was not an unwelcome benefit.

"Oh, no, you won't," she heard Alya shout a moment after, her friend’s hand still grasping her arms tightly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight today, not for one darn second. And surely not until you explain you current behaviour, Miss Suddenly-I'm-confident-for-no-reason-at-all!"

"Right, because having you hover over me while I talk to Adrien is exactly what I was hoping for today," Marinette retorted with a grin. "Now, wouldn't that be romantic. Also, I believe you can let go of me now. I'm not going to run away, you know."

Alya snorted and shook her head at this.

"I've known you long enough not to be at all sure about that," she parried easily." As for your chitchat, I'd rather have you talk to him unromantically than not talk to him at all. Come on, Mari: we both know that my being there is the only guarantee that you won't flee as soon as your eyes meet."

"I won't. I promise," Marinette responded with as much ease as she could muster. "Now, can you please stop squeezing my arm? You're gonna give me bruises."

Albeit unwillingly, Alya submitted to her request.

"Thanks a lot," Marinette said, smilingly. "Now let's go before all of that extra time I've got melts away, shall we? The last thing I want is to start the day with yet another walk of shame as I enter Miss Mendeleyev's class. I do not wish to get on her bad side today."

"Even if it's because of a very romantic, very life-changing and very undisturbed soulmate-birthday conversation with your the love of your life?"

"What does that even mean?"

"On your left, honey."

Refraining from another roll of her bluebell eyes, Marinette followed her best friend's advice and shifted her gaze towards were Alya was nodding. Her eyes widened in panic when she saw the all too familiar silver car pulling up and the blonde-haired boy of her dreams stepping out of it a moment later – and suddenly saw all of her plans go right out of the window, regardless of the thought and care she'd put into it before.

Gosh, it really was getting worse by the year.

"I think I gotta... go," she stammered, her eyes still fixed on Adrien who, for some strange reason, had not raised his own eyes at them yet. "Yeah, I definitely gotta go. Miss Mendeleyev is waiting and we sure don't want to get on her nerves so early in the morning, right? I can always talk to Adrien during lunch break, so we'd better -"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Alya exclaimed wearily, successfully making her feel even more at loss. Next she knew, Marinette was being grabbed by both of her shoulders and then pushed down the stairs by who was supposed to be her most loyal friend...

...and right into the arms of the poor and unsuspecting Adrien.

One of these days, I'm gonna do something to her, Marinette thought automatically, while at the same time she tried not to think too much about how close Adrien was to her. His long neck right about the level of her eyes; his collarbones millimetres away from her nose and cheeks; his fingers, tightened around her arms as he steadied her after he'd saved her from her fall.

In any other circumstances, she might think of it as romantic, their bodies close and their breaths intermingling; instead, she felt nothing but utter, infinite embarrassment.

She could swear she could feel her blood run cold and then boil simultaneously, her knees buckling while her feet itched to run as far away as she could.

Damn, could it really not have gone well this one, freaking time?

"I'm – I'm sorry," she choked out when she had finally – miraculously – found her balance and managed to stand up straight again. "I didn't see you coming – I mean, I did, I just didn't think you were this close – and then I fell for – ON you! - and sweet macaron, I'm rambling, so basically I just -"

She trailed off upon meeting his eyes, taken aback by the hollowness and uncertainty she spotted in them. It was not a look she was used to; not the bright, cheerful gaze he usually welcomed her with. There was no sign of amusement or shock or even concern – nothing she might expect after her undoubtedly unexpected (albeit unintentional) assault.

For the first time in forever the look he was giving her was bleak.

"I just wanted to say hi," she concluded in a much quieter, yet also much less faltering tone, and then added. "It's good to see you again."

He gave her the tiniest of smiles but said nothing, his green eyes still boring into her face as if he'd been searching for answers hidden in it. Marinette felt her cheeks flush under his stare and gulped nervously, her agitation only growing as she remembered that, most likely, Alya was still standing right behind her – however, Adrien didn't seem to care.

Then again, he didn't appear to care much about anything at all.

"Um... You can let go of me now, you know. I'm not going to collapse if you do," she tried again, forcing herself to smile lopsidedly at him.

She saw his eyes widen in realisation and felt his grip on her loosen immediately after. It was Adrien who was sheepish now, taking a step back and letting his arms drop down as if he'd been burnt, or perhaps feared that it was him who might burn her. He raised his hand to rub his neck next and then let it fall again, hesitant, perturbed, confused.

It was as someone had decided to swap their personalities for the day, or maybe just allowed her usual awkwardness to infect him as well.

It was so unlike him that Marinette nearly forgot about her own massive turbulence.

"Adrien? Are you alright?" she asked almost automatically. "You seem rather... pale. Have you got enough sleep tonight?"

The flash of pain reflected in his eyes, taking her completely by surprise. She had no idea why such an innocent question should have caused such a violent and very unpleasant reaction on his part, however, before she'd managed to inquire about it, Adrien shook his head decidedly and summoned his own constrained smile.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured her hastily; Marinette heard the false notes ringing in his voice easily, but decided to ignore them and just let him speak this time. "Don't worry about me. And it's good to see you, too."

"Oh. Yes. I mean, if you say so," she replied a little too quickly and immediately wished to slap herself. "It's good to see you – oh, wait, I've already said that. I'm sorry, I hoped it would be a little better today, but it looks like I'm my own usual mess. Not that it's anything new."

Adrien's smile grew a little warmer at that. "Well, that makes the two of us. Being a mess, that is."

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Marinette, I think you're too smart to fall for something like that."

"I beg to differ," she murmured under her breath. "Hold on, but that would mean..."

"What?"

"That you lied!" she exclaimed before she could think better of it. "You're not fine at all. That's what being a mess means – it's like the opposite of alright. Unless it's me I guess, since that's a natural state for me so it would make no sense to complain about it, but that is not the point!"

She was staring him straight in the eye, waiting for a response to her unexpected little speech. Her sudden confidence dissolved into nothing as soon as she'd realised what she'd just done, of course, and yet, something in her just kept her from giving in to her usual instincts that were currently screaming at her to spin on her heel and disappear from the scene.

She might've been bad at acting around him; but she would not let her cowardice stop him from helping him if he needed it.

"I... I suppose you've caught me then," she heard him speak at last, his hand once again raised to rub the back of his neck. "So yes, I am a mess. It's... it's been a pretty tough night for me, plus it looks like I've skipped breakfast today as well, so I'm hardly in my best shape."

His eyes were cast down now and the longer he spoke, the more certain Marinette was that whatever he was dealing with was much bigger than he was willing to admit.

She fought the urge to turn around and check if Alya was, in fact, still observing her and was rewarded when she heard her being dragged away by Nino a moment later. She couldn't help the grin that sprung onto her lips at the sound of his suggestions and then some protests on Alya's part, all concluded by Alix's (when had she got there?) loud exclamation about giving 'that hopeless girl of theirs' some privacy. Subconsciously, Marinette held her breath for as long as she could hear their voices behind her back – and sighed with relief when they'd finally faded away.

Her eyes were back to Adrien next and suddenly, all of her worries were there again.

It's not the time for you to feel sorry for yourself, though, she chided herself in her thoughts. For whatever reason, Adrien is looking miserable at best and as his friend – you are friends – it's your duty to think of that first.

She took a deep breath.

Here comes nothing, I guess.

"Hey, look at me, will you?" she encouraged him gently and was pleasantly surprised to see that the simple words were enough. "It's okay not to be okay. And I'm here if you need – or just want – to talk. But if you don't... that's fine, too. I sure don't want to bother you even more if you are feeling bad."

"You're not bothering me," Adrien replied immediately and with confidence that nearly made Marinette blush again. "You couldn't be. Not ever."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, that's good to know."

"Come on, it's not like you could really think -"

He was cut off by the sound of the school bell going off. Focused on their little conversation, they both jumped, startled and just this time, Marinette was not at all convinced that she had been the one more taken aback. In a natural reflex, she turned towards the school door; now, slightly calmer, she turned back to Adrien with a chuckle, ready to comment on their shared inattentiveness and then suggest going inside after all, before Miss Mendeleyev saw they were missing.

As she did, however, she was met with a pair of big green eyes so full of anxiety that it made her stupid giggles die away instantly.

"Adrien...?"

"I do need to talk to you," he announced unexpectedly. "As soon as possible."

Marinette eyed him carefully, once again amazed by the change in his attitude. "Of course. We can find a spot after this class or if it's a longer talk you need, we can go somewhere during the lunch break and -"

She stopped abruptly when she saw the plea in his gaze, soft, wounded and helpless. He didn't say a word and yet, she understood it all.

"Alright," she agreed. "Is the library good enough for you?"

[dakotacrisis]

Deal’s End (4)

Operation: Get Marinette a Boyfriend Through YA Novel Shenanigans is a go!

(Read on AO3)

---

It took Marinette a whole of five minutes to start regretting making her deal. After the contract was signed and they shook on it Felix went into planning mode. He was rambling off a bunch of ideas on how to get Adrien to notice Marinette more and get them alone together. That itself wouldn’t have been bad, in fact she was actually impressed with his forethought to the situation.

No. It was when the ideas came into practice that she started to panic. She was sitting in her seat waiting for class to start and Felix was standing next to Adrien talking. Felix had said he would talk her up to Adrien and to not worry about it.

She had entrusted her love life with a demon. It felt like there was plenty to worry about!

The two continued talking and a couple of glances got sent Marinette’s way before class started.

Her leg was bouncing the entire class period. She couldn’t wait to know what it was her demonic wingman had said about her to her crush.

At long last the bell rang and Marinette shot from her seat to ask Felix what he had told Adrien.

“Cool down, love.” He assured her, “I didn’t say anything weird. All I did was spin a tale about a funny moment we had back at your place.” “What funny tale? How is that supposed to help?”

“The story was a subtle way of conveying that you are fun and funny. Therefore you sound like an entertaining person to be around.” he tapped her nose.

“That’s…” Marinette thought it over a moment, “not totally dumb.” “Oh why thank you.” Felix rolled his eyes.

“Can you blame me for being worried? Whether or not Adrien becomes my boyfriend is in your hands.” She dropped her head to the desk, “Oh god, why did I make this deal? This is a disaster.”

“God isn’t here, love.” Felix tilted her head back up, “Will you trust me? If you have forgotten I have lived a long time. I know how and when to be serious about something. Especially when it concerns one of my deals. I’m not gonna blow this. If you two don’t end up together then I’ll be unable to fulfill the deal and Hell help me if that happens.”

“Does something bad happen if you’re not able to fulfill it?”

“To me, not you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, Felix, what is gonna happen if for some reason you can’t deliver on my wish?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“But I…” Marinette caught herself. She shouldn’t go around saying foolish things.

“But what?” Felix leaned closer with his mischievous smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about a spiteful entity like me?”

“I’m not!” Marinette said but she knew it was useless. Felix could see through her lies like glass.

“You humans are so strange.” Felix shook his head. “You find sympathy for everything and anything. Is it humanity that causes this kind of naivete?”

“Not wanting others to hurt is not naive.”

“It is very human though.”

“And what of you, mister demon? Have you never felt a need to spare someone some pain?”

“No. It’s in the job description.”

“Then what of me? You worked to find a middle ground with me and spare me some pain with my fate instead of using your powers to tempt me into a deal. It couldn’t have been just because you were bored.”

“Says you.”

“And it’s true.” “Stop smiling.” he grabbed her and pulled her along to the next class. “What are you doing talking to me anyway? You should be spending this time talking to mister perfect. Remember?”

Marinette didn’t argue with him more. He obviously wasn’t going to hear about him not being ruthless. They continued on to class and by lunch time Felix had come up with another idea. Not that he told Marinette any of this. For some reason this demon found it funny to jump into action without letting her know what the plan was.

Marinette trailed close behind as Felix approached Adrien and threw an arm around him. “Adrien, lad,” Felix said, “I was talking to Marinette earlier and she recommended that the three of us have lunch.”

“Oh really?” Adrien looked back at her with a surprised smile. “Just the three of us?”

“That was the plan. If you’d rather not tag along that’s fine. Marinette and I can have our own fun, can’t we love?” Felix glanced back at her with a wink. “But you are her friend and she talks about you often enough I have to admit I’m curious to get to know you better.”

“I’m looking forward to get to know you better too.” Adrien nodded. “I’d love to come to lunch with you.”

“Perfect, there is the sweetest little cafe Marinette was talking to me about earlier that sounded like it would be perfect.” Felix reached for Marinette and pulled her up alongside the two boys so she was sandwiched in the middle of them. “You can take the lead, love.”

“Thanks.” Marinette was trying her best to not freak out. But Felix was keeping a close but subtle push on her left side so that her right side bumped into Adrien as they walked. She hadn’t mentioned any cafe to Felix but now that she was out she was gonna have to find one.

After a couple minutes of walking they came to a cafe Marinette loved and the three sat down to eat. They had just ordered their drinks when Felix’s phone began to ring. Wait, since when did Felix have a phone?

“Well darn,” Felix sighed dramatically, “I gotta take this. You two order without me, I don’t know how long this is gonna take.” And with that Felix was out of his chair and around the corner out of sight.

This was his plan! To force them out on a pseudo lunch date by taking a fake phone call? What kind of romantic comedy shenanigans was he playing? This is what she gets for letting him read her YA novels. At least this was better than him suggesting they fake date in some dumb reverse psychology way of making Adrien jealous.

“That’s a shame.” Adrien shrugged after Felix had gone. “I hope he won’t be too long.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Marinette concentrated on her breathing.

The pair sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. Shouldn’t she say something? It was Adrien, he was her crush but he was also her friend. She should be able to come up with some form of conversation.

“So,” she started in hopes that something charming or funny would spring forth in the moment. It didn’t. “Nice weather today.”

“Yeah, I guess it is nice out.” Adrien leaned back soaking in the sun of the afternoon. “Summer is right around the corner.”

“I can’t wait for it to be warm enough to break out the sundresses.” Marinette thought of the good chunk of her closet reserved for the light flowy dresses. “They’ve been locked up for too long.”

“Right, you and the girls have that sundress day, don’t you? Every year you pick a warm day and everyone comes in wearing a sundress. Even Chloe does it.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot of fun.” Marinette relaxed as the conversation eased into more topics. She was pleasantly surprised to realize how easy it was to talk to him once she got over her fright. He really was like any of her other friends. Why had she been so scared before?

Neither of them particularly noticed Felix’s absence until Marinette found herself telling an edited version of the time Felix almost threw her game controller into the screen after she won again and had to quell him with chocolate.

“Did someone say chocolate?” A waiter different from the first one approached the table with a plate and set it down between them. “Good thing I’m here then.”

“Oh, we didn’t order any dessert.” Adrien said.

“It’s on the house. For such an adorable couple.”

“Oh we’re not…” Marinette trailed off as she caught sight of the waiter’s eyes. Silver.

He caught her gaze and gave her a wink before walking away. Marinette looked back at the plate of dessert and had to resist a bark of laughter. It was a single slice of devil’s food cake.

“Well I’m not gonna say no to free cake.” Adrien beamed. “How should we split this?”

“I say we just eat our fill.” Marinette stabbed a fork into the cake taking a sizeable chunk off it. She popped it into her mouth and almost moaned at how moist and rich the flavor was. “Wow, that is good.”

Adrien took a bite as well. “You were right, that is delicious.”

“Someone might say downright sinful.” Marinette chuckled at her own joke.

“It is devil’s food cake. I guess if we were having angel’s food cake it’d be heavenly.”

“I guess it would.” They polished off the cake as they continued making bad food based puns. Felix came back just as they were wiping the crumbs from their mouths and sat down.

“Sorry for missing lunch, call took longer than I thought and then I got put on hold. It was a whole big thing.” He waved it off, “Hope you two weren’t bored without me.”

“No. Marinette is always excellent company.” Adrien said causing a wave of warmth to wash through her. “Sucks that you missed lunch though.”

“I wasn’t that hungry anyways. I have a bag of crisps in my locker I’ll nibble on before class.” Felix shrugged. “Looks like you two were rather peckish though. Order dessert without me?”

“We didn’t actually. A waiter came over saying it was on the house.” Adrien swiped a bit of frosting left on the plate. “Accidentally took us for a couple but it was rather fortuitous in the end. I think that was some of the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Now I’m really sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t be. It was indeed great but everyone knows the best cake comes from Marinette’s parent’s bakery.” Adrien waved for the check. “I’ll get this one guys.”

“But we invited you. I’ll pay for what I got.” Marinette pulled out her wallet.

“Seriously, it’s okay.” Adrien said.

“I insist.” Marinette handed over her own money to the waiter.

“Alright, but next one is on me though.” Adrien put away his own wallet. “Should we be heading back?”

The three stood up. Felix stayed behind as Marinette and Adrien took the lead. Their conversation from the cafe continuing into their stroll back to the school. There were scraps of an attempt to include Felix but he was giving little response to them. Marinette knew what he was playing at but she couldn’t help but feel bad of his exclusion. She never wanted anyone to feel like they weren’t a part of the conversation.

After classes wrapped up Marinette and Felix returned home. Marinette flung herself onto the couch with a squeal of delight. “It worked! I cannot believe that actually worked!”

“And to think you doubted me.” Felix stood triumphant, “I told you, love, I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure, it was incredibly cheesy but it worked out in the end.” Marinette sat up. “Also, wasn’t the cake a little much? Don’t want to be too on the nose do we?”

“You loved it. I say next time I can have you two feeding each other.” Felix flopped down next to her. “See what happens when you actually put in some effort? The boy was practically mooning over you the entire time.”

“We’re you watching us?”

“Duh. I needed to make sure you weren’t going to drop the ball on the conversation. Had me worried there at first what with that remark about the weather. Was that really the best you could come up with?”

“I panicked! And you,” she smacked his arm, “You need to tell me what the plan is before you go about starting it! You threw me into the deep end without any warning!”

“It was the only way to get you to stop overthinking and embrace the moment. That is a huge problem I’ve come to realize about you. You think about everything! Did you know that?”

“I do not!”

“Yes, love, you do.” He flicked his wrist and a calendar appeared in his hand. “Every second of every day you have planned. I mean, look at this mess. Not to mention you take half a lifetime to pick out what you’re going to wear the day before.”

“Lots of people choose their outfits the day before.”

“They don’t spend that much time on it. I mean, look at me.” He gestured to his dark jeans, red shirt and black vest. “Took me a whole of ten seconds to put this together and I look great. You on the other hand spend half an hour picking out a cardigan.”

“Well I’m sorry if I don’t have your demonic good looks. I need to put in a little more effort.”

“You don’t though. You’re beautiful enough already.” He made the calendar disappear again.

Marinette felt herself blush slightly at the compliment. Her friends called her cute and pretty all day long but no one had ever looked at her and said beautiful before. No one outside of her parents that is. It hit different hearing it from someone not her family.

“Thanks.” She caught his eye and she immediately turned away. “I um, I don’t have any homework today so I thought I’d get some work done on my designs. Were you okay to chill down here?”

“Go on,” Felix looked at her with a knowing expression. “I have some work of my own to do.” He pulled a notebook out of thin air.

“More brilliant date ideas I’m assuming?”

“If you want this boy pulling you into a brooms closet for some hot and heavy makeout sessions then I need to get these right.” Felix tsked as he looked over his notes. “You are a lot of work, love. I hope you appreciate the effort I’m putting in for you.”

“I do.” Marinette smiled. “I know you didn’t have to do any of this middle of the ground work but I am glad you did. I’d almost go as far as to say it was rather nice of you.”

“Don’t let down below hear that. I’m not supposed to be nice.” Felix scoffed.

“You’re not supposed to but you are.” Marinette pointed at the fridge. “And since you missed lunch you can help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“I don’t need to eat.”

“But you still like to.” Marinette called back from her room. She sat down on her chaise with her sketch book in hand. She had a million other designs to start and finish but her creativity was flowing as she put pencil to paper. She didn’t know what she was going to make but she was certain that it was going to be silver.

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(1) (2) (3) (5)

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(tagged)

@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 9

An innocent trip to the library takes an unexpected turn.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

When Iseult woke up the next morning, she thought maybe she had dreamed the previous night.  But no.  Aeduan had texted her.  Twice.  First, with an all too unsatisfying Ok while she was still at work.  Then, again a whole hour later as she was getting ready for bed telling her that he’d be coming to the library tomorrow.  Which was now today.  The gap between texts - the “lost hour” as Iseult was now referring to it - was doing an exemplary job of keeping her busy.  She thought about it all through her shower.  While brushing her teeth.  There was a brief pause while she picked out an outfit (sweater, suede skirt, ballet flats), but then it was right back to obsessing over those missing 60 minutes.  

What had happened to cause Aeduan to go from monosyllabic man to someone with a firm grasp of the English language?  Had it been a full moon?

The ruckus of the usual morning hustle and bustle could be heard from Jitters as Iseult descended the stairs, coat already on and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.  When she brushed through the divider curtain, the sight that met her brought her to a full stop.

“Wow.  Someone woke up in project mode,” she said, taking in Safi - awake and fully dressed on her morning off - and the stacks of books and magazines spread across multiple tables pushed together.

“Yes,” Safi agreed, looking proud.  “I thought I’d finally try turning that weird corner no one likes to sit in into that book nook we’ve always talked about.”  

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Iseult stared at Safi, expression flat.  

“Safi?”

“Hm?” she replied, flipping breezily through a page in her magazine.

“What are you doing?”

Safi didn’t look up.  “I told you.  I’m making the book nook.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.  But see, it’s 8:30 in the morning.”

“And?”

“And,” Iseult continued, slowly approaching her mini fortress of books, “there’s a perfectly useful bed upstairs wondering where you are.”

“Well, tell it it might get lucky and see me tonight.”

“Safi,” Iseult said bluntly.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?  And if you say ‘book nook’ one more time I’ll kill you.”

Safi said nothing.

“Spill,” Iseult ordered.

Safi sighed and made a face.  “Is it so hard to believe that I actually wanted to do a good thing and get moving on this project that you’ve been talking my ear off about for months?”

“It is when it’s 8:30 on your morning off.”  Iseult eyed the nearly full mug of coffee on the table.  “Is that your first cup of coffee?”

“Maybe.”  Safi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Why?”

“Nothing.  Just a concerned citizen, that’s all.”  Iseult pulled up a chair and lowered herself onto the seat, clapping her hands on her knees.  “Look, as tempting as the prospect of playing 20 Questions with you this early in the morning without caffeine in my system is, can we maybe skip to the end of this conversation where you tell me the truth about why you’re really up so I’m not late for work?”

Safi pursed her lips like she didn’t want to talk.  Then, she grabbed a massive tome off the top of one of the piles and held it up in the air.  

“I tripped over this.”

“Ok…” Iseult said slowly, eyeing the book.  “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes.  Spiritually?  That remains to be seen.”

Iseult sighed.  “Safi, did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to be late for work?”

Safi let the book drop from her hand with an obnoxious thud that shook the table.    

“As you know, I worked until close at The Cleaved Man last night.  When I got home at 1 o’clock, per usual, I tripped and fell over this,” she said, giving the offending book a scathing look.  

The smallest of frowns formed on Iseult’s otherwise smooth face.  “How is that even possible?  That’s my freshmen geology textbook.  I’m not exactly reading up on pyrite in my spare time.”

“Oh, well, I knocked into the bookshelf while I was fumbling through the dark trying to find the light switch.”

“So really you tripped over the bookshelf.”

Safi gawped at Iseult.  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I would if I knew what the heck this has to do with you waking up and deciding today’s the day you’re going to be a carpenter!”

“That apartment is too small!” Safi burst, gesticulating wildly to the ceiling above.

“Safi,” shushed Iseult, glancing around at the early bird customers who were now looking curiously at them.

“No!  That place is too small and I’m so tired of barely having enough room to breathe let alone walk through the door without having to map out some sort of detour route to avoid collision!”  She shook her head.  “The books had to go!”

Iseult grabbed for Safi’s hand before she could point a rude gesture at the ceiling and covered it with her own.  “Look I know we got our hopes up for the apartment,” Iseult said, careful to leave out Chiseled Cheater’s name or supervillain moniker, “but you need to let this go.”

“I don’t want to,” pouted Safi, pronouncing each word defiantly.

“I know.  But you’re driving yourself crazy and me by extension.”  She paused.  “Our shoebox does have its perks.”

“Like?”  The word dripped with incredulity.

“Like,” Iseult ventured, “we don’t have to walk far to get to work.  We can even open the bakery in our pajamas.”

Safi’s face remained unchanging.  Iseult went on.

“We don’t have to deal with some seedy landlord.”

Nothing.

“Late snacks are a flight of stairs away.”

Still nothing.

“And there’s always an endless supply of free coffee on hand.”

“Except for that time we forgot to place the order and we went a whole three days having to tell customers we didn’t have coffee,” Safi pointed out.

Iseult shuddered from the memory.  “I thought Mathew and Habim were going to kick us out.”

“Maybe they’d have done us a favor if they had,” Safi muttered.

Iseult made a face at her and, for a moment, they held each other’s gaze.  Then, finally, she folded.

“I’m sorry,” Safi moaned, flopping back in her chair and looking at the stacks of books dejectedly.  “It just kills me that he’s living in our dream apartment while we’re stuck smelling like coffee for the rest of our lives.”

“It won’t be for the rest of our lives.  And besides,” Iseult added as an afterthought, “think of how much money we save living here.  I doubt I would have been able to afford that place now anyway.”

From the way Safi immediately sobered, Iseult knew she had driven the point home.  After all, it wasn’t Safi who couldn’t afford to live wherever she wanted.  She could leave their shoebox apartment anytime she wanted.  But she stayed for Iseult.  

Iseult fiddled with her hands and dropped her gaze, not wanting to look at the somber expression on Safi’s face.  She almost looked ashamed.  

“I’m sorry,” Safi apologized again.  She waved to the piles of books.  “Obviously, I lost my mind.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to build the book nook?”

Safi’s expression stiffened and Iseult saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.  

“No, I’m going to do it,” she eventually said, sounding resigned to the prospect, but determined.  “You’ve been bugging me about it long enough.”

“You said you liked the idea!”

“Yeah, but that was before I ordered those damned bookshelves,” argued Safi, nodding to the back office.  “Honestly, those assembly instructions are in a different language.  How can they expect the average person to put them together without a contractor?”

“Or an interpreter.”

“Exactly.  It’s all a bunch of gibberish made to con you into hiring a professional to assemble it for you.  It’s a money making scam.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Safi stewing.  Iseult side-eyed Safi.  She didn’t want to break the happy truce they had just struck, but...  

“You know who would be great at putting together those shelves?” she asked.  “The C-word.”

Safi gave a most unlady-like snort of disbelief.  “Cam can barely hold an entire tray of cookies without toppling over let alone a plank of wood.”

“I’m not talking about Cam and you know it.”

Safi shot her a piercing look.  “I am not calling Caden.”  She paused.  “I’ll call Leopold.”

“For what?” Iseult laughed.  “Moral support?”

“Hey, your boyfriend’s more handy than you think.”

Iseult’s stomach flipped.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Safi rolled her eyes in exasperation.  “You’re right.  He’s not, but he could be!  If you would stop avoiding him.”

Iseult’s stomach vaulted again, but this time for an entirely different reason.  “Did he say that?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“That you’re avoiding him?  No, but I can tell by the way he asks about you.”  Safi studied Iseult for a moment.  “Do you like him?”

“I…” Iseult didn't know what to say.  She didn’t know what she felt.  While she had spent a good deal of time telling herself that Leopold’s flirtatious advances towards her were a figment of her imagination - I mean, look at the guy.  He basically waltzed right out of a Disney movie - she knew in her gut that they were real.  She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him.  To kiss him.  Would she burst into a puff of smoke when his lips touched hers and reappear a beautiful princess?  It all seemed so ridiculous to her.  They were like night and day.  But even so, there was no denying that they shared a bond.  She trusted him.  With him, she felt safe.

With that thought in mind, she ended lamely, “I don’t know.”

Safi nodded, eyes soft and understanding.  “That’s fair… Maybe seeing him tonight will help,” she said encouragingly.

Right.  Tonight.  Vaness’ little shindig.  Iseult hadn’t exactly been crossing off the days on her calendar in anticipation.  

Safi’s face went serious again.  She hesitated.  “Hey, so Alma called while you were in the shower.”

Shit.  “She did?” Iseult asked, trying to keep her voice light.  It wasn’t like this was the third time Alma had called this week and she hadn’t gotten back to her or anything.

“Yeah.  I picked up…” said Safi, sounding apologetic.  “I figured it could be about something important.”

“I’m assuming if you’re just telling me now that it wasn’t?”

Safi shook her head.  “No.  Just asked if you could call her back.”

“Ok… Thanks.  I will.”  Iseult swallowed the lie and let her eyes wander to the mess around them.  “I take it this means you’re not reading the book for the book club?”  She picked up a copy of Sisters of Sight from the top of one of the nearby stacks.  

“No,” Safi was quick to say, snatching the book away from Iseult and holding it to her chest possessively.  “I added that to the pile by mistake.”

“Of course,” Iseult said without much confidence.  Sierra, one of the baristas working the morning shift, came over and offered a steaming to-go cup of coffee and a paper bag that, judging by the heavenly smell, was her favorite cinnamon crunch bagel.

“Such service” she commended, taking them from Sierra and thanking her.

“This place ain’t half-bad,” Safi chimed in, watching with approval.

“Not half-bad at all,” Iseult agreed, then took a sip of her coffee.  She made a face as she swallowed.  “Well, the coffee definitely falls into the half-bad category.  Real Marstoki coffee my you-know-what,” she grumbled under her breath.

“You can say ‘ass’ in front of me,�� Safi goaded, smirking.  “I won’t tell anyone.”

Iseult shook her head and stood up from her chair.  She was officially running late now.  “Well, thank you for an eventful morning.  Your neuroses never fail to entertain.  I’m only working a half-shift, so I’ll be back this afternoon.  Try to be nice to Cam before I get here,” she added with what she hoped was a convincingly stern look.

“Remind me again why we hired him?” Safi asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Because we’re all about helping the little guy,” answered Iseult as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“I didn’t realize we meant that literally.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You broke our no high schoolers policy.  I hate high schoolers.”

“Cam’s different.”

“He has no work experience.”

“Everyone has to get their start somewhere.  We didn’t exactly have much work experience when Mathew and Habim hired us.  Besides,” Iseult added, looking around and gesturing to the cafe, “this isn’t exactly a high-stakes operation.  I think Cam can handle pouring coffee.  Just be patient.  Not everyone learns at the same pace.”  She tugged on her beret cap and picked up her coffee and bagel.  “Well, I can’t wait to see you and the book nook when I get back.”

Safi’s face tightened and her smile froze in place.  “Me too,” she said as one of the book piles toppled over.  “Me too…”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan was not having a good morning.  

The news that they would be making a trip to the library that day was not received with warm reception from the four-year-old.  At first, Owl just frowned, not understanding why they were going if they weren’t going to see Evrane.  The concept of the library existing even when they weren’t there was a shock to Owl - an unpleasant one judging by the horrified look on her face - and Aeduan did his best to explain that the library was open to more than just the two of them, and that they were welcome to visit any time they wished, even when they weren’t meeting with Evrane.  He thought this would clear up the matter and put to rest Owl’s apparently very serious concerns about the library.  He was so incredibly wrong.

Owl had been possessed by the devil - Aeduan was sure of it.  

The nightmare started with her bath.  Aeduan could have skipped his shower if he had known how wet Owl would get him with all her thrashing, suddenly violently adverse to water.  By the end of it, there was more water on him than in the tub.  He’d had to change - but only after he managed to wrangle Owl into her own clothes (another Olympic feat).  At breakfast, she threw her Cheerios on the floor and the moment Aeduan finished picking up every last O, she spilled her orange juice.  By the time they left the house, Aeduan was so preoccupied with Owl squirming in his arms, he didn’t notice Blueberry sauntering across the porch and he tripped over the damned thing, sending himself - and Owl - toppling into a snow pile.  She’d started sobbing then.  Not for herself or for Aeduan, whose hip was throbbing in pain.  No, no, no.  She was upset that he may have hurt the cat.  It took 20 minutes for him to assure her that Blueberry was ok, another 20 minutes searching for the little cretin when it became clear she needed physical proof of the fact (he was hiding under the porch wedged behind the recycling bin), and by the time her sobs had turned into sniffles, he was so discombobulated that he didn’t even bother to go back inside and change out of his now soaking wet pants.  Again.  He was too worried he’d never get Owl out of the house again if he did.  He wasn’t taking any chances.  He skipped the car altogether, even though it had just snowed and the sidewalks probably weren’t all cleared yet.  Barring performing an exorcism, getting Owl to sit still long enough for him to fasten her into her carseat seemed inconceivable and - with his ears still ringing with her last screaming meltdown - he wasn’t looking for an encore.

Owl was deathly quiet by the time they reached the library.  Maybe she had run out of tears.  Aeduan certainly hoped so.  He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Owl fell apart while they were inside the building.  Possibly breakdown and cry himself.  Evrane would love that.

Shit.  Evrane.  In all the chaos, Aeduan hadn’t even thought about what he’d say if they happened to run into her.  He hastily ran through some quick excuses in his head while he crossed the library’s main hall, eyes darting around the open space for a splash of white hair and listening for the tell-tale sound of clattering of silver… which was precisely the moment he ran into Iseult.  Or rather, Iseult’s book cart.

The cart went toppling over, taking Iseult along with it, and crashed to the floor with a bone-rattling BOOM.  The sound echoed unforgivingly through the voluminous hall.  Aeduan stared at Iseult sprawled out on the floor covered in books, stunned, then snapped into action.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, hastily depositing Owl on the ground and kneeling down beside Iseult.  She looked shocked, eyes frozen wide, like she didn’t know how she had ended up on the floor.  He hastily began pulling books off her.

“You should be more careful,” Aeduan admonished gruffly.  He gathered and stacked the fly-away books into a pile off to the side while Iseult just sat there, silent.  Annoyed, he opened his mouth again when he picked up a tattered volume off her leg.  

His movement stuttered and his eyes locked on a jagged rip in her tights.  The pale skin shone like a tear in the night sky.  He swallowed thickly and he tore his eyes away.  

“Someone could have gotten hurt.”  He got up, leaving Iseult on the floor, and walked over the fallen cart.  He pulled it upright, the wood groaning with the motion.  He braced his hands on either end and gave it a firm jostle.  It seemed sturdy enough, despite its obvious wear.  Satisfied that it was safe, he started transferring the books back on its shelves.  

A strange sort of hiccup from behind him caused Aeduan’s head to snap up.  He’d had enough tears that morning.  This whole day could fuck off into the void if Iseult was going to start crying too.  He jerked around, not sure what he would do if he saw a single tear on her face, then stared.  

Iseult was laughing.  He’d never heard her laugh.  Or truly seen her smile.  It transformed her whole face that was always so emotionless.  Even as confusion shot through him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

He offered a hand to her.

“Are you alright?”  The question came out more reserved this time.  Less like an accusation.

Iseult nodded, her soft laughter fading to nothing, and accepted his help.  Her hand was cold against his.  She let go when she was back on her feet and offered him a small smile in appreciation.

Aeduan pointed to the tear at her knee, if only to distract himself from the feeling she’d left in his empty hand.  “That looks like it hurts.”

Iseult ducked her head and gave her leg a quick once-over.  Aeduan found himself looking too, but when his gaze began to roam to other places, he quickly looked away.  

“N-no, it’s fine,” Iseult stammered.  “I’m just out a pair of tights.”  

Aeduan frowned, not sure what to say to that.  Iseult bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged.  “I-I have a hundred pairs, so it’s f-fine.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aeduan asked for a third time.  The tremble in her voice was making him uneasy.

“Mhmm,” was all she responded with, nodding her head.  She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sweater.  “I’m sorry I almost ran you two over.”

Two?  Oh, right!  Owl.

Aeduan looked down at Owl next to him.  The look she was giving them was downright murderous, if that was possible.  Owl had proven on more than one occasion that she was capable of extraordinary things - even if she was only four.

“You didn’t,” Aeduan replied, looking away from her and back at Iseult.  “I should have been paying attention.  I’m sorry.”  He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they were out of his mouth before he could give them any thought.  They seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because Iseult’s face relaxed and he thought he caught a faint smile.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking up at him shyly.

Aeduan swallowed, heart stuck in his throat.  “You…. are?”

“Mmm,” Iseult confirmed.  She wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out and capturing Aeduan’s attention fully and wholly.  “I was just about to drop these off and get my things to go.  I have your book.  One of the other librarians would have been able to get it for you, but…”  She trailed off, ducking her head and looking down at her feet.

But, what?  Aeduan thought frantically.  He’d never felt more desperate for someone to finish a sentence.

Instead, she abruptly announced: “I’ll go get it now,” then pivoted on her heel and glided away from him.  He watched her go, eyes carefully trained on the manner of her gait.  If she was hurting, she hid it well.  Every stride of her legs was poised and measured, much like her personality.  However, when she was about ten feet away from him she paused and turned around.  Aeduan noticed how she hesitated when she saw him watching her, but, subtly, she squared her shoulders, and proceeded to make the short trek back to where him and Owl stood by the book cart.  

Oh.  The book cart.

Aeduan made no comment when Iseult reached them nor did she.  She simply rotated the cart on its wheels and ushered it away.  The rickety contraception left a trail of unwelcomed noise, earning her several annoyed looks from nearby patrons.  As if it was Iseult’s fault that that ancient piece of craftsmanship made such an infernal racket.

Aeduan glared at them.

It didn’t take Iseult long to return.  When she appeared, she was buttoned up in a coat and wore an old-timey looking beret on her head.  On anyone else it probably would have looked childish, but on her it was cute.  Aeduan shrugged the observation off by focusing on the book in her hand.  

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked up your account to check it out,” she said as she handed Elmer and the Dragon to him.  A boy in a red and white striped shirt and blue cap playing a flute to a circle of yellow birds looked up at him from the cover.  “We’re not supposed to do that without the patron present, but... well... I figured you’d probably want to get in and get out.”

Aeduan looked up with the faintest of frowns.  “Why do you say that?”

Iseult blinked, and though nothing else moved out of place on her face, Aeduan could tell she was surprised.  “Well,” she said slowly, “whenever you come in you always seem like… like you don’t want to be here.”

Aeduan tensed.  That wasn’t true.  Maybe it had been before, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.

He assessed the facts.  Today was Friday.  He’d defied all logic and come in on a day he wasn’t obligated to.  He’d triggered the second coming of Judas just to be here by facing off with an irritable 4-year-old and a demonic cat.  He’d even risked Evrane’s unsolicited judgement.  All that he had done to pick up Owl’s book.  To make Owl happy.  The wet jeans frozen to his ass were proof of that.  

“I wanted to be here today,” he said, tucking the book under his arm.  The truth of that statement almost distracted him from the pink blush that rose on the apples of Iseult’s cheeks.  Almost.  

She cast her gaze down to her hands and busied herself with pulling on her gloves.  “I have to go to my next job.”  Her voice was muffled somewhat by the thick scarf wrapped so high around her neck it obscured some of her chin.

“The coffee shop?”

“The coffee shop.”  She let her hand fall to her sides - gloves secured - and with nothing left to keep her occupied, she looked at him.  

“Well...” she began.  The suggestion of her departure was obvious in her tone, but Aeduan interrupted her.  

“We were planning on heading there after.  After coming here.”

“You were going to go to Jitters?”  Iseult’s eyebrow actually bounced and Aeduan relished the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her.  It was becoming something of a game between them - though, he wasn’t sure she was aware she was a player.

“Yeah.  It’s what we do on Fridays.”

Iseult peered from Aeduan to Owl.  Unconvinced maybe.  “You go to Jitters every Friday?”

“Well,” Aeduan backtracked, feeling his insides freeze up a bit, “we have been for the last month.  It’s… a new tradition.”

He hoped that didn’t sound weird.  Iseult was still staring at him with that blank stare of hers, her eyebrows having recovered from their brief surprise.  It was all so maddening.  He never knew what she was going to say.  It made everything he said all the more nerve wracking… and exciting.  

He realized something then, something that made the corner of his mouth curl up.  Just like that, he wasn’t afraid of what to say next.

“Shall we?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Iseult was getting coffee with Aeduan.

Scratch that.  Iseult was getting coffee for Aeduan.  Or at least, she would be once they got to Jitters.  

They were walking.  Outside, Aeduan had apologized and muttered something about not being able to use the car in the morning.  He did that a lot.  Mutter.  But Iseult didn’t mind.  Especially when there was an apology buried in there - which, there had been that day.  Twice.  That wasn’t so bad either.  (Not that she was keeping track, of course.)

The sidewalks were icy, and several times, Iseult nearly slipped.  Each time she noticed the way Aeduan’s hand shot out to grab her out of the corner of her eye - but only just.  He never quite made it to touching her.  His hand would hover in the air - she could practically feel it - waiting for her to recover, and after, it would fall back to his side, wrist rolling.

The three of them walked side by side, Aeduan in between Iseult and Owl.  There was no way of knowing for sure, but Iseult suspected that he had put himself in the middle to act as some sort of buffer.  The contempt radiating off of Owl back at the library hadn’t gone unnoticed by Iseult.  She could have imagined it, but she thought she even saw a smidgen of smugness on the child’s face after she had fallen.  While Iseult admired Aeduan for fighting for custody of the child, there was no ignoring it: Owl was strange.

Aeduan held on tight to Owl’s hand, setting the pace for the three of them.  Unlike Iseult, she hadn’t slipped once.  So strange.

Nothing was said for the first ten minutes of their trek.  Eventually, Iseult worked up the nerve and broke the ice in a way that didn’t involve falling on her ass.

“You said you started coming to Jitters every Friday?” she asked, giving Aeduan a side-long look.  He nodded, keeping his eyes ahead of him.  

“Before we pick up my sisters from school.”

Sisters.  Interesting.  Iseult instantly latched onto the topic.  “Do they live around here?”

Aeduan shook his head.  “Arithuania.”  

“That’s not too far,” Iseult commented conversationally.  “How old are they?”

“Lisbet’s 12 and Cora’s 8… They're my half-sisters.”

“Oh.”  Iseult mulled over that.  It was a seemingly small detail, but it invited a whole host of questions about his family.  Lisbet and Cora were younger than him, so that meant he had a stepmother… which meant something had happened to his real mother.  The desire to not to lose momentum of the conversation almost pushed Iseult to ask… but then she thought about Gretchya.  If the roles were reversed and Aeduan had asked about her mom, she wouldn’t have wanted to answer.  Her mom was about the furthest thing away from what she would want to talk about, now or ever.

So instead she said, “I don’t have any siblings.  But I have Safi.”

Aeduan’s head turned to her.  “Who’s Safi?”

“My best friend.”  Iseult’s face broke out into a smile like it always did when she thought about Safi.  “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.”

“That… must be nice.”

Iseult nodded in agreement.  “We live together.”

A pause.  “Do you get along?”

“Most of the time.  But even when we disagree, we’re always in sync.  We’re always on each other’s side.  It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hn.”  That was all Aeduan had to say to that and then silence fell between.  Iseult really felt like it was his turn to pick up the conversation.  She’d done a decent enough job carrying it so far; a two minute run was pretty good, she thought.  A record, maybe, for Aeduan.  But now it was his turn.  Or so she thought.  Because the silence stretched.  And stretched and stretched.  She even heard Owl sigh at one point.  She wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep by the time they made it to Jitters.  

“Do you live around here?” she finally asked, then groaned inwardly.  What a stupid question.  Of course, he lived around here.  They walked to the library all the time, dumby.  

“Yes.”

The single word struck a match on Iseult’s nerves.  She might as well have said nothing at all if that all she was going to get back in return.  She wasn’t great at making conversation on a good day, but Aeduan - Aeduan was like a monolith.  There was no breaking through to him.  He just stood there like a constipated brick, not saying a word, with those ridiculously blue eyes and ridiculously long lashes, and just glared at her making her feel like a complete idiot for even trying to talk to him, like she was the one with the problem!  

Well, she silently seethed, it was no secret to the Moon Mother that she was ripe with issues, but she was not the problem here.  She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, and the white winter sunlight caught on the lobe of Aeduan’s ear.  

“Why do you wear that thing?” she blurted.  

Aeduan’s head whipped to her, his eyes slightly widened, like he’d only just realized she was there.  Before, Iseult might have been scared as to how he would react to such a brazen question.  But her fears had nothing on the deep satisfaction of seeing the crimson blush that fanned out high on his cheeks and crawled to the tips of his ears.  She half expected him to trip over himself for how long he gaped at her.      

“Why do you care?” he snarled - he actually snarled!  

Iseult stood her ground.  In that, she kept walking, head held high.

“I didn’t say I cared,” she said smoothly.  “I’m just curious.  You don’t see a lot of guys walking around wearing gemstones in their ears.  It says alot about a person.”  

Aeduan’s jaw locked so tightly it looked like it might never unhinge ever again - which, Iseult supposed, wouldn’t make much of a difference seeing as he never said anything worthwhile anyway.

But then he did something that surprised her.  He came to a full stop.  He swiveled to face her directly, and when Iseult looked into his eyes, some of the fear she’d pushed aside rushed back.

“This gemstone,” Aeduan said venomously, pointing a sharp finger to his ear, “belonged to my mother.”  He glared at Iseult and she swore she heard her heart stop entirely.  Strangers milled about around them on the sidewalk, but in that moment nothing else existed outside of her and Aeduan.  All she saw were his eyes.  Cold as ice, yet burning with hatred... and grief.  Even though Iseult was petrified of what he might say next, she realized that she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

“I wear this to remember her.”  Aeduan’s chest heaved.  Icy air puffed from his lips with every labored breath, and Iseult suddenly noticed how close he was to her.  Just another step and their noses would be touching.  And their lips…

“If you’d ever lost a mother, you’d want to feel close to her too.”

This time Iseult’s heart did stop.  With a disgusted look, Aeduan swung away from her and left her standing alone on the sidewalk, staring at the empty space where he used to be.

“I don’t think I would.”  

Aeduan froze and looked over his shoulder.  Iseult stood rooted to the spot.  

“I-I d-don’t know if that’s t-true.”  She shook her head, not sure where the words were coming from.  Not sure how her heart could be beating so fast and not feel like it was working at the same time.  Like it was malfunctioning and pumping out thoughts she would otherwise never say aloud.  Not to anyone.  Maybe not even Safi.  

“My m-mother is sick and I d-don’t call her,” she stammered.  “I never see her.  I make excuses all the time about why I can’t visit her or why I don’t return her calls and even though I know I’m being a horrible daughter, I just can’t stop.  I can’t bring myself to be better for her.  I don’t know who your mother was or what she was like, but I do know mine.  I don’t know what I’d do without her, I’ve never not had a mother, but… I don’t know if I’d want to feel close to her b-because I don’t feel c-close to her now.  I… I don’t know if I’d miss her.”

The weight of everything she just admitted lifted off Iseult and she was able to breathe again, heartbeat retreating under the cool blanket of stasis she kept shrouded around her at all times.  Pumping blood, not feelings, doing its job.  She took a gulp of cold air.  Her limbs felt foreign to her, the tension she always carried ebbing away, and a fierce exhaustion hit her with the force of a speeding train.  She didn’t think she could bring herself to look at Aeduan after everything she just confessed… but she did anyway.

His expression was painstakingly emotionless.  Not even a scrap of red tinged his cheeks.  During her speech she hadn’t really registered him there.  Even Owl at his side was looking at Iseult with something different.  There was no repulsion, not judgement.  Just… curiosity.

Iseult took another deep breath of air.  It didn’t matter what Aeduan thought of her now.  She needed to go to work.  She needed to move forward.  Her eyelids fluttered close briefly.

Stasis, Iseult.  Stasis.  Stasis in your fingers and in your toes.

When she opened her eyes, she was moving.  She was brushing past his shoulder.  And then-

Something stopped her.

Iseult looked down at the hand firmly gripped on the strap of her book bag, then slowly, tipped her chin up to look at Aeduan.  The white winter sun behind him was a halo around his head.

“Can I buy you a muffin?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Somehow Iseult ended up on the green couch at Jitters.  There had been scant elsewhere for the three of them to comfortably sit, so while Iseult had made a beeline for the couch before anyone else could snatch it out from under them, Aeduan headed to the counter to fetch them some coffee.  Caffeine was probably the last thing Iseult needed right now - not after what had transpired on their walk - but when Aeduan had asked her how she took her coffee, she couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him.

There was an air of relaxed cheerfulness about the shop, the place bustling with people getting a jumpstart on their weekend, college students done with classes for the week.  When Iseult spotted Cam alone scrambling behind the counter and Safi nowhere in sight, her first instinct was to rush over and give him a hand, but the second Aeduan stepped into her line of sight and instructed her to find a seat, she’d forgotten all about him.

It felt strange sitting and being waited on in her own coffee shop.  It was like being served in her living room.  She sat spine rod straight on the edge of the couch with her hands absently twisting her gloves in her lap.  She hadn’t even bothered to take off her coat or scarf.  They felt like protective armor now, like needing a blanket to fall asleep regardless of whether it’s cold or not.  Right now, it was admittedly too hot, what with the fireplace crackling by the couch.  She could feel herself growing uncomfortably warm.  She resolved to loosen her scarf, but only a little bit.  

Aeduan wasn’t alone when he reappeared carrying two mismatched mugs of coffee.  Cam followed behind him, his face pinched in concentration, moving with caution as he balanced three small plates of pastries perilously along his spindly arms.  Iseult tried not to make a show of watching him as he approached, but she held her breath, praying for him not to fumble.  It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do, the poor kid.  The second hand embarrassment alone would cause Iseult to combust.  

The second the plates made contact with the low coffee table, she was able to breathe freely.

“Cam,” Iseult said, peering over the back of the couch and looking around the shop, “where’s Safi?”

Cam put down the last of the plates and wiped off his brow, relief evident on his face.  “She ran out to the corner store.  The delivery guys must be running late and we ran out of creamer.”

“That’s the second time this month,” Iseult muttered more to herself than to Cam.  She sighed.  “I’ll have Safi give them an earful when they get here.”

“Aye aye, sir.”  Cam gave her a dutiful salute.  He made to turn away, then stopped as if only just realizing that he had just served pastries to her.  “You are working today, right?  Safi seemed to think you were.”

“In another half hour,” said Iseult, checking the clock on the wall for good measure.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be on by the time you need to leave.  You won’t be late for your Big Brother meeting.”

Cam’s cheeks went a little pink and he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ok, thanks,” he said sheepishly.  “I’m really sorry he called last week.  I told him it wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

A memory of Safi hunched over the desk in their cramped office in the storeroom, red-faced, holding the phone to her ear flashed across her eyes.  Safi’d endured a very heated discussion with some guy that claimed to be Cam’s Big Brother - didn’t even bother to properly introduce himself, the loser - and accused them of letting Cam off his shift late so that he was late for their meeting.  Judging by the 30 minutes hate-rant that followed after she’d hung up the phone, it had not been a productive conversation.

“I believe you, Cam.  It really wasn't a big deal,” she lied.  It had taken forty bucks worth of take-out and a bottle of wine to convince Safi not to fire him on the spot.  

“Ok,” Cam said again, shoulders relaxing.  He surveyed the spread on their coffee table and glanced at Aeduan and Owl seated next to her.  “I just wasn’t sure what this was.”

“Oh ah…” Iseult glanced at Aeduan who was helping Owl peel the paper wrapping off her muffin, not paying the least bit of attention to their conversation.  “We’re just having some lunch.”

“Alright,” Cam said, eyeing Aeduan skeptically, if not fearfully.  But he didn’t pry further.  “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then.  Enjoy your, uh, lunch.”

“Thanks,” Iseult said, watching him leave.  Stealing herself, she shifted in her seat to face lunch.  

Aeduan hadn’t touched his food.  He was too busy fussing over Owl.  She sat between them, contentedly munching on a muffin that was almost as big as her head.  Much like before when they had been walking together, she felt like Owl was acting as some sort of barrier now, like Aeduan had put her there to keep some space between them.  Iseult wondered if she should read into it.  Maybe he was trying to tell her that this wasn’t anything special.  Just two people having coffee.  Nothing put the lid on romance faster than a four-year-old who, as far as Iseult could tell, hated her.  And then there was the issue of the 6 months worth of guilt she’d word vomited all over the sidewalk just 10 minutes ago.

“Is everything alright?” Aeduan asked as he put down Owl’s juice box on the coffee table and picked at his own muffin.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Iseult said, almost breathless.  “Just a problem with our delivery guys.  I’ll have Safi handle it when she gets back.”

Aeduan popped a piece of muffin in his mouth and chewed methodically as he studied her.  He swallowed.  “No, I meant with you.  Your face.  It’s all red and splotchy.”

“Oh,” Iseult breathed, hands flying to her cheeks.  The skin burned under her fingers.  “I… I’m just a little warm, I guess.  The fire…” Aeduan continued to stare and she looked down helplessly at her coat.  “I suppose I can take this off,” she mumbled, reaching for the buttons and beginning to undo them.  She tried to steady her fingers as she continued down the line.  She shrugged the peacoat off and her entire body seemed to sigh with relief at the feeling of being able to breath again.  She chanced another glance at Aeduan as she unwound her scarf, noticing that he had already taken his jacket.  How she hadn’t noticed until was a mystery.  The white t-shirt stretched across his chest made it devastatingly clear that he didn’t need any protective armor for their not-date.  

Iseult had always been so preoccupied with what was going on inside Aeduan’s head that she never really wondered what went on with the rest of him.  His signature leather jacket masked how lean he truly was, but it also hid everything else.  Everything else being, well, everything.  And boy, there was so much to see.

Not being much of a fashion guru, Iseult had never considered what was so special about the plain white tee.  That singular item of clothing had transcended decades of trends despite being, as its title suggested, plain.  Now, however, its reason for persevering was evident.  Embellishment would only distract from the main attraction.  The attraction being, the person who wore it.

Aeduan was, for lack of a better word, stacked.

The shirt left nothing to the imagination.  Iseult could see the contours of his muscles, starting with the hard plane of his chest, traveling all the way down to map the outline of his abs.  His arms were on full display in all their glory, pale and strong looking and - oh my gosh - was that a tattoo peeking out from underneath the hem of his sleeve??  There was nothing unsightly about him.  He was built in a way that told her that he must be well-acquainted with the benefits of hitting the genetic lottery.  This wasn't the work of protein powder.  Somehow he had fallen into Moon Mother’s good graces.  He looked healthy and strong and 100% out of Iseult’s league… It wasn’t until now that she’d ever even considered joining a league.  

She didn’t own a bat.  

She didn’t own a ball.  

She’d never made it to first base before, nevermind hit a homerun.  

She was so woefully unequipped in every way for the living Michaelangelo statue sitting across from her that it suddenly hit her that no wonder he didn’t talk much.  Who needed words when you had a body like that to do all the talking?

Except Aeduan was talking for once.  Now, in fact.

“Are you going to leave that on?” Iseult barely heard him ask.

“What?  Oh-” She followed his line of sight to the beret on top of her head.  She hastily peeled it off and awkwardly tried to smooth out her hair.  She was uncomfortably aware of Aeduan’s eyes on her.  She wished she hadn’t worn the silly thing.  It had been a gift from Leopold a couple Christmases back.  He had insisted that it was chic and retro and, no, it wouldn’t make her look like Mary from The Secret Garden, but now she would have liked nothing more than to toss it into the fire and watch it shrivel up into a pile of ash.

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say as she reached for the mug on the table.  “For the coffee and- oh.”  She examined the muffin beside it, then tilted her head questioningly at Aeduan.  “Did you know cinnamon was my favorite?”

Aeduan, who was mid-sip, paused.  Iseult caught the corner of his mouth curled up behind his mug.  Then he tipped his coffee back and it was gone.  “Lucky guess.”

Iseult allowed herself to smile, a little one, before ducking her down.  She began to break apart her muffin… but there was only so much eating and drinking she could do before there would need to be some exchange of words.  She decided to take a stab at it.  

“You said you come here every Friday?”

“Pretty much,” Aeduan said, reaching for a napkin and dabbing a smear of what looked like blueberry off Owl’s cheek.  She looked like she wanted to resist but didn’t.

“You do know there’s a Starbucks right around the corner, right?”

“So?”

“Well, why come here when you could go there?”

Aeduan thought about it, then shrugged.  “I like the coffee.”

Iseult snorted into her mug, sending a couple errant droplets of coffee flying.  Both Aeduan and Owl stared at her.  Iseult surreptitiously wiped her mouth, but when she noticed that they were still staring, Aeduan clearly confused by her reaction, she sent the same nonplussed look right back.

“Are you serious?” Iseult asked deadpanned.

“I believe I am,” Aeduan replied, a little defensive, which made Iseult want to laugh again.

“It’s not actually real Marstoki coffee,” she said, gesturing to his mug.  “You know that, right?”

Aeduan peered into the contents of his mug.  “It’s not?”

“Not even a little.”  Iseult gave him a bemused look, enjoying the curious way he was examining his mug, almost indignant.  Eventually he accepted the truth and put it down.

“You said hazelnut makes it better.  I guess you were right.”

Iseult’s heart skipped a beat.  He ordered his coffee that way she had brewed it for him the first time she saw him in the shop?  She didn’t know why that made her feel all gooey inside but it did.

A soft chime sounded and Aeduan reached into his back pocket.  The movement stretched his already too tight shirt even tighter across his chest and Iseult launched into an aggressive excavation of her muffin as to avoid ogling him.  When she eventually got a grip and looked back up, Aeduan was frowning at his phone.  

“Something wrong?” Iseult asked, hoping that he didn’t have to leave.

He shook his head.  “It’s nothing.”  He started to put it away, then stopped.  “Well,” - he shifted again and slid it back out - “do you know what this means?”

He leaned across Owl and showed the screen to Iseult.

“My sister likes to send me these… things,” he explained, watching Iseult carefully as she looked at the picture on his phone.  “I never know what the heck she’s talking about.”

“Oh!” Iseult exclaimed with a laugh.  “It’s a meme.  See, that’s Kermit the Frog.  Kermit is-”

“I know who Kermit the Frog is,” Aeduan ground out like it pained him to say the goofy green muppet’s name out loud.  “But what does he have to do with her trying to decide whether or not she wants to sign up for the school’s annual spelling bee?”

“Well,” Iseult began and boldly took the phone from his hand and pointed to the Kermit hooded in a black cloak.  “That’s Kermit’s evil persona.  He’s like the devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear and egging him on.  Your sister-”

“Lisbet,” provided Aeduan.

“-Lisbet said she doesn’t want to sign up because she has too many other extracurriculars going on right now and doesn’t want to overload herself.  But she also wants the satisfaction of wiping the floor with her peers’ asses because she knows she’ll win.”

Aeduan frowned at her.

“My words, not hers,” she clarified.  She handed the phone back to him.  “She was using that picture of Kermit talking to his sinister self to emphasize her evil instincts.”

“I wouldn't exactly classify competing in a spelling bee as evil,” Aeduan said, studying the meme again.

Iseult plunked a bit of muffin in her mouth and chewed.  “Sounds like she's a pretty outgoing kid.”

“She is,” Aeduan said, clicking his phone off and tucking it away.  “But she’s quiet about it… Humble in a way the most overachieving 12-year-olds aren’t.  To her it’s not overachieving, it’s just her being her.”

Iseult watched the faint smile that spread across his lips, warming his usually cold face.  “Cora,” he continued without prompting, “is a lot like her, but sillier.  She’s younger, of course, but she’s always been a little more mellow than Lisbet.  More carefree.  I don’t think school means the same to her as it does to Lisbet, but she’s a good girl.”

“They both sound like they’re good girls,” Iseult said.  

“They are,” Aeduan nodded.  “They are.”

A comfortable silence passed between them in which they both indulged in a few bites of their muffins.

“So what are your plans for this weekend?” Iseult asked.  

Aeduan stiffened, looking slightly uncomfortable.  “Uh, sorry, but I’m busy.  I have the girls all weekend.”

She blinked.  “Right, I know... what are your plans with them?”

“You weren’t...?”  Aeduan’s face went red and he absently tugged at his pieced lobe.  “Oh.  Well.  Uh…” He tried to mask his embarrassment with a cough.  “Nothing special.  Lisbet likes to get her homework out of the way on Fridays and Cora likes to do what Lisbet does, so we usually spend the rest of the afternoon doing school work.  Saturdays are a mixed bag.  Lisbet’s does a lot of extracurriculars, so depending on what she has going on, Saturday is our day to just hang out and relax.”

Iseult had a hard time picturing Aeduan “hanging out” and wondered what that would entail.  Before she could ask, a noise sprouted between them and they both looked down.  Owl sipped on her straw like she was sucking the life out of her juice box.  Aeduan gingerly pulled it out of her mouth and placed the exsanguinated carton on the coffee table.  

“What about you?” Aeduan asked, like nothing had happened.  “Do you have any fun plans?”  It sounded like he struggled to say the word ‘fun’.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my plans fun.  Or call them plans at all,” Iseult confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “I mostly work.  And read.”

“And hang out with Safi.”

Iseult smiled, nodding.  “And hang out with Safi.”

It took her a full 5 seconds to realize that Aeduan was smiling back at her.  Not just with his mouth but with the little dimple that winked out from his cheek.  It was the most brilliant thing she’d ever seen.  

“Actually,” she spoke, looking down at her hands, “we’re hanging out tonight.  Our friend Vaness is having a little get-together with some people.”

“Vaness?”

Iseult’s ears perked up, catching the sharp familiarity in the way he spoke her name.  “Yeah.  Do you know her?”

Aeduan opened his mouth to respond, his smile and the dimple noticeably missing, but at that moment, the bells over the entrance door jingled and in walked Safi.  

“Iseult,” she breathed, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold.  A paper bag was clutched to her chest with what Iseult guessed was creamer.

At the sound of her name, Aeduan’s head instinctively turned to look over the back of the couch.  Safi froze as the door closed behind her.

“S-Safi,” Iseult exclaimed, taken aback by the stutter over her best friend’s name.  That was a first.  But Safi didn’t seem to notice.  Her feet seemed glued to the floor with her stare pinned on Aeduan.

“This is Aeduan and - oh!” - Owl was turning in her seat and pulling herself up with the back of the couch to see what the fuss was about - “this is Owl.”

Owl gave Safi a shrewd look that lasted all of 5 seconds before sinking back down onto the cushion and returning to her muffin.  Clearly, she was unimpressed by Iseult’s choice in best friend.

“Aeduan, this is Safi,” Iseult told him, nearly choking on Safi’s name when she saw the frosty look he was giving Safi.

Neither of them said anything.

“We were just eating lunch,” Iseult explained, grappling for words.  She looked from Safi to Aeduan waiting for someone to explain why on earth she’d been transported to the arctic tundra.  They seemed to be locked in some sort of Vulcan mind meld; she had a feeling her limited knowledge of Star Trek trivia wasn’t going to do much to break it.

Thankfully, Aeduan was the one to do the deed.  He sent a downward jerk of his head to Safi in acknowledgment that might as well have been a punch to the face for all the friendliness it had, then turned to Iseult.

“We need to get going,” he said, his voice carrying none of the warmth or depth it had had in their conversation moments ago.

“S-sure,” Iseult faltered.  She was unable to ignore the sinking disappointment buoying in the pit of her stomach.  “I w-wouldn’t want to keep Lisbet and Cora waiting.”

Wordlessly, he pulled on his jacket and helped Owl into hers, then bundled her up in her hat, scarf, and gloves.  He started to stack the mugs and plates.

“You don’t have to-” Iseult tried to stop him, but he continued anyway.

“I got it,” was all he gruffed out.  When everything was piled up, he stepped around the coffee table and transported it all to the counter by the waste bin.  When he came back he held out his hand to Owl, who slid off the couch and placed her fuzzy mittened hand in his, then glanced at Iseult.  She couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t have much time because the next second he was turning his back on her and leaving.

Safi, who hadn’t budged, didn’t say a word as he sidestepped around her and pushed through the door.  The second it rattled shut, her head whipped to Iseult.  She whizzed over to the couch like time had stopped and was suddenly speeding to catch up.  She threw herself down where Aeduan had been sitting and carelessly let the paper bag drop to the floor, barely giving it any mind.  Disbelief was written all over her face.  Iseult was glad that her expression was finally readable, but was still very much bewildered as to the reason behind it.

“What was that all about?  Are you crazy?” Safi whisper-hissed.

Iseult blinked rapidfire in response.  “What are you talking about?”

“Him!” Safi exclaimed, shooting a look over her shoulder.  “That guy!  Why on Earth would you hang out with him?!”

Iseult was so confused.  She was barely able to form words.  “He’s just a patron at the library.  We’re friends.”

Safi gave her a flabbergasted look.  “He’s not just a patron.  Iseult,” - she leaned forward and brought her head close to hers - “do you seriously not recognize who he is or do you not remember anything from that night?”  She pinned her with a stare, eyebrows high, as though waiting for a response, but Iseult shook her head smally, her mouth clamped shut.  Nothing Safi was saying was making any sense and it was making her more and more nervous.  

Safi sucked in a breath through her nose and her hand covered Iseult’s in her lap.  She squeezed it bracingly.  All it did was send another shot of fear through Iseult.  She stared into Safi’s blue eyes.

“Iseult,” she said in a low voice, “that’s the chief of police’s son... the cop that crashed Vaness’ end-of-the-year party.”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

The moment Aeduan stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again.  It had become too hot in there.  And then when Safi walked in…

Of course - of course - Iseult’s best friend had to be the impossible barista.  But she wasn’t just that.  Because just before she’d interrupted them, something that had been out of place had slid home and he’d realized something: he knew Iseult.

A memory of a hot summer night that started with a noise complaint rushed back to him.  Being in the Domestic Violence Unit, it wasn’t something his squad typically covered, but staff was stretched thin that night, what with the non-stop partying shaking up the college city, and Aeduan didn’t have much choice to turn his back on the call.  It had been one of the last runs he’d made before turning in his badge.

Iseult probably didn’t even remember it.  But he did.

Owl tugged at Aeduan’s hand and felt her curl into his leg.  He peered down at her questioningly.

She lifted a mittened hand out in front of her.  “Dog,” she said.

Aeduan looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, there was a dog leashed to a lamppost, most likely waiting for his owner to return from getting a coffee.  At the sight of the two of them, he lifted his shaggy head from his front paws, attention piqued.

Annoyance tugged at Aeduan’s gut.  He hated when dog owners just left their pets tied up unattended.  It was just notch below leaving them in the car.

Owl let go of his hand and clutched herself to him, hiding behind his leg.  Wide brown eyes peeked out from behind him at the dog, who looked cold and miserable.

“Tail not moving,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric of his jeans.  Aeduan nodded and gave the dog a pitying look.

“That’s right,” he told her.  “He’s probably not happy being left out in the snow by his master.”

Owl tucked herself even closer to him and a small whimper bubbled out of her.  Aeduan moved to sidestep away from her to show her the dog wouldn’t hurt her, but she only whimpered again, more loudly.

“It’s ok,” Aeduan shushed her, gently extricating her from his leg and lifting her up in the air like she weighed nothing.  “I got you.”  

Her arms wrapped around his neck the moment she connected with his chest and the warmth of her enveloped him, anchoring him, pushing thoughts of his old life his mind.  He held her close, humming soft comforting words to her and rocking her gently.  

From the snow-covered sidewalk, the shivering dog’s watery, mournful eyes watched him and Aeduan stared back.  He thought about Iseult and her sick mother.  He thought about Owl’s tear-stained face from that morning and her arms around him now.  And then he thought about what it would take to lose a child and what it would feel like to not be missed.