#the closets seem like they were built by someone who has never seen a coat hanger in their life and doesn't know the dimensions of one

[august--and-everything-after]

I'm gonna miss my apartment because I'm going to miss living on my own, being entirely surveilled, and having space that is 100% mine (as far as a rental goes), and there are some great perks like the in-unit laundry and convenience factor of being to walk or take transit anywhere I could possibly need to go. But also fuck this place, there are issues I've had since the beginning and more I've discovered since, and I'll be glad to be rid of them.

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nat and the House: Jameson

CW: Pet whump survivor, collar mentions, references to past pet whump, referenced ptsd flashbacks

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

“Okay, well. Here we are.” Nat opens the door for him, swinging back the heavy wood and stepping inside. The sun is warm on his back, but it drops away into a chill as he steps inside. His eyes shift back and forth, trying to bury his curiosity under a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

The house is big, although not as big as Jake Stanton’s. It’s old, and creaky, and feels alive in a way that newer houses don’t. It’s a place that has seen so many lives move through its halls, felt so many hands on doorknobs and walls, that it’s taken in some of each person who has slept here. They’ve left something behind, and it’s the breath inside the house.

It’s the whisper of air against the back of his neck, slightly chilled, that tells him that a hundred voices have bounced off these walls, with their own pain and fear, long before his added to the chorus. 

Jameson swallows, lingering in the doorway and staring ahead at a carpeted staircase that winds up and disappears around a 90-degree turn, at the coat closet just beside it. There’s a built-in shelf on the landing he can see the bottom half of, lined with photographs in small cheap dollar-store frames. 

Off to one side of the entryway, there’s a big double-door-sized opening into a gigantic living room - to the other side, a dining room with a large table covered in boxes, paperwork, books, and some flannels hung from an empty china cabinet, looking still damp, drying. Beyond that, a small kitchen, he can just see the corner of the oven.

This is a house with breath. This is a house with a voice.

The house tastes like a crackling fire, the mix of heated air and chilled, melted marshmallows inside s’mores, the crunch of graham cracker and chocolate bar underneath. 

This is a good house.

“Sorry,” Natalie Yoder says over one shoulder, moving ahead of him to flick a light switch. Jameson flinches, just a little, when a warm yellow bulb inside a false chandelier lights above his head. Her braid thumps against her back, a deep chocolate brown with strips of silvery white running through it. “I haven’t had anyone here in a long time, so the house is a mess. Just me these days.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. Natalie Yoder has a good voice, too, it’s full and warm, it tastes like hot chocolate, the kind that goes light on the sugar and is just a little bitter and spiced with cinnamon. Her voice feels smooth on his tongue. He can trust people who taste like this, he thinks, and he takes another step inside.

“H-How… how long?” His voice croaks a little, it rasps. Long-term damage to his vocal chords, they said, from screaming so often for so long. 

She stops and looks back at him, and there’s a gentleness in her tempered by the steel he’s already seen. She gives him a slight smile. “Long enough to speak to Dr. Berger, get you on your meds, and give them time to settle in your system. Could be a month or two to figure out exactly what’s going to work for you. Then see what happens with a couple of controlled interactions.”

He nods again. She speaks like an expert - she is the expert, he guesses, because she’s seen a hundred people like him in her life and Jameson has only ever known himself. 

Not that he’s even sure he knows himself that well, most days.

He has his collar on, buckled tightly around his neck, a comfortable constriction. A reminder that he isn’t in control, someone else is, and what happens from here isn’t his fault. It’s not his responsibility, because a pet can’t be responsible for anything.

He left Jake Stanton lying on a couch’s pull-out bed because he can’t go up the stairs, pale and unconscious, and he left Allyn crying in their shared room, curled up in the closet, running their fingers over the names that Jameson carved into the wall there.

He lost control, for just a minute, of where he was and who was with him, and now…

He’s safer with the collar on.

He’s safer, controlled.

They were right - he can’t do this on his own, and he never could. 

“You can choose whichever room you like, except that I keep Chris’s room for when he stays over just the same, so not that one. But there’s another three bedrooms you can use.” Nat smiles at him, moving to the stairs and gesturing for him to follow.

They creak under his feet, and the house is speaking to him, whispering here, you’re here, you’re here now in bursts of smoke on his tongue and sweet just after. He licks at his lips, looking down at ancient brown carpeting there, almost long enough to be shag.

For just a second, he sees a flicker of a bright red shag carpet in a large shared loft bedroom, a face very like his own but older, laughing as they threw balled up pieces of paper at each other. Sparkling brown eyes-

Gone-

Jameson shivers and the moment is lost, and he lets it go happily. Whatever happened to him, he has too many other problems right now to dwell on something he’s already chosen to leave behind. 

“I’ll take, uh, whichever-... whichever room is closest to the bathroom,” He says, seeing an open door with the telltale tile floor and pale painted walls. She nods, gesturing to a closed door on her left. He pushes open the bathroom door and just stares, for a few long beats. “You have-... dinosaur shower curtains?”

“Oh, Chris loved that,” Nat says, looking over his shoulder briefly. She’s as short as he is, more or less, and somehow her leaning over behind him doesn’t feel quite as unsettling as when Jake Stanton does it, or anyone else.

Shit, maybe they’re all right. Maybe he’ll be safe here… and everyone else will be safe from him.

“I just kept them after he moved out. We can get new ones if they bother you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, no, they’re… they’re fine. I’m going to-... put my stuff down now.” Jameson backs up and she moves away to give him space. The floor creaks softly underfoot as he moves along the hardwood in the hallway, to the closed door of the room he’s chosen sight-unseen.

When he opens it, it’s plain. Just pale walls and two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, side tables with lamps, blankets and pillows. A single framed portrait of a bird on one wall. 

He looks out the window to the branches of a tree outside.

“I’m going to go downstairs and make some coffee. Want me to call for you when it’s ready?” She speaks from the doorway, calm and quiet. He loves her hot chocolate voice.

“Sure. I could… I could use some fucking coffee,” He whispers, without looking back.

“No doubt. We’ll figure this out, Jameson, I promise.” 

Before she can close the door, he asks, all at once in a rush, “What if I do it again?”

She’s quiet, for a minute. Quiet for long enough his heart starts to pound, he starts to wonder if she’ll lock him in the room, or even kick him back out and tell him to start walking and figure it out on his own. He can’t go back - the last time he was on the streets, he got picked up by Robert, the time before that by Brute. His pulse beats against his collar, and he’s safe with the collar, but only if he’s kept by someone who takes care of him, who won’t hurt him worse. “To Jake?”

“Or… or Allyn. Or you, or-... fuck, anybody. What if they-... made me so I’ll do it again?”

More quiet. He hates the quiet. He wants her hot chocolate voice back. He turns, finally, to see her looking him over with a calm that goes so far beyond his own anxiety and fear, a steady surety that makes her seem more like she’s part of the house than someone who simply lives here.

She’s seen a hundred hands, too, learning not to hurt or be hurt. She’s heard a hundred voices learning to speak up, remembering how to do something other than beg for it to stop. Maybe she is the safehouse, and the building is just… an extension.

He can kind of see why the big guy likes her so fucking much.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to give you the tools you need to keep yourself and everyone around you safe.” She smiles at him, a little, lifting the corner of her mouth just the slightest bit on one side. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t be simple, or immediate. But you aren’t irredeemable, Jameson. Even if you fucked up. Does it help if I tell you I’ve had others hit me, or grab at me, when they’re in a panic and forget where they are?”

He breathes, shallow but slow. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. A half-dozen or so. I caught Chris lost in a nightmare once and he cracked me across the face with his forehead so hard I had a bruise for a week. I’ve been kicked, I’ve been hit.” She exhales, not quite a sigh, and steps inside the bedroom, moving over to one of the beds and sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back, resting her weight on her hands. “I ended up in the ER with a concussion once, early on. One of the ones I lost.” She looks away from him, and he sees the wrinkles in her face suddenly settle deeper, as if the weight of that old grief ages her even now. “He didn’t mean to, the poor guy. He was so scared, but I couldn’t-... I couldn’t keep him. He was so scared of himself he went back to his captor. Never saw him again.”

Jameson takes one step towards her, and then another. It’s unconscious, and he tells himself not to, but he can’t help it. “I’m-... I’m sorry for him.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope he’s doing all right, but… I suspect not. It’s… it’s hard, Jameson, to do this, and sometimes the hard feels like it’s never going to end. Sometimes, they think there’s no choice, no other way.” She looks up at him, and he sees the faintest glimmer of tears that don’t show in her voice, don’t fall down her face. “You’re thinking that, too. That maybe you were better off kept.”

The echo of his own thoughts in her low husky voice sends him reeling, and he can’t find his voice to speak at first. Finally, he manages, “Y-yeah.”

“It’s a lie. I understand why it feels like-... it’s inevitable. But I want you to know... I’ve seen this before. And you’re still better off healing than being sent back to shatter. We’re going to help you, and Kauri-... Kauri’s right, I think. You’ll be safer here for a while, and then you’ll go back and be safe there, too.”

“What if I’m not? Safer there?”

Nat Yoder’s smile softens, and she holds out her hands. She must expect him to sit next to her, because she jumps in surprise when he drops to his knees instead, and lays his head on her thighs, across her lap, feeling the rough denim of her blue jeans against his cheek.

Her hands hover, and then slowly she lowers one, and rests it, gently, over his hair. 

“Then you’ll be safe here,” She says, and her voice pours over him, honeyed, deep, the hint of cinnamon and the texture of the thick liquid of his grandmother’s hot chocolate, made always with whole milk and a touch of cream.

Jameson doesn’t question the knowledge of how his grandmother made hot chocolate, and he doesn’t push it away. He just lets it exist, there and then gone a moment later. 

 “For how long?” Her fingers press just slightly against his temple. Her fingertips are slightly roughened, calloused from hard work. “How l-long am I safe here?”

“The same amount of time I give everyone, Jameson,” She says. “As long as you need.”

“But you said-... you don’t take in anyone anymore-”

“I’m making an exception, and I don’t do anything halfway.” She leans over, and he feels her shadow fall over him. He turns his face to press against her leg, feeling the tears start to well, clenching his eyes shut only to have them fall without his consent, to dampen her jeans.

He shudders. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him-... I thought he was Brute, coming b-back, I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“I know I sh-shouldn’t fucking cry-... I’m the ass-asshole who stabbed him, I shouldn’t c-cry about it, I shouldn’t-” He hitches back a sob, feels his collar catch on his Adam’s apple. It’s not enough to keep him safe. It was never enough to keep him safe. 

Her voice washes warm over him, and she runs her hand through his short hair, over the filled-in bald spots shorter than the rest. “You should, if you need to. Go ahead.”

Somehow, once she says he can, he can’t stop himself at all. 

Jameson kneels on the floor in a house that has seen a hundred or more people exactly like him, his body wracked with guilt and horror at what he did, what they made him, and his terror that he can’t ever take it back, that he can’t become anything other than what he was made to be.

And through the tears, she keeps one hand on his head, and when he starts to talk to her, she listens. 

Outside a bird sings, a mourning dove, calling hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 9: Stubbed Out

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Even being a coward takes effort.

Mulder’s been stressed for days, trying to forget his phone conversation with Mark and attempting to hide his agitation from Scully. It’s not going well. He hasn’t successfully kept many secrets from her since they met, and at this point it’s practically impossible. If Mulder acts at all furtive or suspicious, she catches on like a shark smelling blood in the water and circles him until he surrenders.

Maybe she’s deeply perceptive; maybe he’s just not that subtle.

His resolve to keep his mouth shut lasts until Wednesday, just after lunch.

He’s built himself a fortress of stacks of newspapers on the desk, leafing through them with a magnifying glass. Scully’s in the annex, looking at some fibers under the microscope. They’ve got a case, which usually sucks up all his attention, but the phone call from a few days before is still buzzing in his ears.

“Hey, uh, has Mark mentioned the cafe incident?” he asks from across the room.

Scully keeps her eyes on the microscope. “No, he hasn’t, actually. It was hardly an incident,” she adds, switching out the slide. “You need to relax.”

Clearly, she’d picked up on his nervous energy. For once, he wishes Scully could just read his mind. Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to tell her, Mulder thinks.

There’s no easy way out of this.

“Have you seen him since then?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Scully huffs out a breath. “We went out last night. Mulder, I’m trying to focus-”

“He called me,” Mulder admits suddenly. “On Sunday.” Whelp, consider the beans spilled, Mark, he thinks. You dick.

Scully looks up at him then, brows furrowed. “He did? Why?”

“First of all, let me make it clear that I wanted nothing to do with any of this,” Mulder says, setting down the newspaper. “He dragged me into it. I wasn’t going to say anything but it’s been pissing me off.”

Scully gets up from the little table and walks over to the desk, perching on the edge of the chair across from him. “Mulder,” she says slowly, “What are you talking about?”

“Mark called me on Sunday night, saying he had some questions for me regarding your character.”

“My character,” Scully echoes, eyes sharp and questioning.

“That’s what he said,” Mulder says, picking up a pencil and rolling it between his fingers nervously. His heart is leaping in his throat. “But what he really wanted to know was if you… um. Sleep around.”

The words land heavily, their weight sending ripples through Mulder’s body.

Scully’s face turns to stone. “Really,” she says tightly. “I don’t see how that is any business of his, or yours,” she adds.

Mulder’s blood pressure has to be at a record high. “He mentioned something about planning for long term, and his daughter. And he thinks we, um.”

Scully crosses her arms, and Mulder’s never seen such an icy, quiet rage. “He thinks we what, Mulder? Tell me exactly what he said.”

Mulder digs the point of the pencil into the desk until the sharpened lead snaps. “He thinks I fucked you,” he says quietly, not looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, louder than he expected. “Well, that’s lovely, Mulder. Did you happen to tell him that it’s not true?”

“I essentially said ‘see you in hell’,” Mulder admits.

“Right,” Scully says, pressing her lips together so hard they turn white. “And you weren’t going to inform me of this because…”

“Because it’s none of my business,” Mulder explains. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

“A first,” Scully says sharply.

“Hey, I learned from last time,” he replies, feeling suddenly defensive. Why am I in trouble here? “You made it pretty clear after Jerse that this is your life, and I’m genuinely trying to honor that. But your boyfriend called me, Scully. I didn’t ask to get dragged into this shit.”

She’s angry now, and he can’t tell if it’s directed at him or Mark. It feels like both. “You didn’t think I might want to know about this, Mulder? You didn’t think to give me a heads-up that the man I’m seeing thinks I’m an easy lay?”

“Whoa, whoa, nobody said that,” Mulder says quickly. “And I’m telling you now because I think you should know I had this conversation with him. I’m sorry I waited but I was unsure how to-”

Scully’s eyes are red, and Mulder stops. “Scully?” he asks quietly.

“He kissed me,” she says hoarsely. She takes a deep breath. “Can’t think why… don’t really want to think why.”

Mulder feels hot and cold all at once.

“It’s funny,” Scully continues, “I-I could tell he wanted more. It was surprising, and not entirely unwelcome, but I stopped it because something felt off.” She emits one small sniff before setting her jaw firmly. “I guess now it makes sense.”

“Scully…” Mulder says softly.

She gets up from the chair. “Thank you for letting me know,” she says woodenly, before returning to the annex and sitting behind the microscope once more.

Well that went perfectly.

-

They barely speak for the rest of the day, buried in their respective piles of research.

At the end of the day Scully packs her briefcase with short, sharp movements, her shoulders rigid. She slips into her coat, and Mulder sees her mouth set in a grim line.

“Scully,” Mulder says quietly.

She shakes her head once, the smallest negative movement. “I have a phone call to make.”

-

He leaves the office about forty minutes later, a parcel of newspapers under his arm; homework he knows he won’t be able to focus on.

He takes the elevator to the fourth floor of the parking garage, and sees Scully standing at the far end of the row of cars, leaning against the cement wall, cigarette in hand. He walks to her and rests his elbows on the wall, looking out at the twilit city.

“How many of those have you gone through?” Mulder asks, peering around her in search of burnt stubs.

She doesn’t answer, just holds the cigarette out to him. He hesitates, then gingerly takes it and raises it to his mouth. There’s smudges of lipstick on the filter, and he’s not a good enough man to ignore the eroticism of it.

“I haven’t smoked since ’89,” Mulder says, exhaling. He passes the cigarette back to her.

“Sorry to break your streak,” she murmurs, taking a puff. He watches the smoke escape her full lips, her angelic face profaned by tobacco and a dishonest man’s kiss.

“You didn’t,” he says softly.

They watch the world rotate below.

“I broke it off,” she says, eyes tracing the skyline. He doesn’t need to ask what she’s referring to, and she doesn’t elaborate.

Mulder shifts his weight awkwardly. “That night we got drunk… you asked if I thought you were settling.”

“Mm,” she hums. “No spark,” she recalls.

He nods. “It didn’t feel right to say at the time, but the answer was yes. You should be with who you want to be with, Scully. Someone who makes you… makes you feel things. Not the guy who seems good on paper.”

“It would have been right to say,” Scully says. “I asked you. I don’t- I don’t know why you’re suddenly hellbent on staying out of my life, Mulder, when I’m asking you to be in it. I appreciate your respecting my privacy and boundaries, don’t get me wrong; it’s a welcome change from past experiences. But I… I need a friend.”

There’s a tightness in his chest at her words. “I guess I’m overcorrecting,” Mulder admits. “You’ve been through so much hell, had so much taken away… I wanted to let you choose for once.”

Scully shakes her head. “This mentality you have of letting me choose isn’t much better,” she says softly. “Someone else still controls the information. You trying to protect me by omission doesn’t give me much more agency, Mulder.” She stubs out the cigarette and turns back to the rows of parked cars. “You of all people should know the most empowering thing you can give someone.” She starts to walk away.

“What’s that?” he asks.

She looks back at him. “The truth.”

[aikrus]

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request:  Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

            The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear. 

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet. 

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built. 

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong. 

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space. 

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room. 

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you. 

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------ 

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts. 

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones. 

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,” 

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him. 

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl. 

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided. 

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

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness. 

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom. 

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they  put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known. 

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

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was. 

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

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

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall. 

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own. 

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade.  He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks. 

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views. 

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now? 

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

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

A/N 

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a  long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don’t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3

[xsugarysweetsx]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 5

A/N: I may have made a twilight reference but I do like their concept of vampire abilities

Warnings; language; Levi having feelings??;

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“Ugh..no..p..please no..No..NO!“ you spring up in bed panting in a sweat. Just a nightmare, another nightmare. This was only the 3rd day you had been there but the nightmares never gave you a break. The next thing that happened was footsteps running into your room. Your door swings open with Hanji holding a book in hand, Levi was in a fighting stance. They only saw you disheveled from your previous nightmare

“S-sorry guys it was just a stupid nightmare...I’m okay“ you reassure them moving the hair from your face

“The hell were you going to do with a book?“ Levi asks looking at Hanji

“You know maybe, knock some sense into them“ she looked around the room hoping for a laugh from her corny joke. You had to give it to her, she always tried to lighten things up “Hehe, anyway enough bad jokes we need you for something really quick”

“Oh sure“ getting up from the bed you grab a sweater and throw it on over your tank top. Following them you realize it was about 2 am, the forest was quiet and the house’s atmosphere was cool against your skin.

“So what do you need me to do?“ you ask as Hanji opens the front door

“Well, Levi here is our spy and we need to know the exact location of where Zeke can be. You’ll also need some info from the underground” grabbing a coat from the hall closet she gives it to you “Only you know where it is so you’ll have to go with Levi.“

“Only problem is the bastard’s got a couple of goons and the last thing we need is for them or him to pick up your scent. So throw the jacket on“ taking your sweater off you put on the black jacket. It smelled of lemon and detergent, it was nice. Next thing you knew Levi squatted slightly in front of you “Come on we don’t have all night, the sun will come up soon and that’s the last thing I need“

“Right“ hesitantly you take a hold of his shoulders. His hands find the back of your knees and hoist you up on to his back

“Alright, you both have 4 hours to locate and try and get any information you can. Good luck” and just like that, you were off. For someone who was his height, he was strong. He swiftly jumps onto lower tree branches, as to not be too far from the ground. Being up so high and on his back made you hold on to him tighter

“Relax I won’t drop you,” he said hoisting you a bit higher on his hips “now which direction did you run from?”

“I...think it was that way” you point to the northwest of where you stood. Jumping from one tee to the next he barely made a sound. With the occasional rustle of leaves, he was a quiet as a bird. Soon a broken-down roof comes into view. Going into a tree with more leaves he sets you down for a moment. You still hold on to his shoulder for balance

“This shit place it?” He asked

“Yeah this is it...” you confirm

“For the most part, we know where the monkey lives.” Facing you he looks you dead in the eyes “We have to go somewhere and I need you to stay close to me and try not to draw attention. Got it?”

You give him a sharp nod, getting back on his back you hold on tight as you fall back to the ground. He continues his way on the ground, you so happened to have gotten a whiff of his scent which was exact to the one on the jacket. That’s when you had started to notice the way he was built. There wasn’t much skin to see but you could tell he was well built just by the feel of his shoulders.

You would be lying if you said he unattractive, you could feel your cheeks heating at the thoughts, but right now wasn’t the time. It was a bit awkward so you struck up a conversation

“So um, what’s this underground place anyway?“ you ask

“Think of it as a place where vampires can roam around during the day. They can get their blood fills, party, gamble, anything a human can do aside from being in the sun.“ coming to what looked like a cave entrance he puts you down “Remember what I said, keep a low profile, and stay close to me. We’re going to see someone who might know the answers to all this shit.“

Upon entering the cave it was almost like a whole city in there. Buzzing with chatter and the smell of blood filled the air, it almost made you nauseous. Your hand stayed locked in his elbow as you let him lead you through the crowd.

Looking around vampires were much closer to humans than how they were always described as. Not all of them were pale, or mysterious or walked around in capes and dressed like goths. Huh, maybe you should make the next vampire film.

“We’re almost there“ he makes a turn to an alleyway and came to a lonely door “Listen this old man has some screws missing, just stay close.“ knocking on the door there was silence then some low cursing as the door swung open. A tall man with a bit of stubble on his chin, and with the same sharp grey eyes.  

“Well look who came, and you brought a little lady with you too“ he smirked and looked your way

“Shut it old man I just need some information“ Levi sneered. They seemed to know each other well

“The hell would I know about humans mixing in with vampires, “ he said leaning against the doorway “I’ve been around for a while runt, I can spot a human in any crowd.“

“That’s exactly why we need to talk, Kenny.“ damn was he that good that he could tell you were human? Moving aside he lets you both into his small home, it was mostly covered in alcohol bottles, and much dirtier than it should be. Nonetheless, he pulls out a chair and sits down ready for questions.

“What do you know about hybrids?” he said trying not to touch anything in the home

“What? Thinking about having kids with the lady here“ he motioned to you

“No, some bastard wants to make them by force and we don’t know what he’s planning, “ he said crossing his arms

“Ah Levi, always playing the hero huh?“ he chuckles and leans further back into the chair “Well, we Ackermans used to part of hybrids some of the family were hybrids themselves. Having the ability to walk in daylight gave them the up hand. They fed anytime they wanted, healed easily, on top of that they had fewer weaknesses. But people started abusing power, women died..“

“Abusing power?“ you questioned and he nodded

“Some people wanted to dominate any other race, just a world of vampires and hybrids. It came to a point only certain women with a certain blood type could bear the kids and live after it.“ he explains further “So now it’s a bit taboo to have or be a hybrid, knowing the history.“ the beeping of Levi’s watch started going off. Sunrise was coming soon, you had to leave before it was too late.

Nudging through the crowd he’s practically carrying you just to be faster. Emerging from the cave the smallest specks of light could be seen lighting up the sky. It was honestly beautiful, but it was deadly for him, so no time to stop and admire. Luckily Levi was as fast as he was strong and you made it in no time. As soon as he stepped inside you waited just a moment to see the sunrise

“Hey Levi?“ you called

“What is it?“ he asked from the inside out

“You wanna see the sunset?“ you ask him. Walking inside you find some lose cardboard and take him outside

“The hell are you doing?!” he asked not trusting your idea for a damn minute

“Just trust me, I won’t let you burn” you reassure him. He rolls his eyes but still takes your hand and you lead him outside. You set the board up at a certain angle to give him shade and for him to see. As soon as the sun came up he was almost hypnotized.

“Beautiful huh?” You ask as you watch his face in amusement. You didn’t have to know much about him to know, he’s had a rough life. The sun rose higher into the sky which was your cue to get him inside. Covering him with the jacket you take him inside, unharmed.

There was a bit of silence between you both. As you took your shoes off and made your way to the stairs he speaks up

“Thank you.” He said bluntly “....for coming with me..” he sounded almost strained. Maybe he was thanking you for the little sunrise show, you just smile and respond

“Of course Levi,” you said with a smile “I’m um...going to go and shower real quick alright, you should rest up” you leave making your way up the stairs leaving him in the hall.

“I see you’re warming up to her“ Erwin says coming from a different room “that’s good, you’ve needed the interaction for some time now“

“Tch, I don’t have any time for that“ he scoffed as he made his way to the stairs

“you did at one point“ he mumbled to the raven-haired man, making him stop for a moment. Without turning he said

“...maybe I did...but not anymore“ and continued on his way up. Walking down the hallway he could hear your conversation with Hanji. The door was slightly open and he saw you sitting on a chair fresh out of the shower. Your hair was still wet, and your skin dewy. You may have been giving her information but at the same time, you had a gentle smile on your face.

For the past 3 days, this was the first time he saw a genuine smile.

“Hanji...do you..will Zeke find me here? Will he..“ even with all the hope in the world you were still afraid

“Y/N“ Hanji took your hand “I know it’s a lot to take in right now but, with Levi here I’m pretty sure Zeke won’t even step foot in here.“ she smiles with a yawn

“Thanks, Hanji...you should rest“ before you could spot him, Levi leaves to his room. Closing the door he huffs as he leans against the door and stares at the ceiling. He pushes himself off and walks over to the small nightstand and opens the first drawer, pulling out something. He gazes at the picture in hand, not wanting to look at it much longer he outs it back and closes the drawer.

He falls with a sigh on to his bed and says to himself

“The hell is happening to me?”

...

You cleaned up around the house while everyone else slept. Your friends crossed your mind. Sasha taking you out to restaurants, Eren telling you some weird stories, Christa just being the sweetheart that she was. It made you chuckle a bit, but you wondered what they thought of you being gone. You missed Mochi too, his adorable face waking you up every morning.

But, this was better for you and the people you cared for. The less they were involved the fewer people will get hurt. For whatever reason Levi popped in your head. The way he was looking at the sunset, almost like a child looking at stars for the first time. It made you just a bit sad that he never saw something so simple yet so amazing. Next thing you knew a giggle escapes your lips along with a smile

“...oh god Y/N, no.” You murmur to yourself “you shouldn’t now, especially him, he could never...” your head and heart were saying two different things. Yet, you couldn’t at least not in this situation.

<><><><>

“I’m telling you he’s gone insane!“ one man whispered

“I have to agree with you...at first it was a good idea abut now I think he’s going too far-“

“Too far huh?“ a deeper voice enters making the two previous men jump

“N-no it’s nothing like that we-we were-“

“patience is virtue “ Zeke simply says “but so is madness. Without it, can I achieve what I am after?“ he said as he lit a cigarette and took a puff. “you both can wait for your reward right? Unless you want to be one of my labrats. Understand?“

“Y-yes, sir.......”

“Besides, what's one sacrifice for our goal huh?” He chuckled looking at a picture of a certain brunette in his hand. Just how much worse can things get?

<><><><>

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[castleshadows]

For As Long As We Could

Casteel has spent the last seven years inside, afraid of stepping out into the world once again. But, when Elashya dies, he finally decides to face his fears to support Kieran in his grief.

CW: Major Character Death

Written June 17, 2021

Casteel watched as the funeral procession made its way past his window, the sky outside trying its best to match the mood with gloomy white clouds that promised a drizzle later in the day. Similarly, the small crowd was cloaked in white, the color of mourning. Only the dead’s closest family and partners wore anything decorative, a small white lily pinned to the breast to represent the innocence restored to the soul of the departed.

He could pick out Kieran easily in the gathering, holding the back right corner of the casket. To anyone else he looked like he had his head tucked against the wind as everyone else did, but Casteel knew him better than that. No, his friend was crying, judging on the way his shoulders shook every couple seconds. It was a surprise to see him so vulnerable in front of that many people, but Cas didn’t judge him for it. In fact, it was a relief to see him finally show some semblance of emotion. The wolven had been so… stoic the past few days. Elashya had been the first bright light in his life in a long time, and that light had gone out so quickly, that it had left Kieran in a state of disrepair so great that he sought to hide it from everyone around him. Including his bonded.

The wind picked up a bit and somebody's hat went flying. Nobody so much as glanced in the object direction as they continued on with their dreary parade through the streets. Casteel could see the graveyard in the distance, and the hole in which Elashya would forever reside. He knew Kieran saw it too by the way the wolven started shaking. Someone beside him, whom Casteel had never seen before, put their hand on Kieran’s shoulder, rubbing it and comforting him until he seemed to calm a bit.

A rogue bit of jealousy flashed through him, and Casteel worked to control it. He and Kieran loved each other very much. Before his… capture, outsiders looking at their relationship would’ve thought they hated each other. They had been constantly at each out, swinging fists at faces for the most minor things. They still loved each other though. Nothing would change that. However, fifty years of two different kinds of torture had changed them both, and he felt like he hardly knew his dearest friend, his partner in crime, anymore. He wanted to get to know him again, badly. But, every time he tried to step even a toe outside of his current comfort zone, something in his mind convinced him that he would end up back in that cage again, being raped and brutalized, his body nor his blood his own.

Casteel shook his head, yanking himself away from that train of thought before he could board it. It had been nearly three months since he’d had a panic attack, and he didn’t wish to restart that timer.

Cas’s eyes left the window and trailed around the small room. When he’d returned, seven years ago almost to the day, he didn’t want to stay in his old rooms. They reminded him too much of her. Every time he set foot in the bedroom he could clearly see her lying on the bed, waiting for him to return. Every time he peeked his head into the bathroom he saw her in the shower, beckoning him to join as she washed her long golden locks. Every time he smelled her leftover scent in the sheets that had not been washed in fifty-seven years, he wanted to vomit. So, he’d requested a different room, one that didn’t feel so big and empty, and one that she had never set foot in.

His gaze snagged on the small wardrobe in the corner, and he pushed his chair back from the desk walking silently over the wood floors. He stopped in front of the cabinet and slowly opened the fancily embellished doors. They creaked slightly, the sound deafening in the quiet room. Inside were all the clothes he’d worn for the past seven years. Ten tunics, ten pairs of breeches, ten pairs of socks, four belts, three coats, two cloaks and a set of boots that were worn and practically falling apart. All of which were some variation of white, brown, or black. Not the most fitting outfits for a Prince, but something about the routine of it comforted him.

He selected a white tunic, the lightest color breeches he had—a sort of light beige—and a black belt. It wasn’t even close to being appropriate for a funeral, but he didn’t have anything formal and white, so these would have to do. Potentially he could borrow some clothes from Kieran’s closet, or some old ones from Jasper, but he was already going outside for the first time in quite a while, and he didn’t know if he could handle more than one new thing at a time.

Casteel shucked off his soft, stretchy trousers and pulled on the light beige ones. He pulled the tunic over his head and buttoned it up, tucking the fabric into his pants. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the parade was near the cemetery. He would have to hurry if he were to make it on time.

Without thinking much about it, Casteel threw open the door to his chambers and stepped out into the cool hallway. He took a minute to let the reality of what he was about to do sink in. Anxiety bubbled up, but he quickly shoved it down, refusing to let his fear get in the way of what Kieran needed. He was going to be there for his brother if it was the last thing he did. A small voice in the back of his tried to convince him it would be, and he paused, letting the voice take over for a minute. And then he was flying down the hallway, not an all out run, but pretty damn close. Slow and steady wasn’t going to cut it here. It was going to be either all at once or not at all.

The walls were a blur as he sprinted through the large estate. There were usually very few visitors at this time of year, and Kirha and Jasper rarely employed servants, so the halls were quiet and empty.

Casteel slowed down near the stairs, trying desperately not to trip. Nothing took the dignity out of one's re-enter into the world like falling face-first down the stairs.

“Casteel?”

He paused, foot poised above the ground, hand white-knuckling the railing. Turning his head, he met the teary gaze of Kirha Contou. Unlike Casteel, she had known Elashya quite well, and being Kirha, had practically claimed the wolven as one of her own. It was no surprise that she was nearly as upset as Kieran was.

“I didn’t expect you to be out at this time,” she said, her voice soft as if she was afraid she might scare him away. Casteel was afraid he might be scared away too. “Do you need something?”

The silence was the loudest he’d ever heard. He wanted to answer her, but something in him froze. The large parlor suddenly seemed extremely daunting, not to mention outside, where the sky was open and there were no walls to keep him safe. He would have nothing except for the clothes on his back and his own frail body, that still hadn’t built up even a third of the muscle he used to have. Casteel stepped back, away from the door, away from the outside world.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do this.

“Cas?” Kirha said again. Her expression was one of love, and she held her hand out in front of her, coming towards him. “I was heading to Elashya’s funeral. Would you like to come?” She cocked her head waiting for an answer.

Steeling himself, he tentatively placed his hand in hers. Casteel would force himself to go if he must. Kieran needed him, and he would be there for his brother. It also helped that Kirha would walk there with him. A comforting presence if he should need it, and he had a feeling he would.

The first steps outside were stressful to say the least, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, and refused to let himself look at the empty, open sky, or even glance at the few civilians that gawked at him along the street. Eventually he felt their eyes find other places to land on, and he felt a bit lighter, each step less of a challenge than the one before.

Kirha stood by his side the entire time, leading him through what they both knew as the least crowded areas of the city.

Too soon for comfort, the graveyard was in view, and Casteel could see the large amount of people gathered in the middle. It seemed that the eulogy’s had already started and as they grew nearer, he could hear the end of an older man’s speech being delivered. He looked like he could be her father, and it was confirmed when he referenced the dead as his daughter.

Kirha led him through the makeshift pews towards Jasper and their youngest daughter, Vonetta, who waved shyly at him. Kieran sat in the second row just ahead of them, and he seemed to sense Casteel’s prescenese, tensing and turning around to meet his gaze.

His eyes were teary, and there were water tracks all down his cheeks, but he did his best to smile when he saw Casteel, mouthing a quiet “thank you”. Cas nodded to the wolven and then looked towards the podium, where a Priestess stepped up and called the next speaker forward.

“Kieran Contou, partner of the deceased.”

All eyes turned to his brother, and Kieran stood, shakily making his way to the front and thanking the Priestess for the introduction. He stepped up onto the podium and then seemed to freeze, droplets of water starting to build up in his eyes.

Kieran gripped the speech in his hands, looking over the crowd as if they were his death sentence. Tears spilled down his face and Casteel could feel Kirha tense beside him. She very obviously wanted to go to her son, but didn’t know how he would react. He couldn’t blame her. Kieran’s feelings were confusing on a good day, and today was very much not a good day.

Without thinking about what he was going to do, Casteel stood up. Immediately all eyes were on him, but he forced himself to ignore them all except the ones that belonged to his best friend. He made his way out of the aisle, trying not to step on anyone’s feet while still meeting Kieran’s gaze.

He didn’t really remember the walk to the front, only the way his bonded’s eyes, usually full of amusement or boredom or absolute apathy, were completely raw. A window directly into his soul. His friend was vulnerable and practically ripped open for the world to see. And, Casteel couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

“Do you want me to?” he asked softly, holding out one hand for the piece of paper that contained the handwritten speech.

Kieran looked down at the page and then back at Casteel and repeated the action. Eventually he nodded, shaking as he handed it to his friend. The wolven moved to leave, but Cas wrapped his arm around his shoulders pulling him close and waiting until he relaxed in his grip to speak.

Clearing his throat, Casteel began.

“I did not know Elashya well,” he started in his own words, his voice ringing out stronger and clearer than he’d anticipated, “She and I did not see each other very often and when we did I am ashamed to say that I did not make much of an effort to become acquainted with her… But I can see very clearly from the crowd gathered here today that she was much loved, and I have been told of her kindness and her warm, magnetic personality by my best friend and brother, Kieran Contou.”

The wolven beside him let out a choked sob, and several people in the crowd started to cry along with him. Casteel hugged him tighter.

“I know that he loved her very much, and it is with this love in mind that I read his speech for you today,” he unfolded the piece of paper and started to read about the woman he’d never known, but now wish he had met, “Elashya Fraiser was a bright light in my life—in all our lives—and one that was snuffed out much too quickly… She had such a long life to live, so many things she wanted to do that she was not able to. But I know that if she were here now she would scold me for being so depressing.”

The crowd did not laugh, but several gave small smiles, each remembering something about the deceased. Caseteel paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, and then continued.

“So I will try during this speech not to mourn the life she did not live, but celebrate the one she had,” Casteel watched as many nodded in agreement, “I remember when I first met her. It was at a time when my life was filled with shadows, but they scattered at the first bright smile I saw on her face. That was one of the many things I loved about her. She was always smiling, always looking for a silver lining on every cloud. Her smiles were beautiful, and they made me feel warm inside every time I caught a glimpse.”

He remembered when Shea’s smiles had done that for him. When every glance she made his way made his very soul soar.

“I know what you’re thinking. Every man in love has something cheesy to say about their love’s smile, but Elashya’s was like hot cocoa and a warm blanket on a cold night. Everything about her felt like coming home.”

He had not known Elashya, but his friend's beautiful words made it feel like he had. She sounded like a lovely person, and he really did regret not getting to know her.

“She lit up every room without fail, and made it seem effortless. Even in the last days of her life she stayed positive. Even as her loved ones crowded, teary-eyed, around her bed, saying their final goodbyes, she was able to send them away smiling. Still sad, but at least reassured that she would be okay in the next life. And she will be,” Casteel paused to read the next line, and almost laughed out loud. Even in tough times Kieran found a way to be sarcastic, “If anyone can find something good in being dead it’s Elashya.”

This time there were a couple teary chuckles. Even without looking up, Casteel could sense that many people were in a deep state of nostalgia. He could tell Kieran was too. The wolven had stopped sobbing and though there were still tears running down his cheeks, they were ones not of sorrow, but of a bittersweet kind of feeling. Casteel turned his attention back to the page.

“I’m sorry that my speech is so short, for I fear that if I write any more I will not be able to stop. There is so much about her that I want to share, so much I want to say about the one I loved. The one I still love with all my heart. But, there is a time limit on these, so I will say just one more thing.”

Casteel had told himself at the beginning that he would get through this speech without shedding tears, but reading what Kieran had written about the woman he’d loved was making it pretty damn difficult. He had a way with words that Casteel would never be able to even attempt. And the speech was a painful reminder that he hardly knew anything anymore about his best friend. Kieran had been in love for the first time for the gods sake and he hadn’t been there for him.

Something nudged his side and Casteel opened eyes he hadn’t realized were closed. He blinked away the slight wetness that had been gathering and looked to Kieran, who poked him again.

“Sorry,” he whispered only loud enough for his friend to hear. Kiearn nodded and gestured back to the speech.

“Can I finish?” he rasped.

Casteel handed the page to him, directing him towards where he left off and a second later Kieran was speaking slowly, but surely.

“Elashya and I knew from the moment we fell in love that the end could come any day,” his voice wavered a bit, but he waved Casteel away when he tried to take over, “We knew that it was possible she would die, and I must admit there were times I felt myself falling into hopelessness. There were times where I was tempted to save myself from despair, for I am selfish, and I won’t pretend otherwise.”

Casteel wasn’t sure where this notion came from that he was selfish, for the wolven was one of the most loyal and loving people he knew. But, he didn’t interrupt, only made a mental note to later remind Kieran of the love he held inside him.

“But every moment I was with her has made it worth it. All the pain I have felt the last few weeks has been worth it, and I would endure a million more years of it if it meant I could see her just one last time.”

Casteel felt the same way about Shea. He was deeply ashamed of it, but he could not pretend he didn’t feel the way he felt. He would do anything to have just one more moment with her before. Before she decided she didn’t love him enough to stay with him until the end. But, maybe there was no before. Maybe she’d never felt that way for him. Maybe she’d been stringing him along the entire time. A tear fell out of the corner of his eye, and made a track down his cheek.

“I do not regret a thing and I know she didn’t either. I know that she is watching me now, and I hope that she is proud of me for trying to be at least somewhat optimistic. I admit I’m rather bad at it,” he paused, smiling a bit at his own writing, “But I know that if I were somehow taken back in time with all the knowledge of the heartbreak I was to endure, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Kieran then looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone in the crowd and setting down the card. The tears in his eyes were coming back in full force and he took a deep breath, looking behind him at that coffin poised beside the empty grave. He looked… he looked lost, but like there was hope that he could be found again. Then, with visible effort he turned away, and held his head high delivering the last line of his speech.

“Because the heart doesn’t care how long you may have someone… It just cares that you have the person for as long as you can.”

[ft-dads-au]

Castles in the Snow

A collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

Gratsu Winter Solstice 2020 Prompt: Fun in the Snow Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3 | FF.Net

January 6th, 2021

“Have you figured out the answer yet?” Gray asked, trying to remain patient even though it was clear to him that Natsu wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the math problem he was supposed to be working on.

“What?” Natsu finally stopped staring out the window long enough to glance at Gray with a guilty expression that he couldn’t help but find incredibly cute.

Hana, Atlas, and Aki were glued to the window as well, oohing and aahing as the backyard accumulated more and more snow.

“What’s the matter with you guys? You’re all acting like you’ve never seen snow before.”

“Well, I mean, they sort of haven’t. It didn’t really snow that much in Edolas, a few inches at the most,” Natsu reminded him, “This is the first big snowfall they’ve ever seen, and they’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

The longing in Natsu’s eyes made it clear that the kids weren’t the only ones who had been looking forward to it. To his credit, he did try to shift his focus back to studying, staring at the problem he was supposed to solve for about five minutes before his eyes strayed back to the window again.

“Fine, fine, you win,” Gray sighed, realizing any further attempts would be pointless and that Aki would probably love to go out with Atlas and Hana in the snow. “Let’s go play.”

He snorted when his words were immediately met with cheers and dazzling smiles.

“Are you sure?” Natsu asked, “I know I can get this if I keep at it.”

“There’s no point. Your mind’s clearly out there,” Gray shrugged. “We can take a break for one day. It won’t mess up anything. Besides, how can you expect me to say no to those faces?” He nodded towards the kids, who were staring at them with big, pleading eyes, bouncing on their feet in anticipation. “I guess you’re right,” Natsu chuckled and closed his math book as he got up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose part of his abdomen, and now it was Gray’s turn to be distracted.

Hana dashed to the coat closet to grab her winter gear and put it on, all the while telling them all the things she wanted to do once they got outside.

“Do you have stuff for Aki?” Natsu asked, his lips twitching at Hana’s running commentary. “I think Erza got two sets for Atlas. He’s welcome to borrow one.”

“Nah, I’ve got his stuff in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Gray put on his jacket and went outside, stopping briefly to collect some of the snow that had accumulated on the steps into his gloved hand and examining it, grinning when he saw how well it stuck together. Perfect snow for playing, fluffy and wet.

He felt his own excitement build. Winter had always been his favorite season, and some of his fondest memories were of playing in the snow with his parents and Rogue once he was a bit older. They’d had snowball fights, built snowmen, collapsed on the snow to make angels, and careened down ever higher hills on sleds for hours, returning home to hot cocoa and cookies as their mom complained that their lips were a worrying shade of blue.

Gray still treasured those memories and looked forward to doing some of those things with Aki now that he was old enough. He rushed back inside, beginning the long process of bundling his son up into his winter gear.

Thankfully Atlas was there to distract him, chattering excitedly as Natsu got him ready. It was only when both boys were dressed that Gray shifted his attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to put anything else on?” Gray mocked, amused by the ridiculous amount of clothing Natsu was wearing. Snow pants tucked over his snow boots, a padded jacket, the checkered scarf he often wore, a balaclava under a woolen hat, and thick gloves.

“It’s cold,” Natsu shrugged, then looking him over, he urged, “Shouldn’t you get ready? The kids are getting impatient.”

“I am ready, Sunshine.”

Natsu gaped at him, or so Gray imagined since the only part of his face that he could really make out was his eyes.

“You can’t be serious. You’re going to freeze!”

“And you call me a princess? I hate to break it to you, but it’s not even that cold. I’ve got gloves and my jacket. I’m good.” He opened the door that led to the backyard and walked out with Aki and Atlas following close behind. Hana dashed past him in a purple blur.

Snow continued to fall, although the heaviest part of the storm seemed to be over, and Gray stuck his tongue out, trying to catch snowflakes as he’d done when he was little and smiling at the familiar tingle.

Gray thought he saw Natsu staring at him, but it was too brief for him to be sure. He shrugged it off, switching his attention to the boys and chuckling at their antics. Atlas had lain down on the snow and was rolling himself around, turning into a human snowball as more and more snow stuck to him while Natsu somehow managed to take pictures on his phone.

Aki was busy alternating between admiring the snow that stuck to his mittens with an awed expression and giggling at the crunching noise his boots made when he moved, causing Gray’s heart to swell. He quickly took a few pictures to show his parents and walked over to encourage him to play with the others.

He stopped short when he saw the misshapen blob that Hana and Natsu were cobbling together.

“What is that supposed to be?”

“What do you mean? It’s a snowball, obviously.” Natsu held up his creation with a lot more pride than it deserved.

“That thing has no business calling itself a snowball,” Gray scoffed, “It’s going to fall apart in the air long before it hits anything.”

“Will not.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, throw it at me.”

Natsu hurled the snowball, but Gray didn’t even bother moving, and just as he expected, it never hit.

"Told you," he said smugly and squatted down to grab some snow off the ground, skillfully shaping it into an almost perfect ball. "My turn," he flashed a wicked grin and threw the snowball, watching with childish glee as it soared through the air and hit Natsu square in the face.

“Hey, no fair, you’re not supposed to throw them in people’s faces,” Natsu protested, wiping the snow off his face with his glove.

“I figured you wouldn’t even feel it through all that padding,” he teased, making no effort to apologize. “That’s what a real snowball feels like.”

“How’d you get it to pack like that?”

“Here, let me show you, and then we can have ourselves a real fight,” Gray offered before Natsu could get it into his head to retaliate. “You too, Hana.”

He cupped some snow between his hands, rotating them slowly to help fuse the snow together. “You just gotta make sure to press down firmly when you rotate your hands. That packs the snow in real good and keeps it from falling apart midair.”

Hana and Natsu watched eagerly as he explained, imitating his actions. Their first efforts were pretty pitiful.

“Just keep at it. Those already look better,” he encouraged, “ You’ll know you’re doing it right when you can stack them up.”

He noticed Aki gazing at the trees with interest and picked him up, walking over towards the nearest one so his son could touch one of its branches, delighting at his laugh when the snow came down. Gray kissed Aki’s chubby cheek and whispered, “I love you, kiddo.”

“I did it!”

Hana’s exalted cry was cut short as the stack of snowballs she’d worked so hard on toppled over when Atlas attempted to grab one.

“Hey!” she started to protest, but whatever expression Atlas had on his face changed her mind, causing her to dissolve into giggles instead.

The sound of Hana’s laughter drew Aki’s attention, and he wiggled in Gray’s arms, wanting to be put down to go investigate what his friends were up to.

Gray obliged, watching as Hana and Natsu created stacks of snowballs for Atlas to topple, and when Aki joined in, he began to make some as well, amused by how easily the two boys were entertained. After a bit, Natsu changed up the game, showing them how to stack the snowballs instead.

He had to admit that his friend was pretty good with kids, which was probably not a huge surprise, considering he seemed to be a big kid himself. It made Gray wonder what parenting might have been like if he’d been married to someone like that.

He analyzed Natsu’s backyard, trying to distract himself from any thoughts of his ex. He was soon struck with an idea.

“Hey Natsu, you got any snow shovels?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

Natsu waddled over to the small shed that sat on their driveway, returning with two adult shovels and two child-sized ones. “What do you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about putting a small sledding hill in for the kids?”

“I think it’s a great idea, just surprised you came up with it, “ Natsu’s eyes crinkled, and Gray could easily visualize the accompanying grin underneath the balaclava. “I bet I can shovel more snow than you, though.”

“In your dreams, Squinty Eyes.”

They decided on an area and began shoveling snow into a large pile and packing it down while Hana kept the boys entertained.

“Getting tired yet?” Natsu huffed.

“This is nothing. I could go all day,” he smirked, noticing Natsu’s discomfort, “You seem pretty done, though.”

“In your dreams, Droopy Eyes.” Natsu unzipped his jacket to reveal a fleece liner underneath, “I’m just getting started.”

“Droopy?! And here I’ve been told they’re one of my best features,” Gray retorted, as he climbed to the top of the makeshift hill, ensuring the snow was packed in well enough. “I think we can stop now. This is probably tall enough for them. You’ll have to impress me with your stamina another time.”

Natsu’s eyes widened in disbelief before he exploded into a fit of raucous laughter.

“Is it ready?” Hana asked, rushing over to them with Atlas and Aki chasing after her.

“Yep, go get your sled from the shed, and can you bring that little inflatable one?”

“Yeah,” Hana ran off, returning with a pink saucer sled and a folded up piece of vinyl, which she handed over to her father to inflate.

“I got it. Wouldn’t want you to have to take off anything,” Gray grabbed the sled out of Natsu’s hands, finding the plastic tube and blowing into it until it had filled up.

Hana climbed the steps he’d carved into the snow with the kid shovels and sat down on her sled, squealing loudly when he gave her a firm push. She slid down the hill, her sled continuing to travel for several feet, leaving a trail in the snow. She was up as soon as her sled stopped, running back to them with a massive smile on her face.

“That was awesome!”

Gray couldn’t help but grin in response, pleased that he’d been able to make her so happy with such a simple act. He wondered how Aki would respond, and knowing his timid nature, he asked Natsu to have Atlas go first.

The sled had a little seat belt built into it, which was nice because the last thing on Atlas’ mind was holding on. He cackled all the way down and then chatted excitedly to Natsu as they returned.

Aki pulled on his leg, eager to take his turn, and Gray helped him into the sled. He let him have a moment to get used to it before nodding to Natsu to give him a push. Although his response to the experience was more muted than the two Dragneel kids, it was no less joyful, and Gray hid his face, fighting back unexpected tears at watching Aki lead a life more in line with what he’d always wanted for him.

Rather than tease him for getting overly emotional, Natsu offered him a half hug and went back to helping the kids sled down the hill until he was ready to rejoin them. It was gestures like that that made him wish that Natsu would see him as someone he could love, rather than just a good friend.

“Dada!”

Aki’s excited cries called him back, and they stayed out until the kids’ teeth began chattering from the cold.

0-0 After they’d helped the kids get out of their layers and put all the winter gear away, Natsu moved to the kitchen. He filled a large glass measuring cup with water, placed it in the microwave, and then started searching through the cabinets. “Do you want some hot cocoa?” he asked Gray once he’d found what he was looking for: a box full of packets of instant hot cocoa powder. “Sorry, what?” Gray stared at him in a mixture of horror and pure disbelief. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” “Huh?” Natsu puzzled, completely lost as to what he meant. “Whatever you think that is-” Gray pointed an accusing finger at the box, “I'm not drinking it. Move over.” He did a quick check through the fridge and the cupboards to make sure Natsu had everything he needed to make real hot cocoa and got to work. Meanwhile, Natsu piled a mountain of cookies onto a plate to go along with it, laughing when Atlas and Aki came begging one off him before he’d even finished. Natsu’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he quickly wiped the cookie crumbs off his hands before checking it. Gray watched his brows knit together as he focused on the message, but his expression soon turned into one of joy and relief. “Well, looks like I get tonight off. Jellal told me not to bother coming in. It’s been quiet all day because of the snow,” he reported happily as he put his phone away again. “You should stay for dinner. The roads are crap anyway.”

“You sure? We wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“Sure, we’ve got plenty of frozen pizzas,” Natsu opened the freezer, pointing to an alarming amount of pizza boxes.

“Is that all you eat?” Gray asked in horror.

“Hah, well,” Natsu threaded his fingers through his hair in an embarrassed gesture, “Erza’s the one who usually cooks. She gets those for us for when she’s not around. Oh! I should let her know she doesn’t have to hurry back.”

He pulled out his phone and began texting his sister as Gray mulled the invitation over. He hadn’t really been looking forward to going home yet. Lyon would still be at work, and he knew the apartment would feel empty after having spent the afternoon surrounded by Natsu’s warmth.

That decided him.

“Fine, I’ll stay, but we’re not having frozen pizza.” He rolled his sleeves up and headed to the sink to wash his hands, thinking about the limited number of things he knew how to make.

He opened their pantry and breathed a sigh of relief when he found two boxes of pasta and a few jars of sauce. “Make yourself useful, fill a big pot with water and put it on the stove,” he demanded, moving stuff around to see what ingredients he could use to add to the sauce.

“I dunno, Erza uh- doesn’t really like it when I use the stove,” Natsu murmured, avoiding Gray’s gaze.

“Why? What did you do, set the kitchen on fire?” Gray blurted, laughing at how absurd that was.

When his joke was received with silence instead of the angry denials he’d been expecting, he glanced up to find Natsu quietly pouring the hot cocoa into mugs and placing them on the table in the breakfast nook along with the cookies. He called the kids over and walked back into the kitchen, still avoiding direct eye contact.

“Oh my God, you did! Didn’t you?!”

“It was an accident!” Natsu protested, “I was making dinner when Atlas’ diaper overfilled, and I had to deal with it. By the time I was done with that, I had forgotten the stove was on.”

Gray wanted to give him a hard time about it, but he could absolutely see that happening. He was well aware of how unreliable Natsu’s attention span was at the best of times. It was the one thing they struggled with the most during their study sessions.

“Well, I’ll be the one cooking, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Gray assured him, pointing him towards the sink once again.

“What about knives? Are you allowed near those, Pyro?” he taunted as he tossed him an onion to chop.

“It was an accident!” Natsu complained, and when that did nothing to stop the teasing, he pouted, “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Gray smirked, quite pleased that he might have finally found a nickname to counter the dreaded Princess.

“Jerk,” Natsu muttered, grabbing a knife and attempting to chop the onion.

They worked in somewhat comfortable silence. As usual, Natsu couldn’t stay mad for long, and soon he was telling Gray funny stories about people he’d met at work, while Gray told him about some of the places he’d traveled to for shoots.

“I’ve always wanted to travel,” Natsu commented, pulling out plates from the cupboards and walking off to set the table.

“You’re not exactly dead yet, you know,” Gray called out, pouring the pasta into a colander and checking on the sauce one last time before turning off the stove.

“Yeah, but come on, when am I ever going to be able to afford it or have the time?”

Gray had no answer to that, so he changed the subject instead, “Food’s ready.”

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie after? There’s this one about dragons and vikings we’ve wanted to watch.”

“How to Train your Dragon?”

“You’ve seen it?”

“I went to the premiere,” Gray explained, but when he saw how disappointed Natsu looked by his admission, he hastily added, “But who really watches the movie at those things, it’s all photo ops and gossip. I’d love to watch it.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, either. Siegrain had felt slighted by some industry bigwig and had spent most of the movie complaining about it. But honestly, even if he’d seen it a hundred times, he’d gladly watch it again if it meant he could experience the beaming smile Natsu flashed his way.

The sun had long ago set by the time they finished eating their dinner, and it wasn’t hard to see that all three kids were going to conk out as soon as they were still for any amount of time. Natsu didn’t seem to notice, though, and Gray didn’t have the heart to dampen his enthusiasm. Not when he was practically bouncing as he went around making popcorn for everyone. Gray volunteered to load the dishwasher, claiming, much to Natsu’s chagrin, that he didn’t want to be responsible for his being banned from yet another kitchen appliance.

Natsu lit the fireplace, placing the screen securely in front while Gray settled the boys on the sofa. After a frantic search for the remote, they were finally ready. They sat down next to each other as the opening credits played. Aki climbed onto Gray’s lap, and Atlas did the same with Natsu, while Hana snuggled up next to her father.

As Gray had predicted, all three kids were out ten minutes later, and then it was just the two of them again, talking and laughing along with the movie. Gray ached to stretch his arm and pull Natsu closer to him, even as Aki snored quietly against him.

He stopped paying attention to the movie, frustrated by how his infatuation with Natsu kept growing outside of his control. Today had only made it worse, enticing him with all the things he’d always wanted in a relationship but had given up on somewhere along the way.

The sound of loud snores startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to discover Natsu had also fallen asleep, his neck tilted at an awkward angle.

Gray stretched his arm, wrapping it around Natsu’s shoulders and slowly pulling him into his chest so he could rest more comfortably. Natsu muttered something in his sleep, snuggling into him with a faint smile that he found adorable.

He sat quietly, content to let everyone sleep while he watched over them, and let himself imagine that maybe, someday, this pocket of happiness could belong to the two of them.

[ktheist]

eighteen.

chapters: 17 / 18 / 19 /

knight!jungkook x princess!reader

x

One of the footmen is already waiting for you, following the order of Taehyung to summon you. Said man is standing in the middle of the room whilst the valet stands before him, buttoning up his shirt. He steps aside when you approach, bowing.

“How did you sleep last night?” You’re the first to break the silence, nimble fingers picking up where the valet left off.

You can feel his eyes lingering on the top of your head as you focus on the task at hand.

“Well.” His answer is short and curt, possibly still harboring the smolders of last two night’s fight.

“Good.” You nod towards the valet who’s standing by with Taehyung’s coat. It’s been over a week since you’ve arrived at the Northern Kingdom. Most of the foreign delegates have gone back to their countries and today, so will you.

The light in the mirror catches your eyes and causes you to look at the man staring at the reflection of the woman behind him. She holds the coat in the air and he slips his arms into its respective sleeves wordlessly.

You come to stand in front of the Prince again, smoothing out the fabric of the coat under your palms. This time, there’s no escaping those eyes. They pierce into yours like a spear but you’ve built walls too high for anyone to penetrate.

“One of my men saw you talking to someone yesterday.” He says simply, no decorative words, no underlying meaning, “a new face. A noble man who wasn’t here on the day of the funeral.”

The only who you knew saw you with Jungkook was your maid. Her sweet, cheery smile burns on the back of your mind. You refrain from shaking your head. No. Eunha is not like that. She may look like everything and anything is gossip but she knows not to speak of her lady’s affairs. Furthermore, she didn’t see Jungkook’s face. It must have really been one of Taehyung’s men who saw from afar.

“Ah, Marquis Jung? Indeed, he had urgent matters to settle so he arrived a little later.” You school an easy smile though you’re not so sure if it’ll work on a fellow monarch.

“My man also said you were crying.”

Your heart almost fell but your face still remains cheerful and unbothered. “Am I not allowed to shed tears, especially with the wound of my father’s death being so fresh and recent, you highness?”

That seems to settle with his reasoning. His gaze shakes the slightest bit as you shake your head. “Your highness may not understand, both your highness’ parents are well and alive.”

Those last words confirms your suspicions. The stoic mask he has on crumbles like a sandcastle as he looks at you with guilt, pain and something you can’t pinpoint.

“We’ll be spending more than a day in the carriage, I rather we not fight anymore.” You say your peace and for a last, remaining effect, stand on your tip toes, lips planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I shall see you in the carriage.” You leave him with those words, the stunned expression on his face being the last thing you see before you walk through the door.

x

By the time you arrive at the palace, it was half past noon on the next day. You made small talks with Taehyung but the Prince didn’t seem to keen on answering questions about his childhood and didn’t try to ask about yours. The whole ride was spent in silence until the general announced your arrival.

Yerin had helped you change into a simpler dress. The plan is to catch up on a week’s worth of work which means locking yourself up in the office. But thirty minutes into work, Eunha comes slipping into your office without her usual smile. She keeps looking at the door as she stands in front of your desk, “y-your highness, I have a letter.”

She leaves the folded, un-waxed paper by your hand and sprints off before you can even read it, write a reply and give it to her to post it to whoever your letter mate is.

‘Princess.’

You know who the letter belongs to as soon as you read how it addresses you. Only one person ever calls you ‘Princess’, most would formally call you ‘your highness’ or ‘my lady’.

‘I am in the Southern Kingdom following your departure. Is it possible to meet tonight to discuss our plans?’

A dead weight seems to settle on your shoulders as you reread the short letter over and over again. Walking over the hearth, you toss the paper into the fire and watch it burn.

It takes several tries to form a response as an inner war begins to erupt.

‘I can’t. The Prince and I have just made up...’

You cross that one out. And prepare another piece of fresh paper.

‘We’ve been seen. The Prince knows I met with a ‘young noble man’ three days ago but I played it off...’

No, this one will not do too.

‘Not at the present. The Prince is suspicious of me. I shall contact you when the time is right.’ You set your quill back in the inkpot. Folding the paper, you slip it within your sleeves. Only when it is time for you to retreat to your chamber for your bath, do you call for Eunha to stay back with the excuse to help comb your hair. By then, you’ve already stored the letter in your drawer.

Yerin seems displeased to have a mere commoner to be picked over her but you pretend not to notice. Your maid’s cheerful smile has returned but there’s a tug to it that makes it appear forced.

Covering her hand that’s on your shoulder, you look at her in the mirror. “Eunha, did anyone blackmail you to send me the letter?”

The maid appears stunned for a second before her bright facade falls through and tears brim in her eyes. “I was scared someone was blackmailing you, your highness and that you must keep quiet. Knowing you, you would bear the burden on your own and I- I- wish you would tell me.”

Rising to your feet, you bring the girl into your arms, letting her cry in your embrace as you shush her softly. “Thank you, Eunha, I never thought I’d meet someone so loyal in this place.”

“Th-then were you...”

You hold her hands, shaking your head as you smile. “No, it was a letter from an acquaintance of mine. We’ve been close friends but because of the differing ranks, he had to send an anonymous letter to me to ask how I was.”

Eunha sniffles as her face lifts up. “I-I’m glad her highness has someone to talk to.”

You pat her head gently, chuckling at how cute her innocent worrying is before she asks another question, “b-but if you don’t mind me asking, your highness, how did you become acquainted with a prison guard?”

Prison guard? You wrack your brain for a face donned in shiny armor. There aren’t many guards you’ve come to acquaint yourself with. The general is one of Taehyung’s men, rather than an acquaintance, your interactions were strictly a matter of national security. No topics were discussed besides the safety of the Crown Prince and Princess. You’ve met a few of the lower officials but their faces remain a blur. The only guard you ever know his name was the one that guarded Jungkook’s cell...

It hits you then that the guard may not have retired like Jungkook said he would. He must have sent the letter to the guard who in turn found a close confidant of yours to pass the letter to.

“He lives outside, the guard is his nephew whom he must have asked to relay the letter to but it would be suspicious for a prison guard to approach me and the letter would possibly be confiscated.” You easily conclude, “that’s why he approached you.”

Eunha’s cheery smile returns full force, it warms your heart and lifts your spirits as you return her smile.

“If he has a nephew, he must be elderly... is he the same age as the King?”

You pause, an image of Jungkook appearing at the back of your mind. How would he look in ten years’ time? What will happen to that warm gaze he reserves for you only when you are alone?  Will it still burn the same way? Will he continue to use those arms to do labor work like cutting firewood, lifting goods on his shoulders and all the work that requires strength? Will he choose to keep a beard now that he’s a free man and not required to adhere to dress codes and maintain his knightly appearance? Your face catches heat at the thought of his arms filling the sleeves of his clothes, longer hair tied back into a pony tail.

But for now, you nod at Eunha’s inquiry, “yes. It would seem odd for the Princess to have an elderly acquaintance but I do cherish our friendship dearly, so please keep it a secret.”  

You take the letter from your closet and press it in her hand. “This is my reply, please take it to the guard.”

Eunha nods, her eyes shining with innocent determination as your heart aches from yet another lie told. She takes her leave when Taehyung arrives in his night robe, eyes studying the maid as she bows at him.

“You seem to take a liking towards that poor thing.” He asserts, “it’d reflect badly on Lady Yerin if the Princess prefers a maid of her lady-in-waiting.”

“She lives her life honestly and therefore far from ‘poor.’“ You refute heatedly, gaze hardened over the man who settles himself in the middle of your bed, “if his highness has so much compassion for Lady Yerin, then you may take her to join your side.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing, “a lady as a valet? That’s unheard of.” That not-so-missed smirk creeps its way to his lips, “now, a second wife, that’s been done by may great Kings.”

Your eye twitches as you refrain yourself from slapping that smirk right off his face, “put me out of my misery, will you? Take her as your second wife, I don’t care.”

The room is filled with Taehyung’s laughter as he takes it with good humor. That is apparently the only think he’s good at. “A little sensitive, aren’t we? Have you been experiencing nausea? Headaches?”

Your eyes narrow at what he’s hinting, climbing on the bed to your side whilst subtly trying to keep a gap between you. “What’s it to you?”

The gap falls through as the Prince lands himself in your lap. A hand crossed underneath his head as he stares up at you with a wicked smile, “to us, Princess.”

Bile rises to your throat at the name he calls you. It tastes bitter when he says it but you let him attribute the sour expression on your face to the mention of a second wife even before you are crowned King and Queen. He seems to get a kick out of it.

“It’d be a hassle to make a new dress for the coronation if the new Queen couldn’t fit in it because she’s showing.” He teases, “best to get the coronation done quickly, no?”

At the word, your eyes twinkle. Taehyung must have caught it. That must be the reason he’s chuckling quietly into your stomach.

“When will it be held?”

He peeks from beneath his locks that shadows his eyes and you have to fight yourself from caressing it away, “in a month’s time.”

You feel your heart skip. In a month’s time. Approximately 30 days from now, you’ll be rid of the title ‘Princess’ and assume the title ‘Queen’. The Queen - the current Queen must be writhing in anger and anxiousness at this very moment. Her words still ring in your ears as though she’d just warned you yesterday.

“You will,” she had cut you with the power held upon the crown perched on her neatly made hair, “you will want power - command once you’ve lived long enough to lose yourself in this god forsaken place and I will not allow you to have any semblance of that in my castle. In my kingdom.” 

Something stirs in the very pit of your stomach. It’s delightful and deadly and thirsty. The hand that caresses the Prince’s hair is gentle and the smile that smiles at him is sweet as you wish him good night, blowing the candle before settling into the bed. This time, you don’t quite mind the arms that hold you as you dream about the day the crown passes to you.

[spaceskam]

Draft #4 and #41? Are they too different to combine? Maybe a 5+1 fic.... 5 times Michael explores his queerness and 1 time he and Alex go all out to a queer club (in ABQ or LV or LA)? 😉😃😘

freedom has no price

here it be! I’m super proud of this (with the exception of the last part but we can’t all be winners) and a special thanks to @draculaspetbee for helping me out with the 4th part! hope you enjoy! 

ao3

.1.

Wind combed through Alex’s hair, but it only slightly made his bottle of nail polish wobble in its place in the bed of Michael’s truck.  The two had been laying there for hours in the presence of each other. Regardless of how hot New Mexico summers could get, the desert was the best place for them to be.  No one could spot them out there. The last thing they needed was someone telling Alex’s dad that they were still seeing each other, even when they knew he’d be leaving for God knows where in less than a month specifically so he wouldn’t be around Michael.

But Alex enjoyed being around Michael even though he was risking some dangerous consequences.  Even if being around Michael consisted of watching him read a tattered up textbook he borrowed from the library on quantum mechanics.  Alex was growing to love that stupid book though. Every 10 minutes or so, he would sit up dramatically and announce something Alex hardly understood, excitement radiating off his body like a teenage girl who’d just gotten a text from her crush.  Alex then got to watch him collapse into his sleeping bags and read some more with big, engaged eyes. Michael didn’t seem to mind the fact that he couldn’t move his left hand whenever he had Alex and a book in proximity. It gave Alex a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“Y’know, Alex,” Michael suddenly said, taking Alex’s eyes away from his nails.  They were dry for the most part since he’d only been touching them up. “I think you’re the only guy in the world who can pull makeup off that well.” Alex cracked a smile, gently using his socked foot to nudge his thigh.

“That’s just not true,” he laughed.  Michael pursed his lips, resting his head on the book as he stared up at Alex.

“Okay, maybe not, but you definitely pull it off the best,” Michael decided.  Alex shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the boy he felt ungodly blessed for knowing.  Michael made him feel like he was safe and wanted and Alex was drunk on it every time he looked his way.

“I don’t know, I think you’d look sexy in makeup.” Michael’s cheeks flared up a bright red and he turned his nose towards the book, trying to hide the sheepishly smile.

“Shut up,” he whispered.  Alex was sure his heart skipped a beat and he was overcome with the urge to make sure that smile didn’t go anywhere.  He leaned closer, placing his hand on the back of Michael’s thigh.

“Nah, seriously.  I mean, you’re already sexy as hell, but… some eyeliner?  Mascara? Maybe even paint your nails? Fuck, Guerin, you’d be…” Alex tried to find the right word to make him squirm as he cautiously inched his hand further up.  Michael was chewing on his lip, staring at Alex with daring eyes.  

Michael was always unpredictable.  Sometimes he seemed to be the nerdiest and most innocent boy in the world.  He’d blush, he’d giggle at neck kisses, he’d occasionally prefer to ramble about physics in lieu of making out if not at the same time.  However, other times, he’d basically be possessed by a trained seducer. He’d smirk and flash the most challenging eyes in the world, he’d tease in a way that made Alex forget his own name, he’d lure a side of him out he didn’t know existed.  He dreaded the idea of leaving it all behind.

“You know, you can… you can do my makeup whenever you want,” Michael said.  Alex moved his hand to the small of Michael’s back.

“Well, I have a few things in my bag if you’re tired of psychics,” Alex suggested.  Michael sat up.

“Okay,” he said, letting his physics book fall to the wayside.

Alex was a little shocked that he was actually willing to let him put makeup on him, but he sorted through his bag anyway. The idea of making his manly, psychics-loving mechanic boyfriend all pretty with eye shadow and lipstick had him feeling giddy. He never thought Michael would let him.

After screwing the top back on his nail polish, he scooted closer to Michael with his makeup bag in his lap. It wasn’t a big collection and he definitely planned to have more one day, but this would do for now. Michael grabbed his knees and pulled him basically into his lap, smiling as Alex made himself comfortable.

“First of all, we need to get this out of the way,” Alex said, using his fingers to try and push Michael’s curls away from his face. However, it didn’t work very well as they just bounced right back into place. So, he fished in his bag and pulled out a bobby pin, securing the thick curls out of his face as best he could. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, accept that I’m right and close those pretty eyes,” Alex instructed. Michael licked his bottom lip before listening. Alex dried it with his thumb which earned a content sigh from his boyfriend.

They fell silent as Alex pulled out the small eye shadow palette Maria had gotten him for his birthday. He used his middle finger to put the gold color on his eyelids. Michael was a calm participant, hardly flinching even when Alex lined his eyes with black eyeliner.

“The first time I put on makeup, I flinched like fifty times,” Alex commented.

“I was Isobel’s test dummy the summer before freshman year. Those were never good looks,” Michael said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Well, I’m doing my best to make you look decent,” he insisted.

“I trust your skills more than I trust 14-year-old Isobel’s,” Michael admitted. Alex just hummed in response and chose not to focus on that compliment, pulling out his mascara.

“Blink for me,” Alex instructed softly. Michael did as he said until his eyelashes were evenly coated. He couldn’t help but smile at his work. He was right, add a little something and he would look fucking gorgeous. He couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, trying to follow when he pulled away. Alex held him in place.

“One more thing, open your mouth.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Alex rolled his eyes and searched for his gold-colored lipstick that he admittedly spent his first paycheck on. It was so pretty that he just couldn’t help himself even though he knew he’d never have an excuse to use it. Now felt like the perfect excuse.

Alex held Michael’s jaw and carefully coated Michael’s bottom lip with it.

“Now rub your lips together like this,” Alex said, showing him what he meant and watching him messily copy. Alex spent a few seconds touching it up and then leaned back, taking in his full face. “That’s a really good color on you.”

“Thank you,” Michael answered even though he didn’t even know what it was. Alex sort of wished he knew more about makeup if only to do his face even more justice.

“Wanna see?”

“Yeah.”

Alex pulled out a compact mirror and gave it to him, watching him open it to look at himself. Michael stared at himself and blinked a few times as if he didn’t know how to react.

“Do you like it?” Alex asked softly.

“Yeah,” Michael answered.

He kept sneaking peeks at his reflection for the rest of the evening. Alex didn’t say anything.

.2.

“I think you would look good in a dress.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.”

Cassie Anderson had met Michael Guerin the way she met most boys that were too pretty to make sense: at a bar that was so run down that he seemed to glow in comparison. She’d seen him shooting pool and had bought him a drink. She didn’t realize that would lead to her spending seven nights in a row with him in her bed, trying anything she asked with the utmost respect.

It was strange to have a twenty-year-old boy be simultaneously really good in bed, really gorgeous, and respectful as hell. It made her much more comfortable asking for things than she usually was with men she’d only known for a week. She liked that.

“Why not, have you ever worn a dress?” she asked, rolling onto her stomach to look at him. He was still laid out on the bed with limbs splayed in every direction, face entirely blissed out. As masculine as he was, he took a strap like a champ.

“No,” he said, tilting his head in her direction with that sweet little smile he wore whenever he was willing to entertain whatever she wanted, “But I’m not really built to fit in one.”

“I bet I could find one in my closet that would fit you,” Cassie suggested. He blinked slowly and then started to turn his body toward her.

“Oh yeah?” he said. She smiled at him, wide and confident. She reached over and placed her hand on his slightly hairy stomach, rubbing just enough to get that content little sigh from him.

“I know you like being macho, but you’re pretty too,” she said. Michael rubbed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll entertain your vision,” Michael said, “On one condition.”

“What?” Cassie asked, already smiling as she sat up.

“It stays between me and you. No making fun of me to your next boy toy, alright?” he said, voice playful as he sat up.

“Of course,” she agreed easily. He grinned and leaned in for a kiss that she accepted. In her 26 years of living, she’d never met a man so down for whatever. She would be sad to see him go whenever this eventually had to end. However, she liked the idea that he’d stay a fun memory.

Cassie climbed out of bed and headed to her closet, searching for something that had some type of lace-up to cinch to his waist. She was a little bit bigger than he was and a little bit taller, so that felt like a necessity. She found one that was floral against black and a string lacing up the back. Perfect.

She brought it to him as he laid all posed on her bed. She rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet, relishing in his light-hearted laughter. He was so cute it was hard to manage sometimes. How the hell had she gotten him to come back so many nights in a row, again?

“Raise your arms,” she instructed. Michael smirked.

“You gonna dress me up, Mama?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed. He obeyed though that shit-eating grin never left his face, letting her pull the dress over his head. It was a little tight over his broad shoulders, but not so tight he couldn’t lift his arms so it felt like a win. “Turn around.”

Cassie tightened it to his waist, creating a faux hour-glass figure that his shitty jeans could never. When she spun him back around to face her, she took a step back to admire him. As expected, he was fucking gorgeous.

“You look hot,” she said. He smiled helplessly. “No, seriously, you’re so pretty.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, come see,” she urged, pulling him towards the body length mirror. She continued to admire him and felt a familiar heat pool in her stomach as she watched him admire himself. He twisted a bit in the mirror, a different shade of confidence on his face. Suddenly it wasn’t just confidence about his behavior, but about how he looked. “See, you’re gorgeous.”

“Maybe,” Michael agreed, biting on his bottom lip. She grabbed his hips gently and he leaned into her. “Okay, so maybe I’m pretty.”

Cassie laughed and moved her hand to tilt his chin for a kiss. He folded into it, turning around to press himself into her and deepen the kiss. She smiled through it, her hands wandering and pushing up the skirt of the dress to feel the skin of his thigh.

“You’re so pretty,” she breathed.

“I feel pretty,” he agreed.

If they played dress-up for a few more nights before going back to being strangers, no one needed to know.

.3.

“Your skin is smooth.”

“Yeah because I shave and use moisturizer, take the lesson.”

Benny Giuliani had been pretty entranced with Michael Guerin the moment he saw him. He may or may not have gone to get his car fixed for dumb things five times before ever asking if he might be interested. He found it hard to guess those kinds of things and, eventually, Michael had to do the actual asking. Benny had simply sat there fumbling over ‘well, you see, is there any way you might be, like, I don’t know’. He accepted the teasing Michael gave him for it with ease.

“I didn’t know guys could shave,” Michael breathed, hands still roaming over his arms and his chest as he kissed his neck. Benny tried not to get too distracted by it, but it was admittedly difficult. He liked him so much.

“I used to be a bodybuilder,” Benny told him, “It was sort of a requirement. I like how it feels, though, so I kept it up.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, biting gently on his shoulder and soothing it with a wet kiss. Why had he waited so long to come out? He could’ve had cute boys kissing on him way earlier. How had he gone 30 years without men and then three more years without this one in particular? “I’ve thought about it.”

“I-I could teach you,” Benny offered, gulping softly as Michael pressed hard into back and kissed his neck. God, how did anyone focus?

“That sounds like the least sexy thing you could teach me,” he said in a low voice, pushing into his back harder. Benny laughed, catching him before he basically toppled them both off the bed. He pulled Michael around him to where he was sitting on his lap. He instantly went in for a kiss.

“Does everything I teach you need to be sexy?” Benny asked against his lips. Michael hummed and rubbed Benny’s bearded cheek, grinding his hips down just enough to be distracting. “I can teach you how to shave, one gay guy to another.”

Michael broke the kiss and leaned back.

“I’m not gay,” Michael said. Benny’s eyebrows met in the middle in confusion.

“Then what are you?”

“I’m...” Michael started, pausing for a moment as the gears turned in his head. Benny waited patiently. How could a man who so confidently hit on him in public not be gay? “I’m Michael. I don’t do labels. I like what I like.”

“But you like men,” Benny pointed out.

“You’re only the second guy I’ve been with, I usually hook up with women,” Michael said. Benny’s stomach dropped and insecurity he hadn’t felt in awhile built in his stomach. “But I do like you, I like hooking up with you. I just… I’m not gay.”

Instead of dwelling on the topic that made him want to throw up in confusion, he chose to backpedal in favor of a different, lighter conversation.

“I can still teach you how to shave,” Benny said, reaching up to touch his face. He was so… small. He couldn’t be upset about how he chose to label himself when he was still so young. Twenty-three was too young to know anything, right? “I bet you’d like the way it feels.”

Michael breathed in deep and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his mouth.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, “Teach me.”

Benny lifted him off the bed and carried him towards the bathroom which earned him nothing but sweet giggles. It melted most of his worries about Michael’s intentions with him, but he still tried not to get too attached at the way he was holding onto him.

He sat Michael onto the counter and tried to let go, but was pulled in for a kiss that lasted a little longer than he expected. He didn’t complain, completely entranced by the way he kissed and the way he existed. Michael was a closed book who refused to tell him really anything about his personal life. Benny didn’t know where he lived or what he did for fun. He didn’t know who his family was or about his childhood or about his sexual history. He didn’t share. He was just kind and willing to do whatever and it was hard not to be attracted to that.

Eventually, Benny separated from him and pulled out a pack of disposable razors and grabbed a fresh one. Michael was leaned back against the mirror, watching him with a smile and half-lidded eyes. He always looked at him like that, like every move he made was something worth watching. It made it even harder to understand how he didn’t consider himself gay.

“You wanna take off your pants? It’ll make it easier,” Benny suggested. Michael smirked that filthy fucking smirk.

“Sounds like you have an ulterior motive,” he said. Benny smiled and shook his head, hoping his beard covered up the fact that his face was turning red. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I listen well.”

Yeah, the beard definitely didn’t hide the blush well enough.

It took a few minutes, but soon he was showing Michael just how to shave his legs. Then it led to his arms and his chest, basically leaving his entire body so smooth that even he couldn’t help but touch. He was in nothing but his tight black boxer briefs, his tan skin glistening with water. The only hair left on his body was basically covered, only showing with a line coming from those boxers and the wrecked mass of curls on his head. He looked like a fucking god.

“I think I look pretty,” Michael acknowledged. Benny watched him drag his hand over his own chest, watched him look at himself in the mirror with nothing but intrigue. He stared at himself and his hand gradually got lower, his briefs so tight that Benny thought it had to hurt. He swallowed hard and took a grounding breath.

Benny pulled out his favorite lotion and gave it to him.

“Seriously, it’ll change your life,” Benny told him. Michael just tilted his head, pouting slightly as he laid against the mirror again.

“Why can’t you do it for me?” he asked softly.

So he did.

Their time together only lasted a few days, but Michael stayed on Benny’s mind for years.

.4.

“Incoming.”

Riley looked over their shoulder at the warning the bartender, Maria, gave, trying not to roll their eyes at the man coming their way. He walked with an all too confident swagger and leaned against the bar, eyes not even trying to pretend they had another destination aside from Riley.

“Never seen you before,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Maria laughed at him and slid him a drink that he didn’t even have to ask for.

“Don’t fall for his shit, Riley,” she said before walking away. The guy just smiled and Riley decided to entertain him at the very least. There was nothing better to do in this shit town.

“Riley, huh?” he asked. They nodded and took a sip of their drink. “I’m Michael.”

“And you also apparently have a reputation.”

Michael simply grinned, baring his teeth in a way that said he knew exactly what the hell he was doing. “Maybe.”

Riley finished off their drink, wondering just how many people had boosted his confidence for him to think he was charming through a simple smile. Granted, he was charming through a simple smile, but he didn’t need to know that. Riley shifted to face him completely.

“So, you new around here?” he asked. Riley smiled easily, tilting their head to the side to match Michael’s.

“Is that the best pick-up line you have? That’s kinda sad,” they said. Michael’s smile broke out into something wider, rubbing his hand over his chin.

“You got me there,” he said. Riley sat patiently as his eyes looked them up and down as slow as humanly possible. They had to admit it, they liked that. Confidence truly was key. Michael moved just a little closer, not even paying any mind to his drink. “But it still doesn’t answer why I haven’t seen you before. I’m pretty sure I’d notice.”

Riley reached out and grabbed the drink that was meant for him, enjoying the amusement in his eyes when they took a sip. It was fun to make him wait.

“I moved here for work,” they answered eventually.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a mechanical engineer in the army,” they said. Something flashed behind his eyes that they couldn’t quite catch before it was hidden away again.

“You must make a lot of money then,” Michael said. Riley huffed a laugh, shaking their head at him.

“That’s not something I share with strangers.”

“Let’s not be strangers then.”

“Okay,” Riley agreed, “Let’s not.”

Michael licked his lips and moved closer, fully entering Riley’s personal space. Honestly, they didn’t mind. In fact, they liked it. He was cute and he was interested. Maybe he wasn’t the best idea, but no one around could convince them that it was the worst either. What else could one ask for in a one-night stand?

“So, what’s this for?” Michael asked, reaching out to touch the flag patch on the right sleeve of their jacket. He made eye contact to clear that it was okay to touch which was more than Riley could say about most people that hit on them.

“It’s a pride flag,” Riley told him, “It means I’m non-binary.”

Michael nodded slowly, eyes only a little confused. “Which means…”

“It means I don’t really fit into the whole gender binary thing,” they said. He nodded a little more confidently and smiled, his hand still on their arm as he seemed to fit the pieces together in his mind.

“Cool,” he said, his hand sliding a little further down to a different patch, “So then what’s this one?”

“I’m also bisexual,” they told him. Michael’s eyebrows pulled together and he continued to stare and, honestly, it was weird that that was the one that caused his brain to short-circuit. “It means I like all genders, by the way.”

“Yeah,�� he breathed, tilting his head up to look at them with an actual serious look on his face. “So, like, how did you know?”

“That I’m non-binary?”

“No, that you’re bisexual,” he said, not moving out of their close proximity despite the fact that the tone had completely changed. Riley just tilted their head in confusion, waiting for him to add more of a question. In the grand scheme of things, their sexuality had seemed to be the most obvious thing. They liked boys, girls, etc. Simple as that. “Like, when did you realize that’s what it was? And not that it was something else.”

“Well, labels are pretty subjective, so it depends. Why?” Riley asked. Michael looked at them in the eyes, still confused and curious all at once.

“Okay, so, say I’ve slept with women and men. Does that make me bisexual?” he wondered. Riley held back a sigh. So much for a one-night stand.

“I don’t know, do you think it makes you bisexual?” they said. Michael just stared blankly at them. “I can’t tell you what you feel. Did you like being with both men and women?”

“Yeah.”

“So, maybe you are,” Riley said, which was the first thing to make Michael take a sobering step away. This time they actually did sigh. “Or maybe you’re pansexual. It’s really up to you on what fits the best to the way you feel.”

“That’s stupid, I want someone to just tell me,” he grumbled. Riley rolled their eyes and laughed. It seemed to bring a little bit of ease back into the conversation. “Say I was bisexual. That means…”

“That you’re not alone in the way you feel and whoever you’re attracted to is completely valid, you just have a word for it now,” Riley finished. Michael smiled at them and, again, moved in closer. Maybe the door for a one-night stand wasn’t closed.

“You’re pretty cool,” he acknowledged.

“I knew that, but thanks,” they said. Michael snorted a laugh.

“No, but seriously. Thanks. I’ll have to look into it a little more,” he said. Riley nodded.

“You should.”

“But, for now,” Michael said, leaning just a little bit closer, “What do you say we get out of here?”

“I want you to know that was the worst build-up I’ve ever seen,” Riley told him. Michael smiled, big and unashamed. “But I’m not in the mood to say no, so let’s go.”

The two of them made it all the way to Riley’s truck before Michael moved in all the way, kissing them finally. They knotted their hands in his shirt and pulled him in closer for a biting kiss. He seemed to fold into that, willingly being pushed into the side of the truck.

“I know I didn’t give much of a build-up, but I can give you one now,” Michael said in a breathy tone between kisses, “You’re really fucking hot.”

Riley grinned and kissed him harder. “I know.”

Michael laughed, “It’s okay. I already know I’m hot.”

“I’m sure you do.”

It took awhile, but they eventually made it back to Riley’s place. They spent the night talking and fucking until the sun rose before agreeing to see each other again. That one-night stand turned into a four-night stand before tapering off into just nodding to each other in public.

Yeah, Michael Guerin absolutely wasn’t a bad idea.

.5.

Alex pulled Michael into a damn near suffocating hug when he saw him again.

It was Alex’s twenty-sixth birthday and he’d just signed his life away for another four years, but that didn’t even matter if he got to be home with Michael again for a few days. He missed him like life itself. How the hell had he gone so long without him?

“I missed you,” he whispered against his neck, pressing a kiss there for extra measure. Michael squeezed him tight right back. They stayed there for a while in that goddamn airport just hugging the life out of each other because they could.

“Let’s go,” Michael murmured, “I wanna go home.”

Alex agreed without hesitation.

The drive home was agonizingly long and quiet, but Alex stayed tucked as close to Michael’s side as he could. He knew if anyone around here saw him, a man in uniform, cuddled up to a man that looked like Michael, they’d both get the dirtiest looks. So he closed his eyes.

“Hey, you know you mean the world to me, right?” Michael asked, so soft that Alex barely heard it. But he did and he smiled, pressing in closer.

“Yeah.”

“So, can I tell you something I figured out while you were gone?” Michael continued, voice still hesitant and soft.

“Yeah, anything,” Alex agreed, reaching for the hand he didn’t have on the steering wheel. He cradled it between both of his encouragingly. He wasn’t quite sure what Michael was preparing to say, but he was open to whatever he had to say. Honestly, he just liked hearing him talk. He missed him so much it hurt sometimes.

“Okay, so you know how we agreed we could hook up with whoever while we’re apart?” Michael said. Alex opened his eyes and tried to ignore the sick feeling he felt because of that. He tried to school his features as best he could and pushed away the urge to think of the worst case scenario.

Instead of asking what he did, Alex said, “Yeah.”

Michael took a deep breath and pulled over into the desert, putting the truck in park and turning to face Alex completely. Alex had no idea what to expect and was beginning to get nervous. He played the last thirty minutes over in his mind. Michael hadn’t kissed him hello, but they never did, but did that mean something bad this time? Were they over? Had he found someone new?

“I don’t know how to preface this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it,” Michael said, letting out another heavy breath, “I’m bisexual.”

Alex felt his entire body deflate and he put his hand over his racing heart with a laugh, trying to calm himself down over that frankly miniscule reveal.

“You scared the shit out of me framing it like that, you know?” Alex said. He realized that was probably the wrong reaction when he noticed that Michael hadn’t moved, staring at him with nervousness written all over his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not mad at me?” he asked softly. Alex felt like he had whiplash from that statement, sitting up straight and turning to face him completely.

“What? Why would I be mad at you, baby?” Alex said, softening his voice as he reached up to caress his cheek. Michael still seemed reluctant to buy it. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I said I’m bisexual,” he repeated, “I’m not joking.”

“I don’t think you’re joking,” Alex assured him, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. He moved closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just thought it was something serious.”

“I am serious.”

Alex stared at him for a moment, took in his face and the almost fear in his eyes. For a moment he hadn’t even considered that he might be feeling the way Alex did when he came out to someone new. Bisexuality just didn’t seem like as much of a problem, especially when you were talking to someone you were already sleeping with and, for the most part, people wouldn’t think anything of it. He could pass as straight or gay with no problem depending on the occasion.

And that was the problem. He was beginning a never-ending cycle of coming out over and over and over to whoever he spoke to.

“Why would I be mad at you for that?” Alex asked again, shaking his head. Michael shrugged.

“Some people don’t like that.”

“Well fuck them. Thank you so much for telling me,” Alex said, scooting even closer to the point he was almost in his lap, “I’m sorry I laughed. You didn’t laugh when you found out I was gay, I’m sorry. I just really thought you were going to say something bad so it was sort of a relief.”

Michael took a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting his head against his. Alex cradled his head in his hands.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t want you feeling like you can’t tell me things. Seriously, thank you for telling me,” Alex told him, “Have you told anyone else?”

Michael shrugged. “The person who taught me the word, but that’s it. I wanted to tell you first because I figured you’d be a safe person to tell.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t care what you are as long as you’re happy,” Alex told him, weaving his fingers into his hair, “I’m sorry I laughed.”

Instead of talking more about that, Michael moved in for a kiss. Alex accepted happily, pulling him in closer. He missed kissing him more than he could even put words to. He missed him. He dreaded the fact that he had to leave him again. One day, he wouldn’t have to. One day, they could be together.

“You sure you’re okay with it?” Michael asked one more time. Alex smiled.

“I’m more than okay with it,” he told him, pulling him back in for a kiss, “How does it feel, though? Coming out of a closet you were never really in?”

Michael laughed, a genuine sound that was so, so much better than the nervousness of before. Alex kissed him again through it. He never wanted to let go.

“Good,” he said, “It feels good. Really good. A weight off my shoulders, honestly.”

“I love that for you,” Alex told him, giving him one last kiss, “Now let’s get home and celebrate for real.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

It was all fun and games until Alex admitted that he’d re-enlisted. He left a few weeks later, more unsure than ever about his and Michael’s relationship. But, hey, they’d gotten through shit before.

What was one more bump in the road?

+1

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

Michael couldn’t help but admire Alex as he leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. He looked good as fuck, dressed head to toe in black with a leather jacket and tight jeans. His hair was growing out nice and perfect and Michael just adored him. But he had to take his eyes away to focus back on not cutting the area around his ankle.

"Why are you shaving your legs?" Alex asked, stepping in further and sitting down on the chair that was in front of the sink. Michael stole another glance. That was his boyfriend. His for-real-this-time boyfriend. Wasn’t that wild?

“Because we’re going out tonight,” Michael said like it was obvious. Which it was. Michael didn’t really try to keep it a secret anymore about what he did and didn’t like to do. After some trial and error in life, he’d realized that the best way to exist was to do exactly what he liked. So he shaved his legs and he wore a skirt and did his make-up when they went out to a club. He was out and proud and it felt good.

“Mhm, we are,” Alex confirmed, “We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes though and you’ve got a lot of getting ready left to do.”

Michael gave him an innocent smile before just pursing his lips for a kiss. Alex rolled his eyes and dragged the chair closer to the bathtub, leaning to give him a kiss before sitting back down.

“Isobel’s gonna be pissed that we’re late,” he pointed out.

“She’ll get over it,” Michael insisted. Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“How about this, I’ll do your face while you finish up that? It’ll speed it up,” Alex suggested. Michael flashed a wide smile. He liked when Alex did his make-up. It made him feel like a teenager, confused and in love. Honestly, that’s how he felt around Alex most of the time anyway.

With a little bit of telekinetic energy, Michael brought his make-up collection to Alex’s lap. It was a bit of a team effort to do, but it did indeed pass the time. Granted, it also made Michael want to just pull him into the tub with him and kiss him until his lips were numb, but that could wait.

Eventually, they both finished and Michael dried off as carefully as possible. Alex just sat and watched which, honestly, Michael understood. He could watch Alex get dressed and undressed over and over for the rest of his life. Sometimes, he even liked watching himself get dressed and undressed. Alex didn’t seem to have a problem with that either.

Instead of wasting more time thinking about that or the fact that Isobel was already honking her horn outside, he got dressed in a short white skirt and a relatively loose, white button-up that was only about one step away from completely see-through. He tucked it into the skirt before double checking that his hair and face looked alright.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Alex told him, coming up behind him and pressing a kiss to his neck.

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

Michael turned around to kiss him, honestly wanting to just stay home at this point. He liked getting dressed up and he liked looking like a fucking wreck and Alex liked him regardless. It made him feel loved in a way that he couldn’t quite find the words for most of the time.

“Isobel is going to piss off my neighbors if we don’t go out there soon,” Alex murmured.

“Okay, okay,” Michael sighed, “Let’s go.”

It was strange to think that it had taken him so long to find exactly where his place in life was, especially since he’d honestly had right in the beginning. No matter what, Alex was a safe place to call home and explore and love. No judgement, just him. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t seen that immediately. Or maybe he had. But, honestly, those what if’s it didn’t matter anymore.

He was happy .

Simple as that.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Fourteen - Pretty Ladies Shouldn’t Drink Wine

“Victor wants me to go to Paris?” I asked, the volume of my voice higher than what I was aiming for. “What for?”

“I honestly don’t know. You know how he is, he didn’t explain himself to me. Only that you need to get in the company’s jet and fly to Paris in two hours.”

“No, I’m going to call him.” I said, reaching for my phone.

“Good luck reaching him. He's busy with meetings, his phone is off.”

I stared at Goldman in disbelief, not knowing what to say. There was a brief awkward silence.

“So… maybe you should go home and start packing.” Goldman suggested.

“But how do I prepare?” I started panicking. “It’s impossible to prepare for work if I don’t know what I will be doing there!”

“Don’t worry. If you need anything I will be here, at the base. I will help you in everything you need.”

“Come on, it’s Paris.” Diane chimed in. “Maybe you have some time to go sightseeing, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Oh, and I want a miniature Eiffel tower.”

I had no idea how to avoid this trip. I had to go.

“Do you want something from Paris too?” I asked Goldman, still annoyed with the whole situation.

“At this point, I want you to pack and get in that plane on time so I don’t get shout at. Bon voyage?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Have a nice weekend, guys. Enjoy the break while I spend my weekend working…”

“In Paris. Shut up.” Diane interrupted me, smiling.

I ran home and started packing. Got some dresses, some suits, high heels and sensible shoes. I checked the weather and learned it would be raining in Paris. Not nice for sightseeing. I could already forecast endless days in conference rooms and hotel rooms, chained to my laptop, watching the Eiffel Tower from afar, through a window.

I went straight to the airport and arrived at the spot the jet was landed. Waiting for me was one of the flight attendants of the jet, talking on the phone.

“She just arrived, Sir, wait a minute.” He turned to me, handing me the phone. “Mr. Lee would like to have a word.”

I took the phone from him, slightly annoyed. He could have just called me.

“Yes, Victor.”

“Your phone is off.”

I went to my purse to check my phone. It went off somehow.

“Ha. So it is. Sorry for that.”

“You better not lose it like last time. I’m too far away to return it to you now.” I felt like he was scolding me.

“Could please tell me why am I going to France at such short notice?” I asked, changing the subject.

“The French companies you work with required a meeting. You’ll be ending your internship in the near future, so they want to renegotiate the terms.”

“I see.” I said, handing my bag to the flight attendant. “And why do you need me for that?”

“You already know them. It’ll be easier to approach them with you there. Besides, don’t you want to meet in person the people you’ve been working with for your thesis?”

The idea of seeing how their businesses evolved with my ideas, the ones I was going to defend in my thesis, was extremely alluring. I felt very giddy all of a sudden, the stress I had been feeling for being summoned on such short notice subsided.

“Yes! Of course, it’s a great idea! Thank you for the opportunity!”

“Just come prepared. Enjoy your flight.”

I gave the flight attendant his phone back and boarded in the jet. As expected, the jet was luxurious, all decorated in neutral colors, the extremely comfortable seats in leather. I let myself sink on my seat and sighed, smiling. I wasn’t much of a fan of the idea of having so much money while others could barely get by, but this was amazing.

Everything moved pretty fast after we landed. I was taken to show my documents, then taken to a car, that drove me to the hotel. By the time I got there, it was raining heavily, and someone was already at the hotel door holding an umbrella.

“Mr. Lee apologizes for not greeting you. He got delayed in a meeting and will be coming shortly. I will lead you to your room where you can freshen up and get ready for dinner. Mr. Lee will be waiting for you at the lobby at 8:30.”

I got in my room, admiring the decoration. The room was in soothing earthy tones, soft fabrics on the bed, a desk and a vanity table, large windows with a view to the Eiffel Tower. The private bathroom was huge, with a wooden floor and a huge frosted glass shower and an infinity tub, orchids everywhere. Next to the door to the bathroom, there were two more doors. One that led to a small but finely decorated walking closet, the other one was locked. Maybe it led to some kind of maintenance room for the suite.

I started unpacking the dresses, deciding which one I would wear for dinner. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I was going to meet partners, so a more professional one would be the best choice. Not too revealing, not too shiny, simple and elegant, that’s what I needed. I decided to wear my short round neck black cocktail dress with flowers embroidered in silver in the A-line skirt from the hem up.  I would wear my black high heels and my black woolen coat and I was good to go. Despite the moisture in the air, my curls were having a good day, so I let my hair down, applying just some light make up to hide the effects of traveling for 11 hours.

I was grabbing my purse to leave when my I heard the sound of an incoming message. It was Victor.

Meet me in the lobby.

I walked to the lobby and found Victor right away, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, black shirt and silver tie, sitting on one of the chairs, busy with his phone. He looked tired and tense, his shoulders not quite relaxed, his eyebrows in a knot.

He didn’t even let me greet him, getting up and going straight to the car, expecting me to follow him.

“Did you have a good flight?” He asked in his icy tone.

“Yes, thank you.” I said, my tone matching his. I didn’t miss Mr. Icy CEO at all.

And that’s all we spoke for the entire ride.

When we entered the restaurant, we were told that Monsieur Xavier Breton was already waiting for us at the table.

Xavier Breton was a well-built bald man with piercing green eyes and a stubble. He was probably already in his 70’s, but he exuded confidence and sophistication. Adding to the package, he had this bad boy voice and a perfect smile, which made him extremely attractive, despite his age.

“Miss Jones! So happy to finally meet you! You are even more beautiful in person.” Xavier stood up, taking my hand and kissing it.

“Thank you.” I blushed slightly at the sudden attention. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Now that everybody is properly introduced, let’s cut to the chase and discuss our contracts.” Victor said, his tone moody.

“Oh, Victor, always business, business!” Xavier jested. “But you’re right, let’s discuss business and then just enjoy the good food and the good wine.”

It turns out, there wasn’t much to discuss anyway, and my role in the whole interaction was less than minimal. Victor never asked for my assistance, so I was quiet listening to them the whole time. By the time the food came, they were already finishing. Xavier turned to me.

“So, Miss Jones, I heard your father is an oenologist. Your father is not Jeremy Jones, is he?”

“Yes, exactly. It’s my father.”

“Her father wrote for many years for the Michelin Guide.” Xavier turned to Victor, who nodded, seemingly impressed. “What is he doing now? I haven’t seen his work in years.”

“Well, he was tired of all the traveling, so he decided to find something closer to home. He now works for some Portuguese wineries. One of them is Quinta do Valado.”

“Oh, I know that wine. Prized wine, very good.” Turning to Victor. “Portugal has excellent wine, Victor, you should try it. This producer makes the very best wines in the region.”

“I’ll make sure to order a few bottles as soon as I get to Loveland. They will look nice in my collection.”

“And will taste even better on your tongue!” Xavier exclaimed, laughing loudly.

The waiter came to our table and announced the soufflé would be served soon, and that the chef would join us shortly for dessert.

Victor and Xavier continued their conversation about wine, and I just sat there, wondering why the hell had I been summoned to Paris. Victor didn’t need me at all.

The chocolate soufflés arrived, and the chef Guy Sauvant came and greeted Victor and Xavier. Victor introduced me to the chef.

“Chef Sauvant, this is Miss Andrea Jones. Andrea, this is Chef Guy Sauvant.”

“Oh to see the face of the lovely voice I spoke to so many times! Miss Jones, it is a pleasure to finally know you. Did you enjoy your food?” The chef spoke, extending his hand my way. I shook it, smiling.

“Everything was delicious, chef. And I love your restaurant, it’s beautiful.”

“I don’t know if Victor told you, but I know this gamin for a while know, taught him everything I know! Including the recipe for this soufflé! Eat it, before it gets cold.”

We all buried our spoons in the soft and chocolatey soufflé. It was extremely light, immediately melting in my mouth and developing a strong chocolate flavor. I hummed in satisfaction.

“Oh, that sound is the best of compliments for a chef! Merci, belle Andrea! Now, let me get a good bottle of wine for us to toast." Chef Sauvant said, going for the kitchen.

The chef returned with another bottle of wine, and promptly filled my glass. I thought about refusing, since Victor was watching my glass like a hawk, but it would seem crass to refuse wine brought specially by the chef. I wasn’t feeling the effects of the wine, so I decided another glass wouldn’t mean any harm.

“So Victor learned how to cook from you?” I asked the chef.

“Oh this gamin is pretty smart, you know. He understands that the quickest way to a woman’s heart is the stomach! Give a woman jewelry and she’ll give you her body, but cook her a five-course meal and she will give you her heart!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Xavier chimed in, raising his glass.

We all raised our glasses and drank. Xavier quickly grabbed the bottle of wine to fill my glass again.

“I think Andrea has had enough already.” Victor said, covering my glass with his hand.

“Oh, nonsense, beautiful women are happier with good wine. Besides, she’s an adult, she can decide for herself.”

I looked at Victor, whispering to him “I’m ok.” Victor released my glass, and Xavier filled it.

Xavier and Guy resumed the conversation about women and Victor took that moment of distraction to swap his empty glass with mine, drinking it immediately. Xavier turned to Victor, not noticing anything, still excited about the current topic:

“I’m surprised, Victor, you, of all people, having to cook to seduce women? A man with your fortune and your physique shouldn’t need to resort to that! You must have them at your feet!”

I looked at Victor from the corner of my eye. Victor caught my gaze and suppressed a smile, speaking calmly.

“You’ll give the wrong impression to Andrea. Cooking is a hobby, not a scheme. And I have no intention of having anyone at my feet. Not even my competitors.”

The men agreed and started a new topic in their idle discussion, the honor in business. After a while, Victor announced that we were leaving, since we were traveling the following morning.

When I got up, however, all the wine I drank went straight to my head, making the room spin for a second. Victor either noticed it or was already expecting it, because I felt his hand on my shoulder, supporting me.

As we left the restaurant, he leaned close to my ear, whispering softly:

“Do you want to walk it off, take a little stroll?”

The rain had stopped and the city lights looked beautiful at night. I didn’t know how long I would be in Paris to get another chance to see it, so I nodded.

“Good wine has that effect. You won’t feel the alcohol until you get up. Do you feel nauseous?” Victor asked as we walked, still supporting me with his body.

“No, I’m fine. I didn’t drink that much. I just wasn’t expecting it to go to my head like that.”

“Dinner went well.” Victor said, in approval.

“Yeah, about that…” It was nice to meet them, but I still was confused as to what I was doing in Paris.

“I have to give you some advice about Xavier, though.” Victor continued. “You probably noticed he is a ladies’ man, and you clearly caught his eye.”

I released myself from Victor’s grip and faced him, offended he would think I would get even slightly involved in such situations.

“Who the hell do you take me for? I’m not the one taking cooking lessons to get laid!”

He stared at me, confused. I continued my tirade.

“You really are something else! You demand that I come all the way from Loveland to Paris with a two-hour notice, saying I was needed to help you in a negotiation I barely had any time to prepare for and that basically didn’t happen at all, and now because the guy was friendly, you go all self-righteous on me telling me I shouldn’t get involved? Do you really think I’m that naïve that I can’t say no to a man?”

“Andrea, you’re drunk.” He stated in a gentle voice.

“I am not! I may have had a few glasses of wine, but I am certainly able to speak my mind clearly, so listen!” I noticed I was raising my voice at that point, so I lowered my tone. “I am grateful for all you’ve done for me, I really am. But just because I had a traumatic experience with a guy, it doesn’t mean you have to protect me like I’m some silly girl that can’t help herself. I don’t need your protection, do you understand?”

At that precise moment, fate made me shut up real fast. My heel got caught in a crack on the pavement and broke, making me lose my balance. I felt myself falling backward, and I mentally braced myself for the impact. Victor moved fast in my direction, grabbing me before I could reach the ground, panic in his eyes. We stood like that for a moment, my body supported in his arms, and Victor, bent forward, his face close to mine, his eyes looking deep into mine. His scent, returning to my nostrils, brought back the image of our moment in my kitchen. My anger and frustration, all gone, replaced with a warm feeling and a hint of shame. His stone-cold expression replaced by one of affection.

I closed my arms around his neck to support myself and placed my other foot firmly on the ground, standing up. Victor also straightened himself, eyes now on my broken heel.

“Your heel broke.” He stated.

“I know.” I replied, a bit flustered.

“Are you hurt?”

I moved my foot, it seemed fine.

Victor suddenly swept me off my feet, and cradled me in his arms, walking towards the car. My body stiffened.

“I can walk, Victor. You can let me go.”

“With a broken heel? I don’t think so.”

“I said, you don’t need to carry me. Put me down.” 

Victor ignored me.

“I mean it, Victor, put me down.” I said, trying to wiggle myself out of his grip. Victor led me down, holding me strongly by the waist without letting my feet touch the ground, and looked me in the eye.

“Let’s make something very clear. There is no way I’m going to let you walk barefoot on the cold, wet ground. It seems like you have two options: I either carry you gracefully in my arms, or I just carry you over my shoulder, with your behind facing up.” He paused, his face dead serious, letting his words sink in. “How is it going to be?”

“I’ll show you how it’s going to be.” I said, trying to free myself from his grip and put both my feet on the ground. Without letting me go, Victor motioned to swing me over his shoulder, and I quickly held on tight to his neck. “Ok, ok, I got it! You win!”

Victor chuckled, holding me tight in his arms and carrying me bridal style. He did it like it was nothing, like it wasn’t a hindrance, like it was a natural thing, just looking forward as he walked. When we got to the car, the driver, who was waiting for us outside, smiled mischievously at Victor.

“Les belles femmes ne devraient pas boire de vin! (Pretty ladies shouldn’t drink wine!)” The driver said, opening the passenger back door. I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks.

“Vraiment. (True.)” Victor answered, sitting me in the back seat and tightening my seatbelt.

“I speak French, you know!” I whispered at Victor, when he sat next to me. He gave me a cocky smile.

As we arrived to the hotel, I opened the car door, decided to walk on my own to my room. But the minute I put my bare foot down, the cold from the floor made me lift it haphazardly and lose my balance, and the only reason I didn’t fall with my face first on the floor was Victor, who hurried to support me. Without a word, he scooped me up again, and walked towards the hotel. The doorman gave us a sly smile.

“French wine is not good for ze ladies, n’est-ce pas?”

I sighed heavily and buried my face in Victor’s shoulder, begging for the ground to open and swallow me whole. I heard the rumble of a heartfelt chuckle on Victor’s chest, who was clearly having fun with my misfortune. Crétin.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 1

A table for one

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader goes on a blind date.

Notes: The first few chapters are going to move slow but I promise, there is a pit to this juicy apple. To clarify the setting, Steve Rogers resigned after the Sekovia incident and Accords were put in place and has since found a new, quite prosperous life as a restaurant owner. Random, I know, but I still wanted to keep this tied to the MCU in some way. Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags. <3

Your anxiety flared as you climbed out of the cab, your toe almost catching on the curb as you called to the driver to keep the change. You stepped up on the sidewalk and stared up at the high street moniker of one the city’s hottest restaurants. Bold letters marked its transparent facade; Spice. It wasn’t your first choice; you’d have chose a place more affordable and slightly less intimidating. You weren’t much for formality. Sure, you dressed nicely, making certain that you were pressed and primped, but you were no socialite. You were sure the menu would have you dreading your credit card statement.

You sighed as you resigned yourself and approached the tall glass doors. The early stirs of the evening breeze ruffled your knee-length skirt beneath your pea coat. You gripped the thin leather strap of your purse, the beige leather clutch neutral enough to match the magenta wrap dress Tandi had lent you. Your own wardrobe had long been purged of garments befitting a date. You had sworn off men after your last relationship; almost two years ago and were content to live by your own rules. Your nude heels clicked on the pavement as you pulled the thin metal handle of the door and slipped inside.

You had tried to excuse yourself from the night but Tandi had been insistent. You still weren’t ready for a date, especially a blind date. Even if it led to nothing, you didn’t want your hope to be built up only to find yourself as deflated and depressed as your last boyfriend had left you. ‘Come on. It’s been two years.’ ‘Mike was an asshole.’ ‘You’re too young to be a spinster.’ Tandi’s arguments had thoroughly shamed you into agreeing to the date and you had to admit, your apartment was growing rather lonely these days. Besides, she said Danny was a nice guy. And cute. You had seen his picture and you wouldn’t turn him away without a closer look.

You approached the podium-like desk where the hostess stood. Her sleek blond ponytail made your low chignon seem frumpy. You smiled and greeted her with as strong a voice as you can muster. “Um, reservation for two. Under Y/N.” You watched her scan the tablet for your name and her blue eyes flicked back up to you.

“You’re the first one here,” She announced, “May I take your coat?” She asked and you chewed your lip nervously. You were always painfully early.

“Yes,” You awkwardly removed your coat and dropped your purse in the process. “Please,” You handed her the jacket before retrieving your bag. “Sorry.” She took your coat, retreating to the front closet to hang it with those of other guests and returned to you. She guided you into the dining room, passing the bar lit by pale LEDs and you glanced around nervously at the other diners. They certainly outclassed you. 

“This is you.” She waved to a table for two, “Can I get you a drink to start?”

“Just water please,” You answered as you sat. She nodded and turned away, diligently going to get your order. You touched your neck as you looked around, the buzz of voices slightly comforting. The hostess returned, bringing a menu with your wine glass of water and informed you that a server would be with you shortly. You checked the time on your phone. He would likely be there in a few minutes, you told yourself.

The server arrived thereafter and you informed him you were waiting for someone, assuring him you were fine with just your water for now. You bent your ankle, twirling your foot anxiously under the table as the clock ticked by. Ten minutes. Maybe it was traffic. It was Friday night after all. Another ten passed and you spread your fingers over the tablecloth, suppressing a sigh. You took out your phone and saw a message from Tandi.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ the text read and you swiftly thumbed a response, ‘He’s twenty minutes late.’ Your phone vibrated in your hand as she sent a second message, ‘He’ll be there. Don’t worry.’

You tucked your phone back in your purse and looked around. A proper drink would calm your nerves but you couldn’t find your server. You could flag down another but you didn’t want to treat them like they were interchangeable or inhuman. So you waited, occasionally peeking around for the man in the pressed white button-up. It had been half an hour and you were struggling to sit still. You stared at your phone screen. Nothing.

A shadow moved beside you and you looked up, hopeful that your server had finally return. Instead you found a blonde man, clean shaven with sparkling blue eyes, his hair combed back neatly. He wore a dark blue button-up and a perfectly tailored jacket, emanating an air of authority. As if no one had ever told him no. You recognized him but he wasn’t Danny.

“Have you been helped?” He asked with a flawless smile, “You look a little...lost.”

“Um, my date is just late. I wanted to, um, get a drink,” You said meekly, touching your jaw nervously as you spoke. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and you quickly rescinded them, tucking your hand under the other.

“I can get that for you,” He offered, “We’re a bit busy tonight so forgive my servers for forgetting you. What will we have?”

“Um, I…” You took the oblong wine menu in hand and opened it, the words all gibberish to you. You usually just grabbed the wine you could afford off the shelf. “I…” You scanned the French titles and pressed your lips together, trying to hide your shock at the price of a single glass.

“May I make a suggestion?” He filled the void and you nodded, looking up at him once more. “Do you prefer red or white?”

“Red,” You answered, trying to seem unfazed by his presence. You weren’t expecting to be served by the boss and your situation was not making you any less bothered.

“The merlot is nice and rich but not too strong,” He explained, “My personal favourite. I have it imported for the restaurant on my own dime. No other in New York serves it.”

“Um, I’ll try that then,” You snapped closed the menu, flinching at the noise as you hadn’t meant to shut it so harshly. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, I’ll be back,” He marched away from you towards the bar and you stood slightly to look over your shoulder and the other patrons. Another fifteen minutes and you’d just accept that you had been stood up. The realization made your cheeks burn and you took out your phone once more, typing a quick message to Tandi, ‘He stood me up.’

The owner returned and set the glass before you with the same smile as before. He was even more handsome than the man who was supposed to be here with you. “Thank you,” You mumbled as you pinched the stem between three fingers.

“You’re welcome,” He chimed, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“N-no,” You stuttered, trying to hide the humiliation skittering up your neck. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“I’ll be back to check on you, alright?” He assured and you nodded, watching him as he went.

It was nice to be treated kindly, even if it was the man’s livelihood. Hell, he didn’t even have to be cordial. He owned the place. Shit, he more than owned the place. He was a former Avenger, renowned around the world. Steve Rogers had saved the entire city from ruin and was a king among the masses. After the incident in Sekovia, he had retired, and many pondered at his new choice in vocation. You gathered it had been a thoughtful decision as he hadn’t ever lived a normal life. Yet, even in his own day, there were restaurants and it was simple enough to know what tasted good and what didn’t.

When the fifteen minutes had passed and you had been sitting there for a whole hour, you checked your phone and it was still lifeless. Your glass empty, you stood and headed for the washrooms, hiding in the narrow hallway just next to the kitchen. You dialed Tandi’s number, your head swimming with hurt. The ringing echoed in your ears and finally she answered.

“He fucking stood me up, Tandi!” You hissed, keeping your voice low. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, hun, I didn’t think--He hasn’t said anything to me,” She said sympathetically, “Just...oh, oh...uhhh…”

“What is it?” You asked, swallowing stiffly as tears threatened to rise. You were completely embarrassed.

“N-nothing,” She sputtered and you huffed at her poor attempt at lying.

“Just tell me,” You looked over your shoulder as a server exited the kitchen, the door swinging noisily behind him.

“He, um, just posted a Snap,” She admitted quietly, “He’s at The Pillar.”

“Oh my god,” You touched your forehead. Don’t cry. You didn’t even know the guy. He was a complete stranger and it was better that he stayed that way. “I’m never doing this again, you go that? I’m too old for this childish bullshit.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I--” She replied desperately.

“It’s not your fault,” You interrupted her, “It’s his for being a jackass.” You crossed your free arm across your middle and turned towards the dining room, “I gotta go.”

You didn’t wait for her response as you walked back to your table and sat, slipping your phone back in your purse and pulling out your wallet. You were just going to go home and forget about this. You tried not to frown, a neutral expression was enough to get you through. You sensed movement and looked up as Steve approached once more, his eyes on your empty glass. “Would you like a refill?”

“No, I’m good thank you,” You opened your wallet and dug out some cash, more than enough for the wine but you wouldn’t stiff the owner on a tip. “It seems there’s been a change in plan,” You gave a poor excuse for a smile and stood, holding out the money. “You were right. The wine was good.”

“It’s on me,” He gently pushed away your hand, “You sure you’re not hungry? We have some great specials.”

You stifled a dry laugh. “I appreciate you being so nice but I’ve lost my appetite,” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, “Really, thank you.”

“No worries,” He turned his palms out in a placating manner, “Maybe come back sometime...when you’re hungrier?”

“Yeah, maybe,” You fibbed. You didn’t have the money or the pride to return. “Thanks, again.”

“Have a good night,” He smiled and stood back, letting you pass as he watched you intently. There was something about him that tickled your nerves. He seemed friendly enough but there was more to it. It was almost like he was wearing a mask. Something more than the typical customer service act. You could feel his eyes follow you until you had passed the bar and turned the corner to the front desk. You requested your coat from the hostess and waited for her to find your plain pea coat. It was nothing, you told yourself. He was just being nice. Being stood up had just put you off.

tags: @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind x 02

*Reuploading because I've edited these to flow a little bit better. Thank you for your patience!

We cannot abandon the rabbit hole.

It lives within us.

---

His rich and raspy voice echoes in your ears like the one that has been stuck there for days.

...Had been

Where had he gone and why? How? How is he here physically? It doesn’t make any sense. And somehow you're still physically or mentally tied to him!

Maybe your brain is sending signals to the wrong places. Are you still dreaming somehow? This ordeal doesn’t seem plausible. He’d found you like he said he would which means that he is just as real as you are. Flesh and blood.

“Keep me," you squint, wet hands dripping water to the floor.

“Keep you,” he confirms with no hesitation. “Can you do this with other people?”

It’s not an innocent question and although his expression gives nothing away, you feel a dark motive behind it.

“This has never happened before. I don’t know how it started or why, but I won’t abuse it.”

A brief chuckle escapes him. “I could convince you.”

You hadn’t seen his face before, always seeing what he saw through his eyes, but looking at him today, you were sure he could. If not by sensual tactics then by terrorism and violence. You can feel Glenda and Lia’s ears on your conversation although they face away, fingers moving through client hair… like yours should be.

The water is still running in the shampoo bowl and his eyes are on you. Brushing him off, you finish washing his locs silently with a squeeze and release motion, conditioning for softness and once under the dryer he pulls out his phone, tapping away with both thumbs.

You sit in your chair, stealing glimpses. Anyone looking at him would think of him as a normal guy, maybe a model or a personal trainer. Maybe a young professor or a medical student. It’s true, you really can’t know a person’s story just by looking at them. He doesn’t wear the trauma. He has a quiet arrogance but also the wisdom to conceal it. Then again.. like most complicated people, there are layers. Dignity. Insecurity rooted in loss. Tenacity. Fleeting environments with faster fleeting people. Empathy. The ability to see monstrous souls hidden within human shells.

His phone lowers to his lap and his eyes fall closed. Suddenly everything around you swirls down into calm and quiet as you watch him, graceful and beautiful and still. His black lashes over hooded eyes. The clear brown of his skin reaching down in high definition. His cupid’s bow over thick trapezoid lips. The bountiful coarse hairs that coat his jaw and upper lip. You’re in limbo, balancing hazily between reality and fiction.

He opens his eyes and the shop’s background noise turns up again to full volume as your body jolts itself fully awake. His smug smile tells you that he’s aware of what’s happened. You were dazed and it seems the proximity between you only deepens the psychic connection. He’s now openly testing the parameters of this newfound ability.

You glance at Lia and catch her as she turns away. How you’d explain all of this to her or anyone else you did not know. You couldn’t find the words.

Escaping outside, the air is hot, not comforting or refreshing, just hot!

“Damn this summer heat.”

You breathe in and out repeatedly, staring up at the clear blue sky until your hands stop trembling.

“How am I supposed to help him? This is a lot to process and I'm so confused. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this.. God. Show me what to do.”

You wait for a sign of some sort as a plane flys slowly overhead. All you see are cars driving by on the busy road straight ahead, past the half-empty lot as all manner of people walk in and out of the surrounding businesses. A latinx family with three kids crosses the parking lot to their car. None of that helps you.

Back inside, you pull Erik to start on retwisting his locks. Carefully palmrolling them with gel, you get them all laid and then you braid them all to the back and out of his face, per his request.

“Meet me at my place,” you mutter when you're done.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he replies and then he’s gone.

It takes one pleading look to Lia for her to agree to braid your next customer. Four large goddess braids.

—

Your apartment is at the end of the hall and Erik’s tall, built frame is posted against the wall directly beside the door. He doesn’t bother with small talk and neither do you. Feeling his eyes, you fumble with your lock. He follows you inside and moves round the room, looking this way and that at this and that. He’s a curious guy. You don’t have many knick knacks, but your place is still colorful and cozy.

“Tell me somethin about you, Nia.” His wandering doesn’t cease.

“What do you want to know?” You follow him into your bedroom. There’s your bed, your window, your dresser and nightstand, a floor length mirror, and a random piece of wall art you bought to tie things together. It’s a good thing your place was clean.

He pulls open your closet, flipping through hangers and closes the door again.

“Where’s all the pictures, photo albums, stuffed animals from your childhood and shit like that? You seem the sentimental type to hang onto to it.”

“My albums and photos are on my phone. I do have a small velvet bear that I call Velvet. He’s at my dad’s house.”

“Where is your dad?”

“Atlanta.”

“With your mom?”

“Stepmom.”

“Where’s your other mom?”

“...We don’t know. She left shortly after I was born.”

“Who do you look like?”

“Uh.. my dad says I look a little like her and I see it a little bit based on the picture I have of her, but mostly I look like him.”

“Do you ever think of your mom?”

“Sometimes.. I used to think of her all the time when I was younger.”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy.. like in general?”

“With your life.”

“I guess.. I’m not complaining.”

He drops down on your bed looking to your pillow and then he adjusts himself down on his back getting comfortable.

“You gotta take your shoes off,” you say and when he doesn’t move you tug at his sneakers. Y-3’s. You decide against tossing them and drop them carefully to the floor instead. “Why can’t I hear you anymore?"

His eyes close and everything is silent. You turn away so not to look directly at him this time and it feels.. somewhat like it did when you were in his head. He’s present, but out of view.

“It was a test,” he blurts with lids still shut. “I slept, but I didn’t go into deep sleep or REM. REM is where we get our most vivid dreams so it makes sense that when I stopped deep sleeping, it stopped the dreams and it blocked you.”

“So basically you haven’t really been sleeping?”

Silence.

"You seem to know a lot about this so you should know better than I do how crucial deep sleep is to your brain functioning, self-repair, and immunity system. That's basic knowledge. You need a deep sleep, even if it gives you those dreams and me in your head.”

“You’re not the problem.”

That response is unexpected, but you ignore the flutter you feel from it for more pressing matters.

“You don’t want the dreams period, but it feels like you can’t stop them. How is it when you wake up?”

Silence again.

“Erik?”

He doesn’t stir.. and then he does.

“If you wanna know.. stick around,” he croaks slowly, half gone already. Then you know he’s completely out because that familiar pull is calling you to lay down. You fight it off, standing to buffer the temptation. A large glass of juice is in order.

For the next hour, you monitor him, watching as he falls deeper and deeper.

90 minutes in, the pull on you gets stronger. If you had ice water, you’d splash yourself, but you don’t want to move or miss a thing. His eyelids move rapidly and you know he’s passed a simple deep sleep. He mumbles something, but it sounds like a foreign language.

The journal. It was full of maps and symbols that looked like language and in the dream he was reading it... Whatever he's mumbling.. It must be linked to those symbols. His eyebrows furrow and the once peaceful expression is gone. His arm twitches, the muscles tensing and veins shifting. His hand balls into a tight fist and his leg moves. What kind of nightmare could he be reliving?

He jerks and thrashes and you wonder if you should wake him now, but then he stops. Sweat beads on his skin around his hairline and in a sheen on his face and neck. He looks afraid as he squeezes your blanket. It’s bad. You know it’s bad. You remember hearing that you shouldn’t shake someone awake who’s having a nightmare like this and you hope he wakes up soon. It takes a while, too long, but then he jolts awake bolting upright.

For the next few seconds, he just stares ahead, heaving and you remember how that feels. You fetch him a glass of water and bring it to his lips. You know his throat is tight because of what you’d experienced yourself. He's shaking. He has to get himself to realize where he is and that it was only a dream. A heavy tear rolls down his face followed by another and he squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself.

Setting the glass on the nightstand, you break the boundary of personal space and hold him, staring over his shoulder to the art above your bed. He doesn’t lift his arms to close the embrace, but he doesn’t push you away either. He doesn't move, so you continue to hold him tightly for as long as he’ll allow.

You start to wonder if he’s cried himself back to sleep, but then his quiet voice rumbles in his chest.

“You gotta figure out.. how to help me..”

Taken aback, you don’t let go or loosen your hug, you listen. You wonder how you’re supposed to help him without a degree in psychology. How could you change his past? You couldn’t.

“And now that you’ve seen me like this...,” he clears his throat, “You know how important your role is..... SO NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE IN THAT AGAIN!”

You know his emotions are high, so you disregard the venom in his voice.

“Okay. If you dream, I’ll intervene. We’ll figure this out together.”

“How did you find me,” he asks with genuine interest but you’re just as curious to know the answer.

“I don’t know. You know this has never happened to me before. I only thought I was supposed to help you because that’s what this lady who prayed for me a couple days ago said."

"What lady? Let’s find her.”

He was right, maybe she had more wisdom or answers to bestow. Afterall, this was nothing short of a miracle. You call Glenda and by her clipped tone, you know someone pissed her off and to keep this brief.

“Glenda, it’s Nia. I need the name and contact of the woman you booked that prayed for me in the shop. You styled her after the blue fingerwaves. Church wristband, pretty, sweet face, professional-looking-”

“I don’t recall anything like that. I had to perm a lady, but she definitely wasn’t that.”

“What? You don’t remember a lady praying for me in the shop?”

Erik’s eyes narrow and Glenda’s tone switches to concerned.

“Nia, are you feeling okay? You’re really not acting like yourself and it’s starting to get a little scary.”

This is crazy, how does she not remember this woman?

“Well do you remember me styling a man today,” you test. She seems to remember Erik, just not the woman.

You hang up.

Other Chapters:

[theoriginalsfan124]

Halloween special

Halloween has always been a special day for her. The decorations, the costumes, the freedom to scare people and not be called out - ah what joy did it bring her. On Halloween you could be whoever you liked without getting judged.

The young woman was craving out a pumpkin to put in her yard, tomorrow was the long awaited day. She smiled to herself happily and hummed along a tune.

“One more pumpkin and I’m done…” she whispered to herself as she lived alone.

Sometimes it would get lonely, living in a Victorian style house, some would even call it creepy. However, the silence and peace she got made up for it.

Her work was interrupted with a noisy creek in her home. A home as old as hers was bound to let out weird noises especially at night and over the years she got used to it, but now, however, her stomach turned. But something was off. Nonetheless, she shook it off and continued craving a scary face in the pumpkin.

Something creaked again, this time much louder and now in her living room. Cautiously she stood up and grabbed a knife from a nearby drawer as she was in her kitchen. Slowly she left the comfort of her kitchen and walked into the dining room.

It looked normal, nothing moved, nothing there. But from the archway she could see directly into her living room. But again she saw nothing abnormal. Cursing herself in her mind, the young woman went into the other room, knife still in hand. The moment she turned on the light, she almost dropped her knife.

In the far corner of the room, which is not visible from the dining room, on a vintage armchair sat a man. A handsome one for that. He hand short blond hair that shone in the dim light, the prettiest ocean blue eyes she had ever seen, making her jealous as she had blue eyes too. He was tall and quite well built, muscular but not over the top. The black shirt he was wearing clung to him perfectly, making his six pack well seen, his black jeans tight around all the right places, his long black coat perfectly completed his look. Charming, handsome - he was all those things. Maybe if he didn’t bother her to hell and back, she would have hit him up. Sadly, he got on her bad side and all that drooling over him mowing his lawn without a shirt when he first moved next door, turned into hate.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” She yelled out.

“Now now, Caroline, such classy ladies like you don’t use such vulgar language,” he smirked drinking a glass of whiskey. “I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to your stash.”

No words left Caroline’s mouth for a moment. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Well but I’m here,” he shrugged his shoulders, the devilish smirk not leaving his face.

“How-how did you? How are you alive?!” She was baffled beyond belief.

He said nothing in return, but instead took another swing at his glass, the rings on his finger making a “clunk” sound when he takes the glass.

“How is this even possible? I fucking murdered you myself!”

It all started in June, when he had moved next door, the previous owner of the house had been missing for a year now and has been declared dead as they found his bloody clothes in the forest. It was not often the town of Forestground got newcomers, he was the first in a while. It just happened to be he had bought the house next to her. All the previous owners had all suffered the same fate - they always went missing. Some said the house was cursed. It was not like they were saints and it seemed like all of them got a stick up their ass. From not picking up their dogs poop from their neighbors yard and ignoring it when told, to having wild parties on a weekday, to blanketly damaging the property of their neighbors.

When the newcomer came, Caroline thought it’d be different. He was young, only a couple of years older than her, he was from a big city, fairly attractive, scrap that, very attractive and most importantly he was quiet and kept to himself. At first she loved her new neighbor, even pep talk herself into inviting him to dinner sometime, it’s been a long time since she dated. Everything turned sour just as quickly as it was sweet before. Turns out he really didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, not giving a damn fuck to anyone ( well her) when she politely complained. He mowed his lawn in the earliest of mornings, kept his windows open while blasting hard metal, never even said a good morning when he did see her going to work, fucked women who boy howdy were loud.

She tried, she really did. But there’s so much one can handle. At first she politely asked him to keep it down, close his windows at least. Then she tried being passive aggressive. Then she filed a noise complaint. Then she called the police. Nothing got through him. Finally, after yet another evening while she was listening to classical music and relaxing reading a book, he decided to listen to metal with his windows open, on full blast, yet again. She had enough.

She marched to his house and pounded on his door. He opened it and seeing her at the other side he gave her a look that said “this again?”. She didn’t say anything, but barged into his house and went straight to the speakers unplugging them. He managed to say “hey! What the hell?!”before she walked right next to him with an angry face. She was always very short, but compared to him, she looked like a dwarf. His face turned into a scowl and he was about to tell her off as he was fed up with all her antics, however, before he could manage, the young woman grabbed the knife that was in his pocket and stabbed it into his chest, right where his heart was. His knees buckled and he fell backwards to the ground, instantly dead. That didn’t stop her anger. She bludgeoned her knife in her over and over again, her hands now covered in blood. There must have been at least 20 stab wounds. Overkill -yes- but satisfying nonetheless.

She calmed down and smiled. Finally, she got her piece again. She was not stupid, she knew what to do, this wasn’t her first time. First she cleaned herself up a bit, took a shower in the downstairs bathroom of her victim, washing off all his blood. Her pants made it without blood, her shirt not so lucky, so she went to his closet and took one of his, but because of their size difference it was like a dress on her, but “it will do” she thought. Then she found where he kept his bleach and cleaning supplies. She cleaned off the knife and put it back in her pocket. She shut his eyes closed and rolled him to his side, blood seemed to be everywhere on the ground, but she knew how to handle it. She scrubbed it clean, not even a drop was left, although she couldn’t save a small rug by the entrance, so she threw it in the fireplace and set it on fire, no one would even know it was there. The next part was the hardest. She had to drag his body in his newly built garage(as his house is also Victorian style just like hers) to put in his car. It was hard as he was very heavy, she couldn’t just carry him so she had to drag him, which left a blood trail where his body hit the floor. Finally, she managed to get him into the passengers side, now what was left is to clean the blood, again. After she was done, Caroline drove his very expensive car to the forest lake. Considering it was so large that no one will find him there or even look there, they didn’t with the others.When she got there, got out of the car and pushed it into the lake. The next day that is today she went about her day unbothered, just like nothing happened.

He once again flashed her his devilish grin.

“You can’t kill what’s already dead. As they say in Game of Thrones, what is dead may never die again.”

“Fine. I’ll be more violent next time, I guess I was too tamed.”

“Tamed? You call nineteen stab wounds tamed?”

“Twenty.”

“Who cares? But I gotta give it to you, darling, no one has killed me in over twenty years, kinda tickles.” He chuckles pouring himself another glass of alcohol.

She’s speechless, she hasn’t been in a long time.

“I would have made myself appear earlier, but I saw you craving pumpkins and fairly I haven’t seen you in just jeans and sweater in like ever. I gotta say, those black jeans make your ass look fantastic.”

“When did you-?”

“I was already conscious when you pushed me in the lake, my wounds have already healed, but then I drowned, so technically you killed me twice.”

“Then why are you only here now?”

“Darling, my car, which I remind you costs a fortune, was at the bottom of a goddamn lake in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“How long have you’ve been dead for?” She finally asks slowly catching on.

“50 years.”

“Damn. I guess I missed the funeral.” Caroline regains her usually sassy self.

“Ah, there it is, the classy ladies snarky remarks.”

“Go to hell.”

“Darling, with you I'm already there.”

She had grabbed the nearest thing on her left, which was a vase, and threw it at him, her anger got the best of her. He dodged it, the vase hitting the wall and shattering, bits and pieces spilt on the floor.

“Wow there, love. You don’t want to hurt someone, now do you?”

“One more retort and you’ll regret it.”

“What are you going to do? Kill me?”

She was so pissed off by him that she wanted to just rip her hair out and he was just staring at her, clearly satisfied with what he was doing. But can you blame him?

“I’ll- I’ll”

“And I’ll go to The police, I still have the clothes plus my car is in the bottom of a fucking lake, once they start going down there, they’ll find all those people you got rid off.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Ugh” she rolled her eyes.

He threw his arm around her shoulders.

“This is going to be fun.”

And so an unlikely pair of murdering people were born.

[wardfmaily1962]

Saving Grace Part 1

**** Please take it easy on me -- this is my very fist story that I ever wrote and I hope you enjoy it****

Word Count 2,791

“Noooooooo!!!!!!!!!!”

You woke up screaming in the middle of the night soaking in sweat and crying. Its been 5 years --- 5 years since the accident and to this day – it felt like it is just happened. You glanced at the clock by the night stand

“3:15am, great, I guess I’m up now” with a long and exasperated sigh, you remove the cover from your body and sat at the edge of the bed. You cover your face with your hand, and out of the nowhere, tears start streaming down your face.

“Why did you have to leave? Why? “your voice was breaking as flashback of the happiest day of your life, turn into a nightmare

 ***** December 3rd, 2015 *****

“Dad, where are we going?” you sounded like a school girl with a giddy sound of your voice as you look at your loving husband. He was wearing a dark washed up jeans, white long sleeve shirt, boots and sunglasses. His muscles were rippling through his shirt that you could just eat him up.

“Its wouldn’t be a surprise if I tell you now would It” – he said with laughter in his voice. Trenton knows exactly what you like. You have now been together for 11 years and married for 5. You have a beautiful son and far as you are concern, you are living the fairy tale dream.

“Fine!” as you cross your arm and tried to pout but miserably failed.

He tilts his head back a bit as he laughed because of your expression. His laughter filled the car and you couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate your birthday than with the man of your dreams.

20 minutes has passed, and you pulled up on a gated community. You recognize this gate – it was awarded as one of the most exclusive, and secluded area in your city. Heck only millionaires lives here.

“Ummmmm – what are we doing here babe?” with a puzzled look on your face as you tried to figure out what your husband is up to

“You’ll see” as he gives you a side way smirk and winked

You rolled your eyes and said “Whatever” under your breath

He rang the metal box outside the gates and a man appeared on the screen

“Good afternoon sir – its good to see you again, and I see you brought the missus this time?”

“See you again? You’ve been here before”  you looked at your husband with arms across your chest and this time, you are not laughing

The seriousness of your voice made Trenton smile even bigger. He grabbed your hand and pulled it close to his lips and kissed it, while whispering --- “Happy Birthday Beautiful”

In an instance – the metal gate open and you drove in

On the left side – you see a long drive way, and at the end of it a beautiful white brick house, the grass had just turned brown due to the season, but that only enhanced the beauty of it. Incredible custom home with every possible amenity and convenience. Charm, elegance and splendor are just some of the many adjectives to describe this beautifully built home

You look at your husband in disbelief “Trenton --- whhaa???” you couldn’t even finish your words, when the car stopped. You are now in front of the most striking house you have ever seen in your life.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you looked at him with curiosity in your eyes

“This is my birthday gift to you” he said with love and tenderness in his voice “I told you I will give you the world, I would like to start with this”

You were shock and dumbfounded, that you didn’t even realize that you already stepped out of the car, and heading straight to the door

“You mean it, you really mean it??”

“I mean it my love, Happy Birthday Y/N, I love you”

  ****Present Day***

**Phone ringing***

You snapped back to reality and looked down at your phone, you saw the face of your lovely son Alex, and answered it. “Good Morning my boy, how are you?”

“Good morning mama, you are coming home? today right?” as a big loud yawn filled the conversation

You chuckled a little bit and finally answered “Yes son, mama’s coming home today, but it will probably be this evening. Mama’s plane does not leave here until 3 in the afternoon”

“Ok, I miss you and I love you”

“I love and miss you too sweetheart”

“Talk to you later” and the line went dead

You looked at the clock one more time, and it’s now 5am. You got up and went to your closet, pulled out a bag and grabbed your running shoes, yoga pants, and sports bra.

You scrambled to put it on, so you can get your morning run in for the day

Running helps you relax, helps you forget

As sweat beads down your face, Trenton’s favorite song came on your headset

Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

As the melody from the piano start to play – you slowed down and started walking. You listen to each word and savored the moment.

 ****6 years ago, ***/

Bohemian Rhapsody played in your apartment

You and Trenton are still living in your 2-bed room apartment

You rolled out of bed and slowly make your way to the kitchen, and you saw your sexy man bopping his head up and down and singing along to the lyrics of the song

He quickly turned and had a startled look on his face when he saw you “You caught me in my most vulnerable state” he tried to pout but without missing a beat you lunged at him laughing

“I like you like this – carefree”

 ***Present Time***

As the music died down, you jumped off the tread mill and start heading back to your room

In the Elevator, a man was eyeing you, as he extends his hand

“Hi, I’m Edward”

“Hi”

But before he could say anything else, the elevator stopped at your floor and you  hurriedly stepped off it.

Ever since Trenton passed, you have lost interest in romance

You chose to focus all your time and energy on your company and your son.

While thoughts filled your head, you didn’t realize how fast you we’re walking till you bumped into what feels like a wall. You start falling backwards, you closed your eyes and braced yourself for impact, but it never came.

Instead, you felt a strong arm, wrapped around your waist as a deep voice spoke

“Are you alright miss?”,

You thought to yourself, “That’s a Dorset Accent, you don’t hear those everyday”

You opened your eyes, and as the fluorescent light is blinding you – you were able to see those light green eyes.

You had to do a double take because you did not know if you were dreaming or not, so this time, you cupped the persons face and leaned it closer to you

“Yup, those are gorgeous”

You didn’t realize that you uttered those words till the person that was holding you, quirk up a smile.

You finally realized that, “that person” is still holding you.

You quickly got up on your feet and scrambled to get your things.

You finally looked up and for the first time in a while, your heart skipped a beat.

Right in front of you is a blonde hair man, with striking green eyes

He’s probably stands around 5’10 or 5”11

Broad shoulders, clean cut hair and shaved face

He is wearing a white fitted t-shirt, dark jeans, which accentuate all his assets … I mean all of his ASSets .

There seem like a class ring on his left index finger and a swiss watch on his right wrist.

He smells of Armani Code and after shave

All you can think of was “A real life Adonis”

Once again, he spoke, “Miss are you alright?”

You quickly answered, “Yes, I’m fine, So sorry about that, I’m not usually this clumsy”

He responds, “It’s no problem, really” – He offered you a warm and sweet smile.

You both stood there for a good second, you were so immersed in his eyes that you had to break eye contact, or your chest would burst.

“Thank you and so sorry again” you quickly turned your heel and head off on a different direction

“What’s your name?” He uttered

“Ummmmm… Y/N, name is Y/N” you didn’t wait for his to answer as you hurriedly drew your key card and enter your room.

Your leaned against the door, trying to calm yourself, as you can feel your heart in your throat

“Calm down L/N, it’s just man! Get a grip for Christ sake”

You continue your pepped talk until you were able to quiet yourself down. You looked at your watch and its almost noon.

“Time to leave this joint”

****30 minutes later****

You are now in your black denim, white sweater, a grey coat and grey sneakers.

You did a quick blow dry of your black hair and it turned out better than you hoped it did.

You put on a light foundation and some mascara and looked at yourself in the mirror.

You have always been self-conscious, but all that changed since you met Trenton

***16 years ago, at a bar in Wichita, KS***

“Hey beautiful”

You heard a voice, but did not respond, thinking that, that person is talking to someone else. You continue to sip your margarita while you wait for your best fiend to come back from the bathroom

Someone taps you on your shoulder and you whipped your head around to find, this man hovering over you and said “I said, Hey beautiful”

“Oh, I am so sorry” you replied, “I didn’t know you were talking to me”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

As your eyes scan the placed you notice multiple stunning ladies parading around in their short skirts and min dresses

“Well, somebody else but me” you gave him a half way smile

“You’re the only beautiful girl I see around here” and he took you hand and place it on his lips as he gently kissed it

“Y/N” you quickly uttered

“Trenton, it’s very nice to meet you”

 ****Present day***

You smiled as the memory of your past flash

“Oh baby – how you changed me” you looked at your self again at the mirror and give it a big smile and a nodding approval

“Let’s do this”

You grabbed your Louis Vuitton pursed and your Montblac luggage.

You ended up having to buy a bigger luggage since you have multiple present for your son and family.

You ordered an UBER X to take you to the airport

You did not want the Hotel shuttle to take you since its always crowded and noisy

All you want is peace and quiet on your way home.

The elevator ding ***DING*** (“First Floor” – the voice intercom announced)

You made your way to the lobby, handed the card to the receptionist and bid them goodbye

On your way out the door, you notice a lady with her stuff all over the floor. You looked at your watch and you still have 2 hours before your flight

You stopped next to her, quickly gone on your knees and helped her

“Here” as you handed her a book and a journal

“Thank you so much” in an English accent “I don’t know what has gotten into me this morning, I just can’t seem to catch a break” she said nervously

“Don’t worry about it, I feel the same way too today, maybe it’s a full moon or something “trying to lighten the mood

“It probably is” she looked up smiling

You know you recognized her, but cannot pint point how

After all her bags are picked up, you stood up and reached out your hand

“Here, let me help you up”

She grabbed it and you helped steady her

“Thank you again” she said as she tries to remove the dust from her jeans

“Its not big deal at all” you said with a big smile

“I’m Lucy by the way, Lucy Boynton”

“Y/N, L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you”

“Pleasures all mine” she replied

“I know this might sound weird, but you look so familiar, however, I cannot figure out how”

You quickly blushed and shake your head “Oh gosh – I am so sorry for being so direct, I don’t mean to offend you”

She offered a smile and said “Oh don’t worry about it, this means that my “disguise” as she airs quotes, “is working”

“Disguise? Are you in trouble” as you teased her.

“Not really” as she laughed

“Have you seen the movie Bohemian Rhapsody?” she asked

“Yes, I have, I love Queen” you said excitedly

And before she could even reply, you quickly recognized her

“Mary?” as you gasp “As in Freddie Mercury’s Mary?” you tried to find your words without sounding like a blabbering idiot

“I mean you are the actress that portrayed Mary”

She was looking at you with glint of happiness and amusement in her eyes

“Yes ma’am”

You squealed a little, loud enough for her to hear but not the entire hotel

This time, Lucy cannot help but laugh out loud

“You know, the boys usually get that reaction instead of me”

“You did such a phenomenal job, don’t get me wrong, Rami and the rest of the cast was amazing, but the way you portrayed Mary, was just extraordinary”

“Why thank you” she said “It’s refreshing to see someone with great appreciation of the movie”

“You bet, Trenton and I love Queen” – as you said your late husbands name - -you stopped and had to held back a tear as your throat swells with emotion

Lucy noticed it and ask

“Are you alright?” with worry in her eyes

“Yes, I’m sorry, my late husband and I are big Queens fan. We always say that when money is no longer tight, we will visit Freddie’s tributary statue in Montreux” with a glint of sadness in your eyes but it quickly disappears.

“I am sure Trenton would have been ecstatic to have met you” you said with a big smile.  

Lucy did not say a word but offered a comforting squeeze on your shoulder.

As you both are heading outside, your UBER finally arrived.

You turned around to Lucy and asked “where are you headed, you can use my uber when I’m done”

“I am actually heading to the airport”

“So am I” you replied, “You can ride with me if you would like, unless you already have other arrangements”

“That would be wonderful, thank you again, you sure are a life saver today” she said as she hoists her luggage in the trunk of the car.

“Any time”

45 minutes has passed, and you and Lucy are now chatting as if you have been friends for ages.

You talked about music, your likes, dislikes, where you live, current relationships, past relationships and so many more.

 Lucy told you that she has 3 siblings, she’s from Europe, loves pizza and Chinese food, and currently dating his co-star Rami Malik.

You then told her about your family, and how you were from the Philippines, but moved to Wichita, KS, you also told her about Trenton and the accident, as well as your son, Alex.

“I would love to meet your son one day, he is the cutest kid I have ever seen” Lucy said with excitement

“I am sure am one lucky mom, couldn’t ask for a better one” you replied with adoration in your eyes as you looked at the picture on your phone.

The car came to a complete stop and you are now at JFK international airport

“Thank you so much sir” as you slid out of the car

You and Lucy head inside and got your luggage checked in

As you both start putting your shoes back on after getting scanned and search, Lucy asked

“So, what’s your flight number?”

“Ummmmm, Flight 12256, How about you?

“Let me check, oh my gosh, it’s the same” she said with enthusiasm.

“What’s your seat number?”

And you replied “26A, you?”

“26B” we are practically neighbors now, and you both started laughing

“I can’t wait to introduce you to the rest of the gang”

You halted “The rest of the gang?” you ask her with your left eye brow up and your hand on your waist

She smiled warmly and teasingly at the same time “You will love them, I promise”

Lucy grabbed your hand and practically dragged you to meet the rest of the crew

You were thinking to yourself, “Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into”

***Thank you so much again for reading -- how do you like it so far? Suggestions and comments are greatly appreciated :) ****

[littlesilverplatinum]

A Herd Better Left Unknown – Another, Where You Belong – Two

---

Toes clad in nylons peak out over the edge of the felt seat. Her fingers, absentmindedly pulling at the hem that never seemed to sit comfortably around the foot. To tug it above, below or across the curve of her toes appeared to be a dreadful decision to make most of the time. Either resulted in mild discomfort impossible to force out of your mind.

But perhaps she needed a bit of a distraction.

The oval glass that lined the closed, narrow space that built the plane was Hikari’s only current window to the outside world. A world, that held nothing but oceans for as far as the eyes could see. There was a calm in that, as well as worry. One taken care of, by mindlessly finding herself tasks.

To get comfortable, in a childish such manner. --To sit as she did at her age was, perhaps, an oddity.

---

[. . . On a white country road

The dusty breeze stands still.

I drop down to the floor with a bump,

as some kids play marbles.

Shine-shine, glitter-glitter . . .]

In low tunes on the radio, summer songs come to play on repeat through the late spring. Hums of childish notes ring clear under the baritone voice of the male soloist. In the distance, chatter that clearly would turn into shouting – had her mother been the kind to do so, spilled past the kitchen archway.

The call Johanna had received after Hikari’s ‘outburst’ at her grandmother’s home had been as expected as it had been unexpected. Three days between what had been a nightmare – of foul words spoken as fact on a balcony that held no warmth, it was almost surprising that Sofia had waited as long as she had to let her opinion be known.

--The cigarette stench still clung to her nose, impossible to get rid of no matter how hard she tried.

[. . . Well, it’s the summer

The deep green of the shrine grove

A solemn silence has fallen.

An old tearoom

Someone swings from the store front . . .]

Johanna had come to her, then. Palms gently gripped at her lap as she took a seat near the daughter she no longer felt was her own. No longer hers to care for, nor hers to give advice to. --Hikari would not meet her discernments, but that was not something new.

“Grandma asked me to say ‘hello’,” she would try, voice soft and hesitant. A smile that meant little testing its limits.

Hikari almost laughed. “… She did not.”

Johanna’s hand would come to rest against her thigh, then. Something Hikari did not react to, though she perhaps would’ve under any other circumstances.

“… She doesn’t mean to be upset with you, Hikari. Her choice in words doesn’t mean anything, either.”

---

The pads of her fingertips felt cold against the glass shielding her from the vast skies.

Perhaps Sofia truly hadn’t meant anything by her choice in words. Perhaps she simply carried a grudge along with information she thought herself to have gained by the small amount of interaction she and her daughter had kept throughout the years. --Relied on rumors, on her own sick ideas, rather than facts.

‘You’re a product of a child molester and a daughter that picked the worst life for herself.’

Nausea sat prominent in the pit of her stomach. Her knees, pressing tighter against her chest as her arms finds their way around them.

‘He did like them young, after all.’

Perhaps Sofia was nothing but delusional and deranged. An aged old lady who didn’t even know what she was spewing in moments of stress – nor in unfamiliar situations that her aid was not present to assist her through. Veronika had been inside during this time, after all.

Hikari’s fingers finds the length of her hair and pulls.

‘He is a child molester, sick – what’s to say he didn’t let his hands wander on his own ch-?’

Without much care, as the disgust she had felt in the days long past boiled within her throat, blunt nails dug at her scalp in an attempt to find reason. To find leverage – an advantage in a situation that was difficult to comprehend and work through. --How could Sofia say such a thing – she had known exactly what her words meant.

She had said it all with ill intentions. To hurt her, to hurt her mother – to hurt her father.

Sofia hadn’t known her father. Not in any way shape or form. Only two people, besides herself and her mother, could claim that knowledge.

“Miss?”

The low hum of the plane’s engine filled her senses. The chatter of voices speaking in hushed tones of trivial matters such as dinner or ‘where one may find a place to sleep once they were safely back on land’. And, slowly – gradually, the white-knuckled grip of her hair would loosen. Fingers, wading through the inky strands that fell like oil around her features.

Slate eyes met those of a flight attendant. A pretty, young woman dressed all in blue. Her blonde hair, up in a bun under a hat Hikari found to be rather cute.

“We are preparing for landing, miss. Please sit back properly and fasten your seatbelt.”

Below them, the stark city lights of Olivine made themselves known. Dots of stars spreading over what was previously nothing but ocean – now, the warmth that only a home could bring forth sat in its wake. Hikari gave a nod, indicating that she understood and just as quickly as the woman had appeared – she left.

The act of righting herself became one that felt mechanical. As though it was not her who did it, but rather someone else. Perhaps something else- --Perhaps it was the anticipation traversing her nerves like ants that caused this feeling.

Perhaps she was simply imagining it.

---

[. . . Chirp-chirp

It’s the voice of the cicadas

Chirp-chirp . . .]

Hikari lingered in the doorway that lead to her mother’s room – fingers burnt from early adventure picking at wood that needed a fresh coat of paint. Johanna was a homemaker by heart, but a carpenter she was not.

The same woman was on her knees, top half fully hidden from her daughters sight within a closet littered with boxes that held everything and nothing. Items of which Hikari had never seen before – trinkets of music boxes and lights that lacked bulbs. Cords, notes and dresses too small for anyone that lived within these walls.

---

“Is it really so important to you?” Johanna had asked. “To know them?”

“Of course it is. I- That’s why I wanted to talk to Sofia.”

“Yes, I know that but… That didn’t go so well. I would hate for you to leave for Johto, only to get the same reaction from your father’s parents.”

“It… It will be different. They will want me, we are family after all.”

“Well, remember that you have me, sweetheart. Isn’t that enough?”

---

As a sliver of the doors wood frame peeled off – the tip, digging into the pad of her thumb (her mind, telling her to push it deeper still and draw blood-), Hikari knew she couldn’t answer that question with outmost honesty. At least, not to her mother’s face.

… Of course Johanna wasn’t enough. When had she ever been?

It was why the mention of her paternal grandparents had come up. A side of the family neither of the women truly knew much about. Though Johanna spent her youth with Koh – shared more about herself to him than to her own parents, she barely could claim to know the names of his own.

There was, however, hope. Any of the belonging Koh left behind in his hasty retreat could hold the information needed.

--Which was what the mother of the duo was now searching for. Digging through boxes that hadn’t seen the light of day in years – holding memories that both filled her heart with joy, as well as hurt her at the remembrance of loss. Pictures, books and writings in an all too familiar handwriting laid bare around her knees within the closet.

More than once, she thought better than to share the pictures that she found with Hikari.

[. . . Well, it’s the summer . . .]

Eventually, they had found what they had been searching for. A wrinkly piece of paper that had seen better days. --It was all that Hikari needed to make up her mind.

---

The streets of Olivine sat different than those back home. Where cobbled streets and gravel paths once made up the majority of towns, now paved streets and soil were the decided factors in terms of roadwork. It felt foreign in all the wrong ways, yet perhaps there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with that. For as she took a deep breath – the salty scent of the ocean nearby, filling her lungs until she couldn’t hold it anymore – Hikari felt lighter. Better. --As though a weight had come to lift from her breast. As though something was gone, now replaced with an anticipation she hadn’t felt since she was twelve years old.

“So…” Hikari lulled her head to herself, eyes following the homes that lined the street for but a moment before she dug her hand into the pocket of her coat. A piece of clothing unbefitting the  spring that Johto held, perhaps, – as back home, snow still littered the grounds wherever you went.

Within it, a neatly folded piece of paper made itself known against her fingertips.

‘Hiroji and Masae Otsu. Off the beaten path, Ecruteak City.’

Her mother’s scribbled handwriting was her only remembrance of home.

Light footsteps in the quiet night, the sound only rivaled by chatter of bars past glass doors as she wandered by. The bumps and turns the wheels of her luggage took, held its own unique quality that almost felt dreamlike. And had this been like any other of her visits to foreign regions – then perhaps she would’ve lingered within the port, or found herself bedding. … Entertainment, or to simply take time to sit by the ocean and gain the sense that everything in this world was right once more.

However… she would rather move forward, than to stay in this city that by the end of the day meant so little to her.

She wasn’t here to tourist around, after all.

---

Hikari had always known of her father’s roots. Not only because many children of Sinnoh had at least one foreign father or mother, most commonly from the neighboring regions, but because Koh had been prominent with teaching her the customs he himself had grown up with. Johto and its sister region, Kanto, were neighbors to the isolated Sinnoh – yet their differences were worlds apart. A commonality in language meant nothing, if the structures that founded them sat different at their roots.

Hikari had not known of a difference in her behavior, until she entered kindergarten and saw that to bow and slur your words were not common behavior among the other children. --Sometimes, she regretted righting her way of speaking to mimic that of her mother’s accent, rather than her fathers. It lost its quality – and she lost what little she shared with him.

But as Ecruteak City spread before her, a long night of nothing but walking (and a quick rest of the road, if the stains that lined the hem of her skirt were anything to go by) through the wilderness that didn’t hold the same thickness as that of Sinnoh – Hikari couldn’t help but feel something akin to shame about not having taken the opportunity to visit Johto earlier in her admittedly short life.

Though it was still the earliest of hours – where dew clung to blades of grass and a haze that tasted of water spread over the streets (as though in a fairytale of long forgotten years), Ecruteak buzzed with quiet life. Of women at their balconies and front doors, dusting off the stains of the night from paved platforms. Boys carrying paper packages under their arms, jogging past her as though in a hurry to deliver the mail before the larger part of the community woke to the world once more.

--Young girls that perhaps were her own age, dressed in the finest of silk robes walking in lines of two between buildings that didn’t lack in beautiful architecture. Their wooden shoes, clacking against the pavement that barely held a hint of cobble within its texture.

Their white painted faces stood out to her the most – a beauty she had never been exposed too before in her life. And as she knelt to a crouch under the wooden panel that played as cover over a stained window, being careful in tucking her skirt around her limbs in a fashion that was presentable, her eyes couldn’t help but track the girls as they one by one entered a building that played tunes unfamiliar to her ears.

An acoustic sound, of something like a guitar yet it could not be.

After the last young girl disappeared from her sight, a significantly older woman (dare she say, someone who could perhaps be her grandmothers age, had she fully known that number) took their place. Walked out to seemingly breathe in the early morning air, her hand digging into the sleeve of her own robe to find herself a mindless task to fulfill – until her eyes landed on Hikari, who diverted her own gaze just as quickly.

If it was rude to stare… Then she hadn’t known.

But instead of dwelling on the matter, she once more brought out her mother’s scribbled note. Though less neat than previously, as she hadn’t taken care in properly folding it once she brought it out before, the writing sat no less prominent.

Names and lose directions.

‘Off the beaten path, Ecruteak City’ meant as little to her as French, for she did not know the language more than she knew her way around Johto. And as her eyes scanned the surroundings – roads that waded like snakes between wooden homes and buildings, Hikari could not even begin to guess which way would take her where she needed to go.

“I’ll just have to… To try every direction I suppose.” She mumbled under her breath – righting herself up to a stance once more. Her palms, smoothing out the length of her skirt over her knees and just as she righted a misplaced strand of hair behind her ear, she once more caught the eyes of that one particular woman.

--Something akin to a cigar, she figured, sat between slender fingers and the smoke that puffed past painted lips mingled almost seamlessly with the surrounding mist. Her feet took her to the woman before a decision had properly been made within her mind – the wheels of her luggage, bumpy and loud against the shifting and inconsistent roads. It broke the serenity of the morning, rudely so, perhaps – yet she couldn’t do much about it.

It was hesitantly, quietly, that she voiced her troubles. “Ma’am I was wondering if… If you could help me find someone?”

For a moment, it appeared as though the woman hadn’t heard her – or, perhaps, that she was ignoring her. Something that stumped the young girl’s confidence for but a moment. But as another huff (of a slender stick that looked as though it was almost electrical) rolled its smoke into the atmosphere, coal eyes came to meet blue.

“… Go on, kid.”

---

What had been meant as a simple show of directions, ended with a cup of tea being shared by a low table opposite of each other. As young girls – the same ones she had come to see earlier, dressed in gorgeous robes that Hikari found herself to be just a little bit jealous of – served them the hot beverage and took care in showing pleasantries she had thought was only befitting the most important of company, words were exchanged about interests and desires.

Who Hikari was – to which she replied with her full, given name – to why she decided to leave a place such as Sinnoh for the quiet of Johto. --Something she answered with honestly and care.

“I haven’t seen my father in years,” she would start. And if there was a tenderness that came over the older woman features, a slow nod of her head to indicate something that may be seen as sympathy, then it was minimal enough to pass Hikari right by, “… But I know that his parents are from here. I want to see them, because maybe they would like to meet me as well. Or, well… at least that’s what I hope will be the case.”

Kazuyo, as she had come to learn was the woman’s name, gave a laugh that almost rumbled within her chest. “I’m sure they will be delighted. Family is very important here, you must know. A lost granddaughter is something that will be welcomed with open arms.”

And Hikari wanted to believe her, though doubt would mar her features without her knowledge. Something Kazuyo quickly commented on, before tea time was over.

“If they don’t want you, then you can stay with me and my girls. You would make a wonderful geisha.”

---

‘Off the beaten path’, in this case, seemed to indicate south, then east. Directions easy to follow, until you actually had to divert from the laid path ahead. More than perhaps she should’ve, Hikari left her luggage behind to search the tree lines to her left – to try and locate a road that looked meaningful, but with no true or honest luck.

Kazuyo had been terribly helpful and, if she let herself pass judgement so quick – Hikari trusted her intentions to be good. There was no reason not to, as the woman had done nothing but be kind towards her. --It was she who didn’t know the lay of the land well enough to find a road to take her to her grandparent’s quiet farm. It was she, as her eyes once more scanned her surroundings, who was lost.

And it was her own fau-

“Oh.”

Faltering in her step, Hikari touched the back of her left hand to her eyes – rubbing away the sleep that still lingered within her. Tea had been helpful in waking her up, for but a moment. However, the withdrawal of the caffeine did her no favors. Perhaps she should’ve rested properly, rather than pushed on through the night. --Yet she was conscious enough to see a road – lush with foliage, yet prominent, distinguished with nothing but an iron beam and a sign.

*Otsu Estate*

She had found it. Home.

Something akin to butterflies came to form within her gut at the prospect of meeting those she so desperately sought – enough for her to fumble in her haste to wander the trampled path. Her luggage fell in her attempt to push it under the beam, staining the outside in mud. Next, she almost lost her shoes in her own attempt at traversing the beam, the length of her skirt impossible to keep modest around her limbs.

But this little mishap didn’t truly matter, for down this road laid the home that her father had grown up in. Down this road, her grandparents could be found.

With a spring to her step, Hikari hurried towards her future.

---

Much like the architecture of Ecruteak, the Otsu Estate was made out of nothing but wood. For such a grand name, it was a rather modest building – yet as she wandered a path through fields of rice and other such crops, she supposed that the land they owned was the true bringer of its name. Propped on a short hill, verandas lined the perimeter of the house. What she guessed to be paper shields, enclosing it save for a few that sat open by their given sets of stairs.

It was beautiful, in all the way that Sinnoh was not. Her grip tightened around the luggage she so feverishly had trudged along – her strides lengthening, until a voice made itself known.

“Are you lost, young miss?”

She paused, not for the first time that day. Slate eyes seeking the fields clad in mist, until they fell on a man. Dressed in what she could only describe as slacks – robes fitted loosely around his torso that made him appear larger than he otherwise would have. --His hands sat cupped behind his back, arched as it were.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “I… I’m here to see Hiroji and-“

“You’re speaking to him.”

A heartbeat – two.

If the world could come to a stop, then right then and there would be the moment to do so. For Hikari felt her breath be lost within her throat – felt numbness take over her fingertips, enough for her to lose her grip of her luggage. It unceremoniously fell to its hind legs, before toppling over into the dirt path.

With less grace than was deserved, Hikari descended the modest hill that separated the farmland from the rest on the palms of her hands spread behind her for support. Her skirt, taking the blunt of the soil that lingered after previous downpour – yet she did not seem to mind. Did not seem to care.

For her grandfather was right there.

And had she held any sense, any inkling of the manners that were once beaten down her throat like gravel – then she wouldn’t have taken to wrapping her arms around his waist the second she got close enough to do so. Her cheek, pressing against his chest to hear a heartbeat rattle within his cage. --Had she held any sense, any inkling of manners, then she would’ve understood that the wet sobs that wrecked through her were not a proper, nor normal, reaction in the given situation.

But there was simply a relief – an overwhelming such feeling – at having found a piece of herself that had long been gone.

Hiroji was not her father, no. But in this moment, it almost felt as though he was.

“It’s me,” she would express through a shake in her speech. His hands, laying to rest against her shoulders which only prompted more rushed sentences past tight lips. “It’s me, I’m Hikari I’m- It’s me.”

And as her eyes sought his – a dark coal that mimicked those of many others she had come to see in this region (like those of her fathers, of which she hadn’t seen in years) – there was a sinking feeling within her gut at the possibility of him not knowing. --Not knowing her name. Not knowing who she was – not knowing that she was their grandchild of a son long gone.

But as seconds ticked by as minutes – an eternity, if she counted – something tender would reach his features in a way that exceeded any and all of her expectations.

“… Hikari,” he would speak her given name, a sound that almost caused tears to spill over her cheeks. His hand that held a shake, yet strength, cupping her cheek as though he needed to look at her just a little more closely. “Have you grown so much already? My, how time pass quickly…”

And the young girl laughed – let herself smile in earnest, in a fashion that had felt so foreign to her for so long. Hiroji wasn’t like Sofia – he didn’t look at her as though she was a mistake. An annoyance. Someone to feel shame over.

No.

“Yes, yes I- I’m not a little girl anymore. But it’s me!”

He looked as her as though she was family, like a treasure to keep dear. It was everything she had come to wish for.

---

Masae – a woman short in stature, with a back as hunched as that of her husbands – had been just as enthusiastic about her arrival, if not more. Words past chapped lips played at affection. Her wrinkled hands, cupping Hikari’s cheeks in a fashion she figured would be a common occurrence from then on.

“Oh, you look just like him, don’t you?” Masae complemented, her granddaughters luggage being brought up winding stairs by her late husband. These were words Hikari had never gotten to fully hear in her life before. Because, though her eastern complexion mimicked that of her fathers more, it was always Johanna who had earned the praise for having a daughter that resembled her so closely.

“I do? You’re- You’re too kind, I don’t.”

“Don’t say that. I will show you just how much you resemble him later, alright?”

A promise and show and tell, after Hikari got herself situated within their home – a suggestion of changing out of her clothing, to something less soiled – was enough for Hikari to follow along with their wishes.

The moment the door, thin as paper, slid to a close behind her and nothing but silence formed around her – the reality of the situation beat at her in soft blows.

A quiet, which allowed her to fully hear the pounding of her own heart within her throat. Excitement, as well as the fear that she had held of the possible rejection and distaste that very well could’ve been a reality. Lingering within her limbs like shakes of epileptic shocks. She had expected nothing, as well as everything – and in luck she had never considered herself to have, she had gotten the best possible outcome.

It was simply unbelievable. Something that did not happen to her, for happiness had not been within her life for so, so long.

The soft padding of her bare feet against the room’s wooden flooring added to the serenity. The dream. A window, propped open by a bed that sat elevated and neat. Her knee came to rest upon it (taking care in keeping the soiled hem of her skirt bunched within the palms of her hands) to take in the view she had been a part of just moments ago.

A fairytale made reality, and in this story – Hikari was not the tragic protagonist who came to suffer by actions out of her hands. --In this story, she was the lucky few that got to watch everything simply pass by.

---

That the room she had earned herself in such a short amount of time was one that lacked personality of any true kind, didn’t deter her from wondering if it once had belonged to her father. --An idea that brought more unfiltered joy, then it perhaps had any right to, as she unbuckled the straps that held her luggage closed shut.

It was a question she would have to pose at another time.

---

As Hikari made her way down stairs of exposed wood – a lengthy dress more befitting summer than late spring swaying around her bare legs, on repeat within her mind the song once played at her mother’s home made itself known.

The lulling voice of the man, a soft hum within her mind as she once more joined her grandparents in their common room.

[. . . Parasol spin-spin, and I’m bored

Parasol spin-spin, and I’m bored

Chasing stitches in the sky,

And when I cross some paving stones . . .]

For minutes, hours perhaps, quiet chatter of questions and stories came to be shared between generations once lost. Pictures of Hikari in her youth – ones that her father had apparently sent his mother in a show of fatherly pride. Something that he had never displayed back home.

--That the smile that played at her lips through it all (as fingers once burned by the creatures that would eventually protect her with all that they could played at picture edges that sat water damaged and brittle) was a sight once rare, didn’t seem to matter in this moment.

[. . . A summer shower

Comes along with it. ]

As the beating of fresh rain smattered against the house’s wooden roof – bleeding puddles within fertile soil in fields ever tended, Hikari came to wonder if perhaps…

Just perhaps.

It wasn’t so wrong of her to feel this happiness. Just this once.