#that's like.. me talking for hours and you're nodding your head in agreement the entire time

[fisheito]

If you ever feel insecure about your yapping just know that I binged your entire account for the past few hours and I was hooked. Like your account to me is what cocomelon is to toddlers you have no idea how happy you make my overly stressed student heart 😔❤ (Anon because I have anxiety (for now))

??!?!? i have enough stuff on here to entertain you for HOURS??

....huh. guess i've amassed quite a hoard. porntime surely does fly....swim.move fast

[oscpstri]

but you like it | piastri

piastri x motogp!reader, 3.5k

oscar piastri was a force to be reckoned with, and you found that true when he made your heart go 250 miles per hour. it didn't make it any better that you always somehow found your way back to each other.

INCLUDES: use of y/n, reader and osc are the same, reader is a badass though, quad lock being the enabler, lando being the number 1 shipper, inaccurate timeline, fictional events, they're literally flirting man like just KISS ALREADY UGHHHHH, literally doing everything BUT making it official so annoying

NOTE: came to be when someone requested for a oneshot so why not! TWIN FLAMES acts as a prologue to this but it's not necessary to read that in order to understand this (but still do teehee its cute)

( masterlist | more OP81 )

Oscar wasn't supposed to stay this long.

Not in Austria, not at the track, and definitely not in your garage. But somehow he found himself leaning against a wall in the back, hand in his hoodie pocket, pretending to scroll through his phone like he wasn't stealing glances at you.

You were crouched by your bike, deep in conversation with your engineer, hands moving as you spoke. There was something about the way you talked— firm but relaxed, all fire with an ice-cold edge. Oscar watches as you cross your arms and tilt your head as you listen, nodding every once in a while in agreement.

You hadn't noticed him. Or maybe you did but acted like you didn't.

"You're back," one of your mechanics teases him, passing with a sly grin.

Oscar raises his eyebrows, playing it cool. "Here for work."

"Right. Want me to get you an autograph?"

Oscar smirks but doesn't answer, gaze already lingering back to you.

That's when you feel it. The distinct buzz of someone watching.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to lock eyes with the Formula 1 driver. He gives you a small nod as your eyes meet, to which you narrow your eyes back. It was like a secret language by now.

You walk towards him, passing your helmet to a mechanic who offered.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?"

Oscar shrugs. "Just making sure you don't fly off your bike again."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Weren't you the one that crashed last weekend?"

Oscar raises a brow, a small smirk on his face. "Almost crashed. I still won."

A smile threatens to grow on your face. Your eyes flicker to the logo on the hoodie he was wearing, looking back at him with furrowed eyebrows and a small smile. "You used Quad Lock as your excuse to be here?"

He glances down at his hoodie before looking back at you with a cheeky grin. "Can't have people knowing I'm here voluntarily."

You tilt your head in disbelief. "You're annoying."

"Yeah, but you like it."

You shake your head at his antics, turning on your heel and walking off. Oscar watches you go, lips twitching. God, he couldn't get enough of you.

The thing about you and Oscar was that you two were practically the same. Not just in the paralleling careers in different motorsports, but also in personality.

You were both calm under pressure, stoic even in high-tension moments. You were both precise and calculated with every move you pull out in races, nothing was done without reason. You two also had quiet confidence— you didn't need to trash talk another driver because the results you put in did all the talking for you. If they were giving shit, you wouldn't notice. You'd have to read between the lines in order to catch what they meant— shade with style. You two also were a media mystery. Never saying more than you had to, never giving more than what interviewers asked for, never revealing anything unless asked.

You two were mysterious, and it got the whole world talking. So much so that the moment you magically appeared in the McLaren hospitality in casual clothes and sunglasses, the entire paddock started whispering. Because you not hiding behind Quad Lock gear made everyone think that you were there, not for content, but because you wanted to be— which was true but no one needed to know that.

"Fancy seeing you here," a familiar voice says, plopping down onto the chair beside you. You look up to see McLaren's more experienced driver, clad in papaya.

"And not against your own will." Lando quirks an eyebrow, catching the absence of anything Quad Lock on your body. Your silence makes his face light up, a knowing smile forming on his lips.

"Oh my—"

"Don't," you snap. The Brit only grins more, a cheeky smile on his face like he was a toddler that was just told a secret.

"Y/N," he starts. "Do you like my teammate?"

Silence falls between the both of you, Lando patiently waiting for the answer. You only scoff, a smile growing on your face as you leaned back into the chair— that was enough to give him an answer.

"Oh my god," he whispers excitedly, shaking your knee like he couldn't believe it.

It wasn't until then when he noticed the familiar hat sitting on your lap. It was black so he didn't pay much mind to it, but when he finally got a close-up of the design, he gasped so loud the entire hospitality thought he was dying.

You catch what he was looking at, covering the hat like you didn't just expose yourself even more in that moment. You didn't care that Lando knew, but you did care if anyone else did.

"That's from when he won in Baku," Lando says under his breath, staring at the 1st place Pirelli hat like it was a pot of gold.

"Was hard to wash out the champagne but," you inspect the hat, "I got it clean eventually."

Lando continues to sit there like his brain just went into overdrive. "You two are gonna be the death of me."

You giggle at his words, eyes locked onto the hat like it was the key that uncovered every interaction you had with its owner behind closed doors.

You and Oscar weren't dating— not yet. But you two had an unspoken connection that no matter how far you two were from each other, did not go away. That's why you two texted everyday, that's why you two bickered through call, that's why you exchange reels on Instagram that reminded you of each other, that's why you would stay up until past midnight to talk to him, that's why he would set an alarm for 4 in the morning just to talk to you.

That's why you were in the McLaren garage, Oscar's Pirelli hat on, leant against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the man in papaya who was heaving like he would explode any moment now.

The media’s swarming, the team’s whispering, the cameras are zoomed in a little too close. But Oscar? He’s stone-faced.

No slammed steering wheel, no screaming into the radio. Just a tight jaw, a clipped 'I’m okay' to his engineer, and a quiet walk back to the garage.

But you know better.

His suit’s still half-zipped down, fireproofs around his waist, gloves stripped off with more force than necessary. His expression is blank — almost too blank. Like a dam holding back something sharp.

He doesn’t see you until he rounds the corner.

"Didn’t think you’d be back here," he says, voice dry.

"Didn’t think you’d throw the car into the wall," you counter, light enough to make it a joke— not a jab. He doesn’t smile.

That’s how you know he’s really mad.

You push yourself off the wall, taking a step closer. "How bad?"

He shrugs. "It happens."

"Not what I asked."

He's silent for a while, trying to distract himself from looking at you. Putting his helmet on the table, gloves somewhere else, tossing the balaclava wherever. When he realizes that there was nothing he could do anymore, he sighs, turning to look at you.

"I had the pace— I had it. Then I lost it because I pushed too hard. That's it. It was stupid."

You pause. He looks at you. Sharp but not angry. You reach up and tug at the collar of his suit— gentle, grounding. "Don't talk about my favorite driver like that."

He blinks. Something flickers in his eyes and eventually Oscar swears he could hear his heart in his ears.

"I'm your favorite?"

You let go of him, stepping back and shrugging. "By default. You're easy to beat."

A beat passes. A small smile etched onto Oscar's face.

"You're annoying," he says softly.

"You like it," you shoot back, already walking back to the front of the garage. "Now go fix your ego before I start sending helmet designs for when I switch sports and replace you."

He watches you go in awe. He lets out a long breath and forgets all about the rage he felt mere minutes ago.

It was late. The kind of late where the world was quiet, the air hung heavy, and the only thing louder than the silence was your own heartbeat. You were curled up on the hotel couch, hair still damp from a rushed shower, scrolling through race footage on your laptop when a knock echoed through the door.

You didn't need to check who it was. When you opened it, Oscar stood there— hoodie wrinkled, hair tousled, and a tired kind of weight behind his eyes. Not sad, not dramatic, just… worn.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked softly.

He shook his head. "You?"

"Not really."

A pause.

"You wanna come in?"

He hesitated. Then nodded once, stepping inside.

The room was dim, just the warm glow of the TV playing on mute and the faint light from your laptop screen. Oscar took a seat on the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure where to put himself.

"I keep replaying it," he said eventually. "That corner. That one mistake. It's pathetic."

You looked over from your spot on the couch. "It’s not."

"I had the pace," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "The tires were warm. I knew the entry line. And still, I turned in too early and… gone. Just like that."

You closed the laptop. Set it aside.

"I've seen that look before," you admit. "Usually in the mirror."

Oscar glanced at you, brows furrowed.

"That blank one you wear when you're pissed at yourself but don’t want to let anyone know. You were holding it all in like it wasn’t already written across your shoulders."

He didn't answer. Just looked at you like you had peeled something open without trying to.

"I get it," you added. "Everyone talks about how you're calm, collected. But no one ever asks what it's like to keep it all in when you want to scream."

Oscar's jaw flexed, but he didn't speak. You could tell he was still chasing the perfect words— still trying to frame his frustration into something he could take in.

You walked over and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. Not too close— just enough.

"If it helps," you said lightly, "you're still the best driver on four wheels I've ever met."

He snorted softly. "That's a low bar coming from someone who lives on two."

You nudged his shoulder with yours. "Careful. I might take that personally."

A beat.

He turned his head slightly, eyes meeting yours— calmer now. Less clouded.

"You're the only person I've ever met who makes me feel like I'm not already one step ahead," he said quietly.

The words settled in your chest like thunder after a flash. You tried to smile, but it came out smaller than usual. "That supposed to scare me?"

Oscar's gaze dropped to your lips for half a second too long.

"No," he said, voice rough. "It's supposed to scare me."

You didn't say anything after that. You didn't have to.

He stayed for a while. Just sitting there— side by side. No more racing, no more pressure. Just a quiet understanding between two people who had finally met their match and couldn't look away.

It started innocent enough. A quiet cafe somewhere tucked in Barcelona's backstreets. The walls covered in polaroids, espresso strong enough to fuel an entire grid.

You had found the place first. Hidden, warm, local. The kind of spot not even MotoGP fans would think to look.

Oscar showed up ten minutes late, hoodie over his head, sunglasses on like it wasn't painfully obvious who he was.

"You look suspicious," you said as he slid into the booth across from you.

"I look anonymous."

"You look like someone about to rob the counter."

He cracked a smile, fingers wrapping around the drink you'd already ordered for him. He blinked once, looking back at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"I don't drink coffee," he mutters, watching as you take a sip from your cup.

"I know," you start, "that's why that's a smoothie."

He blinks even more. “You remembered,” he muttered.

You shrugged, putting your cup down. "Was tempting, though. Figured the caffeine might help your cornering next time."

That earned a light kick to your shin under the table. You grinned.

The conversation wandered easily— racing, Netflix edits, who had the worse simulator setup. He leaned in closer when you teased him about still using traction control, and you found yourself tugging his sunglasses off just to prove a point.

You didn't notice the phone— not right away. It was only after you'd laughed— head thrown back and eyes scrunching— that Oscar paused, eyes flicking briefly over your shoulder.

Too late. Someone had already taken the photo. A fan. Smart enough to stay quiet about it— for now.

It wasn't until the both of you got back to the hotel when you noticed the amount of messages you were getting from fellow drivers and riders.

"I told you to sit facing the wall," Oscar muttered, scrolling through the chaos on his phone.

You flopped down on the bed beside him, snatching the device from his hands. "You also told me the disguise was foolproof."

He gave you a flat look. "I didn't think me wearing sunglasses would trigger a media meltdown."

"Please. You smiled. That's enough to spark a scandal."

He laughed. Quiet, barely there, but real. Then, softly:

"They think we're dating."

You looked at him, curious. "Does that bother you?"

Oscar hesitated. Then met your gaze.

"No," he said. "Does it bother you that it doesn't bother me?"

You stared at him, heart stalling for one stupid second.

"No," you said back, voice just above a whisper. "It really doesn't."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was charged— full of all the things you both weren't ready to say.

But maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel ready.

The aftermath of it all was entertaining.

It starts with a Quad Lock conference, a sit-down with reporters and a new brand ambassador. The beginning to the crossover event where all the brand's ambassadors try out each other's sports.

They made you sit next to each other, you knew Quad Lock planned this all from the very beginning.

Your name is called first. You lean into the mic, perfectly composed— at least from the waist up. Oscar leans back in his seat beside you, arms crossed, face unreadable except for the faint twitch of his mouth.

A reporter raises their hand, grinning like they already know the answer. "So... that cafe in Barcelona. Cozy, wasn't it?"

You hum, chin tilted enough just to be smug, an eyebrow raised. "Should I be asking for your coffee order?"

Oscar's already smirking, mic lifted casually. "She rated it an 8. Don't think we'll be going back, though. What with the... unexpected company and all."

The room loses it. Laughter erupts, a dozen camera flashes, some even gasp at the subtle confirmation. You shake your head, trying to bite back the smile. Oscar doesn't even blink.

Then comes the real question:

"Are you two together?"

You and Oscar both pause.

"No."

"Not yet."

It comes from him and it silences the room. You turn your head so fast you almost pull a muscle. "Excuse me?"

He clears his throat. "That was supposed to be a thought."

You bite your cheek to keep from laughing. You whisper into your mic, "You're making this worse."

He glances sideways. "Am I lying?"

Another pause.

You look straight into the camera. "No comment."

Twitter dies, fan pages erupt, and you don't even bother checking your phone this time.

Then comes the inevitable team meeting. You're told to report to your team principal's office after the press conference.

You had expected a scolding, not Oscar already sitting there, arms folded, sipping from a water bottle like this was a casual debrief.

You stop at the door. "Is this… couples therapy?"

"I prefer public image management," he says.

Your managers stare at you like you've both just announced a pregnancy.

"Are you dating?"

You both glance at each other. Oscar sighs, adjusting himself in his seat. "I like her. I'm not gonna hide that."

You freeze. He's not looking at the managers, he's looking at you.

You swallow. Shrug a little. "I'd consider signing a multi-year race contract."

There's a beat of silence.

Your manager scribbles something furiously into their notes. Probably 'chaos imminent'. They finally look up at you and mutter: "Do we need to start printing shirts?"

Then it's the first race since the scandal. Your name is on every tabloid. Oscar's too. You figured he'd stay far away.

But there he is. Leaning casually against the garage, team pass hanging from his lanyard, sunglasses back on like that's going to stop anyone from recognizing him.

Your mechanics whistle when you walk into the garage and see him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You lost?"

Oscar just grins. "You'll crash if you keep staring."

You throw your towel at him. "You wish."

You win that race, obviously. Fastest lap, pole to podium, champagne in your hair, and gold on your collar.

When you walk back to the garage, Oscar is still there— a new team cap in his hand.

He tosses it to you without a word. You catch it. Thumb running over the '81' embroidered on the brim.

"Figured I owed you one," he says, a little breathless, like he ran to make sure he didn't miss you.

You tilt your head, playful. "You came all the way here just to even the score?"

He shrugs. "No. I came for you."

Your smile is slow, wide, unstoppable. And suddenly, it's not about press photos, or rumors, or what the media thinks anymore.

It's just him. It's just you. It's just the quiet, terrifying, electric realization that you've finally found someone who matches you beat for beat and it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of you.

Oscar was on pole. The McLaren garage was buzzing with the electric sort of tension that only came with race day. Tire warmers humming, radios crackling, mechanics pacing with tightly wound nerves. But the real reason everyone kept sneaking glances over their shoulders?

You.

Sitting confidently on the orange garage stool with a headset resting around your neck and the most deliberate papaya jacket zipped halfway over your MotoGP uniform. You weren't hiding. You hadn't even tried.

People stared, whispered, took photos. And you met every look with a raised brow and a smirk that said, yes, I'm here, and yes, I'm staying.

"Thought you said papaya wasn't your color," Oscar said as he passed you, helmet in hand, voice low enough just for you to hear.

You leaned back and smiled up at him. "It isn't. But you are."

He blinked. Almost stumbled. And for the first time in years, Oscar Piastri— calm, cool, unshakably composed— looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"You're going to ruin my race focus," he muttered, voice slightly higher than usual.

"I hope so," you teased. "Win anyway."

You watched every lap from the garage, headset finally over your ears, half-listening to strategy while keeping your eyes locked on that papaya blur carving through every sector.

He was perfect— composed, ruthless in defense, smooth on exits.

And when he crossed the finish line first, fists pumping in the cockpit, the entire garage exploded around you.

You didn't move.

Not until he pulled into parc fermé. Not until the camera caught him looking straight toward the garage before he even unbuckled. Not until he jogged in, helmet off, curls messy with sweat already on his suit.

And then you were moving.

He spotted you before anyone else did. Didn't wait, didn't ask, just walked toward you with that exhausted, elated kind of grin.

"I won," he said breathlessly.

"I saw."

"You wore orange."

"I know."

Oscar stepped closer. Close enough that the noise fell away. Close enough that his team was watching with barely-disguised grins and held breath.

You looked up at him. "Still want to pretend it's not a thing?"

He shook his head once. Firm. "No. I’m done pretending."

You smiled. "Good. Because I don't feel like hiding anymore."

He didn't say anything else. He just kissed you.

Soft at first. Gentle, almost unsure— like even now, he couldn't believe it was happening. But you kissed him back like you'd been waiting your whole damn life for it, and the paddock lost its mind.

Applause, camera flashes, mechanics howling, drivers wolf-whistling as they passed.

But none of it mattered. Because it was just you and Oscar. Two champions. One race at a time. Exactly the same. And finally, together.

[sommerbueckers]

hii oml i love your writingggg, do you think you could do like paige x reader at a sleepover??? like a birthday kind of thing

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

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✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲...

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟒𝐤

✰ 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐥. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !!

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"THIS IS HER HOUSE?" Amy questioned when the estate finally came into view. "Ask her parents if they're hiring."

Paige broke a smile for the first time that night, and she shook her head at her mother. However, this did nothing to rid her of the incessant anxious feeling she had experienced all day. For the first time, in all the years that she and Catherine Drago had been going to school together, she had been invited to her birthday sleepover.

It was a big deal, the biggest deal. Catherine didn't invite just anyone to her sleepover, typically it was just those in which she conversed with regularly. This year, that happened to include Paige. It had started with the accidental add of Paige's Snapchat account to one of Catherine's private stories, the blonde slid up on a picture of her with a sweet compliment, and it was all up from there.

Now, she sat outside of the girl's residence as she worked up to courage to simply exit the car. Her mother placed a comforting hand on her leg, rubbing up and down the way most mothers often did.

"You nervous?" she asked softly.

Paige, leaning her head back on the seat, nodded quietly. "It's just that I don't have any of my best friends here, like, they probably all know each other and i'm just gonna be feelin' awkward..."

Amy wore a sympathetic expression as she listened to her daughter's concerns. "Well you're friends with Catherine aren't you? You're here for her, not everybody else."

"Yeah but I didn't think we were even close enough for her to invite me," Paige said. A lie. Paige didn't think she'd get invited because of the way she and Catherine talked to each other. They texted nonstop, about anything and everything. But as of recently, their conversations had had more of an intimate feel. They talked about their sex life, about their personal kinks and turn-ons, and Catherine had even shared a picture or two.

Not to mention the 'birthday gift' that Paige had told her she would get, Paige was drunk that night.

She wanted it to be just her and Catherine, not her, Catherine, and Catherine's friends.

"How about this, you go in there and try your best to have fun. And then in one hour, if you're still not having fun and want me to come get you, I will," Amy posed.

"Really?" Paige asked incredulously.

"Really."

Paige nodded her head in agreement, deciding that the offer was suitable enough for her. Giving her mom a quick kiss and hug goodbye, she stepped out of the car and made her way up to the large glass door.

She could see into the house entirely. The floors were a cream colored wood that seemed to be freshly polished, there was a living room off to the right where an incredibly large couch sat. It looked like something you'd see displayed in a furniture shop, clean and untouched. The house as a whole looked like nobody lived there, like it was simply there to take up space on the property.

To the left was a floating staircase leading up to a second floor that Paige couldn't see much of from her place outside. The most she could see was a glass railing that went across the edge of the floor. She swallowed her anxiety and rung the doorbell, the sound echoing throughout the house as well as outside.

Her mom's car remained parked in the circular driveway, waiting for her to be retrieved from the front of the house before she pulled off. She hadn't been standing out there for long, perhaps all of thirty seconds had passed before a brown skinned woman appeared in view. She was coming from around a corner deep within the house, her steps hasty as she made her way over to the door.

"You must be Paige!" the woman greeted with a smile, to which Paige nodded her head. "Come inside. Is that your mom?"

"Yeah."

The woman gave a polite wave to the car before Amy drove off, leaving the woman to close the door and turn her attention to Paige.

"It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Mrs Drago but you can call me Phoebe or Catie's mom or whatever you'd like," the woman laughed.

Paige nodded her head, shifting uncomfortably under the woman's gaze. She tried to focus on what Phoebe no Catie's mom no whatever the woman wanted to be called was saying, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how good she looked for a mom. She was fit with a slender face and model cheekbones, at least now Paige knew where Catherine got her looks from.

"The girls are upstairs in Catie's room, it's the double doors at the end of the hallway," she pointed up at the glass railing Paige had seen earlier, encouraging her to go up.

She ascended the staircase holding onto nothing but the blanket and pillow she had brought seeing as though nobody had bothered to extend the glass railing to the steps as well. The hallway was more of a loft area that lacked furniture; the flooring up here was marble with recess lighting illuminating the way to every room. Paige zeroed in on the double doors at the end, Catherine's room.

One of the two doors had a keypad lock on it, what the fuck...The blonde knocked softly and listened to the faint chatter and shuffling that occurred on the other side of the door before it opened. She was met with Catherine's unexpressive face, a feature that changed rather quickly upon realizing it was Paige that stood before her. She smiled brightly, flashing her pearly whites at the taller girl, and pulled her in for a hug. It lasted longer than it should've.

She smells good, like coconut and vanilla.

"So glad you could make it..." she murmured, dragging her hand across Paige's stomach as she pulled away. Opening the door, she allowed Paige access into the room. To say it was huge would've been the understatement of the century. There was a small couch in the front where another blonde sat mutely, a bottle of red nail polish in her hand as she went over her nails again. There was a vase of flowers on the coffee table in front of her, it was surrounded by loads of other miscellaneous things like card games and jewelry.

The fireplace, which Paige later learned was gas which Catherine hated, was turned on despite the eighty degree temperature outside. The tv played an episode of Grey's Anatomy, the girls had turned it on just before Paige's knock at the door. Behind the mini living room were two steps that led up to the king sized bed, the covers were all over the place and there were a few pillows lying around on the floor. Paige's scrutiny of the room was interrupted when Catherine's voice grabbed her attention.

"Do you live far from here?" she had made herself comfortable on the couch now, her head resting in the unnamed blonde's lap.

Paige set her things down beside the couch, shrugging her shoulders, "Kinda, like...twenty minutes maybe."

Catherine hummed in response.

The three girls remained quiet for a few moments, Meredith Grey's voice being the only thing between them and a silence thicker than a heavy fog. Paige was overcome with the thought that she was the only one feeling awkward. Catherine and this other blonde were casually laid out on the couch, something Paige figured they did often. She would too with a room like Catherine's.

Her eyes traveled up and down the girl's soft, smooth legs. At least that was the feeling they gave off when Catherine rubbed them against each other on the couch, almost teasingly. Paige bit her lip gently, frantically moving her gaze between Catherine's legs and the blonde's eyes to make sure she wasn't caught.

Catherine, thankfully noticing Paige's hesitation to do anything other than stand at the edge of the couch rather than her wandering eyes, invited her to sit down. She slightly readjusted herself so that she was still laid out but wasn't invading Paige's personal space. Paige would've liked her to, invade her space that is. But the dark haired girl was feeling unusually nervous now that she was actually in front of Paige instead of talking with her through the phone.

It wasn't long before a beeping could be heard from the door and four new faces appeared behind it. Three boys and one girl. Paige had to admit she would've liked it to just be the three of them, it was hard enough trying to settle her nerves with Catherine and one other friend. Now she would be forced to do it with four more. It was then that she remembered the words of her mother, and how she really only needed to stay for an hour.

Would it be rude to leave?

The room erupted in cheers as the boys jumped on top of Catherine, burying her beneath their bodies. Her protests were muffled as she fought to push them off.

"Will you guys chill? I'm trying to do my nails," the blonde grumbled, scooting over with the nastiest face Paige had ever seen.

One of the boys rolled off the couch, "Try a little harder, they look like shit."

She flipped him off with a freshly painted nail, her nose scrunching up at the mere sight of him smiling above her. The rest of the boys followed suit as they got up off of the couch, brushing themselves off. Another guy, pushing his soft brown hair out of the way turned to Paige and smiled goofily. "You look unfamiliar," he commented.

Catherine snorted, "Guys this is Paige, she goes to my school. Paige this is Zane, Theo, Malachi, and Sasha."

She gave them a small wave, not knowing what else to do since there were too many to greet one by one.

"I thought you hated everyone at your school," Malachi frowned, squeezing himself between Paige and Catherine.

Catherine frowned, she wanted to sit next to Paige.

"I hate everyone except Paige," she clarified, giving the girl a cheeky wink.

Everyone made themselves comfortable somewhere in the living area, whether it was on the couch or in front of the fire. Paige was even warming up, now finding herself in a conversation with Malachi and Zane about basketball.

"What position do you play again?" Zane frowned, his blonde eyebrows scrunching together.

"Point guard."

"I remember my point guard days, I was a beast!" he reminisced humorously.

"Yeah in the fourth grade," Malachi chimed in.

"You're committed to UConn right?" Zane asked, ignoring the other boy.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Paige smiled.

"Cat talks about you all the time," he shrugged.

At this, Catherine shot up from her position on the couch and slapped the back of his buzzed blonde head. "No I don't!" she argued.

He stood abruptly, and rubbing the now burning patch on his head he said, "Yes you do! I literally remember you saying-"

"Okay!" The blonde girl interjected, "Can we please play a game or something? I'm bored."

"Just go back to painting your nails Noella, the grown ups are speaking," Zane gestured to himself, Catherine, Malachi, and Paige.

"Well in that case you should sit your ass down," she snapped.

"What game?" Malachi asked.

Just like that, the topic of Catherine's incessant talk of Paige had been dropped. Dropped by everyone except the two girls who now stared at each other with pleasant smiles. The group gathered around in a circle and Uno cards were disputed amongst them, everyone audibly reacting to their own deck.

Paige seated herself beside Catherine, nudging her shoulder. "You talk about me huh?" she laughed.

"Zane blows everything out of proportion, i've mentioned you like once or twice," Catherine dismissed simply. It was a lie. Catherine talked about Paige like a proud girlfriend, boasting about how great of a basketball player her new friend was and how good she looked while playing.

Paige nodded simply, not wanting to tease Catherine too much but also taking pride in the fact that the girl talked about her.

They played games for a hefty chunk of the night, stuffing their faces with pizza and cookies and whatever else Catherine's kitchen had to offer. Paige was surprised to discover that the boys were sleeping over as well, though they were in a separate room, she couldn't ever imagine either of her parents allowing something like that.

When the time came for everyone to settle down and get ready for bed, Noella and Sasha disappeared into the bathroom while Paige and Catherine waited in the bed.

"Do you wanna shower tonight?" Catherine asked her suddenly, switching off her phone.

"Yeah, sure. Are you gonna shower?"

"Mhm," Catherine nodded. "It shouldn't take them that long in there cus they're in there together so..." her voice trailed off as she shrugged.

Paige frowned, switching her own phone off as she turned to Catherine. "What do you mean?"

"They're showering together," she laughed, "we do it all the time 'cus we grew up together 'n' stuff."

Paige's lips parted as she went to respond, but at the last second she decided not to. They shower together...What kinda shit is that? Never in life had Paige ever considered showering with someone she saw as just a friend. Showering was your private time to clean yourself and all the parts of you that no one else was supposed to see, to share that time with someone else was intimate, wasn't it?

"Sometimes we just go ahead and finger each other too," Catherine revealed, and Paige's eyebrows shot to meet her hairline. "Kidding! Holy shit i'm kidding, we don't do that."

The pair burst into laughter, using it as an excuse to touch and grab at each other. Catherine ended up with her hand on Paige's knee, toying around with the thread of the sweatpants she was wearing. She smiled slightly, "You believed me for a second though."

"I definitely did," Paige nodded, "was finna grab my bags and go," she joked.

Catherine smirked, "You don't like that?"

"Like what?"

"Fingering."

The energy in the room shifted quickly with just that one word, both girls now staring at each other in silence. Paige couldn't help but feel like Catherine was asking for reasons other than being genuinely interested, and she wanted to give her what she wanted.

"Not my friends...no," the blonde shook her head.

"You don't like it or you've just never done it?" Catherine questioned further, rolling off of the bed and heading over to her dresser. She rummaged around through the drawers for some pajamas as she waited for Paige to respond to her forward question.

If Paige didn't have a crush on the girl, she would've been uncomfortable by the topic, but since that wasn't the case, she provided her with an answer. "I've never done it."

Catherine laughed sweetly, her back still turned. Paige stared at her legs again and the way her jeans shorts cupped her ass perfectly, two gold stars on the back pockets. Paige wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers up and down those legs, how Catherine's ass would fit into her hand as she squeezed it during a passionate kiss. She wanted to see her tits, her back, she wanted to explore every part of the girl standing before her.

She pulled out a pair of lacy panties and a white tank top, tossing them onto the bed and sitting back down. Paige didn't know how she was going to keep it together all night if Catherine was planning to walk around in the pieces of string she had just gotten out. However, after taking a closer look at them, she noticed how familiar they looked. They were the same pair that she had been wearing in the very first picture that Paige had received from her.

Catherine looked at her, waiting for her to say something. She knew, Paige knew, they both knew, and yet their smiles were the only telling factors.

When the sound of the shower cut off, Catherine glanced in the direction of the bathroom. She slowly got up off of the bed and grabbed her clothes (if you could even call them that).

"I'm gonna shower..." she told her.

Something in Paige's eyes darkened as she watched her back up toward the bathroom door. She got up as well, her own pajamas in her hand as she backed up to the other bathroom door.

"I think i'm gonna shower too...After you though 'cus...I don't shower with my friends," Paige smirked knowingly.

"Right, totally understood."

✰ ✰ ✰

Paige couldn't keep her eyes off of Catherine's wet, soapy body. Though she had to admit, she wasn't trying that hard either. The shower was big enough for an entire family of people and yet the girls still found themselves mere inches away from each other. Catherine was standing under one of the shower heads, her eyes closed and head tilted in the air.

Keep it together.

Paige had repeated those three words in her head over and over again, the task proving to be more difficult with every second that passed. She wanted to pin Catherine against the wall and take her right there, but she wouldn't. Not until she got the green light.

She wondered whether that was the direction this shower was going in, did Catherine want to hook up or was she just this close with all her friends? But Paige wasn't just a friend, was she?

Those messages say otherwise...

Brown eyes fluttered open, and Catherine smiled coyly at Paige. She stepped out from under the water and closer to the blonde, her head tilted slightly upward to meet her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

Paige nodded, "Are you?"

She hesitated before slowly shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" the blonde frowned.

"You haven't given me my birthday gift yet..."

How had Catherine known that Paige had even gotten her anything? For all she knew, it was just a card with some money slipped inside. But Paige wasn't that inconsiderate, she had gotten her a jelly cheek tint from Sephora, but Catherine couldn't have known that. And she didn't, because that wasn't the gift Catherine was talking about.

Paige hid her surprise at the mention of the drunken promise, that entire conversation between the girls had been a blur for her. It was a couple weeks ago, Paige had been at a party while she was texting Catherine, their conversation quickly turning sexual the more Paige had to drink. She didn't think Catherine had taken it seriously, but she probably should've expected it.

"It's not your birthday yet," Paige smirked.

"Don't fuck with me," Catherine mumbled, crashing her lips onto Paige's.

The smacking of their lips was drowned out by the water coming down hard around them. They moved in sync with each other, grabbing thirstily at one another. Paige couldn't decide what to do with her hands, she wanted to grab her neck, to hug her waist, to smack her ass.

The scent of her shampoo was overwhelming to Paige, she felt herself drowning in it as she kissed her, pulling her in deeper. There was a sense of urgency between them, at any second they could be interrupted by one of the girls outside. They couldn't risk that happening, they had waited all night for this.

Catherine backed up into the wall, dragging the blonde with her without ever disconnecting their lips. Paige tasted amazing, Catherine could say that without a doubt for she was exploring every inch of the girl's mouth. Her tongue moved with ease as she maneuvered it around Paige's own, the kiss becoming sloppy.

A string of spit stretched between their mouths when Paige briefly pulled away only to attach her lips to Catherine's jaw instead. She sucked harshly in any spot that Catherine reacted to. Paige licked a straight line from her neck up to her ear, placing a kiss right underneath it.

"Been waitin' all night for this huh?" she teased, her hands trailing slowly down Catherine's body. She was holding the taller girl impossibly close, releasing breathless moans the more attention that Paige paid to her neck. "Been wantin' me?"

Catherine had her arms draped over Paige's shoulders, one hand tangled in her hair while the other dug deep into her skin. She mumbled incoherently in response to Paige, the cold glass on her back and the warmth of Paige on her front sending her into a clouded state. Paige's hands snaked down to her ass, spanking it hard before following up with a soothing rub.

She did it again, and again, and again until Catherine was a whining, begging mess.

"Please Paige," she panted heavily, "need you so bad..."

"What do you need?"

"Need you to fuck me."

Paige laughed tauntingly, "Spread your legs," she demanded.

Catherine obliged pitifully quickly, one of her legs hooking around Paige's body.

Paige ran her fingers through Catherine's sopping slit, relishing in the way the shorter girl shuddered in her grasp. Her thumb toyed around with her swollen clit whilst she began to tease her entrance with her fingertips. Paige stared darkly into her eyes, unconsciously biting her lip at the pleading look that Catherine was giving her.

"What's the magic word?" the blonde smirked mockingly.

"Mmm, please," Catherine whined.

"Louder."

"Please Paige just fuck me!"

Paige watched in accomplishment at the way Catherine's face contorted in pleasure when she inserted her fingers. The blonde nodded her head understandingly, "Yeah that feels good doesn't it?" she cooed.

"Yes," the curly head sighed out.

Just as quickly as she had pulled them out, she thrusted them back in. Catherine unwillingly whimpered.

"This what you wanted?" Paige asked darkly. "For me to fuck you on your birthday, hm?"

Catherine matched the rhythm of Paige's fingers as she moved her hips against them. Paige stared deep into her eyes as she fucked her, their foreheads pressed together to stay grounded. A burning sensation erupted on Paige's back, the shower water was coming in contact with the scratches that Catherine was leaving. She used it as motivation to go faster, plunging into her so hard and so fast that Catherine's legs began to tremble.

She clung onto Paige for dear life, one of her hands slamming against the glass door behind her as Paige fucked her into it. The other was hooked under Paige's arm and gripping her shoulder.

"Yesyesyes," Catherine mumbled in hastened breaths, "so fucking good, so fucking good."

"You gonna cum mama?"

"Yes, keep going."

Paige noticed the way Catherine's walls were clenching around her, and she nodded her head encouragingly.

"C'mon," she urged, "c'mon."

The other girl elicited moans that Paige had never heard in her entire life. They were uncontrollable as Catherine's body writhed and squirmed. The most guttural noises left her mouth and filled the bathroom and Paige muffled them with the palm of her hand. She slowed the pace of her fingers and let Catherine ride out her orgasm before completely removing them.

The younger girl was out of breath, her chest heaving up and down at a rate quicker than usual.

Paige held onto her, rubbing her back softly as she calmed down. She kissed the top of her head, "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," she nodded into her chest.

They stood in silence, holding each other and placing small kisses on each other's foreheads and shoulders.

"We should probably wash again," Catherine laughed shyly.

Paige smiled, "Yeah we should." She ruffled the wet curls of the pretty girl in front of her, "Happy early Birthday Catherine."

___________________________________________________________

[elliecore4eva]

Future Snippets of Ellie & Sunshine!Reader

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Sunshine! Joels Daughter! Reader

1. Morning Routines (or Lack Thereof)

Ellie wakes up to your weight half on top of her, your face buried in her neck. She can feel your slow, even breathing, the warmth of your body wrapped around her like a human-sized blanket.

She should get up. Should.

But then you make the softest little noise in your sleep, curling in closer.

Ellie?

Yeah, she's never moving again.

Joel finds you both like that an hour later when he stops by, knocking once before letting himself in like he pays rent.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, crossing his arms as Ellie blinks up at him sleepily. "How the hell do you ever get anything done?"

"I don't," Ellie mutters, wrapping her arms tighter around you. "She's too comfy."

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re hopeless."

2. Tipsy Bison Teasing (Again)

"Okay, but seriously?" Jesse leans forward, a familiar grin creeping onto his face. "How does it feel, knowing your entire reputation is ruined?"

Ellie glares. "I never had a reputation."

"Oh, you did," Dina corrects. "Broody, intimidating, sometimes an asshole? Now you just follow her around like a lost puppy."

Frank, sipping his drink, nods solemnly. "Tragic, really."

Bill just grunts in agreement.

Ellie leans into you, tucking her face against your shoulder.

"At least my girlfriend likes me," she mutters.

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I do."

Jesse groans dramatically. "Ugh. Disgusting. Get a room."

Ellie smirks. "Gladly."

3. The Town’s Favorite Person

You have a way of making everyone feel special.

You check in on Maria, helping her with whatever town duties she’s juggling. You make small gifts for the kids in town, little hand-sewn patches for their jackets, bracelets, or sometimes just fresh-baked cookies.

Even Bill, gruff and eternally skeptical, has warmed up to you.

"Damn kid," he mutters one day, watching as you hand a freshly baked pie to one of the older folks in town. "How the hell do you have time for all this?"

"I like taking care of people," you shrug. "And it makes them happy."

Bill just grunts. But later, Ellie finds a fully upgraded rifle sitting outside your shared place, courtesy of Bill.

"No one better touch a damn hair on her head," he mutters when Ellie thanks him.

Ellie just smirks. "Trust me, man. I’d burn the whole town down first."

4. The Proposal (Sort Of?)

It’s not planned. Not even a little.

Ellie is just watching you one evening, sitting across from her on the porch, laughing at something Joel said.

And it just hits her.

Like a fucking freight train.

She wants forever.

"Marry me."

You blink, mid-laugh. "What?"

Ellie freezes.

Joel chokes on his coffee. "What the fuck?"

Bill mutters something about kids these days having no sense of timing.

Frank looks delighted.

You? You just smile.

"Yeah, okay."

Ellie stares.

"Wait. Really?"

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see."

Ellie groans, dropping her face into her hands. "You're actually evil."

"Yeah, but I’m your evil."

Ellie looks up, grinning. "Damn right you are."

Joel shakes his head. "You're both insufferable."

Bill just grunts in agreement.

Frank wipes away a fake tear. "Young love. So tragic, so beautiful—"

Ellie throws a pillow at him.

5. "Our Favorite Girl"

Ellie leans against the counter at the Tipsy Bison, arms crossed, waiting.

"Let’s go see our favorite girl," she mutters under her breath.

She doesn’t notice Bill and Frank at the bar, both of them pausing mid-conversation.

Frank slowly raises an eyebrow. "Did you just say ‘our’ favorite girl?"

Bill grunts. "Knew it. She’s got the whole damn town wrapped around her finger."

Ellie blinks. "Wait. No, I meant—"

Frank smirks. "No, no, keep going. Tell us how you’re completely whipped."

Ellie groans, burying her face in her hands. "Why do I even talk in public?"

6. The Rainstorm

It starts as a light drizzle. Nothing bad, nothing worth stopping for.

Then it turns into a full-blown downpour.

You and Ellie sprint toward your house, laughing, soaked to the bone.

As soon as you’re inside, you shiver, rubbing your arms.

Without a word, Ellie pulls off her hoodie and tugs it over your head. It’s warm, a little big on you, and smells just like her.

You blink up at her, grinning. "You’re gonna get cold."

Ellie shrugs. "Doesn’t matter. You looked colder."

You step closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"You’re a softie," you whisper.

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

But she’s smiling.

7. “I’d Burn the Whole World for You”

Ellie isn’t the jealous type. Not really.

But when some new guy in town starts hovering a little too close to you at the market, laughing too hard at your jokes?

Ellie stands at your side in an instant, slipping a casual arm around your waist.

"Hey, babe," she says, loud enough for him to hear. "You ready to go?"

The guy blinks, then immediately looks away. "Oh—uh, yeah. Yeah, of course."

You arch an eyebrow. "Babe?"

Ellie shrugs, smirking. "What? It’s true."

You laugh, bumping her shoulder. "You’re ridiculous."

Ellie grins, kissing your temple. "Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous."

From a few feet away, Joel watches, shaking his head.

"Damn kid," he mutters. "Whipped beyond saving."

Bill grunts. "Good. Keeps her out of trouble."

Frank laughs.

8. Late-Night Confessions

The stars are bright above Jackson, the sky endless and quiet.

You and Ellie sit on the porch, a thick blanket draped over both of you. Your head rests against her shoulder, and for a long while, neither of you speak.

Then, Ellie clears her throat.

"You know I still—" she hesitates, then sighs. "I still think about that night."

You know exactly what she means. The Tipsy Bison. The words she said.

Your fingers trace patterns on the back of her hand. "I know."

Ellie tilts her head toward you. "I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it."

You shift, turning to face her. "I forgave you, Ellie."

She shakes her head, frustrated. "Yeah, but—"

You lift her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "No buts. You’re allowed to move forward."

Ellie’s eyes soften. She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. "I love you."

"I know." You smile. "Now stop sulking and come inside before Joel thinks you’re proposing out here."

From inside, Joel’s gruff voice calls out. "If you are, at least do it right!"

Ellie groans, burying her face in your neck. "I hate this town."

You laugh, tugging her inside.

9. A Morning with Family

The smell of coffee and bacon fills the house.

Joel is at the stove, grumbling as he flips pancakes.

You sit at the table, still groggy from sleep. Ellie, half-asleep, rests her head on your shoulder.

Joel glances over. "You two gonna eat, or you just sittin’ there like a pair of lovesick fools?"

Ellie grunts. "S’too early for this, old man."

Joel snorts. "Too early for breakfast? What the hell do you kids run on?"

You smile sleepily, nudging Ellie. "Pancakes sound good."

Ellie sighs, dramatic as ever, but sits up. "Fine. But only 'cause you said so."

Joel hides his smirk as he sets a plate in front of you.

Bill and Frank arrive soon after, bringing fresh bread and a bottle of honey.

"Figured you two should eat something real," Bill mutters, setting the loaf on the table.

Frank smiles. "Besides, I like seeing her happy."

Ellie glances at you, her heart twisting in her chest.

Because for the first time in a long while, you are.

10. “You’re Stuck With Me”

The sun is just starting to set, casting a warm glow over Jackson.

You and Ellie sit on the edge of the watchtower, legs dangling, watching the sky turn soft shades of pink and orange.

Ellie’s quiet tonight. Not in a bad way—just comfortable.

After a while, she speaks. "You ever think about leaving?"

You blink, turning to her. "Leaving Jackson?"

Ellie nods. "Not for good. Just… seeing what’s out there. Maybe taking a trip, just you and me."

You tilt your head, considering. The idea is tempting. "Where would we go?"

Ellie shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe Wyoming. Or back to Colorado. I heard there’s an old music store in Denver that’s still kinda intact."

You smile. "You just wanna see if they have any old guitars."

Ellie grins, bumping your shoulder. "Maybe. But I’d go anywhere, as long as it’s with you."

Your heart warms.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "You don’t have to take me anywhere, Ellie. I’m not going anywhere."

Ellie watches you for a long moment, then smirks.

"Damn. So I’m stuck with you, huh?"

You laugh, nudging her playfully. "Yeah, pretty much."

Ellie shakes her head, but her smile is full of something deep and unwavering.

"Good," she murmurs.

11. Bill and Frank’s (Unsolicited) Advice

It happens at their house.

Ellie’s sitting on their porch, sulking into a cup of coffee.

Bill sits beside her, arms crossed. Frank leans against the railing, watching with mild amusement.

"Alright," Bill grunts. "Out with it. What’s your problem?"

Ellie sighs. "Nothing, man. Just… thinking."

"Thinking’s dangerous for people like you," Bill mutters.

Frank snickers. "She’s brooding. It’s about her girl, isn’t it?"

Ellie glares. "I don’t brood."

Bill just stares.

Ellie groans, running a hand down her face. "Fine. Whatever. Yeah, it’s about her. It’s always about her."

Frank’s smile softens. "That’s a good thing, you know."

Bill grunts. "Not if she keeps sittin’ here mopin’ instead of just doin’ something about it."

Ellie blinks. "I—what? I have done something about it!"

"Yeah?" Bill raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you still sittin’ here like a kicked puppy?"

Ellie grumbles under her breath.

Frank laughs. "Look, kid. If she forgave you, then let yourself be happy. Don’t waste time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just… be good to her."

Bill nods. "And don’t fuck it up again."

Ellie snorts. "Yeah. Got it."

But deep down, she knows—she won’t.

12. A Home, Not Just a House

It’s late. The house is quiet, save for the sound of rain tapping against the window.

Ellie lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Then, slowly, she turns—and there you are.

Asleep, peaceful, curled up under the blankets.

Ellie’s heart clenches.

She reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I love you," she whispers.

You stir slightly, eyes barely opening. "Mmm?"

Ellie freezes. "Go back to sleep."

You blink sleepily at her, then smile. Soft. Safe. Home.

"Love you too," you mumble, before nuzzling into her warmth.

Ellie lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

For the first time in a long while, everything feels exactly as it should be.

13. The First Argument (And How They Fix It)

It happens over something stupid.

Ellie forgets to tell you she’s going out on patrol. You wake up to an empty house, her side of the bed cold, and panic sets in.

By the time she gets back, soaked from the rain, tired, and completely unaware of your frustration, you’re pacing the kitchen, arms crossed tight.

"Where the hell were you?" Your voice is sharp, edged with worry.

Ellie blinks. "Uh… patrol?"

"You didn’t tell me."

Ellie furrows her brow, setting down her damp jacket. "Didn’t think I had to. I go all the time."

"Yeah, and usually you say something before you leave."

Ellie scoffs. "Jesus, I didn’t realize I had to check in like a fucking kid."

You flinch. It’s subtle, but Ellie sees it—and immediately regrets it.

You shake your head, stepping back. "That’s not what this is about."

Ellie sighs, rubbing a hand down her face. "Look, I was already late to meet Jesse, and I didn’t wanna wake you. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal."

"Ellie, I woke up and you were gone. No note, nothing. You know what my first thought was? That something happened. That maybe you—" You swallow hard. "That maybe I lost you."

Ellie’s stomach drops.

She’s so used to thinking about protecting you, keeping you safe, that it never really hit her how much you worry about her too.

She steps closer, hands hovering near your arms but not touching, not yet.

"Baby." Her voice is softer now. "I’m sorry."

You look away, jaw tight. "You scared me."

14. The Interventions Begin

Ellie hates herself for this.

The air is still tense when there’s a knock at the door. Before either of you can react, it swings open, and Jesse steps in, soaked from the same rain as Ellie.

"Oh, good. She’s alive. Thought I was gonna have to find her body on your floor." Jesse pauses, taking in the atmosphere. "Whoa. You two fighting? That’s rare."

"Not helping," Ellie mutters.

"You forgot to tell her, didn't you?" Jesse shakes his head, sighing. "Ellie, man, how are you still making rookie mistakes?"

Ellie glares. "Can you go?"

"Oh, hell no." Jesse grins. "I’m staying for this. Go on, continue. I love a good domestic dispute."

Ellie shoots him a look of pure exhaustion, and you cross your arms. "Jesse, get out."

"Fine, fine." He throws his hands up, backing toward the door. "But if you two break up, I got dibs on her."

Ellie nearly lunges at him.

"Kidding! Kidding!" Jesse laughs, shutting the door behind him.

Ellie turns back to you, guilt creeping up her spine all over again.

"I promise—I won’t do that again. I’ll always tell you."

You hesitate, but finally nod.

15. Bill and Frank Give Their (Unsolicited) Advice

Later that evening, you’re at Bill and Frank’s place. You’re still a little distant, curling into Frank’s side on the couch while he rubs your back. Bill is pacing in the kitchen, arms crossed.

"She didn't tell you where she was going?" Bill repeats, his voice sharp.

You shake your head. "Not a word."

Bill scowls. "Oh, she's an idiot."

"Bill," Frank warns gently.

"No, no, I'm serious." Bill gestures wildly. "That girl would riot if you left the house without telling her where you were going. She’d have the whole town on red alert looking for you."

"Yeah, well," you mumble, "she thinks I’m overreacting."

Frank sighs, squeezing your shoulder. "She’s just being dumb, sweetheart. She doesn’t like feeling like she messed up."

Bill scoffs. "Well, she did."

Frank shakes his head. "You love her, though, don’t you?"

Your lips press together. Then, finally: "Yeah. Of course I do."

Bill groans. "Then I guess you have to forgive her. Eventually."

Frank smirks, nudging you. "Make her suffer a little first, though. Just for fun."

That actually makes you laugh.

16. The (Proper) Apology

By the time you get home, Ellie is waiting on the porch, hands in her hoodie pockets, looking like a kicked puppy.

As soon as she sees you, she springs up.

"Baby," she blurts, talking too fast. "Listen, I was a dumbass. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t important enough to tell. You’re literally—fuck, you’re the most important thing in my life, okay? I hate that I made you feel otherwise."

Your arms stay crossed.

Ellie rubs the back of her neck, shifting nervously. "I went to talk to Joel, and he said if I ever do it again, he’s gonna ‘knock some goddamn sense into me.’"

You almost smile at that.

"And Bill and Frank?" Ellie grimaces. "Bill called me an idiot about ten times. Frank told me to grovel. So, here I am. Groveling."

She suddenly drops to her knees.

You stare. "Ellie—"

"I beg for your forgiveness, oh love of my life," Ellie declares dramatically. "Smite me not, for I am but a humble fool."

You try to stay mad. You really do. But she looks so ridiculous, soaking wet, on her knees in front of you, pleading like a medieval knight.

Your lips twitch.

Ellie sees it. "Ah-ha! You’re smiling!"

You roll your eyes, sighing. "You’re lucky I love you."

Ellie grins, springing up. "Yeah?"

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated. "Yeah."

Ellie cups your face, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "I love you more."

You pretend to consider. "Mm. Debatable."

Ellie groans. "Oh, come on—"

You laugh, pulling her inside, shutting the door behind you.

(She never forgets to tell you again.)

17. When It’s Your Fault (And How You Fix It)

It’s bound to happen eventually.

You and Ellie don’t fight often, but when you do, it’s usually her messing up—her being thoughtless, her forgetting to tell you something, her running her mouth.

But this time?

It’s on you.

18. The Mistake

It’s late when Ellie comes home from patrol, soaked, exhausted, and clearly having had a rough day.

You’re supposed to be home, waiting for her. That’s the plan. That’s always the plan.

Instead?

You’re not there.

She checks everywhere. Your house. The stables. The Tipsy Bison. Nowhere.

And just as worry is sinking into her bones—

"Hey, have you seen—"

"Oh, your girl?" Jesse cuts in, amused. "She’s at Bill and Frank’s. Didn’t she tell you?"

Ellie stops cold. "What?"

"Yeah, I saw her heading over earlier. Thought you knew."

Ellie frowns.

You didn’t tell her.

After everything you just fought about a few weeks ago—**after she promised she’d always tell you where she was going—**you just… forgot?

And oh, does it piss her off.

19. The Fallout

You’re sitting at Bill and Frank’s when the door slams open.

Ellie steps inside, dripping wet, pissed off, eyes locked on you.

"Ellie—"

"Really?" Her voice is sharp. "Really, Bunny?"

You blink. "What?"

She laughs dryly. "Oh, don’t ‘what’ me. You know what."

Bill and Frank exchange looks.

"Do we need to leave?" Frank asks, already standing.

"No," Ellie snaps. "Actually, stay. Maybe you two would like to hear how my girlfriend completely ignored our last fight and pulled the same shit on me."

You stiffen. "Ellie, come on, it’s not the same—"

"Not the same?" She scoffs. "You lost your mind when I forgot to tell you I was leaving. You said you panicked. You said it scared you. But when it’s me worrying? Oh, that doesn’t matter, right?"

Your stomach twists.

You didn’t mean to do it. You just got caught up in talking to Frank and completely forgot. But the way Ellie is looking at you?

Like you let her down?

It hurts.

20. Bill and Frank Weigh In (Again)

"Okay, I’m stepping in," Bill interrupts. "Ellie, sit down before you pass out."

Ellie glares, but she does.

Frank leans forward. "Sweetheart," he says to you gently. "You really didn’t tell her?"

You shake your head, feeling small. "I forgot."

"You forgot?" Bill snorts. "You almost took her head off when she forgot."

You wince. "I know."

Frank rubs your shoulder. "You didn’t mean to, but Ellie’s allowed to be upset."

You nod, glancing at her. "I know."

Ellie exhales, scrubbing a hand over her face. Her anger is fading, but the hurt is still there.

Frank nudges Bill. "We should give them space."

"I was enjoying this," Bill grumbles, but he stands anyway.

Before they go, Bill leans toward you. "Apologize. Properly."

Then they’re gone, leaving just you and Ellie.

21. The (Proper) Apology

You sigh, looking at Ellie. "I really am sorry."

Ellie crosses her arms. "Then why’d you do it?"

"I wasn’t thinking. I was talking to Frank, and I just… forgot." You shake your head. "It’s not an excuse, but I swear, it wasn’t intentional."

Ellie exhales, her frustration starting to thaw. "I just—fuck, Bunny. The second I realized you weren’t home, my heart fucking dropped. I thought something happened. Thought I lost you."

You pause.

That’s exactly how you felt when she forgot to tell you.

Your chest tightens. You stand, moving toward her.

"I’m sorry," you say softly. "I hate that I made you feel like that."

Ellie finally uncrosses her arms. "Just—just don’t do it again, okay?"

You nod, stepping closer. "I won’t."

She sighs, pulling you in. "We good?"

You wrap your arms around her. "We’re good."

Ellie kisses your forehead, grumbling, "Next time, I’m putting a tracker on you."

You laugh, hugging her tighter.

(And you never forget to tell her again.)

22. Making It Up to Her (A.K.A. The Cutest Date Night Ever)

A simple apology isn't enough—not for you.

You want Ellie to know how sorry you are. You want to show her just how much she means to you.

So, you come up with a plan.

23. The Setup

It takes a full day of preparation.

You rope in Dina and Jesse first, mostly because Dina loves this kind of thing and Jesse is just along for the ride.

"A date night?" Dina smirks, arms crossed. "To make up for your screw-up?"

"She’s pulling a ‘grand romantic gesture,’" Jesse teases.

You huff. "I just want to do something nice for her."

Dina grins. "Then let’s do this."

Next, you visit Maria and Tommy—because you need a place to set it up.

Maria listens, nodding slowly. "So, let me get this straight—you want to set up some fancy-ass date for Ellie?"

You nod.

Maria exchanges a glance with Tommy, then shrugs. "Alright, let’s make it happen."

Finally, you head to Bill and Frank.

Frank is instantly on board. "Oh, this is adorable. Let’s plan a menu."

Bill, as expected, is grumpy about it. "Why the hell are we all getting involved in their date?"

"Because it’s cute," Frank insists.

"It’s dumb," Bill mutters, but you see the small smirk he’s trying to hide.

24. The Date Night

When Ellie arrives, she’s confused as hell.

"Bunny, what the—"

You grab her hand, grinning. "Just trust me, okay?"

She raises a brow but follows.

The setup is perfect.

Fairy lights drape the wooden beams of the barn. Candles flicker. The table is set with a full dinner—one that you helped Frank cook.

And watching from afar?

Dina, Jesse, Joel, Bill, Frank, Maria, and Tommy.

They’re all hiding behind barrels, fences, and window frames—watching like it’s a damn movie.

"Oh my god," Ellie breathes, looking around. "Babe, did you do all this?"

You nod. "Wanted to make it up to you."

Ellie stares at you—really looks at you.

Then, she smirks.

"You know," she teases, "this is kinda whipped behavior."

From their hiding spot, Jesse stifles a laugh. "She admits it!"

Bill groans. "Jesus Christ."

Joel snorts. "I coulda told you that years ago."

Ellie ignores them, cupping your face. "I love you."

You beam. "Love you more."

She kisses you, slow and sweet.

And from behind you, a chorus of voices yell—

"Finally!"

"Get a room!"

"We set all this up for one kiss?!"

You both laugh, and Ellie pulls you closer.

Tonight?

Yeah.

She’s never loved you more.

25. The Date – Ellie Sees How Sorry You Really Are

Ellie watches you all night.

Not in a casual, playful way. Not in the way she usually does, where she’s smirking like she just won the lottery because she gets to call you hers.

Tonight, she watches you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

And what she sees?

You’re nervous.

Your fingers fidget with the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing and re-smoothing a wrinkle that isn’t even there. You keep glancing at her, then away, like you’re scared of something.

Ellie’s heart tightens.

She realizes—this isn’t just a date to you.

It’s an apology. A real one.

Not because she demanded it. Not because you were afraid she’d leave.

But because you love her that much.

She sets down her fork.

"Babe."

You freeze mid-cut, staring at her.

"Come here."

You blink, confused. "What?"

She just holds out her arms. "Come here."

You hesitate, but eventually, you get up and sit on her lap, your arms around her neck.

Ellie breathes you in.

"You know I forgive you, right?" she murmurs.

You nod against her. "I just—I wanted to do something nice. To make it up to you."

Ellie chuckles softly, pulling back to look at you.

"You didn’t have to do all this, Bunny."

"I wanted to," you insist.

Ellie searches your face. "You always do that. Try to make everything better, even when I don’t ask you to."

Your voice is small. "Because I love you."

That does it.

Ellie tilts your chin up, kisses you slow and deep, and lets herself fall all over again.

Behind you, someone—probably **Jesse—**snickers, "Okay, yeah, this is cute, but is anyone actually gonna eat?"

Dina throws a roll at him.

Bill groans. "For the love of—just marry her already."

Frank grins. "Give them time."

Ellie just presses her forehead to yours.

"Let’s eat, yeah?"

And this time, you smile for real.

Ellie recovers quickly, a slow, cocky smirk pulling at her lips as she leans back in her chair, arms still wrapped around your waist.

She tilts her head at you, eyes soft but teasing.

"Oh, I’ve thought about it," she says smoothly, her voice low and certain. "And when I do it, it’s gonna be perfect. Just gotta make sure our favorite girl here is ready to be stuck with me forever."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

Dina lets out a dramatic gasp. Jesse fake wipes a tear.

Bill just grunts, unimpressed. "Took you long enough to say it."

Frank beams. "Oh, she’s a goner."

Ellie just grins against your cheek, whispering so only you can hear: "Whenever you want me, Bunny. You just say the word."

You grin, eyes locked onto Ellie’s as you lean in just a little, voice dropping into something sweet and dangerous all at once.

"Oh, baby… you really think I’m not already planning how I’m gonna say yes?"

Ellie’s smirk drops. Her breath catches.

Across the table, Joel chokes so hard on his drink that Tommy has to slap his back.

"Jesus Christ, kid!" Joel wheezes.

Tommy, still coughing, gapes at you. "The hell kinda smooth talkin’ was that?!"

Dina and Jesse erupt into laughter, absolutely losing their minds.

Frank? Frank just leans back with a satisfied smile. "Told you. Goner."

Bill shakes his head, grumbling as he takes a sip of his drink. "You two are gonna make me sick."

Ellie?

Ellie just stares at you, like she’s about two seconds away from dragging you out of there and proving just how much of a goner she really is.

Ellie finally blinks, her face so red it nearly matches the Tipsy Bison’s lantern lights. She leans in closer, voice low, teasing but just a little breathless.

"That right, Bunny?" she murmurs, thumb brushing your jaw. "You already got your answer, huh? Should I be worried, or should I be flattered?"

You pretend to think, tilting your head. "Mmm… depends. You planning on making it worth my while?"

Ellie groans, dropping her head against your shoulder, laughing through her flustered state. "You’re gonna kill me, I swear."

Joel, still recovering, wipes his mouth aggressively. "I’m gonna need a damn drink to deal with this."

Tommy nods. "Two."

Dina and Jesse are howling, Jesse literally clutching his stomach.

Frank just sips his drink, grinning. "Oh, she’s got you whipped, alright."

Ellie lifts her head, smirking now, because for the first time in her life—she doesn’t mind hearing it.

"Damn right, I am."

As a new writer on Tumblr, I really appreciate feedback! Please know I love receiving follows, comments, reblogs and likes! it makes me happy knowing my work is appreciated.

[luvzxr]

Little Pougie

Thank you for the support on my last post! It means a lot.

I will be starting a warning as I totally forgot to put it on my last post so here we go.

Warnings: Abuse, talk of drug use and alcohol. Possible smut in the future.

And incase you're new and coming across this party check out

previous and next chapter

02. Agony

I wake up the next morning in a sea of my own messy sheets. This is exactly how I envisioned my entire summer to go, and I wasn't complaining.

I was able to hear muffled talking on the other end of my door and could only register in my head that it was John B and JJ who seemed to have already started their morning long before I had. I kind of wanted to just slip back into another slumber myself, but I decided against it.

Once I slipped out of my room, they were both slumped up on the couch, deep in conversation but both seemed to halt their words once their attention was drawn to me.

"Good Morning, Pougie."

"Mornin' Little Pouge."

A small, but simple smile creeps up on both of their faces, and I watch as they both sit up to fix their much more horrible posture from moments ago.

"Good morning," I say, placing the palms of my hands over my features to rub out the drowsiness that was still visible.

It's silent between all three of us for a small moment before John B speaks up again.

"(Y/n/n), you scared the hell out of me last night," he sighs.

A part of me wanted to strangle him right then and there, he couldn't have picked a better time to talk about this.

"John B, I'm not a little kid," I say defensively.

"You knew Kooks were around (Y/n/n)," he sighed once again, "you're the only thing I have left of blood family,"

"But I'm nearly sixteen JB," I pout, full-heartedly knowing that sometimes I didn't act like a sixteen year old should.

"Yet you seemed to have forgotten that some of those Kooks would have the balls to follow you home. You could have been severely hurt, Pougie. What would you of done if JJ wasn't the person that came in last night?" I wince, realizing his point. I had no self-defense strategy if the person hadn't been JJ.

"But nothing happened," I say.

"Something could have, Pougie." John B retorts back, his face holding onto a stern expression.

"I'm sorry John B," I say apologetically, And watch as his face softens up.

"Just.." he begins, letting out a slow exhaled breath, "Look for JJ next time to take you back home safely. Especially if I'm being too stubborn to do it myself." JJ raised his hand, two fingers held up lazily to indicate he was willing to do the task at any time.

I nod my head in agreement.

I had no experience of the feeling you have being the older sibling who has to be the one to continue parenting a younger one because neither of you have your parents around anymore. I couldn't imagine the feeling of losing John B but could only imagine the feeling he'd get if he'd lost me under his care.

It wouldn't be so bad if he'd just trust me. But I suppose I haven't done my fair share of giving him the luxury of trusting me either.

Though, sometimes I felt I only was dragging him down when he took it upon himself to make me tag along with him anywhere he went. I felt like I held him back from living the life of an actual teenager and not a parent.

JJ had woken up that same morning in severe agony.

This pain was nowhere near the good kind that you could only wish to experience, the kind that made you feel good about the night prior to getting a lucky hook up and you got to silently pat yourself on the back in the comfort of your own mind. At least then all the pain you would be feeling in that moment was worth it.

This pain was the shitty kind, the kind where you are purposely woken up by none other than your own head practically throbbing and your own body begging you for an extra six hours of pure sleeping bliss. Only then would the pain be tolerable because you couldn't feel it.

There were only bits and pieces that he could make out of the events from last night. Small pieces of his memory, and the rest of him only could hope to regain the other half throughout the day. But that was JJ's morning, every morning.

JJ sat up, slowly. He was fighting every fiber in his body not to let any source of pain-filled groans escape his lips. He leant his elbows on his kneels, tousling up his hair in agitation.

He had returned early back to John B's due to the fact his precious little sister decided to take it upon herself to go home without a warning. The man was absolutely distraught finding the absence of his littler sibling's aura and was frantic to find her. He sent JJ back to his place to see if that's where she'd snuck off to, and she had.

JJ himself often worried about the little pouge but never let that part of him show because to him, the only thing the girl seen him as was her brother's best friend and nothing more to connect himself to her personal life.

He couldn't find it in him to see what others saw and when they tried to show compassion he'd often blow it off. Why would anyone care about a deadbeat? he had nothing going for him other than the acknowledgment that either the pills stashed in the lower compartment of his Gootium would take his life or his liver would finally kick it after one too many drinks.

He stole and pickpocketed when he needed to just to have enough for a burger and he had no way of transportation other than the old beat-up dirtbike he picked out of the trash and fixed up himself. And of course, John B gave him the luxury of using the Twinkie if he needed to.

He sighed, forcing himself to trudge off to the bathroom, and took a good, long look at himself in the mirror.

To some sort of extent, JJ didn't absolutely hate what looked back at him in the mirror. He'd been told numerous times by multiple pouge and then some of kooks that he was good-looking, though most of them ended up in the bedroom with him- tied up in the sheets. And most times, the next mornings would be him finding his belongings and disappearing from their room before they woke up themselves. Nevertheless, it was quite the confidence boost that was well over its deadline.

The thought of (Y/n) trudging home alone last night and a kook picking her up only gave JJ more to put on his well-overstocked plate.

Kooks were pushy and argent, And (Y/n) was a pushover. It doesn't take much to have a pretty, innocent girl like that do whatever you want with just a little push and put a little fear into her to do it.

(Y/n) was the type of girl that if you asked her to do something, she would. She had her quirks, of course and she wasn't experienced in the way most guys wanted but that was all the more reason to have her.

She was a virgin and JJ knew what most guys think when they look at her because he was one and he looked at girls like that all the time. The resemblance of the look an animal gives when they stalk their prey. They were eye-fucking her and it was obvious.

(y/n) was different. He could never look at her and only think of using her for his own sexual enjoyment and that was for obvious reasons. She was his best friend's little sister and John B would probably kick his ass if he knew that his best pal was thinking of completely recking his little sister.

If it was up to him; he'd probably beat the ever loving shit out of most for simply just looking at her in such a way.

She was lucky last night. There were numerous times when JJ had to swoop to her rescue to play stupid knight-in-shining armor and if she hadn't made it home safely he would have had to once again. He would of had to pretend to play the role of a good guy for a good girl.

That thought agitated him.

JJ Maybank was not a good guy. He was born to bus tables, make the money and hand it all over to his father after every paycheck- when it should be the parent busting their ass for a living.

He picked fights whenever he could because it seemed to be the only way of physically feeling something, And he'd take physical over anything emotional.

There was never a moment that he didn't have a busted up lip or a black eye but that never compared to the bruises he left on the other person. Whatever he came back with was ten times worse with what he left.

And when his father asked for a one way ticket out of obx and his life, JJ didn't hesitate. He practically was pushing his own father off the island because he knew he'd be better off. That day was probably in the top ten best moments of his life.

Shaking his head, he opened up the small cabinet above the sink in search for any type of aspirin to dial down this gnarly headache, But once coming up with nothing he let out a long sigh before closing the cabinet shut and stepping back out of the bathroom to head back to (Y/n and John B.

Poor girl got a severe lecture about last night but JJ would be lying if he didn't think she needed it just a little bit for pulling that stunt.

His attention was soon taken for a moment of time when a 'ding' from his phone went off in the left side of his pocket. Slipping out the device he noticed a text message from none other than, Kiara.

Can we talk?

And those three words were all it took to send his mind into a spiral. He began to go into a slight panic, thinking of so many different scenarios that this could go absolutely sideways and completely blow up in his face.

He wouldn't deny that he felt something for Kie, at least in his own mind he wouldn't because if you were to ask him out loud he'd probably sit there and tell you to shut the fuck up and mind your own business or just full on take a swing at you.

JJ despised letting his guard down- hated to know someone knew almost everything about him and had the large opportunity to use that against him- so it was no surprise that as to how much he found himself wanting to pull more away from Kiara.

He didn't want to have a conversation about something he was never good with communicating in the first place, much less try to do so with a girl he had a completely different viewpoint on than most. He'd rather bottle up those emotions and keep a good friendship, at least then there were no extra ties if it falls apart like most things in his life already had.

Maybe another time Kie. I'm gonna be a bit busy with JB today and I got work tomorrow.

Was all he could respond before shutting his phone back off and slipping it back into his pocket, completely ignoring the numerous texts and calls by Kie herself for the entire rest of the day.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Road Not Taken | Bang Chan

Synopsis: When your parents tell you that you're to marry the mayors son, Seo Changbin, you're left with two choices. Do you take the easy and sure route with nothing but green grass or do you take the path that's a bit less predictable and rough?

Pairings: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

Content Includes: Fluff, Forbidden romance, Secret romance, Strict parents, A sexually suggestive moment, Runaway, Happy ending, The Notebook vibes, Rich girl x not so rich guy

•Short but sweet. wc 2k•

an: Inspired by the poem The road not taken by Robert Frost and Chan quoting the poem when he talked about yellow wood in the intro.

“Y/N are you listening? Your father is talking to you.” Your mom sighs and rolls her eyes. “Honestly, get your head out of the clouds. This is a great opportunity and Seo Changbin is a great catch. He's so handsome and strong. Not to mention he'll be mayor one day after his father. You'll be the mayor's wife y/n doesn't that sound wonderful?” She gushes, clasping her hands together happily looking lovingly at your dad, who was the governor.

What is this, some eighteenth century life you're living? Why do you have to marry some guy just because he's rich and smart? Yeah sure, Changbin is great, literally at everything but... You've known him since you were in preschool. Even went to the same prep school together too so you know just how amazing of a guy he is. He's just not your type. He's more of a big brother to you. The problem though, you've always done as you were told. Take up horseback riding even if you were terrified? Yep. Harp even if it made your fingers blister and bleed? Of course. So how could you possibly look your parents in the face and defy them? Your dad looks at you with such a proud expression that you feel like shit for even thinking about going against him.

“Yes.” Is all you can say because the false smile and enthusiasm you give, takes everything out of you.

“That's my princess. You make your mother and I so proud of you. Really, we're so lucky. Isn't that right Grace?” Your dad pats your mother's hand still looking at you and she nods in agreement.

“The luckiest.” She chimes in. “Now make sure not to be late for your piano lessons; your recital is next week.” waving a dismissing hand.

Her large wedding ring and perfectly manicured nails shine in the sunlight that spills through the multiple windows of the conservatory. Removing the white cloth from your lap and setting it onto the table next to your barely eaten lunch, you stand up and leave. The entire conversation replays repetitively in your mind that you don't see your little sister leaving her room and you bump into almost butting heads.

“Shit, I'm sorry sis. I didn't see you. You're not hurt are you?” You fuss over her and she slaps your hands away smiling.

“Jeez will you chill. I'm fine. Where's your head at though?” She questions you, crossing her petite arms over her chest. Her large eyes look up at you and you briefly think back to a few hours ago when you were that carefree. Hopefully she won't share your fate in a few years seeing as she's only four years younger than you.

“Mom and dad just dropped a bomb on me.” Sighing, you lean back against the perfectly decorated wall behind you. “I'm set to marry Seo Changbin.” You finish and your sister's eyes light up.

“Oh my god, no way?” She whispers and covers her mouth. “You're so lucky. I'd give my left ear to marry that man. Have you seen his arms?”

When she giggles you can't help but join in. Just like Changbin, her laugh is infectious. The two of you gossip about boys a little longer in the hallway before you reluctantly make your way to your room to quickly shower and change your clothes before your lessons. Piano lessons were not only important to your mom but even more important to you.

Chris Bang, your piano teacher and the love of your life, secretly for the past two years, makes the lessons worth every second of struggling over the piece you decided to play for your recital. River flows in you by Yiruma has been a favorite of yours since you were really little and because you've heard it so many times you thought it would be easy. It isn't, not even remotely. The increasing tempo is where you seem to struggle and Chris will often tell you “Don't fear a little accelerando baby.”

Seeing his face when you walk in erases all the stress from your body and mind. He's like a hard reset to your mental health. The way his eyes sparkle and even smile along with him, the two dimples perfectly placed on either side of his beautiful mouth and the enveloping scent of smokey vanilla that surrounds you when he pulls you in for a tight hug, it all chases away all the bad and heals you.

“There's my beautiful girl. Gosh, I missed you.” He greets you with open arms that go around your waist when you stroll into him. His lips leave feathery light kisses all over your face making you chuckle softly.

“I missed you too babe.” You happily reply and push his blonde hair back from his brow. In contrast to how heavy your heart felt earlier it feels lightweight now.

His lips find yours turning the sweet embrace into something more intimate. Inside the family library, it's the only space you two are never interrupted. No one, not even staff dare disturb your lessons, not after your mom fired the last person that did so. It was completely uncalled for, the poor guy only came in the room to dust while you were going through the notes and when you messed up your mother blamed him. Now it's a haven for you and Chris. The two of you have spent hours studying each other's body's more times than you've actually studied the music. Thank God that Chris is a good teacher, you're able to show off your progress if or whenever your mom decides to show interest. So when his hands move from your waist and grips your ass you don't stop him.

══════════════•✦♡✦•═════════════

“Well now that that part of the lesson is over, what do you say you show me what else your fingers can do?” Chris suggests playfully still breathing heavily above you with a cocky smirk.

“Oh my gosh,” you giggle and cover your face. “you're such a dork but I love you.”

The moment is blissful and if you could lay like this under him for eternity, you gladly would. Unfortunately though, the large black Steinway grand piano sits waiting for you because if your mom doesn't hear any playing she won't hesitate to barge in. So you two unreluctantly separate and get dressed, hands and lips refusing to stray away from each other for too long.

Sitting on the shiny black surface of the piano's bench, your fingers hover over the keys as you inhale deeply through your nose and then exhale slowly out your mouth. The pads of your fingertips lightly press down on the ivory keys in front of you and begin moving effortlessly. Your eyes close upon hearing the sad yet happy music you create. Due to how many times you've played this piece it's become second nature now but when the crescendo approaches you become more focused and tense up.

“Relax babes, you can do this.” Chris whispers in your ear and you breathe him in.

Your fingers move, gradually picking up speed feeling calm and at ease knowing Chris is behind you and believing in your abilities. The worst is over and the tempo slows, ending with a beautiful climax.

“See baby, I knew you could do it!” Chris cheers coming around from behind you to stand beside the instrument and look at you. “Woah woah what's the matter? What happened y/n, why are you crying?” He gently takes your face in his hands stroking your cheeks with his thumbs wiping away the tears that rapidly fall from your eyes.

With the day's news finally getting to you, you break down and tell him everything. About the arrangement and how you are terrified of disobeying your parents but most of all you tell him that the last thing you want to do is be with someone that isn't him. That thought alone fills you with dread and makes you sick to your stomach. Changbin is a good man but he isn't Chris and you could never love another man the way you love him. You're pulled into his strong arms as he consoles you, the soft singing coming from him soothes you until you're able to calm the sobs that wrack through you.

“It's okay baby girl. Don't be sad. I know that I may not have a lot...” He pauses and scoffs at himself, resting his chin on top of your head, still holding you tight. “Honestly the only thing I have a lot of, is the love that I have for you. So whatever path you decide to take I'll always love you.”

“After all this time I still get amazed at how perfect you are, Christopher.” You tell him, voice slightly muffled against his chest, followed by sniffling as you hold back fresh tears that threaten to spill by his words.

He chuckles and his body shakes lulling you like a newborn. Chris's actions and words only proves your point, how can you love someone other than him? There's no one that could possibly take his place, you know that. What you don't know is how you're going to let your family down and tell them that you won't be marrying Seo Changbin. How do you disappoint your parents in a way that won't entirely shatter their hearts to the point where they just cut you off or abandon you? They could never do that to you… could they? That night you replayed Chris's words in your head so much that you gave yourself a headache. Sitting up in bed, after having tossed and turned for a good three hours you ran through all possible scenarios.

If you chose the easy path and agreed to be with Changbin you were sure how your life would be. Exactly like your mother's life. As a rich wife with a simple, boring, predictable life full of other people who just care about money and social politics. You'd spend your days with other wives, expected to dress and act a certain way all while losing a part of yourself if not all. Choosing Chris however, things would be uncertain. You have no idea what the future could possibly hold for you both. There could be rough terrain along the way but you were certain that you would be happy. That you both would get through whatever life decided to throw at you. As long as love continued to bloom and grow like a well taken care of flower, you two would be okay.

Jumping out of bed you look at your phone and see it's just past 5am but it's now or never. Grabbing a backpack from the closet and emptying it of any forgotten items you shove some clothes and a few important items inside. Your heart races and mixed emotions flood through your chest. Fear, excitement, guilt, nervousness and sadness sit comfortably at the top of the iceberg that is you. You keep moving silently throughout your room though, making sure you've got everything that you need.

“Just in case.” You whisper outloud to yourself. ‘Just in case they don't let me come back.’ That thought sits heavy on your heart but it doesn't derail your plans. You've made up your mind.

You're not going to play it safe by marrying Changbin. You've been playing it safe all your life. The uncertainty of taking a path that not many would travel down is scary. All the ‘what ifs’. If you could take both paths some way you would but that's not possible. It's a risk but for love and for Chris, you'd gladly make this choice again. Glancing around the room one last time, a last minute thought springs to your mind and you walk over to your desk to write your parents and sister and note.

“Mom and Dad, please don't be too upset with me. I'm leaving with Chris. I love him and I just couldn't see myself doing as I'm told this time. I hope you can find it in your hearts to continue to love me just the same. If you allow me to, I'll be back someday soon. Sweet little sister go and get Changbin, yeah? He'd be lucky to have you as a wife instead of me anyway we both know that. I love you three. I won't be far but I also won't change my mind.”

With a satisfied sigh you fold the paper in half and set it on your pillow. Your palm lays flat on the surface and you silently say goodbye to the life you had always known for something grander. Love. As the sunrise casts a golden hue on the horizon, you run towards the woods with nothing but the clothes you're wearing and a backpack slung over your shoulder. The sounds of the wildlife waking up throughout the yellow wood around you sounds so beautiful and it keeps your feet moving. The small house fenced in just past the woods comes to view and you smile breathlessly.

Rapping your knuckles on the white painted wooden door you chew on your bottom lip and wait for Chris to open up. Curly, messy blond hair peeks through the crack in the door when he slowly opens it. Almost in unison when he realizes it's you visiting him this early, his sleepy eyes and the door widens.

“Y/n baby what are you doing here?” his eyes go from your face down to the backpack that you now clutched in your hand and he lets out a small gasp that lights you up. “You really chose me?” His voice sounds so small like he can't believe it.

“Yes, I did. How could I not?” you give him a lopsided grin and wink playfully.

He grabs you in his arms and kisses your lips over and over, pecking them with a huge grin on his face. Setting you down, looking down into your eyes with so much love and longing he tells you that he'll make it his life's mission to make you happy every day and to not only tell you but show you just how much he loves you. You could feel your heart swelling from his words and your emotions bubbling up inside. Didn't he know he made you happy everyday already?

Setting your hand into his and interlocking your fingers you look up at him and sweetly smile. “No matter what storms we encounter, I'll always be there holding my hand out to you. I'll never regret the path I've decided to take at your side. I made a choice for love and that will make all the difference.”

The End.

══════════════•✦♡✦•═════════════

Sidenote: I wanted to end this the same way the poem ended so there won't be a part 2. Just know they lived happily ever after.

Her sister married Binnie and her parents eventually got the stick out of their asses and were cool with her living her best life as Mrs. Y/N Bang lol ♡ if you've never read the poem or listened to the track Road Not Taken from skz's Yellow Wood album I definitely recommend both.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you're down in the dumps about the disheartening lack of prospective romantic partners interested in initiating a long-term relationship with you. your ever-helpful coworker amy decides to give you (and a highly interested would-be suitor) a nudge in the right direction—just not in the way you might expect. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ my second entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter ii. ⤏ this takes place right before chapter two while steven is preparing for his interview, so before he works up the nerve (courtesy of both his agreement with and coertion from marc) to ask you out. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, Amy. What was I even thinking?”

“You were thinking of living a little instead of hermiting away in your flat like you do every conceivable chance you get—you look absolutely stunning, by the way! Tell me how it went!”

You hunkered in on yourself, folding your arms around your torso and pursing your chapped lips. The humid, dusk breeze hurtling through the street tugged at the hem of your dress, the cardigan draped over your shoulders doing little to fend off the early autumn chill. You’d texted her while wrapping up business at the bistro a block over and had walked over to the coffeeshop to clear your head after the entire ordeal and to check in before heading home.

“Horribly,” you said flatly. “I took one of my few vacation days and was subjected to an hour-long lecture on the growing value of cryptocurrencies before being asked if I intended to give up my career once I found a spouse—like I’m just spending the money on uni for funsies.”

“...Oh.” Your coworker’s face creased with equal measure of shame and sympathy. “My flatmate told me he was a decent bloke, save for a couple of rocky breakups the last year or so—I had no idea he was a wanker to boot…and probably at fault for those situations to start with, since that’s the case—but I should have given it more thought before roping you into it. That explains a lot about what little I heard about him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed and leaned against the humming lamppost at your back, “you had no way of knowing how he’d be in person, and you were trying to help me step out of my comfort zone a bit. It was kind of nice to have an excuse to dress up and go out for a bit, if nothing else. He insisted on paying, too, even if it was an underhanded attempt to woo me…so no money was wasted on my part, at least. I was going to buy myself a pint of ice cream on the way home to distract myself from the crushing reality that no one worth the effort could ever find me attractive and want to pursue a meaningful, long-term relationship with me, but now I’m not so sure. I’m exhausted, and I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise for a solid twenty minutes—I just did a whole lot of nodding along and ‘mmhmm’ing.”

“Firstly, you should treat yourself—I’ll even pay for it since you were the one who had to tolerate all that shit, undoubtedly like an angel because I know you and you’re a painfully polite person—and secondly, I’m not going to unpack…all of that statement, but I am going to tell you right now that you are a prize who deserves the best treatment a girl could ask for and shouldn’t have to. You’re worth it, even if you don’t feel like it—don’t try to deny it, I’ve heard all those little self-deprecating comments you’ve made over the months—and I’m sure there’s someone out there just dying for you to grant him a chance at making you the happiest woman alive.”

“I’m sure—he’s liable to just walk around the corner at any moment.” You rolled your eyes, but your expression softened into one of gratitude when you spotted the conviction on the barista’s face. “...Thank you, it helps to hear that occasionally. Maybe one day I’ll believe it, too.”

“Of course. It’ll stick eventually.” Amy opened her arms to offer you a hug, and you accepted it gratefully. Cheek pressed on top of your head, she rubbed and patted your back in a few soothing sweeps before releasing you and stepping back while drawing the shop keys out of her apron with a grin and a lingering gaze toward the main plaza across the street corner. “...But I honestly think you’re a little more oblivious than I thought if you really haven’t noticed.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing as you fiddled with the thin leather strap of your crossbody resting across your chest. Had she changed topics without you realizing?

“It’s a wonder what a little…gentle prodding can do in the long run,” she continued idly, eyes glittering with mirth as she twirled the jangling keyring on her finger and returned her attention to you. “There’s a reason I talked you into all that—well, besides getting you out on the town for an evening, of course. I think primping yourself did you a lot of good—you’re glowing.”

You blinked and opened your mouth to question her further, but approaching footsteps captured your attention due to their familiar scuffling cadence. You turned and spotted Steven’s slumped silhouette emerging into the ambient, watery light casting a cone around the coffee shop’s entrance. He’d already spotted you, evidently, and his face lit up in an infectiously warm smile as you recognized him. You found yourself returning the gesture subconsciously.

“Hello, mate,” Amy chirped, waggling her fingers at him. “How’d the application process go today? Did you pass the assessment?”

“With flyin’ colors!” Steven crooned, his back unfurling as his shoulders pushed back and his chin raised. He came to a stop near you, hands tucked into his pockets as his chest pressed forward against his otherwise gargantuan jacket. “The lady who looked it over seemed shocked that I knew so much, but that just goes to show you—I told ‘em for months that this ol’ noggin’ of mine wasn’t empty!” He knocked his knuckle on his temple with a toothy grin.

“You’ve got a sponge for a brain, darlin’,” you told him with a chuckle, reaching out and squeezing his elbow affectionately. His eyes softened as he refocused on you, his smile smoothing into a closed-lipped one. “I think you could talk circles around all those stuffy professors at the university, honestly—half of them haven’t updated their sources since the nineties. And it’s not your fault that your old manager had her head crammed so far up her ass.”

“Yeah, well,” he responded, color building beneath the high arches of his cheeks and gilding his tawny skin with rose-gold even under the otherwise unflattering fluorescent bulb of the streetlight, “I just like to read, is all. And I haven’t had to deal with her, thankfully—different divisions and all that.”

You shook your head fondly. He certainly didn’t have to remind you of that fact—the countless hours he’d spent in the coffee shop and the bookstore with his aquiline nose buried in books were proof enough of that. “Did you get all the paperwork filled out? It didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Got it all sorted. I, uh—” He cast a furtive glance towards Amy. “—got help when I needed it.”

Ah. Marc likely had to help him fill in the gaps. You often wondered if Marc was the one that got him his job in the gift shop to start with, but…Steven didn’t talk very much about what he was able to remember from the tenuous times he fronted before he met you while Marc was trying to wrap up all of his personal affairs in attempt to flee from his problems.

Steven didn’t go out of his way to advertise their situation to others, as he and Marc were still trying to iron out all of the kinks with their living situation and attending therapy sessions, but you had the feeling that Amy sensed something was remiss with him because of how often she was around him in proximity to you. She hadn’t ever said anything besides the occasionally affectionate, “He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” but you were always able to distract her with a casual, “We’re all a bit strange.”

“That’s good.” Another breeze skated through the street, blowing over your exposed legs and causing you to shiver. You hunkered into your cardigan and glanced up at the pitch black sky. “I’d probably better hit the store and head home. I can hear a hot shower calling my name, and I intend to sleep in after that entire disaster.”

Steven perked up. “After all what, love?”

“Oh.” Heat crept into your cheeks. “I, uh…had a date. It didn’t go so well.”

He blinked, brows inclining upwards for a tick in a surprise that he wasn’t quite able to conceal. “I—oh. I-I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was sort of last minute.” You cleared your throat. “The guy was an ignorant prick anyway. I was lucky I made it out of there with my intellect still intact.”

That managed to draw a chuckle from him, at least, but you couldn’t shake the way his eyes lingered on you, slowly traversing over your silhouette—you felt terribly vulnerable, laid bare under the gentle weight of his troubled umber gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t quite read the expression on Steven’s face—an unusual occurrence, to be certain, as he was an open book to you most of the time—so you weren’t certain what to make of his reaction.

It didn’t help that you were terribly insecure about the situation to start with, given the fact that you would have much rather had Steven as your date instead.

With that desire, however, came an entire Pandora’s box of complicated emotions. Negative past experiences had left you extremely hesitant to initiate romantic connections of any kind. And, despite how much you trusted Steven, you had an extremely difficult time trying to shake off your doubts. The sliver of boldness in you wanted for nothing more than to grab the lapels of his wrinkled, oversized jacket and kiss him breathless to avoid the awkward song and dance of treading that tenuous line between friendship and romance when it came to people who had grown inextricably close as the pair of you had…but the overwhelming majority of your mentality, insecure and timid and wounded, would rather keep him at arm’s length to secure his platonic affection at the very least. If that was all you could ever have of him, you’d take it gladly—but the heart wants what it wants, and you longed for all of him, as selfish as you knew your feelings to be.

He was in a difficult place, trying to rediscover himself and having to reassess his entire worldview, and here you were pining for him like a teenager with a helpless crush on someone far beyond your league. Steven was everything you had ever wanted—so very smart and sweet and sincere—but who were you to think he’d ever be interested in you of all people? When he could have anybody he wanted, far more gorgeous and intelligent and better than you could even dream of being?

A needlessly poetic notion, perhaps, but…you always had been a romantic.

That is why you had never tried your (admittedly poor) luck. You liked Steven, more than anyone else whom you’d ever before met, but…he’d never made a move. He was naturally open with his affection with everyone, amiable to a fault at times, so you couldn’t assume that his behavior indicated any particular favor on your behalf.

Still…you couldn’t bear it to pull yourself away now. He’d become your best friend within a couple of weeks of meeting him, and he was the only one with whom you felt completely safe in this sprawling, suffocating cityscape. You knew without a doubt that you could rely on him for anything—he had proven himself reliable time and again over the last few months, dropping everything when you needed him. You’d give him everything you had in a heartbeat in return—including your heart, although he’d unwittingly taken possession of it long ago.

“I, ah…” Steven cleared his throat, placing his closed fist over his mouth while tipping his head down to look at you through his lashes, “...would you like me to walk you home, love? It’s awfully late for you to be goin’ to the mart by yourself.”

Although you and Steven had fallen into the habit of catching the bus together on the instances that he got stuck taking inventory before he’d gotten fired, given that you both closed up shop about the same time, that routine had fallen by the wayside. He still offered to almost every night, though, oftentimes texting you to check in around closing time (and he’d held you to a promise to let him know when you got home when you refused his offer). You missed your quiet, late night bus rides, honestly, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him by having him make such a long round trip across London.

Tonight, though, with him standing there with those watery, sympathetic puppy-dog eyes, knowing that he understood poor dates better than most (nevermind the fact that he hadn’t mentioned going on any lately, now that you thought about it)…you couldn’t resist him even if you wanted to. Your self-esteem, already dangerously low, had suffered a severe toll tonight, and you needed Steven’s reassurance more than anything (even a scalding shower to scrub your woes away).

“That would be greatly appreciated, darlin’,” you said, smiling wearily. “There’s a store a block away from my apartment complex, so it’s not too far of a walk from the bus stop.”

Steven bobbed his head, and you turned to hug Amy, who patted your back. “Sorry again he turned out to be a wanker,” she said. “Maybe you’ll have better luck on the next one.”

You pulled back and raised a brow at her glittering eyes. “If there even is a ‘next one’,” you chuckled wryly. “I’m just about ready to give up at this point.”

“Bad luck’s bound to turn into good luck eventually,” she said, then turned with her keys. “I’ll see you Monday—have a good weekend.”

“You, too.” You readjusted your purse strap and glanced at Steven, tilting your head towards the other end of the sidewalk. “Shall we?”

“I think so.” He offered you his elbow, and you took it with a quiet sigh of relief. His frame offered a welcome reprieve of a blockade against the wind, and his warmth seeped even through the plethora of loose layers he favored wearing.

Mutual comfortable silence followed your stroll to the bus stop, and you leaned against his arm when you both settled on a bench near the back of the bus when it rumbled through. It didn’t take long for him to readjust in his seat and you straightened on reflex, embarrassed that you’d done it subconsciously without asking him for permission first.

“No, no, love,” he murmured, lifting his arm over your shoulders, “here. Figured this would be more comfortable for you. You’re still shiverin’.”

“Oh.” You bit the inside of your lip, fighting the flutter of your stomach. “Thank you.”

You accepted his embrace, resting your head upon the cradle of his shoulder and sinking into him. His fingers curled lightly around your arm, squeezing absently. You closed your eyes as the tension drained from your body, taking a deep breath, and—in so doing—drew in a lungful of his cologne.

He had no right to smell so damn good.

“What do you need at the mart?” he asked quietly. “So I can help you look.”

“Just some snacks,” you mumbled. “Ice cream, maybe. I have leftovers in the fridge I was going to reheat since he made a comment about what I ordered.”

Steven’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “...He what?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. He insisted on paying, so I guess he was just watching his budget.”

Steven scoffed, and it was one of the only times you’ve ever heard his tone slip into open disdain. “The gall.”

“It’s over now. I consider it a reward for wasting my time, at least.” You turned your head and tucked your nose under his jaw. “I don’t really want to think about it anymore, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” he told you, tugging you closer. “Just let me know if he gives you any trouble, yeah?”

“Oh, I already have him blocked, don’t worry.” You let out a snort... “I don’t think he was particularly impressed, anyway.” …and a sigh. “Can’t really blame him.”

Steven sucked in a breath. “Now why would you go and say a silly thing like that, love?”

It had slipped out, honestly. You’d meant to internalize that lapse of self-deprecation, but you found it hard to conceal your thoughts around Steven. You had no answer for him, so you attempted a hamfisted effort to divert his attention. “I have enough food for you, too, if you’d like to stay. I figure you haven’t had much to eat this evening, and you can crash at my place since it’s so late.”

“...Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly. “So you won’t be alone?”

You laughed under your breath. “I don’t know how you do that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re able to read minds, Steven Grant.”

“No telepathy to be had,” he said mildly, the pad of his thumb beginning to draw circles on your bicep over the chunky knit of your cardigan. “Just…I know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to stay, if you’ll have me.”

You wished you could kiss him. You wished you could get away from him before your heart ended up shattered once again by your own helplessness. “Always.”

The supermarket was just short of empty when you both shuffled in, rubbing your arms to wring the growing chill from your extremities. The pop music from a top-forty station gave the aisles a melancholic quality, and Steven trailed you with a basket as you picked up the handful of necessities that needed restocking. A cursory glance at him on the freezer aisle, tilting his head back and staring up at the fluorescent lights thoughtfully, prompted you to grab a pint of raspberry sorbet instead of your normal go-to flavor of ice cream. If he noticed the change from your usual purchase while the sleepy teenage cashier rang up the handful of groceries, Steven didn’t comment on it. You’d rarely seen him so pensive.

Your apartment was blissfully warm when you let yourself back in, locked the door behind you, and turned the television on. You took the paper sack from Steven (having insisted that he carry it even though it wasn’t that heavy) and tipped your head to the living room. “Make yourself at home. There’s more blankets in the coffee chest. I’m going to put these up and grab a quick shower.”

“You wanted a long one, yeah?” he prompted. “Don’t rush on my account. I know where everythin’ is. I can take care of myself, you know.”

You nodded and turned. You were too tired to quibble with him—you knew he didn’t mind you not playing the perfect host all the time. “Okay. Watch whatever you want. My kitchen’s yours.”

“All right.” His hand grasped your elbow. “I mean it: take your time.”

You flashed him a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, sir.”

You watched the color bloom under his cheeks with more than a little fondness. He wrestled the sack back out of your arms. “I know where all this goes,” he blurted. “Go on, then.”

Maybe it was a little selfish of you, but…letting him take care of you just this once wouldn’t hurt anything, right? You chuckled. “Okay, okay—I’m going.”

You retreated to your bedroom and shut the door. Your shoes came off first, then your cardigan and your dress. Everything else followed shortly thereafter—all of it was tossed into the hamper as you tread silently into the bathroom. Frissons broke out over your bare skin as you stepped onto the cold tile, reaching around the glass divider to start the water so it would warm up while you went ahead and started your bedtime routine.

You took Steven’s advice, although with no small amount of guilt at not entertaining him (in spite of the fact that he was a grown-ass man and could very well occupy himself, as he’d said). You hated being separated from him, even through two measly walls, but the urge to get that other man’s lascivious, if critical, gaze off of you as soon as possible was far stronger at the moment.

You stood under the steaming stream for a long time, listening to the music you’d selected to play from your phone. You washed your hair and body with a certain degree of clinicism, doggedly avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror lest your mood deteriorate even more. His skepticism over your ‘generous’ choice of entree shouldn’t have mattered—he’d ordered a meal that would have made bulking bodybuilders jealous—but the subtle comments he’d sprinkled throughout the meal had taken down the carefully constructed walls surrounding your appearance. You’d worked hard to repress your hangups, dammit, and all it took was one lousy date? When he was just an asshole and didn’t even deserve to get under your skin like that?

You growled under your breath and shut the shower off, ringing out your hair and swiping the extra moisture from your skin before stepping out to towel off. You finished up with your skin care routine and went back into your bedroom to put on your favorite sweatpants and t-shirt, topped with a baggy hoodie. When you reemerged into the living room, Steven was nowhere to be seen, but the opening titles of The Mummy were playing on repeat on the television with the case open on the TV stand.

You stepped into the kitchen, following your nose and ears, and found him standing over the stove reheating the leftover vegan shakshuka you’d experimented with the night before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, lingering in the doorway and fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I was going to.”

“You’re dead on your feet, love,” Steven admonished you lightly, glancing over his shoulder with a small, lopsided grin. “I can handle it. Wouldn’t mind a drink, though.”

You wanted to point out the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fatigued slump of his shoulders, but you refrained in order to save his dignity. “Would you like some tea, or soda, or…?”

“A cuppa would be lovely.”

“Is chai okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You set the electric kettle on (bought just for him, as you preferred iced tea, but you’d never admit that to him because you knew he’d feel guilty about you spending money on him) and pulled the box of tea bags out of the pantry, as well as a pot of honey, for him to fix it how he preferred. You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, as well, and set it out for him. You opted for a bottle of water, pouring it over ice.

“Think it’s ready,” Steven said, and you grabbed a couple of plates for him to ladle portions of the dish onto. You grabbed some cutlery and napkins, as well as your glass, and followed him into the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, setting down the plates on the coffee table before straightening. “Mind if I borrow the loo first?”

“Go ahead,” you told him, sinking down into the couch with a tired groan. He disappeared into the shadows of your room, and you rested your head against the cushion at your back as your eyes drifted shut.

You remained still, listening to the music coming from the TV and to Steven’s movements as he soon came back and stepped into the kitchen. Water poured, clinking of metal on porcelain, socks scuffing on flooring. The cushion next to you dipped and creaked under his weight, and his knuckle brushed your wrist. “Not hungry, love?”

“Just waiting on you.” Truthfully, you didn’t have very much desire to eat, but your stomach was protesting the insufficient sustenance of the salad you’d opted to order instead of the club sandwich with chips you’d wanted. You sat up and pulled the plate into your lap. The inviting smell certainly helped. “I hope it’s okay, I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“Anything you make is mana on earth, love,” Steven assured you. He grabbed the remote and started the movie before sipping his tea tentatively.

“There’s always room for failure,” you responded wryly, but bringing up a mouthful proved that your endeavor had been successful, thankfully. “Oh, thank God. I ended up snacking while I cooked last night and got full before I could try it. It’s okay.”

Steven tried it himself and hummed with pleasure. “It’s more than okay, love.”

“I’m glad.” You turned your attention to the screen and hunkered against the arm of the couch. “...Thank you for all this.”

You felt Steven’s gaze fix itself on your profile. “...You’re welcome.”

The night outside grew darker, and when the both of you finished eating, Steven bullied his way into taking the dishes and washing them while ordering you to stay put. You paused the film in the meantime, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and curling up beneath it. He turned off the lights and took the other end when you offered it. Other than the occasional chuckle, neither of you spoke again until the credits began to roll. By then, you’d grown sleepy. Steven had anchored you into his side once again, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. You’d started to doze off when the rumble of his chest roused you.

“...You know you really shouldn’t say such cruel things about yourself, love. You looked extra gorgeous tonight.”

You swallowed, and in the safety of the apartment’s darkness you let your expression fall. “I know.”

“You really are somethin’ special.” His fingers drummed slowly against your arm. “I mean it. I’m honored to know you. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” you murmured, even if that traitorous, if scarred, part of yourself denied his claim automatically. It wasn’t fair to him, but old habits die hard. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he responded, “you know, as an apology on behalf of all men for that sorry wanker wasting your time.”

You laughed in the midst of a yawn. “It’ll be a story to tell on holidays, if nothing else.”

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You pressed your face into his shirt. “You can take the bed if you want.”

“Now, you know how this debate will end.”

“I do. I still wanted to offer.”

“All right. I will need to shower first, though, if you don’t mind. I still smell like the cleaner they use in the museum.”

You sat up to give him space to stand. The smell of the museum suited him, but you didn’t exactly want to reveal that you’d been discreetly huffing his collar for the last hour. “I don’t. I have your spares in the same drawer.”

“Thank you.” Steven extricated his arm, but after a moment’s hesitation he placed a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him, shocked, and that seemed to be his intention, because despite the outlines of his face matching your flusteredness, he appeared deadly serious. ��You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, poppet,” he whispered. “And you deserve all the happiness in the world, bad dates be damned.”

“I…” You swallowed roughly. “Th-thank you, darlin’.”

His mouth opened as though he’d intended to say more, but hesitation won out in the end. He shook his head and patted your knee before straightening to his feet. “Go ahead and go to bed, I’ll take everything with me in there. You need to sleep as much as you can.”

“All right,” you murmured, watching him go. He fidgeted with his hands all the way of his retreat into the bathroom. You couldn’t breathe until you heard the shower whine to a start. Your heart didn’t stop pounding against your ribs until after he exited, curls damp and pajamas draped over his lean form, told you good night, and shut your bedroom door behind him to give you privacy.

When you woke up the next morning and wandered into the kitchen for something to eat, Steven was waiting for you with two bowls of sorbet ready, and you decided then—much to the distress of your frightful heart—that you were in love.

[lilacmingi]

PRACTICE ROOM KISSES

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Jooyeon x fem reader

Word count: 660

Note: First Jooyeon drabble! I loved his long hair during Hair Cut era aaaaa it was so pretty

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Your boyfriend, Jooyeon, dropped down onto the couch in the practice room with a melodramatic sigh, his head falling into your lap. You let out a snort in response to his theatrics, staring down at him with a fond smile.

"My fingers feel like they're about to fall off." He whined.

"You're weak." Jiseok teased from across the room. "I could play for hours."

"So, you want practice to go over?" Gunil asked, making Jiseok's eyes go wide, his head shaking vehemently.

A chorus of chuckles filled the room in response to his reaction.

"I'm serious. We can stay later if you want." The eldest continued to tease.

Again, Jiseok shook his head.

"Y/n, can you play with my hair?" Jooyeon asked cutely, staring up at you with round eyes.

There was no way you could deny him, firstly because you loved playing with his hair, especially since it had gotten so long, secondly because you couldn't say no to his pleading eyes.

Your fingers threaded themselves through his long tresses, the vibrant magenta that colored the ends for Overload had faded, but that didn't take away from the beauty that was Jooyeon's magnificent mane. You thought he would cut it after Hello World, but he continued growing it and has kept that up for much longer than you would have assumed. In all honesty, you hope he keeps this long hair. It suits him well and you enjoy running your fingers through it.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand around your index finger, letting it fall and slowly undo itself. Jooyeon's eyes closed as you combed through his hair, a blissful sigh escaping his slightly parted lips. Changing tactics, you went from carding your fingers through his hair to braiding a strand of it, listening to the other members talk amongst themselves.

"I was thinking in this next run through of the song, Jungsu could-"

The entire band groaned, cutting off Gunil's sentence before he could even get to the point of it.

"C'mon, Gunil, we're supposed to be taking a break." Seungmin complained.

Hyeongjun nodded in agreement.

The leader pouted, slumping slightly in his seat before heaving a sigh. "You're right."

"Y/n?" Jooyeon called softly, his eyes open and staring up at you.

"Mhm?"

"Can I have a kiss?"

Your eyes went wide at his request.

"In front of them?" You whispered.

"They won't notice."

Flicking your eyes up to the group sitting about the large practice room, you checked to make sure they were all engaged in their own conversations before looking back down at Jooyeon who had an expectant look on his face.

You licked your lips, taking another glance up at the other members before leaning down to kiss your awaiting boyfriend. He hummed immediately upon contact and you could feel him smiling slightly against your lips.

When you tried to pull away, he brought his hand up to the back of your head and halted your actions, pulling you back down to his lips. You had to suppress the small squeak that nearly left you in response to Jooyeon's bold action. He pressed his lips more firmly against yours and began to kiss with more fervor, carding his fingers through your hair.

As much as you would've liked to keep kissing him, you didn't want to draw attention to yourselves, so you pulled away.

"Jooyeon." You scolded in a whisper.

He laughed in that little cackle of his, not ashamed of what he had done at all.

"I'm still not sure if I like seeing those two being all mushy." Seungmin cringed.

"I've learned to ignore it." Hyeongjun murmured, tuning his guitar.

"I think they're cute." Jungsu admitted.

"Not when they're sucking face." Jiseok's expression twisted in distaste.

Your cheeks were set aflame at his words, which made you look down at Jooyeon who had a smugly satisfied smile on his face.

"You said they wouldn't notice."

He gave a shrug. "I lied."

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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[mindless-existence1]

Rottmnt Sick Fics

Donnie x reader

Authors note: This serise came back because I'm hella sick right now and it reminded me of the serise I'm not even going to lie to yall 😭😭😭

Words:917

Masterlist and request page(s)❤️

Leo Sick Fic and Raph Sick Fic

One thing about Donnie is he hates being sick. He hates it with a passion. Everything about it just ruins his day, or even days. Donnie wishes he could turn off sickness in a settings page.

Being sick would make it so he couldn't work on his inventions, couldn't enjoy life, couldn't do anything he wanted, it just all around sucked. Donnie also hated feeling vulnerable, it made his skin crawl.

Most times he had the flu he'd lock himself in his lab and only come out if his food supply ran low (firm believer that he has a bathroom and bed in his lab like it's a self sufficient home). His brothers always had a bet going for when they'd see him again.

That was before Donnie started dating you though. It was a few months after getting together that he got really sick. Like normal he locked himself in his lab but unlike normal someone came knocking at his door.

When you started looking for him he was attempting to work on the invention he start an entire week ago. Normally he'd be done by now and rubbing it in his brothers faces.

But now he's sick and can't focus on something long enough to actually get anything done. It was pissing him off to no extent, he couldn't just sit and do nothing. He needed something to do to take his mind off of the sickness pain.

The terrapin blew his nose for what felt like the 100th time that hour. Donnie put his head in his hands when he heard you knock at his door. Mentally cursing to himself he assumed it was his annoying brothers trying to get a rise out of him.

To his suprise you sweet voice came from behind the large mechanical doors. "Donnie? You in there? The guys said to look for you in here." This caused him to lift his head from his shaky palms, his head pounded as he desperately tried finding the button to open his lab doors.

A loud clicking noise made Donnie flinch but it was immediately washed over by relief when he saw you walking through the door. "Hey Don! Micky told me you were sick so I brought some stuff for you..." You rambled off all the snacks and nedicine you had brought for your boyfriend.

Doonies head hurt far too much for him to hear anything you said, all of it slyshed together in his head. After a moment he seemed to come back to himself, remembering the current task at hand. "Thank you my love it means a lot, but I have an invention I'm making that I can't put off."

The words are slurred from exhaustion, with a soft look on your face you walk closer to the terrapin. Your gentle hands carefully slip his goggles (are they goggles??) off his head. With little resistance his mask comes off next.

"You shouldn't be working right now Don. You should get some really, really good sleep. I'm talking a life changing nap." You smile in triumph when a small chuckle leaves your boyfriends mouth. "I guess I could manage that."

"Alright smarty pants let's get you to bed." It takes you a minute to fully get him on his feet and walking. Another his twin is considered the drama queen you were starting to think Donnie could star on Broadway. Every step he took seems to make him cry out in discomfort.

"I feel like I'm on the sun." Donnies voice is high and whiney as you plop him down on the bell in the corner of his lab. Placing a hand on his bare forehead you realize he's telling the truth. "Babe you're burning up!"

"Let me help you out of your battle shell, it'll help." Donnie just nods in agreement. "How 'bout you tell me what you were working on?" You watch your boyfriends eyes light up at the question. Donnie immediately goes on a rant about whatever new gadget he was making, his voice only slightly slurred from the fever.

While he talks you nod your head every so often, gentle fingers click the release buttons on his purple shell covering. The heavy armor falls off his shoulders, almost hitting the bed before you catch it and let its programing fly it over to its spot on Donnies wall. (Does his shell do that? Or does only Sheldon fly???)

You notice Donnies eyes getting more and more droopy while he talks. "Alright honey time for bed." All Donnie can do as nod in agreement, letting himself fall onto the soft sheets below him. "Join me?" His voice soft and sweet.

"Do you want me to get sick to?" Your voice teasing, you chuckle at the pout that forms on the terrapin's face. "How 'bout I just sit here next to you?" Reluctantly the half asleep man nods his head, the put still evident.

You walk over to the recliner chair that sits across from Donnies bed. It's takes a second to push it over close enough to Donnie for him not to complain.

You take a second to situate yourself comfortably but when you do you can already hear soft snores coming from Donnies sleeping form. "Sweet dreams Don." Your voice soft as you gently take his hand in yours, drifting off to sleep along with him.

[eventinelysplayground]

Have You Always.

It's Vincent's birthday today so happy birthday to the sweet angel artist! Even though I haven't played his route yet I still wanted to write something for today so this is going off his event stories and his appearances in other routes and I apologize if he seems out of character. You asked Vincent what he wanted for his birthday and it leads to an agreement about your future. CW: contains mention of non descriptive nudity and mildly suggestive. WC approx 950.

This is definitely not what you had expected. You had been in the kitchen a few days ago putting away the dishes when Vincent came in and you asked him an innocent enough question.

"Is there anything specific you'd like for your birthday this year?"

"Oh! Well, I'd love it if you would model for me."

"Really? I mean I've modeled for you before but if that's what you really want."

You shrugged your shoulders continuing your task when you felt Vincent's arms wrap around your waist and his head rest on your shoulder.

"I know but... I want to do a nude portrait of you this time."

His voice had a husky edge to it and his warm breath glided over your skin causing you to almost drop the stack of plates you were holding.

"Please."

You slowly nodded in agreement. How could you ever say no to him, or deny him anything when you loved him that much.

You sit beside the huge window in Vincent's room, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over your skin. As Vincent had requested you wore nothing, well not entirely nothing.

"What's this?"

"Just something I thought would make you happy."

"Vincent it's your birthday tomorrow, you're supposed to be the one getting the gifts!"

" But I am getting a gift, now open it."

Opening the box you found a pair of dangling sunflower earrings and you couldn't help but smile.

"Let me help you put them on."

Vincent took the earrings out of the box and gently placed them on your ears letting his fingers trail down the side of your neck.

"Will you wear them for me tomorrow while I paint you?"

Your face was flush and your skin felt like it was on fire.

"Of course."

You don't know exactly how he had managed it but Vincent had gotten all the other residents out of the mansion for a few hours. Though if you had to guess it was probably because you weren't the only one who found it hard to say no to Vincent.

“Is that position ok? If it's not, we can try something else.”

“No, I'm fine. Just a bit self conscious I guess.”

“Why when you're always so beautiful?”

You're certain you're blushing from head to toe now and secretly wonder if Vincent is going to add it into the painting or not. The afternoon goes by surprisingly quickly in a comfortable silence as Vincent is so immersed in his craft. Your thoughts begin to wander though and a sudden question comes to mind, and you spend a few minutes wondering if you should ask, considering how the last big question you asked ended up.

“Vincent?”

“Hmm, oh sorry I'm almost finished but if you need a break or you feel uncomfortable we can-”

“No I'm fine, I have a question though.”

“Oh okay what is it?”

“Why did you want this as your present? I mean we spend most nights together anyways so it doesn't seem like much of a gift.”

“So that I can always have you with me.”

Vincent's words were soft and his always sunny smile took on an edge of wistfulness.

“I don't understand, I’ll always be with you.”

Vincent stopped painting, turning to stare out the window as he rested his palette on his knee.

“You say that but… ever since we got engaged I've been thinking more about how our lifespans are so different.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I know we haven't talked about it before but I find myself thinking about years from now when that time would come and, and I don't really want to lose you. So since I can't ask you to become a vampire for me I thought that maybe if I had a special portrait of you it would help.”

You were shocked, not because of what Vincent was thinking but what he said.

“Why couldn't you ask me?”

Vincent's head snapped from the window to look at you.

“Like you said we've never really talked about it but I've thought about that too.”

“So then, does that mean you would be willing to…”

Despite his best efforts you could hear the excitement building in Vincent's voice.

“I'd want to ask Comte a few questions about it before it happened but, yes I would be. I want to be with you for as long as I can be.”

Now it was Vincent's turn to blush and you smiled at him as he went back to painting. Just as the light started to fade Vincent put down his brush and grinned at you.

“It's finished, do you want to come see it?”

“Of course!”

You walk over to stand beside Vincent and he wraps an arm around your waist. The painting is beautiful, you look radiant and your skin seems to glow while your eyes and the earrings he gave you sparkle.

“It’s beautiful!”

You place a tender kiss to Vincent's cheek.

“Happy Birthday Vincent!”

“Thank you my schatje.”

“I'll have to think of another birthday present for you though since we sort of talked things out.”

“No… but if you really wanted to.”

Vincent's arm leaves your waist and he pulls you into his lap.

“Can I bite you, please?”

“Yes, and I've told you before you don't need to ask me every time.”

“I know but I never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You never could, I promise.”

Vincent's warm lips trail a line of kisses down your neck before he settles in the crook of it and sinks his fangs deep into your soft flesh. Your skin heats up and before long you moan out in pleasure and excitement at what will follow after.

[stringoflights93]

Chapter 3: The City By the Sea

You got bored counting the steps of how far away you were, unable to backtrack and make it back home as if that were even an option, a safe retreating distance even. Useless, stupid thing for your mind to have focused on. It became apparent very fast you were the slowest, the kit of the group in that way though. Nia and Mal apparently never had an excuse to look back before. Despite your pounding feet, aching thigh muscles, and the constant companion of an empty space somewhere beside you making you the most determined to press on.

Walking led to chatting a bit with Nia about her travels, and you walked some more until you crashed from exhaustion, the goal of the city the only thing in your heart, there was no such thing as unable to walk another step.

Days away from the Temple now, Mal seems as cheerful as ever as you near human civilization again. “All right, team. If we make good time today, we can reach Port Parnassus by noon.”

Use of the word team threw you off, and still gave you a lurking suspicion about him, false sense of security still skulking your thoughts. You shake it off and match his tone. “Scholar Vash said the Shard was in the library. If we get it, we’ll be one step closer to rescuing Kade and keeping the Shadow Court gone for good.” If you say it enough times, if you remind yourself it's possible as often as you can, it has a chance of being true. 

“I’ve never been to a city as big as Port Parnassus.” You add quietly as the two only give resounding nods of agreement. “All I can think about is how excited Kade would have been to see it.” You know you sound as blue as your skin tone, and the misery clearly weighed down the company as Mal and Nia exchange a worried look. You're not really lagging behind physically, but you worry you are in other ways and don’t know how to fix it.

Then Nia reaches for your shoulder with a gentle smile. “We can explore the entire Library of Parnassus for him. They’re supposed to have the largest collection of orcish pastoral poetry in the world!”

“That sounds like a threat,” Mal muttered ahead before saying more audibly, “besides! Anyone can see that what Syrum needs is to get lost in a few pints of ale in the port's dockside taverns.”

“But I’ve heard terrible things about those docks. So many criminals and gamblers,” Nia seems truly aghast this was his idea of a good time. You’re honestly only growing more concerned by the hour at the company you’re keeping for the time being honestly.

“Don’t forget the houses of ill repute,” Mal agrees cheerfully. “Smugglers who can get you anything your wicked little heart desires! I once blew five thousand gold in one night at the tabasi tables there. The owner kicked me out because he thought I was scamming him. Then I got in a fight with the card house muscle. Broke my jaw in two places. Good time, gooooood times.” He finishes with a raucous laugh.

You and Nia exchange a look. 

Once upon a time, you would have loved to tag along with Mal to his idea of a good time. A walk on the wild side, some adventure. His one afternoon was more chaotic than anything you’d experienced your entire life being told to get out of Russelby’s bar.

OR BOLAS OR

“I’m game!” You agree, anything to get out of this quicksand feeling holding you down.

“Now you’re talking! I know this great place we can start at. You pay a flat price for all the ale you can drink in ten minutes. Although, now that I think about it, I might be on their blacklist. The details are hazy.” Mal admits.

You laugh at him, trying to ignore the sting of your brother not laughing with you. “We can start easy, but I could definitely use a good drink after so many days on the road.”

“One of us has to be sensible,” Nia’s smile was indulgent. “I thought it was you Syrum, but clearly I was mistaken.”

“Kade would want me to have as grand an adventure as I can so I can tell him all about it when he’s safe.”

“Precisely,” Mal nodded along. “Where we’re headed, an adventure is practically guaranteed.”

OR BOLAS OR

But you find all you want right now is a good story, maybe get lost in it enough you can pretend it’s Kade telling it to you. “The library sounds great. It’ll be like traveling all over the realms while standing in one place. Kade would have loved that. It doesn’t seem right that I get to enjoy them and he doesn’t.”

“When we find a way to free Kade, we’ll be sure to bring him to the library so he can enjoy it too,” Nia gently promised.

You start to smile when you feel something odd. A low vibration coming from your pack! You startle hard enough you’ve leapt off the ground like a snakerabbit. “What, what the-”

Tossing your pack to the ground, a small leather satchel falls out, pulsing and rumbling in its confines. Nia quickly digs through the satchel, pulling out the source of the vibration: the green crystal Vash took from the vault. “It looks like it’s cracking!”

She’s absolutely right, it’s splintering all along its surface, the painfully bright glow coming from inside becoming brighter every moment. “What in the world…” your voice fails you at such new magic, your entire mind shutting down to do anything other than stare.

Mal was very quickly backing away. “Judging by the last magical rock we dealt with, I’d seriously put that down if I were-”

The crystal shatters in Nia’s hands, fragments raining to the ground, where they reform to reveal…

A batcat? Catbat? You’d never seen anything like it before, but the creature has the distinct shape of a cat, with its large, leathery wings indicating what it could also be. Nia’s now having to use both hands to hold the slim little beast. “Mrew?” He, or she, peers up at you.

“Oh my goodness!” Nia squeals in delight, immediately kneeling down to be on its level.

You can’t help the joyful rush that flows through you seeing the beautiful creature and go to do the same, offering your hand out. “Hah, hey there little guy! Did you get trapped in that nasty rock too?” Your heart is already melting for the little fella as he tentatively sniffs your hand and you long to cuddle her close and press him to your heart, promise her it’ll be okay now. 

The kitten mews softly as you scratch behind the ears. “Mroww?” Nuzzling his cheek against your hand, her entire body is rumbling with purrs.

“That’s a good, err, batkitty! We’re not gonna hurt you, no we aren’t,” you croon gently.

“Mrooow,” he says more confidently now.

“I think it likes you Syrum,” Nia giggles, still knelt down and reaching her hand out hopefully for her attention next.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Mal is still several feet away and frowning suspiciously. 

“Can we keep it? Oh please, tell me we can keep it!” Nia begs.

“Well we can’t just abandon it in the woods,” you immediately agree. You’ve always wanted a pet, but the few horsecows and dogpigs that were in your town were already such mouths to feed you and Kade could never seriously consider it. The same problem presents itself now…but you can hardly leave the little guy out here to fend for himself either! “So sure. I say we call him, Xaius.”

The great elven King, and one of Kade’s favorite stories. Sounded pretty gender neutral too until you could figure this gal out. It felt perfect! “Isn’t that right Xaius?” You smile down at the little fella. “Little kikibaba.”

The catbat blinks up at you. “Why would you call me that? My name is Threep.”

You, Nia, and Mal all scream in a grand synchronization as you and Nia leap away from him and Mal launches himself further back still. Definitely him. A rather deep voice for…an animal his size!?  

“You can talk?!” You demand.

“Light’s Grace!” Nia is rubbing her poor heart, but there’s a smile lingering upon her at least. “You’re a nesper, aren’t you?”

“Am I already in my cups? What is going on?” Mal demands.

“Nespers were the beloved advisors of the ancient elves before the Great War. They’re supposed to be extinct!” Nia says in awe.

Threep makes a deep noise of disapproval. “That’s certainly news to me. I’d consider myself very much alive, thank you.”

Nia holds her hands out, splayed on the dirt, and bows reverently before the creature. She shoots you a meaningful look, and with great hesitation, you drop into an awkward bow as well. If it’s what your ancestors would have done…

Mal just watches, arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked.

Nia’s undeterred, speaking reverently to him. “Ancient One, you must have been trapped in that crystal for thousands of years. You must be so confused! So much has happened, let’s see, the elven empire is all but forgotten, the Shadow Court was banished-”

“I've heard everything, little one. I was trapped in that crystal, not asleep.” The shard was green you viciously remind yourself, not black. Kade probably can’t hear you, wherever he is… “Let’s see, if I’ve got this right,” Threep climbs up to perch on Nia’s shoulder, then clears his throat. “Collect the Onyx Shards, do the ritual, banish the ancient evil.’ Yes, yes, sounds lovely. But might we spare some time for a snack, first?”

You can’t help but laugh in delight for the little guy. Words of wisdom indeed. “Sure, you can have some of my rations. It isn’t much, but you might like it.” You fish a few dried strips of venison from your pack.

Threep makes a deep mrroow of pleasure. “I mean, ahem, that smells delicious.” He says with dignity. You dangle the venison before Threep, and he pulls it down between two tiny paws. “Mmm, scrumptious! Much appreciated! Serum, was it?”

“Sigh-rum,” you politely correct. 

“Hold up,” Mal came back forward and glowered down at the new little guy. “We can’t keep this thing around. We don’t know how big it’s going to get. At a certain point, we’ll start looking like food. And I am not getting eaten by some mangy cat-bat.”

Not an animal lover then, why were you keeping this guy around again?

Threep made a deep hissing noise of displeasure, his voice raspy, but you notice his claws aren’t digging into Nia’s shoulder in the slightest as he glowers at Mal. “I beg your pardon! That term is remarkably offensive!”

…you aren’t entirely sure if he means mangy, or cat-bat though…

“We aren’t leaving him!” Nia quickly throws her hand up to shield him in defense. “The nespers and elves lived together and cared for one another for centuries. They aren’t meant to live in the wild.”

Threep preens, licking his paw and then rubbing it behind his ear. “It’s true. We’re pampered little things.” You don’t bother to hide a chuckle at his adorable little showboating.

“You’re a conspicuous little thing is what you are,” Mal says flatly. “We don’t need the extra attention lugging him along will bring.”

“I can keep him inside my pack and no one will be the wiser,” Nia says primly. “It’ll be fine, I promise!”

“You’re killing me Priestess,” Mal’s scowl is switching alternately between three equally large pleading eyes. “Why do you want to keep him so much really?”

“Because he’s, helpful,” you say promptly. “The elves surely kept nespers around for good reason. You’ll help us out, won’t you Threep?” You grin down at him.

“It is my solemn duty and my distinct pleasure to offer aid where I can,” he readily agreed, a previously unheard dignity coming into his voice.

Mal is clearly not impressed. “I’m not sure how much help a defenseless little pup is going to be when we’re up against the Shadow Court.”

“Defenseless? Ha!” Threep preened. “Never underestimate a nesper’s wisdom and impeccable ability to judge character.”

“Wow, and so modest too,” Mal said with a straight face.

“I mean, he’s also adorable,” you add quickly with a meaningful look at Nia. “Just look how precious he is! That little face, those little paws, those big round eyes! We’d be heartless to just leave him!”

“I am rather adorable, aren’t I?” Threep began purring and rubbing himself in circles around Nia’s neck like a very furry scarf come to life. 

When Mal moves closer, his back arches instinctively, tail staying low across Nia’s arm.

“Ugh, spoken like a true con artist,” Mal huffed.

“Takes one to know one,” you chuckle.

“Fine, but when you wake up in the middle of the night and find the adorable bat-kitty gnawing on your face, don’t come crying to me kit.” Mal rolls his eyes, but finally strolls off back to the path. You and Nia high-five in triumph and hurry after. You only pause for a moment to bend down and pick up the tiny leather satchel Threep’s rock had been trapped in. Taking a deep breath, you carefully take out the Onyx shard still wrapped in your shirt, and slip it inside, knotting the cord tight. 

Marching on, and on, and on, there’s finally some change. A slight tang in the air you can’t hope to identify. You do finally reach the gates of Port Parnassus. With the sun hot overhead, you pass through the city walls of heavy stone.

The market place is stunning and so eerily familiar, and so new all at once, it gives you at least five new emotions to process. The smell is like nothing you could have imagined, the salt teaming in the air with every breath on the wind mingled with strange smells that made your stomach snarl with interest. People speak in a familiar tongue hawking their wares on worn but loved stalls, but some of their goods are like something from another realm. The hint of fish and strong nets were so comforting it brought tears to your eyes, you wanted to go and hear their stories. The fruits and other assorted meats, the garb and fashion would have taken a good explanation or two for you to wrap your head around.

“There’s so much, everything,” you feel so small, your voice carried off by the wind and more people in one crammed street than you’ve ever identified in your life.

Everywhere you look, humans, orcs, and even a few elves mill through cobbled avenues shaded by colorful awnings. Sandy-colored buildings taller than any Riverbend loom over the streets. Laundry, festive lanterns, fresh fish, and more hang between them.

“So, what should we do first,” Mal places a gentle hand on your shoulder and spreads his arm wide, ready to guide you wherever your heart desires. The turnabout of seeing this side of him in his element is a strange comfort in a strange land.

“The ocean,” you say without hesitation. You haven’t yet stopped taking deep gulps of the air for the new, strange taste on your tongue. You’ve heard tales alone about the deep expanse of the water and can’t imagine their bottomless depths in comparison to the rivers you’ve played in all your life. ”That salt in the air, it’s coming from there, right?” You find yourself almost eager to engage with Mal yet again.

“Have I got a treat for you, kit.” Mal gives you a friendly shake. “Keep up, and don’t get lost in the market.” He leads you through the crowds to the docks, where he ushers you onto a rickety wooden platform. He sweeps his hand toward the glittering waters taking up the entire horizon. “There you have it. The Cartesian Sea, in all its glory.”

Hundreds of boats of all shapes and sizes bob in the crystal blue harbor as seagullrats call out overhead. Farther out, you can’t even tell where the sea ends and the sky begins.

“It’s, it’s enormous!” You can’t even see the bottom here from where you’re peering over the side. Anything could be lurking about…the mysteries that these waters must hold…”and so beautiful…” you murmur, bending down onto your knees to scoop your fingers across.

It’s probably ridiculous, it’s just more water, but you don’t care. Traveling across the earth had been one thing. This massive expanse of endless sea was truly nothing you’d ever seen before. You take a deep breath of briny air, letting it refresh you. When you look over at Mal, he’s watching you with an odd smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says hastily. “Just, been a while since I’ve seen someone so sincerely impressed with an ocean view. It’s kind of nice,” he shrugs.

“I’m surprised you didn’t claim you set this all up just for me, Mal the Magnificent,” you’re growing more in finding him easy to tease, as he sighs deeply and fights off a smile.

“And what would you say if I did?” He chuckles.

OR BOLAS OR

“I’d say, thank you,” you admit with a small grin. 

He chuckles again. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome, except all I did was bring you out to the prettiest part of the city on a good day.”

“Oh really?” You smirk, sitting up from the water to  cross your arms. “You brought me to the prettiest part of the city? And what made you do that?”

He immediately appeared to be getting some sort of sunburn if the rapid red coloring his face was supposed to mean something. It was hard to chalk it up to anything else…except Mal’s deeply tanned skin likely didn’t burn easy. “I, uh, I mean, I just, I thought you’d like it, that’s all.” He composes himself rather quickly like it never happened, crossing his arms. “Don’t read anything into it.”

“Oh of course not,” you play along.

Grinning, you turn back to the sea. The vivid orange of the sun ripples in the water's reflection as it starts to set. Streaked clouds in pinks and violets dance through the sky. 

OR BOLAS OR

“Oh, I’d say you’re a liar,” you say at once with a laugh. It’s become quite the good source of entertainment to trade barbs with him. “Let me guess, you arranged for all those boats to be in the harbor the same way you arranged for that racoon to run off with my breakfast.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be charming here,” Mal readily smirks back.

“I must be immune to it,” you snort.

“Well, you’d be the first,” Mal rolls his eyes.

“Second,” Nia reminds.

A tiny voice pipes up from inside Nia’s Satchel, “third!”

The two of you laugh and share a long smile. Grinning, you turn back to the sea. The vivid orange of the sun ripples in the water's reflection as it starts to set. Streaked clouds in pinks and violets dance through the sky. 

‘Don’t worry Kade,’ you can’t stop the pain from making a familiar return as you fight the urge to sink back to your knees. ‘I’ll make sure you see this too, someday.’

Nia leans into the cool, salty breeze with a calm smile on her face. “This is just the reminder I needed that there’s still beauty in the world. The Light hasn’t forgotten us.”

Her heart is admirable, you can feel the love in her words radiating off of her, but it’s exactly that which makes you draw away and feel whatever camaraderie you’d been building begin to loosen again. What Light would take away your brother and still claim to care?

“Well, the Light is fading,” Mal snorts, breaking you both back. “So, I suggest we get moving. Hey! Alfonso!” He hopes down from the platform and waves toward a mustachioed man running a fish stall. 

His dark brown skin is common around here, his thick curly hair is held down by a sweaty brown bit of cloth that matches his tan coveralls that smell very strongly of fish, chunks of it even making hints along the crease. His tone is jovial as he nods. “Mal Volari. I thought I told you never to show your face at my stall again.”

“And I thought I told you you’d miss me too much. You got any of the Purple Parnassians? I’m trying to show my friends here a good time.” He gestures back at you both, and it does occur what a pair you two really did make in this crowd.

You can’t help but startle at his casual use of the word friend too. So few people had ever called you friend before…none, come to think of it…

“Just got a fresh batch this afternoon. You’re lucky, they’re in season,” Alfonso rummages through his crates and unearths a tray of violet-colored oysters nestled in ice, their shells sparkling like crystals. “I don’t suppose this devil warned you about these, did he?”

“What’s there to be warned about?” You ask hesitantly.

“They look pretty and delicate, but they’re notoriously spicy. Some folks call them the ‘Tonguemelters.’” Alfonso chuckles.

“That doesn’t sound delicious at all, I think I’ll pass,” Nia takes a hesitant step back.

“Hang on, Priestess,” Mal tries to gently sweep her back forward. “You haven’t heard the best part yet. They’ll turn your mouth purple!”

OR BOLAS OR

“Intriguing,” you admit, “I’ll give it a try.” You pick up a shell and raise it toward Mal. “To new adventures.”

“I’ll toast to that,” he meets your eyes as he clacks the shells together. You slurp them down at the same time.

“Tastes like a regular oyster to me,” you say in surprise, then there’s a tickle and you hack a painful cough as what feels like liquid fire blazes through your mouth all the way down to your stomach. “Ahhh, it burns,” you try and choke, shaking your head madly and honestly tempted to scrape your stomach across the ground to try and alleviate the pain.

Blinking back tears, you look over to see Mal grinning and wolfing down his third Toungmelter. “It’s an acquired taste. You’re hanging in there great for a first timer,” he even gives you a thumbs up as he reaches for a fourth.

Alfonso hands you a water skin, and you chug it down as quickly as you can. You rasp out a laugh when you notice Mal’s mouth is a vivid purple. “You look like you’ve been kissing a squid.”

“You’re one to talk, Kit,” Mal smirks.

OR BOLAS OR

“That sounds awful. I shall pass to,” you say, unwilling to get the slightest bit sick and risk whatever precious little food you have.

Mal shrugs and scoops up a shell. “Suit yourselves. More for me.” He slurps down the Tongeumelter and props both hands on his hips. “Ahh, that’s the stuff. I’ve missed that.”

“You can really eat them? Just like that?” Nia askes in astonishment. 

“What can I say? I’m a man of danger and mystery,” Mal’s grin is slowly becoming familiar, a joking affair to the world.

“More like a man who’s burned away all his taste buds!” Alfonso scoffs behind his stall. He hands him a waterskin, which Mal chugs down. When he wipes his mouth, you notice it’s now a vivid purple.

“Nice look Mal,” you chuckle. “You look like you’ve been kissing a squid.”

“I’ve kissed stranger things,” he gives you a wink.

There’s a strange mmrrmphhrrr coming from Nia’s bag.

“Is your bag, mumbling?” Alfonso begins leaning out of his stall in concern. 

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s just my stomach,” Nia gracefully lies.

“Do you have any anchovies we could take with us? The priestess can’t get enough of them,” you smoothly agree.

“Urkh, yeah, I, love those little fish, with their slimy skin, and their dead empty eyes, so, soulless and cold…” she trails off, pretty much ruining whatever she’d started.

“I’ll, wrap some up for you?” Alfonso can only manage it as a question as he stares perplexedly from her, to you, to Mal. When he’s met with silence, the shopkeeper does as he said and wraps up a package of slimy anchovies, and you gratefully take it and wander back into the city.

“This must be what the Trade Bazaar back at Whitetower is like!” Nia says in pure wonderment. “I’ve never seen so many, so many things in one place before!” 

You nod in silent, awed agreement, still taking it all in yourself as you pass stall after stall of goods: beaded jewelry, exotic fruits, pottery and cookware, skewers of charred strange meat. “Things is right. I don’t even know what half of this stuff is.”

With a flourish, Mal gestures to a pinch-faced woman guarding a stall full of feathery contraptions. “You’ve never had need for a feather duster made from viperlark feathers? What a simple life you two have led.”

“Town clothes, the finest Parnassian silk and tanned leather,” the elder woman agrees brightly. “Tailored while you wait! Come and try them on! See something you like, friend? You look like you could use some new gear?” She cajoles, staring at you.

The outfit she unearths is soft and sumptuous as she sets it in your arms. You admire the flowing silks and soft leather buckles. It’s so elegant…it would make you look as if you blended into this place with no problems… you look down at your miserable excuse for clothes. You look like a street urchin in rags from your rough go of it so far…

But you ultimately hand her back her wares with a sigh of regret. You can’t bring yourself to spend your measly amount of coins on something so, frivolous. You need to look and see if you can find a new bow and some decent arrows around this place instead. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t really think it’s for me.” 

“Suit yourself,” she nods, “but come back soon, will ya? I’m getting new pieces in all the time.”

“Oh Syrum, are you sure,” Nia frowns. You look down at the grubby, disgusting clothes you’d been traveling in since Riverbend. Her dress has held up remarkably well, must have been made from good strong material despite its adorable color, and Mal seems no worse for wear.

 Your clothing however, had always been thatched and sewn and replaced every few months by the seamstress’s daughters after you brought them a dozen fowljays. The days of travel had already put wear and tear into the shirt and breeches long since needing a replacement even before the Temple of Ellarha mishap.

Giving them up though makes a burn pass through your throat…but you don’t let yourself dwell on it. You’re not giving up your home for some clothes, you scold yourself for being ridiculous. “Have you anything more, comely?” You ask instead. 

The stall owner nods and rummages through underneath for a moment before coming up with something more like you’re wearing now. You smile and haggle on the price for only a moment, it's still far more coin than you’d usually spare, but still but a drop as you step inside her hut. 

You refuse to look back as you leave the old clothes in there. Perhaps she’d burn the old rags, or make use of the material. It’s no concern of yours. 

As you continue through the market, you notice Mal glancing around uneasily now. 

“Something the matter?” You prompt.

“When you’re in this business long enough kit, you get a sixth sense for when you’re in trouble And right now? We’re being watched.” He agrees tersely.

“By who?” It takes all your willpower not to gasp and look wildly around.

“Not sure yet, but I’ve seen at least a half-dozen people glancing our way, guards mostly, but a few merchants too,” Mal says, head on a swivel, but it looks so natural like he’s merely scouting the stalls.

“Why would they be watching us?” You ask miserably. The last thing you need is more trouble, and you haven’t done anything wrong to these people. Was it you?

“You don’t think, it has to do with the Shards? With the Shadow Court?” Nia asks urgently.

“I don’t know, but we need to keep our eyes open and our wits sh-”

But before he can finish, you collide with an armored figure striding the other way.

It’s an elf.

An actual, real life elf. Right in front of you, no mirror in sight. 

He stands as tall as Mal, in gleaming silver, intricate armor and red velvet cloth. His skin is a lighter shade of blue than yours, but his hair is the same dark black hanging loosely about him. His ears are longer than yours as well, pointing prominently out of the side of his head. There’s two swords strapped to his back.

Your mouth is hanging open.

The grim looking elf shoves you with a sneer. You eye the weapons strapped to his back warily, all enthusiasm forgotten as you waver on the spot of how to respond.

But you step aside, letting the elf pass you as you brush yourself off with a scowl. You glare daggers at his retreating form. “Haughty jerk,” you mutter, equal parts stung and furious. At this rate it felt as if the universe were taunting you with so many elvish things back to back, and not a single one of them even felt good.

“Ignore him, he’s not worth the effort,” Mal’s eyes have already skimmed on.

“Definitely not, he’s radiating powerful magical energy,” Nia agrees, staring after him curiously though.

OR BOLAS OR

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You snap on pure instinct, hands balling into fists.

The elf’s dark eyes burn straight through you. He takes a menacing step forward, keeping his voice low. “I’m not the one crashing blindly into strangers.”

His voice is as elegant as everything else about him. Refined, stronger even than Nia’s somehow in commanding tone. You’ve never heard anything like the power behind his voice.

It’s infuriating all of a sudden, what the universe keeps dumping on you. “You sure about that? Because there are about twenty vendors who’d probably say otherwise,” you sneer.

“You’re drawing attention to me, which I don’t like. Back. Off. Now.” He’s towering over you, and whatever measly pride you were trying to hold onto is quickly withering.

“Listen buddy, I don’t know who you are or what your deal is, but I don’t take kindly to folks talking to my friend that way,” Mal’s shouldering himself between you. This is truly the most bizarre day of your life. “We gonna have a problem?”

The elf sizes Mal up as if genuinely considering reaching for his sword, amused as a predator eyeing its prey, when Nia springs forward.

“We beg your pardon, kind sir! My companions here meant no offense!” Her hands are held up in a gentle, pleading way like a sweet, naive girl once more. She seems so small in comparison like one strong gust of wind could blow her away. “Please forgive them and let us go on our way.”

“You two should listen to your friend there. She speaks sense,” the elf stalks away, and you and Mal turn to Nia.

“Why did you suck up to him?” You ask in disgust…but you’re still watching him depart too. Three hells, that had been your first ever elf you’d met, and that’s how it went?!

“Yeah, I’m like, ninety percent sure I could’ve taken that guy,” Mal is sizing her up as if just seeing her for the first time. She stares him down. “Okay, eighty.” He concedes. She keeps staring. “Fine, forty, but I would’ve gotten a good punch in!”

“You don’t understand. That elf was radiating magical energy, powerful energy. He wasn't to be trifled with,” she shakes her head furiously to be understood.

“We should probably get down to business anyways, right?” You sigh, but agree to let it go with one more longing look to where he’s long gone. “Nia, where’d you say the library-”

A shabbily dressed child comes running up to Nia and takes her hand, blinking away tears. She has tangled brown hair and more dirt on her face than any natural coloring. “Excuse me miss, I’m lost and scared! Can you help me find my mommy?” She pleads.

“Oh of course darling!” Nia keeps her hand tight and bends down to look into her eyes. “Everything will be alright!” She leans over, giving her a hug.

“Nia, wait, don’t-”

But once again, Mal’s warning comes a moment too late. Before he can finish, the girl grabs Nia’s coin purse and springs off with it.

“Hey!” Nia looks more startled than anything as she looks at the empty space on her hip. “That won’t help you find your parents' little girl!”

“She’s a pitpocket Nia,” you scowl, watching her take off into the crowds in mingled fury, and pity. You’d been the homeless child in your village and you'd never resorted to stealing…but only because of the kindness of your neighbors. This bustling place hadn’t even batted an eye at Nia’s shouts.

“But she, I, oh,” she trails off miserably in defeat. “I don’t think I like this city anymore,” she sighs.

“Is there someone we need to call? A constable or a guard? Someone to help get it back?” You ask of Mal.

“No one’s going to care about a pickpocket,” Mal scoffs. “If you want your purse back, we’ll have to get it ourselves.”

“You want to chase her down?” You ask in pure shock.

“Want to? No, not particularly. But I also don’t want to look at the priestess' big sad eyes while she’s pouting all afternoon,” Mal huffs.

There’s more to it than that, you know it at once. Maybe he knows as well as you do that kid needs the money more than you. Maybe Mal can feel it, same as in your bones, how wrong it would feel to go chasing after a child while you tower over them and snatch the money back away as she cries in terror.

But the hard truth was, you needed that money too. Nia had more in that one satchel than you’d ever wrap your head around. That thirty gold you and Kade were once promised would have been a drop to their traveling money.

You take a deep breath and clutch your satchel bag tight in regret at what you were about to do, but you told yourself to get over it and make a decision now. This was only the first in a long, hard road of decisions you were going to have to make. “Let’s go.”

The three of you take off, sprinting through the market after the child. “Get back here you little twerp!” Mal shouts full blown now, easily taking the lead.

“Slowpokes!” Her faint voice travels to you on the wind alone with a laugh. She’s sprinted straight into a thick crowd of shoppers, her small form vanishing from view the moment you’d caught sight of her.

“Out of the way! MOVEMOVE!” You order, trying to channel some level of authority into your voice.

It’s surprisingly effective, people part with gasps and exclamations of surprise, many dropping their wares as you speed past.

“Haha, you’re scarier than a rampaging owlbear,” Mal congratulates, having had to fall back and run beside you in the thick throng of people.

You grunt without pleasure as the child is just up ahead, glowering over her shoulder at you. “Leave me alone!”

“We just want my coinpurse back!” Nia pleads, keeping up the rear fairly well even if she was having to hike up her dress not to trip on it.

The girl puts on a burst of speed, sliding nimbly under a moving oxcart carrying a huge load of hay that moves into your path.

Your leath frame weaves right through it, between oxen and cart right over the yolk like a brisk wind. You dart through, eyes never leaving the child.

You hear Nia gasp in surprise and say something about almost there, but she’s starting to fall behind. Mal had the agility to dart around through the crowd without trouble and was still right in step with you as you run around a corner, and see the child disappear into a narrow alley with a single red door. Mal throws up a hand, and you and Nia skid to a stop.

“Hang on, this is about to get tricky,” Mal’s voice is suddenly soft and weary, not even winded while you brush your hair aside, barely winded, though Nia is red in the face and panting in distress.

A hulking figure guards the door, a rusty trident propped on his shoulder. He’s in full combat gear, shoulder grieves and a helmet, as intimidating as you’ve ever seen anyone be.

“Um, so, I dunno about you guys, but impalement by rusty trident isn’t really how I wanna go,” you admit.

Mal looks as displeased as you’ve ever seen him and says, “I got this.” With a bone-weary sigh, he walks over to the guard.

“I don’t know who you are, friend,” the guard speaks like he really didn’t care and his fingers twitched eagerly, “but you’ve got three seconds to turn around before I-”

Mal removes a glove, revealing a tattoo on the inside of his wrist, a pair of crossed daggers in a crimson diamond, framed by six blood drops. 

“Oh!” The guard's tone changes at once, straightening up and all but saluting him. “I’m so sorry, Reaper. I didn’t realize who you were. Come on in.” He hastily steps aside and opens the door in one motion with practiced ease.

You shoot Nia a confused glance, and she shrugs. Mal waves to you impatiently, and you both follow him in.

The three of you step into an old abandoned temple packed with people, most of them children. It’s not unclean, the hay looks fresh, there’s a crackling fire across the room and the beautiful stained glass windows are shining with light. Still, the children are as filthy as you’ve ever seen, and while some of them are playing and smiling, all of them have a lean, hungry look to their physique. Some are asleep in the hay, others sit at tables, sorting piles of loot: coin purses, rings, even a pair of spectacles. 

“Oh my, are these all, criminals?” Nia asks wearily, placing a hand up to the broach on her neck and looking very small. 

Neither of you answer the truth. An older man in a robe approaches you. Mal shows him his tattoo, and the man bows his head. He’s got flowing white hair and mulberry robes embroidered with fine gold lace. His smile is welcoming, his eyes cold. “Well, well. A Whitetower Reaper. To what do we owe the honor?”

“Cut the pleasantries, Theifmaster,” Mal’s tone is cold, and cordial. You haven’t actually heard that tone from him yet. It makes him sound far more intimidating than any of his posturing ever had. “One of your brats pickpocketed a friend of mine.”

“My deepest apologies, she did not know” the man presses both hands to his heart in clear regret. His smile seems almost mocking now. You hazard a wild guess it’s because Mal’s traveling with someone who could let themselves get pickpocketed. “Tinara. Return the goods.” He says in a simple, gentle commanding voice.

“Fine,” the girl appears out of the shadows at his elbow with an angry huff. She grudgingly shoves Nia’s coinpurse back at her, then scurries off to join some friends.  

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Nia’s holding it with regret radiating off of her. “What’s happening here? What is this place?”

“We’re in some kind of crime den priestess,” you softly hiss in her ear. “Maybe better not to ask questions?”

She doesn’t turn to meet your eyes. “But, the children? What are they doing here?”

OR BOLAS OR

“Yeah Mal, what is this place?” You ask in queasy unease, your mind just not willing to form the answer unless it’s spelled out.

“It’s a Thieves Guild outpost,” he sounds, sad, but says it with familiarity. “A shabby one too, if you ask me. If these kids were worth their salt, you’d never have noticed your coinpurse was missing,” he even chuckles a bit at the end.

A story you’d heard from travels tugs vaguely at your mind. “Hang on, there really is a kingdom-wide Thieves Guild? I thought it was a myth?” 

“Well, yeah. That’s what they want you to think,” Mal chuckles now, but you can hear how hollow it is, with some strange mingled pride. 

“But the children-” Nia insists. 

“They’re being trained up and put to work,” he shrugs. “Where do you think pickpockets come from?”

“That’s terrible!” Nia shrikes, backing towards the door as if to flee his words. 

“Terrible?” He gives her a dry look and a raised brow. “These are orphans, Priestess. Kids from the dregs. The thief master here puts a roof over their heads, gives them three meals a day, and keeps them safe from brigands and kidnappers. What he’s doing here is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for ‘em.”

“He’s training them to be thieves! Criminals!” Nia snaps back, that fire you’d only briefly seen in her once before rearing its head now.

Mal’s eyebrow remains unmoved. “There’s a lot of worse things they could be than criminals. Try hungry. Or dead.”

You can’t help but agree with Mal as you remember the cold nights you’d gone without food when the harvest had been to low to feed you and Kade. You’d learned to scavenge and hunt at a very early age while he’d still been practicing his alphabet. “Sorry Nia, I agree with Mal on this. The real worlds not an easy place for everyone. Sometimes you have to make hard choices to survive.” You eye that purse in her hand she was clutching in a death grip now, though you were sure she had half a mind to fling it on the ground as an offering to pay for these kids or something.

“These kids steal, but it keeps them from starving,” you gentle your voice to try and make her really hear you, “or worse. That’s what matters.”

“It’s not a pretty truth,” Mal firmly agrees, “but it’s a truth all the same. That world you wanted to see, Priestess? A lot of it looks like this when you get to the underbelly.”

“I, hadn’t considered that,” she agrees wearily. “I don’t agree with teaching children to steal, but, I can understand your point of view.” 

Your eyes burn as you look around again, and wonder what Kade would have to say about this place.

“Now then,” Mal breaks into your thoughts, as usual now. “We’ve got your coinpurse back. Can we get out of here?” He does seem anxious to leave. 

OR BOLAS OR

“Mal, this is wrong!” You side with Nia, unable to wrap your head around what he’s so easily saying. “I know life in the city is complicated, but there has to be a better way than turning children into thieves. It just feels, wrong.” You had never resorted to it, you couldn’t imagine the desperation.

“Exactly,” Nia stands firm. “These children deserve better than to grow up like this and be branded criminals their entire lives.”

“Yeah, well, when you two idealists figure out that better way, you let me know,” he scoffs. “I’ll be over here in the real world. Now then, we’ve got your coinpurse back. Can we get out of here?” He does seem anxious to leave. He’s already turning to go, and as you follow, Nia kneels down and hands the girl who robbed her a small engraved talisman. 

“Remember child, whenever you need help, the Temple of Light is there,” she says it so sweetly, still devout in this mystical Light of hers even after seeing this.

The girl stares at it skeptically, then pockets it without a word.

You all leave the guild and head back into the market, feeling newly shaken. Nia walks in silent contemplation, while you keep pace with Mal.

“So, your tattoo got you in?” You ask hesitantly. “Does that mean you’re part of the Thieves Guild?”

“I was,” he agrees casually. “A while ago, not any more.”

“They call you a Reaper, that sounds ominous?”  It had to be some kind of high ranking status among the organization, or possibly a title he’d earned for stealing something serious. Or doing something to get him kicked out? Was there some kind of no kill thieves code? Reaper, the word echoed ominously in the back of your head as you’re once again reminded how little you know of your guide at this revelation that makes all to much sense. 

Mal takes a deep breath, an unusually pained look on his face. “Look Syrum, I’ll help you get these Shards. I’ll help you get your brother back. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Your heart leaps at this turnabout from him, but you can’t even bask in this happiness for a moment as he continues gravely. “I’m just going to ask two things in return, one, I get first pick of all treasure. Two, don’t ask about my past.”

He sounds so firm and cold. You don’t risk tempting him into a change of mind. “Understood.”

He reaches out, gently patting your shoulder. “Knew you would. Now come on, we’ve got a library to get to.”

It’s a quiet, peaceful moment that for once doesn’t linger with uneasiness as you come to an understanding with each other.

Nothing more eventful happens until you come across a smith who does have a fine bow for an acceptable price. Nia purchases it for you, mercifully as you hadn’t the coin, and she waves off your thanks, still toying with the drawstring of her bag. You know it’s not really from nerves of being stolen again.

You test the weight and pull taught at the new string as Nia leads your group through the streets back to the main thoroughfare. You turn a corner, finding yourself in the shadow of the Parnassian Colossus. “According to Vash’s map, the library should be right, here,” she says, her brightness dimmed completely since you’d arrived in town.

Perhaps because there was no library, just an empty space dotted with makeshift tents. Figures trudge between the shanties, staring at the ground with hollow eyes.

“Wow, library must have bored itself to death,” Mal snorts.

“Bah,” a local spats at him, his voice low and gravelly. Whether from disuse, yelling, or naturally so, you couldn’t guess. “Naive tourists. Don’t even know what happened.” His curly black hair is only a shade darker than his skin. His clothes are grimy, eyes unkind watching you from the brim of his crumpled stetson hat.

“I beg your pardon?” Nia asked politely. 

“Look, I can see you’re not from around here,” he eyes her with even greater dislike than you, “so lemme give you some advice. This ain’t a tourist attraction, so you’d best scram.”

You step forward without hesitation to put yourself between Nia and this man. That’s your naive priestess as far as you're concerned now. “This ‘naive’ tourist is the youngest person ever to ascend to the full rank of priestess in the Temple of Light. Whether you follow the Light or not, she deserves some respect.”

Nia places a gentle hand on your shoulder and steps up beside you. “My friends and I have come to Parnassus in search of its library. We’d appreciate if you helped us find our way, Light willing,” she says as sweetly as ever. Somehow knowing it isn’t an act makes her all the stranger to you.

“Hhmph,” he grunts, face unchanging in lines. “The Light hasn’t graced the Port of Parnassus in some time. Don’t know why it would start now.” He leans closer, studying Nia like a curious antique in the marketplace. She holds his gaze, chin lifted, and you see some grudging respect enter his expression. “But, I suppose I appreciate the effort, Priestess. Not that it’ll get your library back. A band of orcs raided the town a few years back. Mean ones, vicious.” His smile is matching. “They plundered the whole damn library and burned it right to the ground. Took the loot back to their damn floating city.”

“Flotilla?” Despite the carnage being described, your heart can’t help itself from leaping in excitement at just the idea. “I’ve heard it’s massive!”

He gives you a dry chuckle. “Aye, that’s where Ventra Tal Kaelen, queen of the united orc Clans, lives. Does business with all kinds of unsavory sorts.” His crooked teeth probably included himself in that.

“What were the orcs after?” Nia asks in surprise. 

“Beats me,” he shrugs and tucks his hands in his pockets. “All the library had was a bunch of old scrolls, artifacts, dusty things like that.”

“Thanks so much for your help. So glad to know this was all a huge waste of time,” Mal says with a smile as fake as the street mans. .

He tosses a coin to the local though, then beckons for you two to follow him away from prying ears. “Well, that’s terribly tragic. But if the Shard’s at Flotilla now, guess it’s gone forever,” he heaves a tragic sigh that makes you want to kick him in the throat, all momentary solidarity forgotten.

Nia’s just as angry. “No, it isn’t! If it’s at Flotilla, then that’s where we’re going next!”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he groans, looking down at the pair of you. “No. No way! Absolutely not.” He’s crossed his arms, and he looks quite cowardly and nothing close to magnificent. It didn’t seem like an act either just to get you riled up, the idea of going there was truly baffling him.

All this only fuels your anger as you shout at him, “you promised to help get Kade back!”

“I promised to try,” he agrees with a faint smile. “And I did. Got you all the way to the sea, didn’t I?”

Your anger had you nearly shaking, everything seemed like a joke to him. “And you’re going to give up just like that? That’s the kind of man you are!?”

It’s like your anger doesn’t even register with him, he might as well be looking right through you. “You know, sooner or later, this guilt trip is going to stop working.” He rolls his eyes like it already has. 

The word guilt trip has your hand itching for an arrow to shove into his eye, he was as useless as a hellhound at this point whining at your feet along every hard bump in the road.

Threep pokes his head out of Nia’s pack. “We need to get the Shard, but I can’t imagine the orcs would be so kind as to hand over their plunder just because we ask for it.”

It’s at least a sensible answer, even if it only barely dims your anger as you turn and talk to the talking cat. “We need a plan, but first we need some rest.” You let out a weary sigh and try to heave out all your anger with it. “It’s too late to book passage on a ship tonight. Let’s find an inn and regroup in the morning.”

If Mal was even still there come new light.

Your group heads back to the heart of the city, stopping at a post office along the way so Nia can send a dove to the Temple of Light in Whitetower. “Losing Vash is a great blow to the temple,” she murmurs, twisting her hands in agitation into her dress. “But they may be able to start preparing for the purification ritual.”

“And in the meanwhile!” Mal cheerfully cuts in. “Here we are! The Siren’s Cove Inn. It’s clean and quiet, and that’s about the best I can say for it!”

Nia pays for two rooms, and though you probably should have asked how she intended it, you follow her into hers while Mal ducks across the hall. She doesn’t bat an eye as she sets down her bag with Three, and goes into the adjoining bathroom while you sit heavily on the bed. It’s clean, with a fire ready, the material under you is warm, the sheets a pleasant yellow, the beds fluffed and newly washed. You're mulling around on it, barely taking in the lulling, crackling heat from the logs as your mind spins with misery, it weighs heavily inside you like you’d swallowed that Onyx shard.

“Sneeerk,” Threep snores.

Nia giggles, scratching the snoring little guy behind his ears. You honestly couldn't even say how long she’d been back in here.

“Guess he really liked those anchovies, huh?” You manage a reluctant smile at how adorable the two are.

“As fascinating as it is to watch the ancient kitty sleep, I need to get out and stretch my legs,” Mal says from the doorway. You tense and force yourself to turn and look at him without a scowl.

“Riiiight, because you haven’t been walking all day. You’re going to stretch your liver, you mean.”

“Guilty as charged,” he bobs his head. “Nia, how about it? I’ll bet that stuffy Whitetower of yours didn’t have a pub that could compare to the ones here.”

“I don’t know,” she’s clearly hesitant and cuddles closer to Threep’s side. “I’ve heard those places can get, well, raucous,” she says it like it’s a very dirty word not to be used around public places.

“We can stick to the more reputable establishments,” Mal waves off with a smile. “The ones I haven't been kicked out of yet, at least. You said you wanted to see the world, right? This is the world!”

“I, suppose so, as long as you promise we won’t stay out too late,” she says with a reluctant smile.

Mal bows to her with a dramatic flourish. “I give you my word, fair priestess. And Syrum will come along to make sure I don’t break it!” He concludes gallantly. “I know he’ll at least have a blast.” He gives you a wink.

“Oh good!” Nia does seem relieved at the turn of conversation. “If you’re coming, then I know I’ll have fun!”

OR BOLAS OR

“I, I don’t know,” you hesitate, really in no mood for a good time.

Nia could clearly sense that, and it only made her eyes get bigger and more pleading. “I know you’re hurting Syrum, but dwelling on nothing but the pain only makes it sharper. Please come.”

“I, yeah, all right,” you crumble to her peer pressure if nothing else, but you already know your hearts not in it. “One drink.”

“I’ve never even had that,” she agrees, “so it’ll be an adventure!”

You laugh in delight and scoop the snoozing Threep back into Nia’s satchel. “I guess we have earned some fun after the day we’ve had,” you reluctantly agree.

“Looking forward to it,” Nia says brightly as she hops to her feet.

You take a deep breath and face Mal. He doesn’t wait for an apology before flashing you an eager smile and turning away, and you weren’t really looking to give him one anyways as you reluctantly follow  “All right!” He cheers, even fist pumping the air. “I knew it was only a matter of time before I got you two speaking my language!”

The three of you head down to a raucous tavern below the inn. Nia sticks close to you, looking around anxiously as Mal leads you to the bar. 

Inside is a surprisingly comfortable and familiar sight, even not knowing a single patron. The roof is much higher than you're used to, but otherwise it's like stepping back into Riverbend. The lights were bright, the laughter was loud, the songs still blaring to be heard, the smell of alcohol lingered in every breath, the floor was sticky, and humans of every shape and size and state of dress roamed around from one table to the next cheering and full of drinks.

“Oh my!” Nia is actually clinging to your arm now, and you can’t help but smile at how nervous she clearly is. She had yet struck you as shy really, but also, this was the first time you’d seen her in such a crowd today. “It’s so loud! Oh! Did they, did they mean to spill their drinks all over themselves like that?”

You look over and laugh at the men all dripping in ale and still shoving each other. Whether in playful jest or a fight was about to break, you couldn’t quite tell, and go back to curiously watching as Mal calls out, “Vantissa! You’re looking gorgeous as ever, what’s your secret?”

There’s a clang as the barkeep hoists an enormous tray of empty metal tankards off her shoulder, tossing Mal a grin as you all take a seat. 

Your heart about leaps out of your chest, a thrill races its way down your spine at her deep voice, still feminine in some way, the accent barely there of some far off land. “Not giving a damn does wonders for the complexion. Who’re your friends Mal?”

She’s an orc. At long last, you can finally check one single thing off your list, and it’s not even starting off bad. You are actually, really seeing an orc, and the smile that bursts out of you is ludicrously bright at being returned. “You, you’re an orc?”

“Sure am sugar,” she gives you a wink, and you’re about to melt on the spot. Her thick hair is black and all waved over the left side of her face, leaving one horn to peek out of the mass, exposing the other enormous one fully curling away from her forehead mottled the same color as her evergreen skin and growing blacker the nearer it reached the tip. She didn’t really have tusks though, so much as just an underbite, her entire lower set of teeth resting lazily against her upper lip making her smile seem like a challenge. There was some sort of bone hanging from her ear like jewelry, (same as in her nose,) not quite as pointed and prominent as your own, but by no means small and curled like a humans. 

She wore a simple white linen dress that made her seem slim as she towered over all three of you, and yet more bones across her collar like a necklace. Yet she was obviously muscular under the attire, her forearms rippled with muscle in every flickering light. Her eyes were a warm glittering brown as she continued appraising you, and slowly you realized your mouth was hanging open like, like a kit!

You quickly snap it shut in shame and stammer out, “I, I’m Syrum! It’s nice to meet you!”

Vantissa laughs, it’s a deep, rich noise you instantly smile along with. 

“Syrum here is a great adventurer of renown!” Mal claps a friendly hand to your shoulder, and you hope you’re not blushing as furiously as you feel you are. Okay, gods help you, you kind of forgive him for being the biggest mystery jerk of your life right now as you sit up taller in your seat.

“I am doing my best,” you agree breathlessly. Her smile widens, exposing more teeth, even her upper incisors are rather fanged.

“-And Nia, an Illustrious Priestess of Light,” Mal gently adds, giving your shoulder one last shake before releasing. 

Now Nia’s definitely blushing. “Oh, I’m, I haven’t fully ascended to full priestess yet, but-”

“The Light eh?” Vantissa leans down on the bar so she’s more eye level with you, her breasts resting on her arms comfortably as she cradles her chin in hand and appraises Nia with interest. “Don’t get to much of that in Port of Parnassus these days. Maybe too much adventurin’, though.” She chuckles to herself. 

“We heard about the raids a few years back, how they destroyed the library,” you agree, frown returning at what in the world all that must have caused for her business…all the implications to be had there. Had she come aboard with them but lost her heart? Had she helped them locate the library? Had she opposed them? You shake your head as you realize you’re making up your own story to go along, just like Kade would have as you chase it away. 

Vantissa nods as she begins scrubbing out the empty tankards, there’s anger coloring her tone now. “All of Flotilla’s gone mad if you ask me. They say Ventra Tal Kaelen united the orc Clans, bah!” She puts an extra hard thrust into scrubbing, nearly ripping off the handle from the sturdy mug. “All she did was make it clear what sort were welcome in her new order, and it sure isn’t folk like me.”

You long to ask for more. You imagine it easily, reaching out for her hand and listening to her talk about her world all night long, but she’s already cutting that dream short as she shakes her head and reaches for another cup. “But that’s a problem far beyond my station. My tavern’s doing well, which is all I ask for really.”

“Always happy to hand over my hard earned gold to you, Van,” Mal grins along, nothing ever phased him. “Speaking of which,” he trails off suggestively and looks at the pair of you. “Syrum, Nia, there’s only one rule when you’re drinking with Mal. It’s my treat.” His smile throws you off, it seems genuine. It’s probably foolhardy to wonder if it’s apologetic. 

Vantissa laughs along. “It’s his way of bribing folk to enjoy the pleasure of his company. So, what’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have an ale,” you say without hesitation…gods, your first free ale in so long…Kade would be overwhelmed with joy…

“Ah, an elf after my own heart,” Vantissa gives you a wink and your heart flutters so hard it hurts. You might be having an actual magical attack you were so all over the place right now. She pours a draft of ale from one of the rows of kegs behind her and slides it your way. It smells wheaty and rich, much stronger than anything back home. “The Arrazi orc Clan brews this up on their islands. Their matriarch’s an old friend of mine.”

You take a sip without further hesitation and smile in delight at the flavor. It warms you to your core and has a nice hint of something sweet to balance out the bitter taste.

“Slide me one of the same Van,” Mal heartily agrees, already slapping more than enough coins down. “Me and my liver are trusting Syrum’s instincts tonight.”

“You sure about that?” You can’t help but chuckle. “Because my instincts say the stuff I drank at Riverbend was better served cleaning rust off your armor.”

“Why would you drink it if it tasted so awful?” Nia asked in concern. 

“The taste wasn’t the point,” your smile gets a bit fainter, but doesn’t leave her wide eyes. “What? You never got drunk off cheap liquor with the other acolytes in the temple?”

“Certainly not!” She seems shocked you had to ask. You’re already mentally kicking yourself too, she clearly hadn’t been kidding before. Honestly it just kind of makes you all the more sad. “We were perfect models of decorum! Although,” her smile is finally a bit, dare you say, rogue. “Every now and then, we did get up to some mischief!”

She looks between you and Mal, a devious grin splitting across her face.

“Oh, this I’ve got to hear,” Mal guffaws. 

“Once, we swapped the old High Priest’s lecture notes for a poem we found in the archives! He read the whole thing out loud!” Her laugh is radiant and so full of joy you have no choice but to tag along, even if it is a tad tinged with sadness at this girl's idea of a prank.

“Tell me it was at least a dirty poem,” Mal sighs, turning back to his drink with a shake of his head.

“Of course not!” Nia yelps. “It was an elven historical! Quite lovely, actually,” she smiles to herself.

You can’t help but look at her with interest. She’d told you a great number more of elven gods along the road here and was clearly more than happy to speak of all she knew on the subject, it was truly the most information you’d ever gathered about yourself, or at least your past. “I’d love to hear it,” you say honestly.

She smiles without surprise and nods, “I figured you would.”

“You acolytes clearly knew how to party,” you can’t help but laugh at her pleased little grin still reflecting back. 

Mal groans and gestures at the row of kegs behind the bar with a winning grin. “Well Nia, you are no longer an acolyte. You’re among friends! Now’s the time to live it up a little, if you feel so inclined,” he politely finishes much to your astonishment. You feel a little bad for your surprise, he’s proven he can at least be a gentleman to her. It might be his only redeeming quality of late, but it was better than nothing.

“And by a little,” you playfully add in, “he really does mean a little. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t go reciting any scandalous elven poetry by the end of this.”

She laughs at the pair of you and nods confidently. “I suppose I could try something, though I’ve heard alcohol tastes a bit unusual…” she trails off still a tad reluctant as she eyes both your half-empty drinks.

“What kind of tastes do you like dearie?” Vantissa prompts gently. “I’m sure I’ve got something for you.”

“Maybe something a little sweet,” Nia agrees. “Not to strong please.”

Vantissa uncorks a bottle of white elvish wine and pours her a glass. You eye it with strong curiosity as she puts it back on the top shelf and quickly take another long drink, knowing what your heart was set on next. You’d never have been able to afford such a thing back home, though the one pity sip you’d once been given by ol’ Russelby on your sixteenth birthday had only made you crave more of the delectably honeyed treat. “Undermount Moscato, coming right up. A classy drink for a classy lady.”

You nearly choke and spit your drink out in shock. “You know Undermount?”

“Oh sure, get a lot of the good stuff in from them. They still do a fair few exports in the big towns,” she shrugs.

You remember the rude elf from this morning and wonder if he was just dropping off a delivery as you nod your thanks and swallow a hundred more burning questions. You raise your drink towards your companions, and they join you. You can’t help but smile at Nia’s daintily raised pinky. “To new adventures, and to new friends,” you smile at both of them. “If I have to be stuck with anyone on a desperate mission to save my brother, I’m glad it’s you two!” You conclude sincerely. Gods, it really had been to long since you drank, and on an empty stomach! You were already feeling so light headed and infatuated by everything.

“May the Light continue to guide our passage!” Nia agrees with a thrill in her voice.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mal gives a boisterous nod. “Hear, hear!”

You clink your glasses together, and everyone takes a long drink. Nia’s mouth puckers up, and she squishes her eyebrows together. “Well, that certainly is uh,” she clears her throat. “Different.”

“And?” Mal prompts. “Different, good? Different as in, ‘Mal, I owe you my thanks for opening my eyes to the world of fine spirits’?” 

“I’m not sure about that yet,” she giggles, “but I suppose I can keep drinking until I find out!” You throw your head back laughing in delight, but she’s not done yet. “Also, my face is warm. Is my face supposed to be warm? But it’s a good warm. Or is it? Am I dying?”

“Easy there,” you reach over and lower her drink back down firmly onto the bartop. “Maybe you should slow down?” The glass is half empty, you're honestly impressed. “We do want you to actually remember the first time you drank alcohol.”

“Also, drinking on an empty stomach!” Mal smacks the side of his head, his stomach grumbling loudly in agreement with your, and you nodd firmly. “Vantissa, finest beauty there is, three rounds of your fried frog-apple-alligator legs!”

She nods from where she’s refilling a tankard for another patron in acknowledgement as Mal quicklys turns the tables on you while Nia’s still giggling and fanning her face. “And how about you Syrum? Tell me you got into more trouble back in that tiny town than planting poems!”

“Oh yeah,” you readily agree. “We got into all kinds of trouble. When Kade and I were seventeen, we came up with this crazy plan to get some wine off of a traveling merchant passing through. We pretended to be elderly wine connoisseurs! We got gray wigs we fashioned together from an elder horsedog, and Kade managed a fake mustache and everything!”

“That’s, that’s subterfuge,” Nia gasps, her eyes not even that glassy to be so shocked. You can’t help but laugh all over again, as her face splits into a hopeful grin for you. “Did it work?”

“Almost,” you agree. “The merchant had us sample all his wines, was singing his own praises, until Kade’s mustache fell off into his goblet! He was so tipsy, he fished it out and stuck it on the merchant's face! I was laughing so hard, I had red wine coming out of my nose!” Even as you try and tell the story through your laughter, it’s almost happening again with the orcish ale.

Mal chokes on his ale and slaps the table with tears of mirth in his eyes. Nia’s unsuccessfully trying to hide a peal of giggles behind her hands. 

“I gotta say,” Mal wipes at his eyes, “the more I hear about him, the more I like Kade!”

It’s the most touching thing he could have said to you. “You two would have gotten along,” you readily agree. Kade would follow Mal around like a lost puppy getting all of his stories, and under better circumstances Mal would have strolled into town and happily given them to his willing audience. You would have been right next to your brother, eating up every morsel of adventure he would have been offering.

In the far corner of Vantissa’s tavern, a bard strums her lute, tuning each string in turn, then launches into an epic ballad. 

“Oh, I love this one!” Mal cries, immediately tapping his feet on tune with the music. “Ghosts and dragons and sea monsters!”

You sway in time with the music, letting the dramatic saga wash over you. Patrons spill onto the dance floor, forming pairs and large circles as they move to the melody. 

“Sounds like a local favorite,” you chuckle in agreement. “I’ve never heard it before, but I love it already.” You take a last hearty sip of your ale down to the dregs and feel ancy to be thrown out to be honest, considering you’d never made it past this moment in your life. 

“What are you waiting for then?” Nia giggles. “You should get out there and dance too.”

“Okay,” you agree, “but I’m not dancing alone.” You offer her your hand.

Nia blinks a few times, flustered, but then she blushes and lays her hand gently in yours. “I’ll do my best not to stamp on your toes,” she promised.

“I won’t hold it against you,” you promise. “I’m not so great a dancer either. But I can show you what I do know.”

You lead her to the dance floor and position her hands in yours. Her arms are trembling, and you brush your thumbs over her knuckles to soothe her. “Are you okay? You seem nervous,” you ask anxiously.

“It’s just,” she’s blushing, but she looks miserable admitting it as well. ���I’ve never actually danced before, and I feel like all I do is tell you about the things I’ve never done. You must think I’m so naive.” 

She had you right on the money on that one, but there was no need to tell her and make her feel smaller. You’re still a naive kit to the world at large when it came to everyone else as well, you’d hate for her to think you thought lesser of her for her sweet heart. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being naive,” you instantly assure. “You know what I love about it best?”

Nia raises her eyebrows, a glimmer of hope brightening her expression. You squeeze her hand in yours. “It means I get to show you all those things for the first time, and I consider myself pretty lucky for that.” 

Kade had been the only sibling you’d ever wanted, and neither of you ever really cared who was older or younger, you’d always been equal partners in crime. If ever you’d had a little sister though, Nia would fit the bill perfectly. 

You start swaying along to the music with her, not for the first time in your life dancing with a young girl. There had been three others roughly your age back in Riverbend, and they’d all danced with you at least once out of novelty, but you’d never felt any real affection for them once the thrill of something new had worn off. Wrenly Carrington had even brushed her bright red hair aside and given you a kiss on the cheek, but you’d only blushed and giggled with her, nothing more.

They were all like Nia enough, happy in their chores and giggling together and ignorant of anything other than what to name their babies one day and how to cook a mean stew. Kade had always been the long-distance lover of them.

No, those girls, like Nia, had been no Grenn. The confident strides as she walked straight up to Seria and pulled her close in the loud music, the way her arms were always glistening with water and muscle having just pulled a fresh hundred pounds of fish up to the market, her knowledge of every hook and net there was to know. It was a sad, pathetic, distant crush you’d only nursed in your time alone. Your brother hadn���t even the heart to mock you for it as you’d rarely said anything aloud.

Nia’s beaming at you, relaxing into your grip and swaying along with joy, her dress flaring up and doing more to add to the graceful scene than just the two of you slowly rotating around the other more rowdy bunches. 

“So, dancing, it’s not so difficult, really,” you hastily keep talking, worried your confidence would slip in the silence between you two. “You just step to the left, back, forward, right,” you continue leading her gently through the dance, the ballad unfurling around you. Though she starts out frowning in concentration, Nia soon lets out a laugh as she matches your movements. 

It had been days since you heard her laugh, she really hadn’t since Kade had either with the vorglin. Not since Vash had passed. “Syrum! Look! I’m really dancing!” She tips her head back, her hair swinging around her and nary a curl out of place as she enthusiastically leads you into the next turn.

“You see, you’re a natural,” you beam and laugh along. 

“I have a very good teacher,” she matches you smile for smile now along with the beat. 

You lead her in a slower turn as the bard plays into the next verse, but Nia’s gaze grows troubled as it rests on you. “Syrum, I have another confession. I’ve never actually been in a relationship with anyone before.”

Spluttering and now stepping on her toes, you can’t help but blush furiously at the sudden implication. You know it turns your skin a blotchy purple like a ripe fruit and you can’t do anything about it. No human girl had ever taken dating the local elf as anything more than a joke. It hadn’t occurred to you Nia might think something of this other than a friendly dance as you drop your hands. “Oh, ah, neither have I,” you hastily agree, fidgeting with the strap of your arrows.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized at once, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She stepped close to the edge of people ringing the wall, watching the festivities, wolf whistling and laughing at some of their more drunken friends.  You hastily follow. “It wasn’t forbidden among the acolytes or anything, not strictly, but, no one ever seemed interested in me.”

She’s gone glum, and you hastily want to reassure her. “Someone as amazing and kind as you? If they’d ask me, they wouldn’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Nia flushes, biting her lower lip. “When I do find that special someone, though, I don’t want them to treat me like a kid, or helpless, or…” she trails off in embarrassment, but you make sure to catch her gaze before she can look away.

“Hey, believe me, if you’re really with the right person for you, they’ll be thrilled no matter what.” It sounds ridiculous coming from you, Kade could have woven her a hundred tales of lovers…then you remember him describing her like a sugar cookie and do your best to swallow a laugh, or a sob. Your memories of him are already getting rose-tinted look…

Her cheeks are dusted pink. “Thank you, Syrum,” she smiles at you so gently. You remain in silence together as the ballad reaches its peak, the bard wails a mournful farewell to the hero as her strumming fades away, but you stand smiling together for several more moments. 

“We ought to get back to Mal,” you reluctantly remind, eyes casting around for him. He’s still at the bar having a merry time, but to your surprise you see his eyes flicker over as if checking on you two. It’s surprisingly comforting. 

“Right, right of course,” Nia swiftly agrees, giving your wrist one last squeeze of thanks. 

You head back over and she offers you the rest of her wine. “I’ve had more than enough.”

Taking it and sipping the sweet nectar doesn’t feel like the triumph you’d envisioned though as you swirl the last dregs at the bottom. You glance from Vantissa to Nia to Mal and try to get back that sense of giddiness, but it had faded as quickly as the melody. Kade might still have been trying to flirt his way with Nia, they might have been good together. He’d have hopped on that stage and tried to play one of his songs to treat the crowd, maybe he even would have finished his own original piece on the trip here.

You’re so tired of him being in your every thought, how someone who had once been a constant source of joy and companionship only made you miserable with every passing hour, but you don’t know how else to keep going either. This anger, this sorrow, all rooted into the one person you’d always relied on… ‘ resist the pull of darkness’ Vash had gasped with his last painful breath. Your brother must… must what?! If anyone could solve that puzzle, it would be Kade…he was waiting for you…

After a few more rounds of drinks with Mal making very lopsided conversations with Nia gasping at all his past revelry nearly on tune, they seem to decide it’s at least closing time for your group. You leave the tavern with a farewell to Vantissa, then give a friendly bump of your shoulder to Mal’s as you step into the fresh air.

“Thanks for dragging me out Mal,” you say sincerely. “That was fun, just what we needed to keep going.”

“And no one got stabbed or kicked out!” Nia’s still twirling in delight, a dance all her own to not let the fun stop. “Truly, the Light graced us this evening.”

“Priestess, did you just make a joke?” Mal gasps as loudly as possible.

“Clearly I’ve been spending too much time around you,” she giggled.

“Well, why stop now?” Mal throws his arms wide to take in the expanse of all the buildings still lit bright. “The night’s still young, plenty of more taverns we could get kicked out of, or…” he trails off suggestively as you round the corner, but you don’t get a chance to hear what else could possibly be on his mind.

You find yourselves blocked in the alleway, facing down five men wielding crossbows aimed right at the three of you. “Stop right there, all of you!” The one in the middle needlessly shouts, as you’ve all frozen solid in shock.

“Or enemies we can face in dark alleys,” you groan at now finishing Mal’s sentences.

Mal raises his hands in surrender and at once steps to be in front of you both. “We don’t want any trouble fellas. Just enjoying a night out on the town. Why don’t you help yourself to my coin purse and let us be on our way?” It’s a practiced speech in every syllable.

OR BOLAS OR

But you're in no mood, and you know you’ll just bring theirs down, possibly even start a fight with Mal. You trust him enough at least not to let Nia get into trouble, he’s shown that much worth. “I’m exhausted,” it’s so clear in your voice, Nia’s already nodding in understanding. “But you two should have some fun, I’ll hold down the fort.” You wrap your knuckles on the bed frame.

“Suite yourself,” Mal shrugs. “Try not to get into too much trouble while we’re gone.”

You wave them off as they leave. As you bring your hand back down, Threep takes a playful swat at it.

“I thought you were asleep you little scoundrel,” you smile down at him, a true one, as you rub your hand down his warm side. “You know, for a creature as wise as yourself, you’re a playful little thing.”

Threep bounces up on his hind legs, wings flapping frantically, but he can’t quite get the lift he needs to do whatever it is he’s trying to do as his wings flutter about before tucking back in. “Even nespers can appreciate the importance of play. But it behooves us to be dignified about it.”

“Dignified huh?” You chuckle. “But are you able to resist, this?” You produce a ball of twine from your bag and roll it across the bed towards him.

“Please,” he remains in place, his eyes on you, but you're already grinning in triumph as his tail gives a small twitch. “I am an ancient being of boundless wisdom. I will not be tempted by that….that…” he pounces, tearing into it.

“Yeah, I thought so,” you grin. You bat the ball back and forth with Threep for a little while, disentangling him from the unraveled twine when he gets caught. He’s purring up a storm the entire time. It’s a soothing noise that makes something tight clenched inside you since the library relax. Friends…the words echoe strangely in the back of your mind as your thoughts travel back to Riverbend. Kade had been your brother, and nobody had ever questioned you both saying as much. 

People had always been something to you. The kind baker, the rough constable, the stern barkeeps, the farmers who offered you food in exchange for help. Villagers, people you knew…but not…friends…

It had never once occurred to you to go back there, to tell Riverbend what had become of Kade. Aside from Sirena, the kindly herbalist who had been mentoring you, and even then, she had a niece to take over the shop. You were just, there, to show up for lessons you had to beg her attention for as she dealt with real customers and urged Grenn to get that hook slash mended. 

They would be sad, like their faithful oxendonkey dying before the fall harvest. Not so much a hardship, when you had a calf ready to be tied up to the yolk, but a sad passing all the same to mourn…that’s all you’d ever been to them… you’d always wanted to leave. 

It had never been malicious. Even now, every bone in your body wanted Kade back just to have that option to return home. But, would that place still be home? It occurs to you for the first time how different you already were…and what Kade would be like if- when you got him back…

A voice from the alley outside suddenly catches your attention.  “HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”

You rush to the window and peer down into the darkness. You can make out shapes in the street below… and a part of you isn't surprised to pick out Mal in the thick of it. Then your heart skips a beat as you see the pink of Nia’s dress and her wild hair right behind him. “Stay back, I’ve got this under control!” Mal’s telling her urgently.

They stand at one end of the alley, while at the other, several men brandishing crossbows close in on them. They’re dressed in full suits of armor, guards if you’ve ever seen them. The one in front says firmly, “stop right there, both of you.”

“Not to sound too alarmed, but it would appear our friends are about to die,” Threep says from the sill at your elbow.

A part of you wants to dive for your bow, but it wouldn’t do much good to that armor. So instead you scoop up him and it and rush downstairs to the alleyway, skidding around the corner. “Hey! What’s going on?” You demand.

Mal raises his hands in surrender at the men aiming, watching their swiveling points between him and you now carefully. “We don’t want any trouble fellas. Just enjoying a night out on the town. Why don’t you help yourself to my coin purse and let us be on our way?” It’s a practiced speech in every syllable.

A squat man in lavish clothing embroidered with fur and an enormous golden pendent across his chest pushes through his people. He’s got a pompadour hat that probably hides the rest of his thin brown hair poking out the back with a thin mustache. He brandishes a chubby finger at the three of you. “There’s no need for bribery, cur! I’m this fine city’s mayor, and you ruffians are under arrest!”

“Arrest? We aren’t criminals!” Nia protests, though she hasn’t moved out from behind Mal at those still drawn crossbows bristling all around.

“Round them up, men,” the mayor says as if she hadn’t even spoken, still wagging that finger around. “These bandits are wanted dead or alive!”

The men step from the shadows and move toward you, ready to bind your hands.

“We’re here on official business for the Temple of Light,” you wildly throw out, though you don’t back away one foot as you stay tense in place. “Escorting Priestess Nia Ellarious! You can send word to the temple in Whitetower if you doubt me. They’ll tell you who she is.”

The guards glance at one another. One of them addresses the mayor uncertainly. “Sir? Are you sure we’ve got the right people? She is dressed in priestess’s robes.”

“Only a clever ruse!” He scoffs, now wagging that finger directly in his guard's face. “Do as you’re told or I’ll have you arrested for insubordination!” His voice grows more high pitched the longer he shouts like a weasel squeaking orders.

Threep flutters from your arms up to your shoulder with a hiss, ears flattened back against his head. The deep, angry noise sends a chill down your spine, and it's not even directed at you. “Be careful! I sense Darkness on the mayor. Shadow Darkness. He’s a servant of the Court!”

“The Shadow Court is here?” Nia gasps.

The mayor draws a blade, lips pulling back in a snarl. Shadows billow around him from where he still stands beneath the building, doubling his stature. “Well now, I’m afraid you leave me no choice.” For the first time, he sounds menacing.

He lunges forward, but a figure drops down from the rooftops between you.

“Not so fast.” 

It’s the exact same elf from the market. 

A blast of magical energy erupts from his hand, sending the mayor’s men sprawling with groans of pain.

The mayor remains standing, blade at the ready. He glares at the other elf, who stares back coldly, stoic features arranged in an expression of loathing that makes the look he gave you seem like a mild lip curl now.

“Well, well. You want to fight?” He twirls the blade expertly without concern. 

“Gladly,” the elf says without shifting his stance one muscle.

The mayor lunges again, but the stranger deftly side steps, hair whipping around as he spins behind his target. Quick as a shadow, he draws a slender sword strapped to his back, and decapitates the mayor.

Nia screams as the man’s lifeless body thuds to the ground.

“You, you’re the guy from the market earlier!” You can’t help but state the obvious as the head rolls sickeningly across the ground. “What is going on?” 

“Now is not the time,” he says without a trace of emotion in his voice as he draws a kerchief from an inside pocket and wipes clean his blade. 

Behind him, the mayor’s men stagger back to their feet. His gaze sharpens on them, and he flicks the blood off the tip of his blade he hadn’t yet gotten to. “Run.” He says simply.

[lattezzsposts]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

boot camp was starting. it was a little different for me because i already had training in dancing and vocals. i was sitting in the back of the dance studio just watching everyone. the main cast members were getting dancing lessons. " no, no. you're doing it wrong " michael, one of the choreographers pointed out to the cast. he had been doing this the entire time but not really correct their mistakes.

i guess he did not understand that most of them have never had any dancing experience prior. i rolled my eyes as michael was getting frustrated. tori was not around and either was kenny. julie's dad was getting ready to call him out but i beat him to it.

" well, maybe if you actually taught them properly then it would not be taking all day for them to learn the first part " i challenged him. i knew he could not tell me anything because i was a dancer myself. " well by all means, miss hart. teach them " michael rolled his eyes and stated sarcastically.

i smiled at him and heading towards the front. " gladly. your legs are too far apart, bring them closer " i announced. repeating the move that was giving them problems. they copied me and did the move perfectly.

i ran through the next few steps, slowly and correcting their mistakes. it only took them about 30 minutes to get the hang of the first part of the dance. michael was not happy about that.

a smirk appeared on my face as i sent a wink to michael. " let's take five " i clapped my hands. they had been working hard, trying to learn the moves for the last 2 hours or so.

" thanks for teaching us kat. michael is a terrible teacher " mads stated. savannah and jadah nodded in agreement. " tori and the others are so much better " sav chimed in. it was true. they cared about teaching their students, michael expected them to be pros within an hour.

" its not a problem, i'm happy to help " i smiled at them. charlie, jeremy, and owen had approached us. " he's so annoying " owen commented and motioned to michael with his head. he was talking to his assistant about how terrible dancers they were.

i rolled my eyes again, what the hell was his problem. " do not worry about. you guys aren't terrible dancers, he's just a terrible instructor " i sneered in his direction. i said it louder than i should have which made him glance in our direction.

we all looked in different directions, trying to make it look like it wasn't me. he knew it was. charlie was trying so hard to not laugh. " hey, what happened to your lip ring? " he was the first one to notice it was missing.

" oh, netflix thought it was too mature for the show so they requested that i remove it for the time being " i explained. i watched as charlie's expression for a moment turned disappointed. i wondered why he had that look.

it changed when kenny had walked through the door with tori and the main choreographers. they had been in meetings so, michael who was just an extra choreographer, was in charge. " let's see what the cast has so far " kenny smiled.

michael had walked towards the front. i stood in the back as the music started. my head nodding to the beat and watching their movements. a smile appearing on my face. all of their mistakes were fixed.

" nice work on teaching them and good job " kenny clapped his hands and smiled at michael before turning towards the cast. michael had taken credit for teaching them. " actually, it was kat that taught us because we couldn't get the movements down with michael " charlie spoke up.

the other cast nodded in agreement. " well, then nice work kat " kenny glanced at me. a smile appearing on my face as tori looked proud of me. i was taking a mental note of thanking charlie later.

──── ୨୧ ────

jeremy and i are recording our duet. our characters were supposed to have an attraction to each other. it was called " stupid in love " and originally there wasn't supposed to be a dance but i decided to make one.

kenny loved the dance and added it into the show. the whole premise of the attraction was my character is able to see the phantoms because she was with julie during the time they all meet. she falls for reggie's personality.

it was going to be the same like luke and julie's dance sequence but my character was going to have a dream about it. " let's get to recording " the producer smiled. jeremy was a little nervous about doing the song.

it was the longest song that he would be singing in the album. only a part of the song would be included in the show but the full length version would be released in the album. " hey, you're going to do great " i glanced at jeremy.

charlie, owen, and mads would join us later. he smiled genuinely at me. he was starting off the song so he would record first. i could tell he was holding back his vocals. i started to mouth the lyrics with from the other side of the booth.

he smiled before gaining a little confidence and showed more power in his voice. i gave him a thumbs up. after a couple of minutes, he had finished. the producer had gotten really good vocals from him.

" nice job " i high fived him. it was my turn to enter the booth. i drank a bit of water before pumping myself up to sing. i pulled out my stress ball. i was nervous about singing this in front of jeremy and new producers.

i was used to the producers i had in los angeles so i wasn't nervous then but these are new people and i wanted to make a good impression. when i get nervous, i start playing with my fingers. using a stress ball helps me focus on what i needed to do and not so much my nerves.

i could see charlie, mads, and owen entering the studio as i was starting to sing. my eyes meeting with charlie who bopping his head to the music. i squeezed my stress ball more. getting my self lost in the music.

pretty soon i had finished my parts, the producers loved it from the start to finish. charlie, mads, owen, and jeremy clapped as i exited the studio. " nice work, kat. now we just the two of you together " the producer smiled.

kenny was really happy with the way it was coming out. jeremy and i entered the booth together. our voices blending well together when we started to sing.

we smiled at each other, singing the chorus together and the last part of the song. we finished and walked out of the studio together. " that was so good! " mads cheered us on. jeremy and i hugged.

owen patted jeremy on the back, we pulled away from the hug and charlie picked me up and spun me around. " nice work " he stated. i was laughing as he put me down shortly and mads hugged me.

i ended up saying bye to them, i had the rest of the day free. charlie, mads, owen, and jeremy were going to practice some more. tomorrow i had to read lines with mads. owen, charlie, jeremy, mads, and savannah were coming over tonight.

we're going to have a movie night, my apartment was bigger than any of theirs so it just made sense to have it over at mine. since, i have free time, i had texted all of them to send me what they wanted from the convenience store.

that's what i was going to buy right now, there was a store about three minutes away and it was pretty easy to walk. i quickly sent a text through the group chat with charlie, jeremy, owen, and mads. just letting them know where i was going.

if something happened then at least they would know where i was going at the time. jeremy had texted me to be safe and to text in the group chat when i made it to my apartment safely.

he was such an older brother figure, i loved him so much. i had gotten to my apartment, a crew member had driven me. i thanked him before heading towards my apartment. i wanted to change first and then head out.

i quickly changed into shorts and a baggy shirt, it was so much better than outfit from before. i grabbed my wallet and locked the door before heading towards the elevator. " hey, are you new here? " a voice called out to me.

i looked up my phone and glanced at the male who approached the elevator. " no, just visiting for three months " i answered without a second thought. i looked back at my phone, not wanting to make small talk.

" oh, i saw you with a bunch of bags. anyways, you're really pretty " he grinned. it made me uncomfortable, like he was trying to hard to appear attractive. " uh, thanks " man did not get the hint.

he stepped closer to me, he looked like charlie a little bit. the difference was charlie didn't need to try and be attractive. " let me take you out tonight " he still had his stupid grin. " nope, busy tonight and every other night " i popped the " p "in nope and got on the elevator. pressing the button quickly so the doors would close.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART NINE

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hurt feelings, angst, proceed with caution as always masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The air in the dining hall was suffocating. The three men sat around the table in silence while Price continued to glower at you, challenging you.

Your mind was flooded with thoughts of what your life had become. Even in the presence of others, you were still completely alone, even as the summer was beginning to shift into fall.

No progress had been made. Even as you left behind the thought of escaping, giving them a chance of redemption, things were only ever turning sour.

You had nobody.

What was stopping you from leaving as you planned?

Without a word, you stood from the table after what felt like hours of tense silence. Soap and Gaz lifted their heads to watch you move. Ghost remained unreadable, though you could see the quickness of confusion before it neutralized back into nothingness.

“What are you doin’?” Price asked, tone low. “Sit down. Eat.”

You didn’t speak, nor did you look at him. Your appetite had long worn off, even though you hadn’t had a meal in your stomach for longer than what was healthy.

“Lass, c’mon, we can talk this out,” Soap pleaded, reaching a hand to grab at your shoulder. You brushed him off, stepping away from the table.

“Dove,” Price warned. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself. You’re upset because I wish not to tell you of the things you shouldn’t know about?”

A flood of anger boiled inside you. Was that truly why he thought you were angry? Did he take you for a child?

“You are making a fool out of me, Captain,” you snapped back.

“I am tryin’ to keep you safe,” Price argued. He stood from the table, hands slamming against the wood. “Yet you keep blatantly disobeyin’ me. Will you perish without knowin’? Is that it?”

“You are being cruel, Captain,” you said harshly.

“I am bein’ honest,” he retorted.

“You are being an arse,” you shouted in a fit of frustration. “You have had plenty of time to treat me as a person rather than your prisoner, yet you continue to treat me as so. I am a medic. You have taken me from my home for the sake of your own benefit. The least you could do is make it worth my while.”

Price stared at you with a look of surprise and conflict. It was evident that the Captain was not used to back talk, let alone from a mere woman.

Today was the day you refused to hold back. You were angry.

“I do not owe you a thing, medic,” he rumbled lowly.

You scoffed under your breath, nodding your head slowly. “Then I do not owe you anything, either.”

You turned on the heels of your shoes and right out of the dining hall doors, letting them slam loudly behind you.

The clouds were nearly as unhappy as you. They were gloomy and dark, just as much as the shadow that seemed to stick to you like an annoying tick.

Ever since your rather unfortunate conversation with Captain Price, you’d felt a prick in your side. Really, the conversation was more of an order in your opinion — Price telling you straight how it was, and that you wouldn’t be informed on anything going on.

It seemed like a simple agreement. It was far from it.

You felt more out of place than ever. You weren’t even worthy of being apart of the very pirate crew that kidnapped you and forced you into their group.

Why were you staying? Why were you keeping faith in these men as if they’d make up everything they’d done to you?

You were exhausted. You wished to go home to a place that no longer existed. Perhaps the rubble and lingering ghosts of your perished townsfolk would offer you the company you were seeking.

The entire ship felt quiet since your disagreement with the Captain. You locked yourself in the boy’s quarters, yet none have come to bother. You couldn’t even hear the creaking of thick boots along the old wooden floors.

You didn’t know what you preferred anymore — the spew of resentful words, or the aching silence.

It felt like you truly were home once again, yet standing in the smothering quiet that filled your lonely house with nobody to turn to and nobody to share the air with you.

Tears began to burn your eyes. You fought to keep them in, but the harder you did, the harder they resisted until they were a pitiful stream down your cheeks. They soaked your skin with a bitter cold.

It wasn’t home that you missed so longingly. It was comfort, it was joy, it was a friend. You were alone before, yet you somehow felt even more alone in the presence of four men who juggled between your emotions as if you weren’t even worth any.

Day by day, it grew worse. You didn’t know when it would get better, or if it ever would.

You drifted in and out of sleep throughout the rest of the day. Your stomach protested, begging you for a taste of something, anything, but you were stubborn. It wasn’t until you woke near evening that you knew you’d have to eat.

You felt sickly, your stomach twisting and turning from being denied food. Nausea crept in like lapping waves.

Deciding it was time to get something before you died before you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, you reluctantly crept out of the shared quarters.

All was quiet. Almost too quiet. There wasn’t a single man in sight, and you assumed they were in a private meeting in Price’s quarters. That’s exactly what you were hoping for.

Tiptoeing to the dining hall, you made your way to the kitchen in the back. You darted your eyes around, noting that it was just as empty and just as peaceful.

The first thing you noticed in the kitchen was a large pot on the counter, and you instantly assumed it was the dinner from last night you failed to eat. Upon lifting the lid and inspecting, you were correct.

The sight of it had your stomach growling loudly, causing a pang of pain from hunger. You didn’t even bother finding a spoon or fork to dig in. You were so stubbornly hungry, you found yourself dipping your hand into the mushy porridge and scooping it into your hands, moaning outwardly at the first taste of food.

It tasted a bit sour and was disgustingly warm from sitting out all night, but it eased your hunger the slightest bit the more you ate.

Oh, how you hated these men for ruining dinner for you every night. How you hated Price, in all his egotistical glory, and how much you wanted to—

“What are you doin’?”

You yelped in surprise, jolting away from the pot. You whipped around, mouth covered in porridge and hands messy from using them. At the sight before you, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized urgently to Ghost, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hand holding the door open from when he was coming inside. “I haven’t eaten properly in days and I just— I was so hungry.”

Ghost blinked at you, unmoving. He observed the mess on your face and the way your porridge-covered hands balled up at your sides. At first, he did nothing but stand there. Then, after a moment, he moved.

“Could’ve just said so,” he grumbled, walking over to the small stove and crouching down to light the wood beneath it to heat it up.

You watched with wide eyes, surprised by the sudden hospitality. His back was turned to you, so you couldn’t read the thoughts coursing through those eyes of his.

“Might want to clean yourself up,” he gruffed, peeking a look over his shoulder. “You look like a messy child.”

Embarrassment filled every part of you as you quickly made work of wiping the porridge off of your face, using a spare rag on the counter.

While you cleaned, he stood up from the stove once it was lit, grunting from the stress of his muscles. He sauntered across the kitchen, opening up various cabinets and pulling out vegetables to set them on the counter.

“What are you doing?” you asked. His head turned to look at you, narrowing his eyes before looking back through the cabinets.

“You said you’re hungry,” he said. “That porridge ain’t any good sittin’ out.”

It dawned on you that he was going to make you fresh food. Ghost.

You had thought he was simply going to heat up the remainder of the porridge in the pot, but you were wrong.

Something inside you felt unfamiliarly fuzzy.

“Oh,” you said, stumped. “Thank you, Ghost.”

Ghost froze in his movements, looking at you once again. His look this time was strange, or you assumed so from beneath the mask. It was hard to read him, so you always looked him in the eye for that extra step.

He blinked, then blinked again, before grunting with a nod and returning to his tasks.

The mood in the kitchen suddenly felt awkward. You didn’t move from your spot, even as he grabbed at a knife and began chopping at the vegetables. You wanted to say something, anything to shoo away the dizzying silence, but you didn’t know what.

Ghost was somebody you didn’t understand, and the two of you rarely talked. The last time you spoke, it was in horrible taste. As a matter of fact, it was this very kitchen that soured the relationship, if one could even call it that.

“Are you feeling well?” you dared to ask. He glanced at you briefly. “Your finger, I mean.”

Ghost faltered in his chopping before shaking it off. The knife collided with the wooden board he cut on, causing a thump thump thump.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, tone surprisingly soft. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

You nodded slowly, fiddling with your hands. “That’s quite well, then.”

Awkward. Painfully awkward. It was so suffocating, it felt like it was filling your throat and invading your lungs.

“I apologize,” Ghost said suddenly. It caused you to straighten up, eyebrows raising curiously. “For what I said to you.”

“What—” It dawned on you what he meant. The cruel words he told you the last time the two of you were alone together, the ones that struck you in the heart like daggers, were the ones he was apologizing for.

To say you were surprised was an understatement. You were absolutely baffled.

Ghost had only ever been ill-mannered towards you from the very beginning. He never shed a ray of light, only offering you misty shadows that you were trapped in.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “That— It’s alright. There is no bad blood, yes? I apologize as well.”

Ghost stopped chopping, staring down at the wooden block. He didn’t move, standing as still as a statue, before you saw his shoulders visibly relax.

“No bad blood,” he muttered to himself, but you heard it. “You’ve been through enough. No bad blood it is.”

The hole that had been in your chest since your arrival filled little by little. For the first time, it felt warm and whole and no longer a deep trench.

The air was no longer awkward, as it was now peaceful and accepting.

You couldn’t help the smile that grew at his words, and you offered a nod in return, content with the new look of a brighter future in the crew.

The porridge ended up tasting delightful when it was crafted from the hands of a man who showed you his first gesture of kindness. You gobbled it down greedily until your belly was full and your heart was satisfied.

Ghost and you didn’t speak after your short conversation, but he had the decency to serve you the food and give you a nod in farewell when he left to his quarters.

“You look happy, dove,” Gaz noted when you returned to his and Soap’s room. “Somethin’ happen?”

You fumbled for words due to the slight embarrassment from being so openly joyful. You didn’t realize your emotions were displayed right on your face for all to see.

“Yeah, ye look giddy,” Soap hummed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Tell us.”

“Can I simply not express happiness?” you defended, waving them off with a hand.

“Not when the Captain had your arse last night, you don’t,” Gaz retorted. You scowled at the memory, causing him to snicker.

“Ghost apologized, that is all,” you admitted dismissively. “As did I. It is nice to know that one of you men know how to do such a thing.”

Gaz and Soap shared a look, both of their eyebrows furrowing. They seemed to have a silent conversation, one you weren’t apart of. Now it was your turn to be curious.

“Is something wrong with that?” you asked.

“No, no, dove, it’s not that,” Gaz assured.

“He’s just not the type to apologize,” Soap finished. His lips curled into a smile, one that was kind. It made your heart skip. “That’s a good thing, lass.”

You glanced between the two of them, trying to find anything you may be missing. You couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so you offered a smile in return.

For once, there wasn’t the weight of the world on your shoulders and you finally felt like you were apart of something, like you belonged.

And just when the odds were looking into your favor, they didn’t last long. You should’ve known.

The door to the quarters swung open with none other than the Captain. He looked around, starting with Gaz, then Soap, then finally, you.

“I’d like a word,” he requested, though you knew you didn’t have an option.

The last thing you wanted was to speak to him, but you knew the pot would only boil until it spilled over until you spoke properly, without the others around.

You nodded curtly, following behind him as the doors to Gaz and Soap shut.

Your eyes stayed to the Captain’s back as you walked. He was in casual wear, a simple billowy shirt and loose pants, and it was the first you’d seen him not so… uptight.

If he wasn’t such an ass, you’d even consider him handsome. But his attitude made him foul.

The walk was silent until you approached his quarters, to which he swiftly whisked you inside, shutting the two of you in. He said nothing as he approached his desk, taking a seat. He looked perplexed.

“I apologize for our conversation,” he said gruffly, glancing up at you from his chair. “But you must understand where I’m comin’ from.”

Your face contorted into confusion. That was hardly an apology. Even Ghost was better at administering one.

“I believe it’s the other way around, Captain,” you replied calmly, clasping your hands in front of you. “You are not the one involved in treachery such as I am.”

He cocked his head, lips pursing. His fingers tapped absentmindedly at his knee, and your eyes watched. The air was tense, and you could feel it in every movement of his.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Forgive me. I forget your place too often. That I am sorry for.”

“And are you sorry for the way you’re handling things?” you questioned, pushing. “You are sorry for destroying my village, taking me away, treating me like a mutt? You are sorry for that as well?”

Price stiffened, eyes narrowing in on you. There was that familiar look of his, the warning. “I am sorry for doin’ what I had to do. But yes, I suppose I apologize for the rest.”

Some apology. You nearly laughed in his face at the absolute joke it all was.

“That’s not why I’ve called you in here.” Price stood from his desk. He shifted through the clutter atop it, spreading out the scraps and papers to reveal what you nearly forgot about. “Since you are so curious, you can look. That is the most I will give you.”

You shifted your attention to the scribbled map as well as the poem, ones that you’d seen the night you bathed in Price’s quarters.

"The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

Washed away to land and shore

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

Find the one that you shall seek to end the curse of Shadow's Peak."

“I don’t understand what any of this means, Captain.” You frowned at the poem, reaching out to hold it in your hand. The paper was thick and wrinkled, like it was older than you initially thought. “Shadow’s Peak. What is that?”

“It’s not a what. It’s a who,” he explained firmly. His expression was hardened like he’d just come back from war. “It’s the very reason I don’t want you meddlin’ in this mess until I’ve said so.”

“Then why are you showing me this?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“To quiet you down.” Price was completely serious, even after you thought he was bluffing. The look in his eyes said otherwise. “When I apologized to you for roping you into our mess, I meant it.”

“What mess?” you urged. The suspense was killing you. Price wasn’t giving you a lick of an idea what was going on. You were beginning to grow frustrated from the lack of answers. “What have you done, Price?”

“I have done nothin’,” he snapped in his own vexation. “There are things you don’t understand, dove, and it’s better that way. What must I do to keep you in the dark yet happy?”

You gawked at him. For a respected man, he had a horrible way with words. This you knew, yet the evidence grew tenfold the more you spoke.

“You expect me to be happy, do you?” You scoffed in disbelief. “Have you forgotten how we’ve gotten here?”

“I have not.”

“Then why have you taken everything from me? You cannot humor me when I very much deserve the truth?” you roared, tossing the poem back on his desk.

He watched it flutter down, a hint of a wince on his face before he returned to the cold outer shell.

“You’re a horrible man, John Price. You’ve gifted me nothing but sorrow and agony since the moment you took me prisoner on your ship, and now you cannot give me one simple answer as to why!”

“I can no longer tell you because we care!” he proclaimed. You felt that familiar rush of confusion, but before you could question him, he beat you to it. “We were not meant to care for you, we simply needed you. If I tell you the truth much too soon, then all hell will raise. I will never forgive myself for throwin’ the only other person that my men have begun to care for outside of themselves into a sinkin’ grave.”

Price’s fist slammed on the desk, expression his conflict and the stir of his own confusion. The sound was loud, cracking against the wood and startling you.

Noticing this, his angered expression mixed with guilt and a pain you haven’t seen before. It was pitiful. What reflected back at you was no Captain. It was a disheveled, sad man who hadn’t a clue how to navigate the world like he did the seas.

“Please, bear with me for a little while, dove,” he pleaded, and the sound made your heart hurt. “I cannot allow it.”

While Price’s chest heaved from the outburst of his sudden confession, your own heart was thumping out of your chest. Your throat felt dry and tight, as if air was struggling to pass through.

You didn’t understand. You were so, so lost.

The Captain and his crew were brutes. They didn’t care for the lives of your village, nor the ones before it. They were pirates, bred as thieves and murderers.

They were cold-hearted criminals.

Except that wasn’t all they were. They were people with fucked up history just as much as the next person, only their paths aligned much differently than another’s.

As you looked at the man before you, with eyes begging to be seen, you felt a change of heart. You had no reason to feel selfless towards him, nor any of them, yet you had no family and no home to retreat to.

Even back at home in the comfort of your village, you were longing for more. You lived alone, ate alone, slept alone, breathed alone.

Perhaps Price and you are two sides of the same coin in your own way.

“You care for me?” you asked in a murmur. Your hesitancy was evident in your tone. It was hushed and reserved. “That is why you have treated me so poorly, Captain?”

“Yes,” he uttered in defeat. “We all do. That is why you must have patience with me, dove. You must understand that I have to go about this carefully. Will you trust me?”

To be cared for besides a woman who pitied you such as Mary did felt foreign. In a village that taunted your individuality, you never truly felt at home.

You desperately wanted to belong somewhere, and you knew if you ran far, far away from the ship and crafted a life of your own on the Mainland, things wouldn’t look much different.

You studied Price some more, flickering your eyes along the lines of his face. You took in the wrinkles by his eyes and the softness his irises held.

Fate worked in weird ways, but it also held hope that the path it took you on was smooth sailing.

You’d always been a bit of an optimist.

“Okay,” you agreed softly, sealing the deal to a future unknown.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Arsonist's Lullaby

As you may have guessed, this one is inspired by "Arsonist's Lullaby" by Hosier. cw: arson (as you might have deduced, no one is hurt and they're burning their own property)

Draco was doing that thing with his hands again. The thing Harry had noticed first in 8th year and then hadn't stopped being able to notice in the past five years since.

It's what had drawn him to Draco in the first place, like a moth to flame (pun very much intended). There was something completely mesmerizing about watching him snap his fingers and then cradle the blue flames in his palm absentmindedly while he talked, or read a book, or performed any number of mindless tasks. It was sexy as fuck.

"You're staring again," Draco murmured, not raising his eyes from his book as the fire danced across his knuckles.

Harry hummed, "You're doing the fire again."

"You're as obsessed with fire as I am," he said, mouth curling at the corner.

"Mostly obsessed with you," Harry replied and Draco laughed and finally looked up for his book.

He stared at Harry for a moment, the fire winding its way through his fingers the way some people rolled coins along their knuckles. "You know," Draco said, voice a hint too casual and Harry internally perked up at what was sure to be a fantastic confession, "I thought it would end."

"What would?" Harry asked after a moment when it was clear that Draco wasn't going to go on without a bit of prompting.

His silver eyes latched onto Harry and his head tilted as he looked at him, like he was trying to parse something out. "The desire to light things on fire," he said and something hot flared in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Tell me more," Harry said softly, voice low and seductive in a way that it normally wasn't outside of their bedroom.

Draco's pupils dilated sharply, "when I was a child," he said, the fire burning brighter in his hand for a moment, "I would sit for hours and stare at the flames in the manor's giant fire place. My parents couldn't understand it, they'd find me just sitting there, doing nothing but watching, like I was transfixed."

And frankly, Harry could understand that; he could watch Draco hold fire all day.

"When she caught me, Auntie Bella would say, 'don't ever tame your demons, Draco,' then she'd wink and tell me, 'but always keep them on a leash.'"

"What did that mean?"

Draco gave him a little smile, eyes flashing, "she could sense the bit of chaos, the desire for destruction, I think."

Harry hummed, "What did you want to destroy?"

"Oh, it changes," he replied easily. "When I was sixteen, the last time she said those words to me, I wanted to burn the entire world to the ground."

A shiver raced up Harry's spine, he remembered feeling the same way at sixteen. "And now?" he asked.

"I always thought it would go away," Draco said, "after I fell in love, after I had given the fire within me permission to consume someone the way I've consumed you."

Harry made a soft noise, low in his throat in agreement.

"The way I've let myself be consumed," he added. "But there's still this desire to burn down the past, to start fresh."

He nodded slowly, "that makes sense, actually."

"What if-" Draco started before snapping his jaw shut and clenching his fist around the fire to put it out.

"What if..." Harry prompted, moving to straddle Draco's hips, looking down at his lovely face.

Draco swallowed and rested his head against the back of the sofa, staring up at him. "What if we did start over? What if we moved to the states, or moved to some muggle city? What if-"

"Yes," Harry said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Draco's lips, fingers skimming up his neck. "Godric, yes," he said, living in the world as the chosen one had only gotten harder since defeating Voldemort.

"What if I burned down the Manor first?" he whispered.

He felt his eyebrows hit his hair line, "What?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, but Harry could see the tension in his jaw, the fear of being too much. "Just," he sighed, "no one lives there. It's full of dark, cursed magic and even darker, more cursed memories." He blinked up at Harry, "What if I burned it first?"

He stared at him for a long moment, just searching his face, and finding only earnest desire there. "Alright," he said finally.

"Yeah?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded and leaned in to kiss him again, Draco's palms skimmed up his back and sides, touching him reverently.

"Pack for us?" he asked when he pulled back.

"Everything?"

Draco shrugged, "not furniture."

He closed his eyes and gathered his magic for a moment, letting it pool in his gut before holding out a hand and snapping. The contents of the flat organized themselves into boxes, shrinking down until everything fit into a tote that they could easily put into the back of the beat up old Subaru that Harry had purchased and refit with magic.

"Fucking hot," Draco said, pulling his face down and kissing him soundly.

Harry let himself get swept up in the moment, lost himself in the fire of Draco's kiss, let himself be consumed as Draco's fingers slipped under his shirt, nails raking up his back.

Far too soon in Harry's opinion, Draco was pulling back, flushed and panting. "Drive us as close as we can get to the Manor?" he asked, "then I'll get us through the wards?"

He nodded and stood, tugging Draco up behind him and out the door. The Subaru brought them faithfully through the night to the Manor and Harry parked just on the other side of the wards.

They climbed out of the car and Draco reached for Harry's hand, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. Harry took it and they were being moved through time and space to a hill where they could see the whole of the Malfoy estate, the Manor centered in front of them.

There was fire flickering in and out of the hand that wasn't clasping Harry's and he watched the other man carefully. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to-"

"No, I know," Draco said. "And there's a part of me that doesn't want to. I loved this home when I was young."

"We could-"

"But it feels all wrong now," he said, shaking his head. "Can't you feel it?" he asked without looking at Harry, "the way that the darkness seeps from this place, it's killing everything around it," he added, pointing to the forest and the meadows, even the yard was brown and dead.

Draco shook his head, "For a little while, it felt like all I had was this fire burning within me, ready to scorch the earth, to wipe out that maniac and everything he stood for. I just feel like there's something more for me out there."

He slid his fingers through Draco's, holding the hand that wasn't currently holding fire. "There is," he promised, raising Draco's knuckles to his lips.

"I don't think that you can tame your demons," he said softly like he wasn't talking to Harry at all. "And I don't think you can keep them on a leash, either," he added. "I think the only thing to do is to destroy them entirely."

Without another word, he released Harry's hand and held up both of his, letting balls of flames build in his palms before hurling them down toward the Manor. As soon as those were sent on their way, he started on two more, then two more, and so on until the entire building was ablaze, flames leaping dozens of feet in the air.

He threw one last ball of fire, then collapsed. Harry dropped with him, reaching out for him and supporting him as they watched the representation of his old life, of everything evil, burn.

What could have been minutes or hours later, they heard the sound of distant sirens and the first few firefighters apparated in, wands blowing streams of Aguamentis at the raging fire.

"Time to go," Draco said, squeezing Harry's hand and apparating directly into the car.

"Where are we headed?" Harry asked, starting the car and punching the button that turned it invisible.

Draco hummed, turning his head and staring at Harry with a thoroughly blissed out, content expression on his face.

He leaned across the center console and kissed him, "You're so," he shook his head and kissed him again, "fucking amazing."

Humming, Draco kissed him back before redirecting his attention to the open sky, "the world's ours. Wherever you want to go," he shrugged, "we're free."

And it never really mattered where they went, there were always plenty of things to find joy in if they were together.

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

Read more of my fics inspired by songs

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From an Avid Reader: The Sofa Scene Part 2.

Posted as part of #benophie week 2023

Prompt: "You're much better off without me." "You're not the judge of that."

(Vibes rather than direct quote)

✨The Context✨

See Part 1 here.

Prior to this scene we have had Grandam Alexandra’s will scene. The start of this written here and overview written here. 

By the end of this scene, Anthony, Violet and Kate have agreed (not amicably or happily I must say)  that Benophie cannot be together. Benedict needs distance to forget this little love. The family cannot be ruined by this scandal. And so, a solution is found–Francesca. Sophie can become Francesca’s ladies maid, Francesca who is about to marry an Earl and move to Scotland. 

The scene ends with Anthony doing a “Are we in agreement” and Kate and Violet agreeing begrudgingly.

Now! Back to the happy couple…

✨The Scene✨

Scene cuts to the studio with Benophie enwrapped on the sofa. Benedict is awake and lovingly staring down at Sophie, a hand caressing her back as she presses close to him. He kisses her temple lightly and whispers,

“This is where I belong.”

The clock strikes the hour and Benedict knows Sophie needs to return, so he gently coaxes her awake even though she protests and snuggles even closer to him.

“Sophie, we need to get up, and we need to talk…”

Sophie finally opens her eyes and smiles up at him. Then the reality of the situation settles on her and she jerks away.

“Oh my Lord!” She clutches her discarded stays to her.

“Sophie, wait—”

“What have I done?” she cries.

“I think more accurate would be what have we done—”

“No, no, no—this was a mistake.”

“Sophie, take a breath—” Benedict reaches out to soothe her again but she hits his hands away.

“Get away! Just…” Sophie holds her hand out. Benedict nods and turns around. Sophie quickly dresses, muttering to herself. “Foolish, stupid girl…I cannot believe you would…”

“Sophie, we need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about!” she cries, buttoning up her dress, eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears from flowing.  “It is not as if there is some future to be had here. It is not as if we can stride into your brother’s study and he will be overjoyed that you befouled yourself with a maid!. And even if I were not a maid, no illegitimate child would be allowed even close to your ivory gates. The only way that would occur was if Araminta formally legitimised me, which I can assure you will never happen because Araminta would rather be six feet under than do such a thing—"

As she has been speaking, the viewer sees Benedict still on the sofa, his hands running over the cushion that Sophie’s head had occupied mere moments earlier.

“So, marry me.”

“What?”

Sophie swivels around. Benedict stands up and says again,

“Marry me.”

“Benedict you are—”

“Do you love me?”

Sophie struggles—but she cannot lie about her heart.

“Yes…yes I do.”

“And I love you. I loved you in a silver dress. I loved you in breeches and in a servant’s uniform. I do not care whether you are descended from a maid or the King of England himself. I love you, Sophie. And you were right, it was wrong of me to expect you to be my mistress, to treat you like a secret, like something that is a mere shadow of my true feelings. So do not be my mistress.” He gets down on one knee. “Become my wife, Sophie.”

Sophie stares.

“You are out of your mind.”

“I disagree. It is very simple. I love you and you love me.”

Sophie stares–then steps away.

“Simple? Simple!? Benedict, if I married you, we would be ostracised from society, forced to flee into the country.”

Benedict is obvisouly disappointed but not disheartened. He stands up.

“Good, I find the entire ton pointless and petty. I would rather have a quiet life with you than an empty one in public.”

“But your paintings! You have such talent Benedict, such wonderful talent that deserves to be honoured in galleries. That could never happen if you married me.”

“It would not happen without my muse either. And a lifetime of moments with you is worth infinitely more than a couple framed moments in a gallery.”

His sincerity is at once soul-gratifying and infuriating. Why does he not understand?

“If I married you, you would have to give up most of your luxuries. You would not have the generous allowance from your brother.”

“No. But I know that I will receive my grandmother’s ring, which, when sold along with other frivolous possessions of mine, would be enough to buy a small cottage in the country. You could work as a governess, or in the village.” Benedict smiles to himself, already picturing it. “ I could sell paintings or find a job.”

“A job?” Sophie scoffs. But Benedict does not laugh, instead his eyes are intent. He takes her hands and brings them to his heart, so she has no choice but to look into his eyes.

“If it meant I could wake up every day with you in my arms , then I would work until my hands were raw.” Sophie's breath hitches, then he smirks. “And, you must admit, I make quite a good, cooked breakfast.”

Sophie is scrmbbling, old taunts muddying the waters of her heart. For it is ridiculous. He could not want a life with her? Who would want a life with her? She needs something, anything, any little piece--

“And your family?”

For the first time, Benedict hesitates. Sophie latches onto it.

“You would willingly thrust your family into a scandal? Tarnish your sisters’ reputations?”

“Francesca is to be married to an Earl. Eloise would most probably appreciate a couple years without suitors and all whispers will have dissipated by the time Hyacinth debuts.

“You think your family will just welcome us with open arms—welcome me?”

“My family adore you.”

“They adore me as a maid. You truly think such sentiment will continue when I ensnare and run off with their favourite brother.”

“I am not their—”

“Yes, you are!” Sophei cries. “Your entire family adores you, Benedict, your entire family relies on you, cares for you, needs you.”

As she says the words her yearning tone increases. What she would not give to have grown up with Violet as a mother, or Eloise as a sister. What she would give up to experience such love.

“At some point I need to lead my own life…”

“They love you, Benedict. They love you, so very much.”

Benedict pulls her closer, holding her by the arms, voice gentle.

“And that love will mean that they will not ostracise us. It might take time, some more than others, but we would not be estranged.”

“You would risk that love? You would willingly give up that love? A love that is so rare, and so precious?”

“Sophie—”

“No. No. You are being delusional.”

“I am not delusional—”

“Ofcourse you are!” Sophie breaks away. “Or if not then you are being naïve and reckless with the privilege and love that has been handed to you on a silver platter—just like every other gentleman. I know what it is like to not have that love, Benedict.” The tears choke her voice. “And it is a fate I would never wish to inflict on anyone, let alone the man I love. No. I will not let you throw away such a special, wonderful love on someone like me.”

“You are worth it.”

“I am not.”

“Sophie, you do not dictate what or who I value and put worth into. I choose to value you, to love you—”

“You are being ridiculous! Love may have triumphed for your siblings, but their silks match, as do their cravats and pearls. Your siblings’ love is treasured in paintings and poems, looked on with envy but also admiration…But I wear cotton while you wear silk, and my neck is bare. Our love would be discarded in the dusty shadows and treated with disdain until it is disfigured. And we will be disfigured and miserable. No one would ever choose a love like that. No one should choose a love like that.”

Benedict steps towards her as he speaks,

“I would choose a love like that. I will choose a love like that. I am choosing a love like that. A love that is disdained by others but coveted by us. A love that burns too bright to ever submit to the shadows and a love so strong that it heals its wounds and rises after every fall.” He is so close that he can cup her face tenderly, the other hand on her waist. His eyes staring into her soul. “What you say is true, the world can be a cruel place, but I am willing to brave it with you, I am willing to brave it for you. Please.”

A couple beats of shared heartbeats—until Sophie whispers,

“I will not be the one who ruins you.”

She pushes away.

“But you love me and I love you. Why is that not enough?”

“It will never be enough…” Benedict staggers back. “And I will never risk ruining you nor the love you deserve.”

“You are the love I deserve. You are the only love I want.”

He tries to come close and capture her again. But Sophie steps out of reach—always just out of reach.

“I am not. I am just a dream that will one day disappear when you find the lady that is the love of your life.”

“You are—”

“Please. Please, stop.” She sobs. Benedict halts even though all he wants to do is take her in his arms, hold her and kiss her until she understands how much love he has for her, how reverently he holds her in his life.

But Benedict knows that Sophie is a woman of conviction. And since that day at the lake he has learnt the need to respect her even if it wrenches the heart apart. So, with great effort, he says,

“Very well…You have every right to make your own decision and I should respect that. So, goodbye…” his voice chokes and he struggles to swallow. He steps away, unable to look her in the eye. “Goodbye Sophie.”

“Goodbye, Benedict.”

With tears in her eyes Sophie walks to the door, but just as she opens it, Benedict says.

“But you must know, Sophie, that you are breaking my heart once more,” He finally looks up at her, tears running down his face, “and you are condemning me to spend the rest of my life wandering this earth with half a heart and half a soul.”

Sophie tries to hold his stare as her heart rips at the seams. For she wishes she could run into his arms and never let go. In her heart she longs for this man, dreams of a life with him, a life where she would be enough for him.

But such dreams are as fantastical as the stories she makes up. She can only believe in what she knows—that she will make him miserable. Just as she has made everyone miserable: her father, her stepmother, and her step siblings. So, she turns away and says,

“I assure you, Benedict. That fate is far better than the alternative.”

And she leaves.

She shuts the door and rests on it, hand on her stomach, hand over her mouth, tears spilling as she closes her eyes. But after a moment she takes a shaky breath, breaths deep and stands rigidly tall. And then leaves down the corridor.

The camera pans through to the other side of the door to find Benedict resting his forehead on the door.

Waiting, hoping.

But then he hears her footsteps leave and his eyes close in anguish. And he slides to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

*~*~*~*~*

Ah...you smell that? Sweet, sweet angst. 😉

I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests. So...

Check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

[noramoons]

for reasons wretched and divine:

act ii ↠ part i

↠ pairing: bang chan x fem reader (afab)

↠ genre: wolf demon au, greek mythology au, demon!stray kids

↠ word count: 8.5k

↠ includes: fluff, angst, eventual smut

↠ rating: mature/18+

↠ warnings: language, violence, torture, smut, more warnings to be added

↠ summary: You’ve heard stories about the Lykos clan for your entire life. You know the rules about dealing with demons - never look them in the eye, never trespass on a shrine without an offering, and never walk in their territory alone.

When did you forget to listen?

| previous | next | masterlist | also posted on ao3!

You're jolted awake from a dreamless sleep by the distinct sound of bickering. It's certainly become distinct to your ears as of late, anyway.

"I'm not!"

"Changbin, we can't just stay here."

"Well, I'm not taking another step today. And I'm sure as hell not walking upwards of four hours like we've done for the last week now. I'm tired."

There's a shared noise of agreement from a few other members of the group. You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you crane your neck to the side to see who's talking. Minho is standing with his arms crossed across his chest over Changbin's tent, who is currently laying with only his head exposed out of the tent flaps, the rest of his body hidden in the tent.

You see Chan poke his head out from the tent to the left. "If we get far enough today, we'll reach Abeona's territory in just a few more days. We're really close now.”

Changbin throws his arms in the air in exasperation. "You've been saying that every day for the past week!"

Chan nods. "And every day we've gotten closer. We really are only two or so days out from Abeona at the rate we've been going."

From the tent to the right, someone lets out a sigh loud enough that you can hear it, even as far away as you are. "Exactly. 'At the rate we've been going—' but we're tired, Your Highness. I'm with Changbin on this. If I have to walk another step today, I'm just going to collapse." Hyunjin.

"Does everyone feel this way?" Chan asks.

Felix pushes Changbin out of the way enough to step out of their shared tent. "I wouldn't mind a break."

Jisung gradually emerges from the tent farthest away. "I don't care either way," he says, his voice still low from sleep.

Chan shrugs. "I don't mind stopping for today if it's what everyone wants. We'll just need to ask..." He trails off as he turns his head, obviously looking for you, and you wave your arm from your position under the blanket when you think he's looking in your direction. His gaze softens with relief once he sees you, and you feel that all-too-familiar heartache flare up again.

Did you make the wrong choice yesterday?

Seungmin crawls out of the tent beside Jisung before you have time to dwell on it. When his gaze falls on you, it's the exact opposite of the look Chan had on his. "What were you and Minho doing ignoring me last night, hmm? You were supposed to come back so we could draw straws for the tents."

You'd just been talking, but your cheeks redden with embarrassment anyway.

"He put me on watch, Y/N! The whole night! Can you believe that?" Minho calls to you, and you can't help but let out a short laugh.

Seungmin still appears irritated, his arms crossed across his chest, but if your eyes don't deceive you, it almost looks like he's fighting back a smile right now. "Well, get back over here. You two can draw straws, and then we'll figure out what we're doing today."

You roll your blankets back into your bag as quickly as you can and walk back towards the rest of the council. The navigator already has the two remaining straws in his fist, extended towards you as you approach him. "Go ahead," Seungmin says. "You can go first."

You pull the straw (which, upon closer inspection is definitely a stick—but you suppose they're making do, being in the middle of nowhere and all) out that's closer to you from his fist, and Seungmin hands the last remaining straw to Minho. "Alright. The two tents left with an open spot are Chan's and Jisung's, so if you two wouldn't mind showing me which straws you have, we'll compare them."

The other two demons return to their tents briefly to grab the straws they pulled yesterday, and show them to Seungmin.

He compares the length of all four straws. "Okay. Looks like Minho will be sharing the tent with Jisung, so that leaves Chan and Y/N in the last tent."

Jisung throws his head back in laughter, clutching Minho's shoulder for support. "Looks like you're stuck with me again, huh?"

Minho shoves Jisung's hand off his shoulder. "I always end up stuck with you. Like goddamn gum on the bottom of my shoe, you are."

It's certainly meant to be an insult, but Jisung's grin just seems to grow wider.

Meanwhile, you're left with your stomach twisting and your gaze firmly on your shoes. Once again, you think—you deserve this. If karma exists, then surely this is the proof for it.

"So, Y/N. Did you decide?"

You glance up quickly, expecting to see Chan looking just as uncomfortable as you feel—and yet he just looks as cordial as always. "What?"

"On today. Did you overhear earlier? The rest of the council doesn't want to hike any further through the gods' land today. I told them it would be up to you to decide, since you're the main reason for this journey, anyway."

Oh. "Oh—sure. That's fine," you say. Straight to business, of course. That's the king of the Lykos clan for you.

He frowns a little. "Are you sure? I know how eager you are to get back home to the Interior. This will delay that by at least a day."

You shrug. "It's just a day. I understand how everyone feels—I'm pretty tired, too. And it's not like I mind spending an extra day here, anyway."

Chan quirks an eyebrow at that, a faint smile on his lips. "You don't mind? Even though you're traveling with the evil Lykos clan's war council?"

You smirk a little at that. "No," you say. "I don't."

Whatever else either of you were going to say is once again interrupted by Seungmin. "If everyone's up for it, I think we should scout for something to eat. We used up the last of the fish rations last night."

"Yeah, well—I don't think anyone was particularly up for cooking last night," Changbin adds, rather pointedly.

Seungmin shrugs. "That's fair enough. Y/N, would you mind—"

"I think we should go into the nearby gods' village for food." It's Minho, holding the map of the gods' land in one hand and pointing to your current location with the other. "There's a fairly large one nearby, if this map isn't too out of date. We'll be able to sneak in and grab enough for everyone to eat without anyone ever noticing us." He says all this, of course, looking directly at you, as if you could have missed his true motives—he wants to test his theory. Already.

Chan seems to notice Minho's unwavering gaze on you as he speaks, but if he finds it unusual, he doesn't say anything. "How far is it?"

"Less than half an hour's hike. That's practically an evening stroll compared to what we've been doing every day. Who's with me?"

There's a few mutual sounds of agreement from the rest of the council. Chan turns to you again before speaking. "Y/N?" he asks. "Is that alright?"

You feel those same nervous butterflies you keep feeling every time he speaks swarming in your stomach. "Me?" you ask, laughing a little. "Why do you keep asking?"

He shrugs. "It's like I said before. You're the focus of this journey—or you should be, anyway. Our priority should be getting you home to the Interior as soon as we can, or as soon as you want. Whichever one happens first."

It's an unbearably kind sentiment from a wolf demon, and it raises an immediate question at the forefront of your mind. "Chan, I—you're not just saying or doing this because of everything that happened yesterday, right?" Your nerves get the best of you, and you speak a little faster than you'd originally intended, but he seems to be able to decipher your meaning all the same.

Chan shakes his head. "If anything, yesterday reminded me that I've got a duty to fulfill as the king of the Lykos clan, one that I feel I've been neglecting. You've certainly earned our trust, especially after that night with Hypnos and Thanatos trying to drag us all down to the River—so I think it's only fair that we export all our efforts into doing you a favor as well, which so happens to be getting you home." His voice drops a little in volume. "I want to be honest. I'd be lying if I said I saw you completely the same way I did before yesterday. But again—if anything, that just makes me want to complete this journey for your sake. I know you want to go home to the Interior, so—if the Lykos clan can make that happen, then I think we should."

He smiles at you once he finishes speaking, and you wonder if it's forced. Gods—how would you feel if the situation had been reversed? If he'd sacrificed his life for yours two hundred years ago, but it backfired and you spent the next century and a half as a demon with no memories of your human life? And if you'd gotten those memories back forty years ago, barely enough time to wrap your head around them before someone with his name stumbled back into your life, regained their memories but then didn't want anything to do with you? You can't imagine that you'd have the same cheerful grin across your lips that he does right now.

"The Lykos clan is the most cunning," you remember your grandmother saying once. "And usually the most charming, too. They're the hardest to bargain with, because they love deceit. It's fun for them to trick humans." Instead of the comfort you'd felt thinking about her words before, recalling these memories practically stings now. Was that really her, or Moneta? She'd said you had a year with your real grandmother, but when? And was that even true?

There's still too much going on in your head to make sense of anything besides the confusion and hurt. But you focus your gaze back on that warm smile in front of you, and you'd swear it almost makes those emotions melt away. Almost. You know what your grandmother had said—but that had been about the former Lykos clan. These demons have your trust. And you have theirs. Chan's offering to do whatever he can to get you home, just like how he'd offered to guide you through the haze of memories swirling around in your head yesterday. You may still feel a twinge of guilt at Chan's soft grin in front of you, but you're grateful for it all the same.

And whether or not it may be forced—if he can put on a smile for now, then you think you can, too. So you do. "Alright," you say, finally. "Thank you, Chan. I'll try to do all I can to help, too."

His gaze softens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Don't worry, Y/N. We'll have you home before you know it."

You beam at him, but it fades a little once he turns back around to talk to the rest of the council. For a brief moment, you wonder if his smile fades when he turns away from you, too, and the feeling of unhappiness that settles into your stomach at the thought stays there for much longer than you'd prefer.

~~~

Minho had been right. The walk to the nearby village isn't far at all, compared to the grueling hikes you've been enduring for the past several days. You spot it once you're over the top of a hill, the village nestled in a valley in between this hill and the next.

"Is that it?" you call to the front of the group. Minho doesn't turn around, but you see his nod anyway.

You feel a hand at the crown of your head, pulling the hood of the wolfskin cloak around you down past your eyes. You push it back up, slightly annoyed, but the hand pushes it back down. There's a low laugh to your side, though, so it doesn't take too long for you to realize who the hand belongs to.

You push the hood back up, swatting his hand away now. "Felix, do you mind?" you ask, laughing a little (partially out of relief, you'll admit) now that you know who the perpetrator is.

Felix flicks the top of your hood with a finger, allowing you to see the smirk on his face before he pulls it back over your eyes again, keeping a hand on your forehead to prevent you from moving the hood again. "You'd better keep yourself covered here, you know. Especially once we actually get into the village."

"Sure, but I still need to be able to see, Felix."

"Fine," he says, heaving out an exaggerated sigh. "How's this?" He tugs the hood up ever so slightly, just beneath your lower lashes.

You make an exasperated face before realizing he can only see about half of it. "A little more, maybe?"

Finally he relinquishes, pulling the hood back up to where it had been at the top of your forehead, the wolf's teeth just barely covering your hairline. "Better safe than sorry, you know."

You turn your head to face him, but once you catch sight of the ear-to-ear smirk on his face, you realize it's too hard to keep up the (mostly) feigned annoyance. "I think me falling over my own feet would alert the gods in the village to my being here just as easily as my aura would."

Felix shrugs. "Fair enough." He shoots you another small grin before turning back around, and you can't deny the burst of happiness you feel seeing him somewhat eager again.

You must not be the only one who feels that way, though, because there's a lighthearted scoff on your left. "Hope he's not giving you too much trouble."

You turn to meet Changbin's gaze. "Oh—oh, of course not. He could never."

He just shrugs in response. "I heard you talked with him a few nights ago. After the harpy attack, I mean."

You nod.

Changbin lets out another scoff. "Well, I'd love to know what you said, honestly. It usually takes me weeks to get him out of a slump like that, but now he's back to—well, that," he says, gesturing vaguely at Felix gleefully bounding down the hill past Minho, who's exclaiming for him to come back. "I'd love to know the difference between your little fireside chat and what I've been telling him for the past forty years."

You let out a laugh at the sight, but there's guilt twinging in your chest at Changbin's words all the same. "I don't know, to be honest. It couldn't have been all that different from what you said—and you know him way better than I do. Maybe it was just the new perspective on the situation? You know what people say—fresh ears, and all that."

"No," he says. "I don't, clearly."

The twinge of guilt twists itself into a knot. "Changbin, I don't—"

But he puts a hand up to stop you before you can get any further. "Look. I'm not mad at you. Honest. I really am glad he's turned around so quickly, I just...I don't know. I guess I am frustrated about it. And I want to be able to help him like this, like you have, once you're back in the Interior."

For the second time today, there's an unusual feeling of unhappiness at the thought of going back to the Interior. Of going home—gods, what the hell is wrong with you? "Changbin, I really don't think I said anything exceptional. He told me about what happened in his human life, and I just told him that none of those things he feels so bad about were his fault. Which he said sounded exactly like something Chan would say."

Now there's a smirk tugging at the corners of Changbin's lips. "That must make a little more sense to you after yesterday, I guess."

You hadn't really thought about it until now, but he's right—that comment does make much more sense now, knowing what you know about your past life. And if elements of that life were seeping into what you said and did just a few days ago, then how many more instances are there that you haven't connected yet?

Changbin can see that he's unintentionally sent you down a mental rabbit hole from the expression on your face, so he just gestures with his head towards the front of the group. "Well—just think about it, alright? If anything else specific comes up that you can remember saying, just let me know."

You nod, still in a slight daze from the sudden whirlwind of thoughts. In all honestly, you really aren't entirely sure what's happened with Felix between that conversation you had around the fire and today, but you do know that that cheeky grin looks so at home on his face. And that's enough, for now.

Maybe you should have taken Felix's advice, though, and just walked with your face covered and him leading you—because you don't take more than twenty steps into the god village before one of its inhabitants approaches you, standing in front of Chan and Minho at the front of the group.

"You can't be here," she says, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "I-I know what you are." Her voice trembles that time, and you know you all can hear it. She's young—younger than you for sure, you think, probably the same age as the younger demons that clung to Jeongin the night before you and the council departed. That thought, however, leads to another—she probably isn't young at all. Just like the demons in the cave, she's got to be at least two hundred years old—no god could have been born without the Pantheon being open and having access to the desires of humans.

"You do?" Minho asks, his voice much steadier than hers. "What are we, then?"

"You're the Lykos clan. Right?"

Relief washes over you like a wave. She hadn't been aware that you were an Augur—she's only worried about the Lykos clan suddenly being in her village. A reasonable worry, certainly, and one that presents its own set of problems for you—but at least you don't have to deal with this one alone.

Or that's what you think, at first—because Minho immediately turns around to lock eyes with you, an almost malicious grin on his lips as he gestures with his head towards the goddess in front of him as if to say Well? Give it a try. This is what we came here for.

Your eyes widen, but before you can audibly protest, Minho nods quickly. He knows what you're trying to say. And you know what he's trying to say. Most importantly, however, despite the sudden nervousness you feel, nothing has changed since your conversation with him last night—you're still very, very curious to see if you have this ability.

So you take a deep breath. "I, um—I think you should leave," you say, gesturing towards the goddess, to Minho's sheer delight.

But the goddess just frowns, cocking her head to one side. "No, you should leave. Or at least hide—Aeolus is the head deity of this village, and he'll be able to sense your presence if you step any further into his territory. But, um—look, my name's Hebe. I can do you a favor. If you want."

"What's the favor?" Chan asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

You glare at Minho in the meantime. "I told you it wouldn't work!" you hiss under your breath as quietly as you can manage.

He makes the same exasperated face. "You just weren't committed enough! Try it again," he whispers back.

"Like hell," you reply immediately. "That was embarrassing, Minho."

"Can someone explain this to me, please? Again?" Jeongin's whispers cut through both of your voices.

Jisung lets out a loud laugh at that, and Hebe looks visibly uncomfortable—but she continues with what she was going to tell Chan anyway. Perhaps she'd expected a demon clan to be a little on the eccentric side, anyway.

"There's a tree just outside the village that bears golden fruit. If you can bring me one of the pears growing from it, then I won't tell Aeolus about you barging in here."

"Why can't you just get it?" Jisung asks, and Hebe flinches at his sudden query. "If it's just outside this village, what do you need us for?"

"I can't get the fruit," she says immediately. "It was an offering from worshippers hundreds of years ago, so Chief Aeolus is determined to keep it safe. No one but him is allowed to take any fruit from the tree, but—my brother has fallen sick recently. None of our traditional medicine is working on him, so I was hoping that the tree's fruit might have some kind of healing properties, since it was once a holy offering—but I can't take any of the fruit myself to check. Please, I'll hide the other members of your clan here if you'll bring me back a pear."

"Just one?" Seungmin interjects, and the skepticism in his voice is loud and clear.

Hebe nods eagerly. "Just one."

Seungmin casts his suspicious gaze towards Chan. "Your thoughts, Your Majesty?"

But Felix interrupts Chan before he can answer. "I'll go," he says, with a shrug. "I don't mind.”

Chan frowns at that. "Felix, you don't have to—"

"Is your brother really sick?" Felix asks, turning to face the young goddess in front.

She nods quickly.

"Then I'm going," he says, crossing his arms across his chest.

Something about him immediately volunteering strikes unease into your chest—so you do the only thing you can think of. "I will too," you say, almost at the same time that Hyunjin steps forward and nods. "Me too," he adds.

Chan sighs. "Fine, then. I'll follow too, to make sure you stay out of trouble. Minho," he starts, "can you—"

"You got it," Minho says, saluting the king before he can even finish his sentence. "I'll keep an eye on everything else."

They keep eye contact for an instant too long—communicating something beyond words, no doubt, and it makes the tension all the more palpable.

The goddess interjects anyway. "The rest of you can follow me. I'll hide you in the back of my home until the rest of your group returns." Her gaze lingers on you, now, and you think you understand her meaning: you've given her all the cards. She'll be holding the other four members of the council in the village, and if you don't return with a golden pear, she'll certainly reveal your presence to the chief of their village.

There's no choice but to do what she asked, now.

~~~

Hebe had been true to her word—the tree really is just outside the village. You can see it coming into view the minute you cross back up the hill, and it's easy to spot—it's enormous. Over a hundred feet tall, easily, with spiraling branches that reach out in full, practically beckoning you to come closer. And the golden fruit wasn't an exaggeration, either—you can see them reflecting off the sunlight as you get closer.

You turn to see Felix's similarly awed expression, but there's nothing but a scowl across Hyunjin's features.

You exchange glances with Chan, who's noticed the unpleasant expression Hyunjin's wearing by now, too. You're just about to open your mouth to ask what's wrong when he beats you to it.

"How the hell did this get here?"

You aren't sure what you were expecting, but it still surprises you. "What?"

"This tree. Gods, I—I know it. From when I was alive."

Chan's eyebrows knit together as he frowns. "You saw this tree when you were a human?"

Hyunjin nods, his gaze still firmly on the tree in front of you. "Demeter's high priests planted it in the palace courtyard one year when I was young. It was a great honor, supposedly. It was just outside my window, so I...I could see it all the time." There's something strange in his voice at the end, you think—something unsteady, like you've never heard from him before.

You have a sudden question to ask, the kind of question that you think you may not want the answer to anyway. "Hyunjin," you ask quietly, and he finally pulls away and turns his head to face you at the sound of his name. "Did you ever see the tree from...from outside your window?"

His eyes don't leave yours. "Minho's right, you know. You are too smart for your own good."

For once, you wish you'd been wrong about something. "I'm not, actually," you say. "I'm just good at guessing."

Hyunjin lets out a laugh that's ever so slightly too loud. "I don't think that's true. But yes, Y/N—you're right. When I was human, I was the crown prince of my country, and as such, I was expected to never leave the palace I lived in. My first and only taste of freedom was the night the Lykos clan ransacked the palace looking for Augurs and ending up turning me and a few others instead. Funny, right?" He laughs again, just barely too loud again, and the sound makes your chest ache.

But he continues on before you have time to think of a response. "I have no idea how the tree could've gotten here from the Interior, though."

"Could've been cut down," Felix suggests with a shrug. "That goddess said it was an offering from worshippers, right? Maybe it was returned to the Citadel in the same way all the food in our land appears and reappears. Because it was an offering."

There's a sad smile on Hyunjin's face at this, his gaze returning to the tree. "I don't know who could've cut down a sacred tree like this in the Interior—although I guess it doesn't really matter, does it?" His smile widens. "There are no deities in the Interior anymore, anyway."

You feel your heart unexpectedly twist at that, but Hyunjin continues again before you can say anything. "Besides—what do you think the catch is?"

Chan frowns. "The catch?"

He nods. "Hebe could've just walked out here and taken one of these pears, right? Why hasn't she before?"

"I thought she said they weren't allowed to leave the village," Felix points out.

Hyunjin shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, I'm not going up there first."

There's exactly one beat of silence before you hear Chan say "I'll go first."

You whip your head around to face him. "Chan, I really don't think—"

But he just shrugs, a tiny grin on his lips. "What's the worst that you could happen?"

You let out a scoff of disbelief at that. "I can think of plenty of things my grandmother had told me about the Citadel years ago. Who knows what new horrors might have been created since then?"

The grin widens. "That's kind of exciting, don't you think?" And he's turned around and started his march towards the base of the tree before you can even bat an eye.

Gods above. "Let's try to stay close behind," you suggest, and Felix and Hyunjin both nod. The three of you stay about twenty steps behind Chan, but it's not long before you see that the physician's hunch had been right—the instant Chan crosses over an exposed root in the ground, the previously idle branches of the tree suddenly spring into action, growing in length and swinging towards him at a speed so fast you'd almost miss it, if it weren't for his demon reflexes that allow him to duck under one of the longer tree branches and immediately turn around to run back towards the rest of you.

Hyunjin lets out a shallow laugh once Chan reaches the three of you. "Well? Do I get a prize?"

Chan smiles at him as he gradually catches his breath, his hands on his hips. "Well, your instincts certainly weren't wrong about that. I think those living branches are meant to stop anyone from getting within several feet of the base of the tree. So—how do we get a pear from a tree we can't reach?"

It's like a riddle, you think at first, but that thought immediately reminds you of the events with Moneta: the impossible riddle and the overwhelming flood of memories that still haven't quite settled from bouncing around in your skull just yet. You physically wince at the thought before you can stop yourself, but of course the ever-vigilant king of the Lykos clan notices.

And he frowns, turning his head to the side. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

The sound of Felix clapping his hands together in realization stops you from answering. "That's it! What about Y/N?"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. "What about Y/N?"

Felix walks to your side so he can flick the leather strap of the quiver over your shoulder. "Think the goddess from the village would mind if her golden pear had a hole through the middle of it?"

You turn to face him, eyes widening. "Felix, there's no way I could shoot an apple off the tree from this distance. That's practically pinpoint aiming, I can't—"

He just shakes his head, pulling an arrow out of the quiver before you can stop him. "Sure you can! You saved my life against that pack of harpies, after all. This should be a piece of cake compared to those moving targets."

You sigh, frowning. "I'm really not sure. And besides, that was different—your life was in danger."

He makes a swooping gesture behind him. "And the lives of the rest of the war council are in danger now! That goddess is practically holding them hostage. I know you've realized it, too."

Of course you have.

"Besides—what other choice do we have, now?"

Hyunjin laughs again, but Chan offers a reassuring smirk in contrast. "It can't hurt to try, right?"

Right. Unless you miss, and shooting at the tree will somehow make things worse, which is a thought that's already entered your mind—but you know they're right. It's the only option you have right now. There's no choice but to try.

So you take the arrow from Felix's extended grasp and nock it into the bow, pulling the string back to the side of your face. It's when you squint to try to get a better view of the pear closest to you that one of those memories floating around in your head suddenly rises above the others and pushes its way forward to the brim of your consciousness.

"A bow and arrow?" he asks.

You nod. "The high priest said continuing with a sword would be too dangerous. I don't think he wants me to know how to use any weapons, at this point."

Chan scoffs a little. "He's just scared of how quickly you've picked it up. You're probably better than him already."

You giggle a little at that, despite yourself. "But you know how to use a bow, right?"

"Well, sure, but I don't think I'll be a very good teacher—"

"C'mon, Chan! Please?" you ask, folding your hands in front of you in the same way you do when you're reciting your hourly prayers in the temple. "I just need to know the basics. It'll be so much easier to sneak a bow in my quarters than a sword."

He sighs, but you know from the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips that you've already won. You've only known the chief's son for a few weeks, having been introduced to him almost immediately after your orientation ceremony at the temple, but you've grown quite close to him already. He's much easier to talk to than you would've expected—especially in times like right now. "Alright, alright! Fine. And you're lucky I brought one with me, too."

You grin from ear to ear. "Gods above, thank you!"

Chan makes an amused expression as he digs the bow and quiver of arrows out of the bag he'd carried with him. "Thanking the gods? They didn't have anything to do with this."

You let out a pretend gasp. "Bang Chan—such sacrilege! What would your father say if he heard you say such a thing?"

The smile flickers for just a moment, but you still feel an immediate pang in your chest. Surely you've overstepped a boundary. But if he feels that way, he doesn't let on. "My father isn't here right now. And neither are the 'gods above.' Right?" he says, casting his gaze to the night sky above you both. "If I'm a heretic, then strike me down already!"

"Chan!" you exclaim, smacking the side of his shoulder lightly. "I'm serious. You shouldn't say things like that. Not all the gods think your jokes are as funny as I do."

He puts his hands up in defense in front of him. "Okay, okay. You're right. I'd better show you how to use this before you tell the gods that the chief's son deserves some kind of divine punishment."

You laugh as he places the bow into your open palms. "Alright," he starts out. "Your left hand holds the bow here," he says, bringing your hand down to the middle of the bow. He nocks the end of the arrow against the bowstring before bringing your right index and middle fingers against the string. "Hold the arrow with these. Pull it back to here," he says, tapping the side of your right cheek, and you do—or you try to, anyway. The bowstring is much, much more taut than you would have ever expected.

"Gods," you say, your eyes widening as you try to pull the string back. "Is it supposed to be like this?

Chan throws his head back in laughter before he nods at you. "It might take some getting used to. I'll help you this time." He places his hand over yours, and you can't help but notice that his palm is much more calloused than you would have expected from the son of the village chief. He steps to your right as he pulls the bowstring back, placing his free hand on the small of your back for balance. "You'll want to hold it here while you aim. Look for the center of wherever you're shooting—really visualize the arrow going where you want it to."

You narrow your eyes, aware that it's suddenly much harder to focus on the open field in front of you than it was before. But you try to clear your mind, doing what he asked—thinking about the center, visualizing yourself making the target. Chan's hand has left yours, but you're hardly even aware of it, now. You squeeze the bowstring with your two fingers before you let go. You let go.

You let go. And the arrow sinks through the middle of the golden pear, propelling it off the branch and behind the tree.

Hyunjin turns to you, his eyes wide. "Y/N, you—"

"I'll get it!" Felix calls, and he runs around to the opposite end of the tree, taking special care not to step near any of the exposed roots in the ground.

In the meantime, you meet Hyunjin's gaze. He lets out that short, hollow laugh you're so used to hearing now before shaking his head, those long, dark tresses around his hair following the motion gracefully. "You're something else, Y/N."

That's something you think you can agree on, but you're not sure he means the same thing you would. You've made a realization—one that you probably should have made a long time ago, that the reason you've been able to pick up using a bow again so quickly is due to muscle memory—but not from this life. From the life before this one.

You turn to tell Chan, but the feeling in your chest suddenly shatters when you see the look on his face—he's proud, so proud, with that endearing grin and the dimple that makes itself known on one side of his face, and the warmth that expression sends coursing through your chest is unlike anything you've ever felt before. You can't possibly ruin this. And besides, you think—if he'd suspected before, like he said, then it's fairly likely that he already knew the realization you just made.

Felix's reappearance saves you from your own thoughts as he extends a palm towards you, golden pear resting in the center. "I thought you'd want the arrow back."

You grin at him. "I thought it'd be funny to deliver it to Hebe with an arrow in it."

Felix returns the grin. "I think you're onto something there."

Hyunjin snorts. "Guess that's what Hebe gets for asking a demon clan for help."

You can see Chan's look of amusement out of the corner of your eye, but he doesn't say anything to stop the three of you from hatching your plan.

Felix jabs the side of your ribs playfully as the four of you walk back to the village. "Look at you. I cant believe you're thinking more like a demon now than I am."

You laugh. "Well, I don't know if that's true. But I did want to thank you for coming up with the idea to shoot the arrow off the tree. You saved all our asses back there."

He waves your words away. "No way. You're the one who actually did the shooting. I just had a less-than-idiotic idea for once in my life."

You frown a little at that. "What do you mean? That's the second time you've saved me now."

"Huh? When was the first time?"

A surprised laugh escapes your lips. "Felix, I know you haven't forgotten you're the one who saved me from that Koraki demon all those days ago. You patched up my leg, and you made me a crutch so I could walk. I wouldn't have made it past that first day without you."

Now you wonder if maybe he had forgotten about your first day in the Citadel, because he's suddenly staring at you in awe. "Y/N—you really meant that? You think I saved your life?

You nod, reaching a hand up to tug at the mess of light bangs across his forehead. "I know you did."

The look on his face changes to one of gratitude, and you suddenly remember what Changbin had said earlier—about how long it usually takes him to get out of a slump like this, and how he wants to know how you've done it so he'll know what to do once you're back in the Interior, and your stomach drops slightly at the thought. And it's not the first time, either.

Before you can dwell on it any more, though, you've reached the edge of the deity village, and Hebe is at the border waiting for you. "Follow me," she says, gesturing behind her with her head, and you follow her to a small cottage in the middle of the village. The rest of the council is inside, huddled around a small couch that looks like it was meant to seat two people at the most, not the five that are currently (and unhappily, if the looks on their faces are any indication) squeezed in and around it, and you think you'd laugh if the situation wasn't so suddenly tense.

Hebe turns to you, her hand extended. "The pear, please. Then I'll tell you all the best way out of this village."

You stifle a laugh as you place the golden pear in her palm, arrow and all, and you can hear Hyunjin and Felix choking on laughs behind you, too.

Hebe, of course, doesn't find it funny in the slightest. "I'm sorry, do you mind? I don't care how you got it, but it'll be impossible to use this in an enchantment with a damned arrow in the middle. Especially one that's been—oh, heavens, crafted by demons."

"Alright, alright," you say as you lean over to yank the arrow out. "I'll get it." The humor of the situation is over for you, at least. You can still here Hyunjin giggling behind you, though, and he pushes you from the back ever so slightly—probably in an attempt to make you fall, you'll think later—but when you right yourself after stumbling forward, the hood of your cloak falls to the back of your neck.

The look on Hebe's face changes from that of exasperation to horror in an instant. She clutched the apple to her chest, taking a step back until she's pressed against the wall. "Oh, Father Zeus, you—you're an Augur," she says, practically spitting out the last word with horrified disdain. "I let an Augur into my home...and a demon clan, oh, oh, I'm damned!"

It's Minho's voice you suddenly hear in front of you, and his hand that you suddenly feel around your forearm—although you don't quite recall seeing him get up from the couch. "We had a deal, Hebe."

She nods furiously. "O-oh, and know how much you demons love your precious deals. Look—a d-demon clan is bad enough. If Chief Aeolus knew you were here, and had an Augur, of all things, traveling with you—he'd smite you on the spot." 

"Sounds charming!" Jisung says. "We'll have to meet him the next time we pass through."

Hebe grips the wall with one hand and points toward the door with the other. "J-just go. Go. I won't tell anyone, but if y-you want to live—you'd better just leave the village as quickly as you can."

"Kinda hard to argue with that logic," you hear Seungmin say right before the hand on your wrist tightens and tugs you with him and the rest of the council towards the door, and out into the cool early evening air, and you run with the Lykos clan as fast as you can, as fast as any of you can.

You run for ages, the knapsack secured on your shoulders hitting your back with each step, but it's not until you feel your side aching and your lungs burning for air that you choke out an "Are we far enough yet? Can we stop?" You're near the back of the group, which hadn't surprised you originally, but it still slightly burns when you see everyone having to turn around to look at you.

Jisung lets out a short laugh. "No, compass," he says, that teasing tone in his otherwise completely steady voice. The stamina of a demon. "That goddess has already told that Chief Aeolus we passed through by now. There's probably a group out for our heads right now."

You frown. "You really think she'd do that?"

Now it's Minho's turn to laugh from up ahead. "She's got all the incentive to tell Aeolus and none to keep our presence a secret. You think any god, given the chance, would keep a promise to a demon clan? Let alone Lykos?"

You're silent at that.

Chan turns around to run backwards (now they're all just showing off, you think) for a brief moment to talk directly to you. "Y/N. Can you really not run any further?"

You want to say yes so badly. You're tired and out of breath already, but you know that if you say yes now, you'll look weak in front of the entire council—and for some reason, that thought upsets you more than the thought of having to carry on running. So instead, you shake your head. "No," you say, as steadily as you can. "I can keep going."

He offers you a reassuring grin before turning back around, and the pride that swells up in your chest is altogether too much, combined with your gasping lungs.

You bite back your complaints and run for a while longer—much longer than you'd originally anticipated yourself to be able to sustain—but it truly isn't long before you can physically feel your legs and chest screaming at you to stop. You barely gasp out a "Chan, I—" before he's immediately turned around again, and upon seeing your expression, runs back to your position in the back of the group.

He stays directly in front of you, running just fast enough to stay ever so slightly ahead, and to your bewilderment says "Jump," right before turning back around to face the rest of the council that's passed both of you.

You're still catching your breath, but you manage to get out a "...What?"

"No time," says, turning back around to shoot that reassuring grin at you again before outstretching one arm towards you. "Jump."

Oh, gods above—you think you've pieced together what he means. So you do jump, his hands moving to hook underneath your knees so your legs will secure themselves around his waist as your arms slide around his neck right before he takes off running again, back up to the front of the group in virtually no time at all.

You think you might rather die than see the look on anyone from the rest of the council at the sight—certainly not Jisung, although you know you'll be hearing about it from Minho for the entire rest of this journey—so you bury your head in Chan's shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck while the Lykos council continues to run.

It feels like an eternity when you finally hear Chan's voice addressing the rest of the group—although, from your position wrapped around him, you practically feel him say it too, his voice reverberating in his chest pressed against yours, and you squeeze your legs around his waist tighter without even thinking about it. Gods above. "Jeongin. See anything from the back?"

"Haven't in a while," you hear him reply behind you.

"What about the front? Felix?" Chan calls again.

"Not a thing," Felix answers.

"Alright," Chan says, and you can finally, finally feel him slowing down. "This should be a good place to camp for the night. Seungmin?"

"Looks fine to me," you hear the navigator reply. "I've got plenty of food from Hebe's kitchen to feed us for the next few days."

Jeongin laughs. "Light on your fingers again?"

You can see Seungmin shrug. "It was just laying out there. In the cabinets in the pantry. What did she think the Lykos clan was going to do in her house? Do the laundry?"

There's a chorus of snorts at that.

"You alright?" Chan asks, squeezing at the flesh underneath your knees gently. "I'm sorry if that caught you off guard."

You shake your head slightly. "It wasn't that, I—I'm sorry you had to carry me."

He pulls his head back enough to meet your gaze. "Hey, what? I was amazed you made it that far. We're not human, Y/N, and you kept pace with us for a long time. I think everyone was impressed."

Your eyes widen. "You think so?"

Chan nods. "I know so. Here—I'll help you get down." He holds either side of your hips as you set your feet back down on the ground, holding onto his shoulder for a brief moment while you regain your balance. It's a strange moment by any means, and you know it. You feel like you should say something, something funny to alleviate whatever the hell this tension is that's clearly building between you now—but instead you just say "I think I'm gonna go see what food Seungmin got from Hebe. I'm kinda hungry."

Chan nods, completely and surprisingly unfazed by your comment—if anything, he looks like he might have found it funny after all, if the bemused grin on his lips is anything to judge by. "Alright," he says. "I'll get the tent set up while you're gone."

The tent. Gods, you'd forgotten—you'd drawn straws earlier. You'll have to sleep beside him tonight. You wonder for a brief moment if he'll be able to hear your heartbeat that close—do the Lykos demons have hearing abilities like that? Did your grandmother ever mention anything about it?

Your mind is still swirling when you reach the rest of the tents at the other side of the clearing the council is staying in for the night. It looks like everyone else has already started packing up for the night, too—and you have no clue which tent is Seungmin's. You think you remember him staying with Jeongin—right? But you don't see either of them right now, anyway.

Of course, none of those thoughts matter to you once you feel the cold kiss of a blade at your neck. "Not a word, Augur," an unfamiliar voice breathes against your ear. "You're coming with me."

a/n: welcome back everyone 🥰🥰 we’re off to a fairly long start here with act two…most of the chapters in this act will be around this word count or more so i hope y’all have buckled up 😭 but i do apologize about the cliffhanger mfndndj i would like to say it will not happen again…however…

as always, feel free to leave feedback or concrit for this chapter, i’m excited to hear what you think now that we’re back into the main storyline! otherwise—i’ll see you next week <3

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