#the colour is so vibrant my camera refuses to see it all

[indolentjellyfish]

after many many tries I finally got a single sea slug to go hot pink, it’s glorious

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Entwining Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an incredibly s p i c y date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Valentine’s 2020 Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC watching a live broadcast of an annual award ceremony, which announces that Kiro has won the grand award.

MC grabs the congratulatory card and present she prepared, heading out to decorate Kiro’s house for a mini celebration party.

Along the way, she receives news that for some unknown reason, Kiro was absent from a product launch that he was supposed to be a spokesperson for.

She enters Kiro’s house using the keys Savin gave her and starts decorating. 

After a while, Kiro enters the house looking melancholic, with Savin nagging behind him. Savin tells her to keep an eye on Kiro to ensure he gets proper rest and not exert himself.

After Savin rushes off to deal with the press, Kiro explains that he is unable to move his neck and back.

Kiro: I just finished dance practice and heard Savin calling me at the door. I turned my neck using too much force and couldn’t move my neck afterwards. The doctor said it’s a sprain.

Saying this, he despondently grabs a pillow and hugs it to his chest in a state of utter devastation.

Kiro: [pouting] I wasn’t even doing any big movements.

Even so, Kiro is happy that he gets a day of rest.

He suggests that they slip out to visit an interesting shop nearby. While Kiro’s puppy eyes cause MC to hesitate, she refuses so Kiro can rest. Despite his unwillingness, Kiro rests on the bed. She sits on a chair next to the bed so she can watch over him.

He grabs my fingers and plays with them restlessly. It feels ticklish. I try to draw my hand back but he refuses to let go.

Kiro: I can’t sleep. When you spend time with me, I can’t bear to close my eyes.

Kiro’s words soften my heart. Due to our busy schedules, it has been a long while since we last spent time alone together.

MC: When we’re less busy, let’s go to the interesting shop you mentioned, okay?

Kiro: Yes, let’s!

The corners of Kiro’s lips lift. As though discovering a new form of amusement, he patiently plays with my fingers one by one. 

His fingers are soft and smooth. I experience a strange palpitation whenever our fingers meet. I avert my gaze, the outer rim of my ears turning red.

Kiro: Miss Chips has very soft fingers.

MC: [blushing] They’re all right…

I’m unable to control the acceleration of my heart rate. In order to loosen my hand from his, I grab the phone off the bedside table and hand it to him.

MC: Since you don’t want to sleep, I’ll let you use your phone.

Looking as though he can’t bear to let go of my hand, he takes the phone and sees that the screen is filled with tons of notifications.

Kiro guesses that his fans are worried about the sudden cancellation of the product launch and decides to post something on his Weibo account to dispel their concerns. He tries but fails to take a selfie in his injured state, so MC helps.

On the screen, there is an incredibly adorable combination of Kiro lying on the soft bed, his messy golden hair, and the teddy bear next the pillow.

Kiro: Why is my hair so messy?

His eyes widen, dismay written all over his features. I reach out and tidy his messy hair, suppressing the urge to mess it up even more.

Kiro obediently leaves his hair to me, a smile appearing on his lips.

MC: It’s going to be perfect this time.

I look him over, satisfied, and snap three consecutive photos of Kiro before showing them to him.

MC: Don’t you look very handsome now?

Kiro has a look of satisfaction as he starts typing, reading his words aloud.

Kiro: “Even though I can’t move, it’s because of this incident that I can have an afternoon of leisure”…done!

Comments start flooding in after mere seconds:

“Does such beauty truly exist?”

“Oh my god, I can lick this face for a lifetime.” 

“I’m there, I’m that bear!”

While he’s overjoyed at the compliments, he reads on:

Kiro: “Just look, it’s obvious he has put on weight again”…I definitely did not gain weight, it’s just the angle!

In a huff, Kiro readies himself to respond to this comment with a retort. I hurriedly take the phone away from him.

MC: You should rest and not respond to these comments! Let me read them to you instead.

Kiro: Since you put it that way…

With a “hmph”, he gives up on the idea. I clear my throat and begin reading the comments.

MC: “Congratulations to Kiro for winning the award! Please rest well today! To commemorate Kiro’s face, I danced a Waltz of love!” Haha, what an expression. “My heart is in critical condition! Hugging… my husband… feels like a 100 meter sprint.”

I pause when reading the words “my husband”, feeling my face heat up. Kiro smiles as he looks at me, his eyes brimming with contentment.

MC: The next one says, “Who took the photo? Why does Kiro…”

…have such a sweet look in his eyes?

I look at the photo I had taken - Kiro stares into the camera with a sweet look in his eyes, like a little bear hugging a honey pot.

Kiro: MC? Why have you stopped?

Kiro curiously sneaks a peek at the screen, but I react immediately and lift the phone so he can no longer see it.

Kiro: Very suspicious… why aren’t you letting me see?

Kiro gets even more excited, stretching out his hand for the phone.

Kiro: Ouch!

He groans and falls back onto the bed. I get a fright, no longer caring about the phone. I immediately check on his condition.

Half of his face is buried under the covers, the corner of his eyes brimming with tears. I carefully touch his arm.

MC: Are you okay?

Kiro: [groans]

MC: Is it very serious?

I start panicking. Seeing that my guard is down, Kiro uses this opportunity to pull me onto the bed with him.

Kiro: [laughing] Did I scare you?

He laughs while reappearing from under the covers. It is only now that I realise he was joking, and I let out a sigh of relief.

At this point, MC remembers that she prepared a present for Kiro. She retrieves and gives it to him. He opens it excitedly.

The box is filled with small stars folded using fluorescent paper. In the middle of these paper stars is a golden-coloured glass bottle with moving sand.

Kiro: This is so pretty…

He carefully shakes the bottle, and the gold-coloured sand slowly drifts, reflecting sunlight.

Seeing him engrossed with it, I drop him a hint.

MC: The bottle itself isn’t the main thing. There’s something in it.

Kiro: Is it a drink? Or perfume?

Kiro twists the bottle open, and a faint pine tree scent wafts into the room.

Kiro: This is… a scented bottle?

MC: Nope. This is a special essential oil I had an expert masseur make during a shoot. I heard that it’s effective for relaxing one’s muscles. I didn’t expect that it’d be of use now!

Kiro: Essential oil…

Kiro recalls that the shoot involving essential oil took place when the list of shortlisted candidates for the award was just announced. He is surprised that MC had prepared the gift so far in advance.

MC: …That’s because I knew you would definitely win! And even if you didn’t win, it could be used to comfort you.

There is a smile in Kiro’s eyes, and he takes my hand in his, such that my palm faces upwards.

MC: W-what are you doing?

Kiro: I want to try this gift.

A drop of oil lands on my palm and he rubs it slowly, spreading it across my palm evenly. The pine scent permeates the room, and the fragrance of fresh flowers soon follows. The liquid is quickly absorbed into my skin, and my palm seems to heat up.

Kiro holds my fingers gently, then brings himself closer to them. He sniffs my fingers lightly, his lips curling into a smile.

Kiro: It’s a nice smell. It’s a scent I like.

MC: !!

I am taken aback by Kiro’s sudden breath on my palm, and my heart beats at an unnatural rhythm.

Kiro doesn’t let go of my hand. He picks up the black ribbon resting on the gift box, taking his time to wrap them around my wrists.

His gaze shifts to me, his vibrant eyes making me forget how to react, and I let him continue.

Kiro: And like that, it’s done!

After saying this, he holds my wrist and pulls me closer, planting the side of his face on my palm before gently leaning into it.

As his soft golden hair brushes against my fingertips, my fingers involuntarily tremble. My palm is coated with his body temperature.

He tilts his head slightly, pressing his lips onto my palm, as if branding me with a permanent kiss.

Kiro: Actually, you are the best prize and gift to me.

Sunlight streams in from between the curtains and onto his eyes, giving me a clear view of the gentleness and adoration in them. My heart feels like it has melted into a puddle. At the same time, his transparent emotions cause my heart to heat up.

MC: I… how about I give you a massage…

I feel like biting my tongue after the words leave my lips. What am I saying!

Kiro: Sure!

Before I can change my mind, Kiro has already agreed without hesitation.

Kiro: Do I need to take my clothes off for the massage?

Saying this, he shrugs off his jacket, and both hands start pulling the ends of his t-shirt to reveal his sculpted abdomen.

MC: Wait!

Heat floods into my brain and I immediately grab the bottom of his shirt to pull it back down.

Kiro: I don’t need to take them off?

Kiro blinks, looking at me innocently.

MC: I’m just giving it a try. If you remove your shirt, it’d be easy to catch a cold.

With an “ohh”, he lets go of his shirt, his face betraying a hint of disappointment.

MC: …Go lie down on your stomach.

While Kiro obediently turns to lie down, I place my hands on my chest to calm my rapidly beating heart.

MC begins the massage, applying what she learnt from the massage expert

She does it gently and Kiro is on the verge of falling asleep

She calls Kiro’s name to check if he’s asleep, and he snaps out of his daze

Feeling bad for disturbing him, MC continues:

MC: …You can sleep if you want to.

I speak gently. Noticing that a strand of hair near his eyes makes Kiro slightly uncomfortable, I reach out to sweep it away.

Kiro: But I don’t feel like sleeping anymore.

He blinks, his voice slightly nasally and coquettish.

Kiro: I felt too comfortable just now, so I almost fell asleep.

He grabs hold of my hand. In a playful manner, he gently pinches my palm twice.

Kiro: Thank you, Miss Chips.

MC: No need to thank me. It just shows that my technique is not bad, right?

Kiro: Mm, this is a great present.

His eyebrows are curved upwards and he smiles softly.

Kiro: I like the feeling of you touching me.

He interlaces our fingers together, then hooks my thumb with his.

Kiro: I realized that humans, like animals, like to be touched and have their hair combed through.

MC: Is it because it’s very comfortable?

Kiro: It is really very comfortable. If that person is a loved one, her hands and body temperature would have an even more addictive effect.

A warmth emanates from our joined palms, and I can feel myself starting to sweat.

MC starts ruffling Kiro’s hair, and they banter for a while.

Kiro: I feel very happy whenever you’re by my side. Although sometimes, I do think of being a little closer to you.

Even before I pick out the hidden meaning in his words, I instinctively seek to change the subject.

MC: My massage techniques are quite mediocre though. I’ll introduce you to the masseur another time.

Kiro: I don’t want anyone else.

Kiro pouts, turning to face me.

Kiro: I only want my Miss Chips…

His voice trails off, and I am rooted to the spot. I am leaning over him, face-to-face with Kiro. Just a slight lowering of my head would be enough for me to kiss him.

Our breathing becomes ragged, and the initially peaceful atmosphere in the room seems to turn into boiling water.

Although Kiro doesn’t speak, I can feel his quickening breaths on my face. His grip on my hand tightens.

As though being in this position is too dangerous, I come to my senses and straighten up, putting distance between us.

Kiro sits up, his hand still on mine, giving me no chance to escape.

MC: We…

Kiro: I have not finished unwrapping my gift.

His words leave me frozen.

MC: What present?

Anticipating that I would respond this way, he laughs. 

Kiro: My present… is you of course.

His voice carries an evident smile. I look into his blue eyes, which hide within them the expansiveness of the sky.

A black ribbon appears in his hands, and he wraps them around his fingers, the colour of the ribbon striking a sharp contrast against his pale skin.

MC: …Why do you say that I’m the present?

He doesn’t respond. His abrupt silence leaves me not knowing what to do. Before I repeat my question, he suddenly hooks the ribbon over the back of my neck, and my heart skips a beat.

MC: W-what are you doing?

Kiro: Make a guess?

He arches an eyebrow. His usual playful expression is replaced with a sudden sexiness.

He resumes his work with the ribbon while I remain kneeling on the bed. He slowly pulls me closer to him. Although he isn’t exerting much strength, I can’t help but give in to the tug of the ribbon.

Our breaths mingle and we can no longer tell them apart.

Kiro: Since this is a present for me, I will open it very, very slowly.

He says this languidly, curling his words with the tip of his tongue, ending his sentence in a low voice.

At this moment, the ribbon has become a string encircling my heart, letting it beat only for him.

Kiro is unwilling to stop here. He takes one end of the ribbon into his mouth and bites it firmly, the corners of his mouth lifting with a certain look.

The light descends onto the bridge of his nose, the clear lines of his jaw, spreading to his Adam’s apple. He oozes hormones of a different kind than usual.

His free hand rubs my thigh gently, and the sound of my skirt ruffling is especially clear.

Such unobstructed physical contact feels like fire, setting every inch of my skin ablaze. My body involuntarily trembles.

My breathing becomes increasingly ragged as he continues his upward motions. My heart beats rapidly, and my mind is completely blank, only remembering to shout his name.

MC: Kiro…

Kiro: It is time to receive my present.

The corner of his mouth is raised as he slowly releases the black ribbon on my neck. The ribbon slides down my body. I look into his wide eyes and let down my defenses. In a moment, the distance between us is barely visible.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you are a gift sent from heaven, a gift that I have awaited for my whole life, a gift that is most precious to me.

His gentle voice disappears into the space where our lips meet, melting into a quiet whisper.

Unlike his gentle tone, his kiss resembles a storm, forcefully entering and occupying all available space, leaving not a single crevice untouched.

The temperature rises sharply between our intertwining lips and tongue. Our exchange of breaths strips away all my senses and thoughts.

The almost inaudible sound of water echoes in the quiet room. The arm encircling my waist pulls me even closer against his body.

All the blood in my body is set ablaze, engulfing the little rationality I have left.

Suddenly, there is the sound of a door opening in the living room, followed by a conversation between Savin and the assistant.

Savin: Kiro should be resting. You can head to the kitchen to wash the ingredients for our hotpot later.

Assistant: Sure, but isn’t this a little too much…

I snap out of my daze after a few seconds and realise the situation Kiro and I are in.

MC: They’re back!

My panic completely dismantles the earlier atmosphere, and I muster the strength to tear myself from Kiro’s arms.

Even before I shift to the edge of the bed, Kiro wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me backwards.

We both fall onto the bed, a tangled mess of sheets beneath us. The teddy bear has fallen off the bed.

Kiro holds me tightly from behind, and my back is pressed against his chest.

Sweat soaks the fabric, which clings to our closely connected skin, bringing with it an intimate and sticky feeling.

I feel his scorching breath on the nape of my neck. It weaves through my sweat-drenched hair, lingering on my skin.

The sound of footsteps outside grows louder, causing me to tense up. I open my mouth to speak, but can only let out an inaudible gasp.

Kiro’s lips are pressed against the back of my ear, and a low and raspy voice follows.

Kiro: There’s no need to be nervous. The room is locked.

🎁

Phone Call

[misskikuwrites]

Piece by Piece (1/2)

Bederia Week 2021: Day 3 - First Kiss 

Bede/Gloria (dressedinpinkshipping)

Tags: Fluff, angst, alcohol spiking, underage drinking, leon/sonia ship reference, swearing

Words: 8,806

@bede-x-gloria

-

Gloria stared out the Sky Taxi window and into the night. The city of Wyndon was a glistening sea of lights below them, alive and vibrant as though unbothered by the late hour. As they flew closer to the Rose of the Rondelands, the elegant five-star hotel where the Gala was taking place in its grand ballroom, the nerves in Gloria's stomach began to tighten. She wove her fingers together on her lap to stop herself from wringing the delicate chiffon skirt of her violet dress. 

 Violet. Gloria clenched her jaw and swallowed the lump in her throat. Even now, her heart ached when she thought about him- about Bede. A week had passed since she'd ran out on him, since she'd realised how she felt towards him. It had been a week filled with tears. A week spent fighting the pain, the guilt, the fear. A week where she struggled to put the pieces of her heart back together. Fragile like broken glass, the wound was still raw. It hadn't been long enough

 She felt unbalanced. About to crumble at any given moment, ready to fracture. The impending Gala was more daunting to her than ever before, knowing that Bede would be there. There was no avoiding it. She'd sent him a short text, apologising her abrupt departure with the weak excuse that something had come up. Something she needed to attend to. 

 That much wasn't a lie, but she refused to read his reply. It hurt too much. She'd cried enough for a lifetime over the past few days, overcome by fear, and couldn't bear to find out how he'd judge her for it. Gloria let out a shaky sigh. She blinked hastily as tears pricked in her eyes, tilting her head back to stop them forming. She couldn't risk crying now, not after spending an hour - and a lot of money - getting her make-up done by a professional.

 Hop shifted closer to her on the plush seat. "Hey, don't worry. Everything'll be fine," he said, giving her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 

 Even with Hop next to her, fear had taken hold inside her. Like a creeping vine, it wound around her heart, making its home in her chest, in her lungs, with a thousand thorns that pierced her flesh whenever she breathed. 

 "He's going to be there," Gloria said quietly. She didn't need to say his name. She couldn't, not without giving in to her tears. 

 "I know," Hop said, "but that doesn't mean anything's going to happen." 

 She pressed her lips firmly together. He was right, but trepidation seeped through her veins with every beat of her heart, filling her with fear. Drowning out Hop's voice of reason. 

 "I don't want to see him." Her lips trembled. Chest tightened. Gloria wanted to curl up as small as she could, to hide away, to vanish completely. 

 She didn't want to do this. 

 "There'll be tons of other people there, you probably won't even notice him!" Hop pointed out. "You'll be too busy dancing or talking with all the sponsors and famous people fighting for your attention. I doubt you'll have any time to worry about Be- about him at all." 

 He quickly cut himself off from saying Bede's name, but Gloria's heart thumped painfully in her chest, hard enough to make her wince. It wouldn't be difficult for her to avoid Bede- as Hop had said, there'd be dozens and dozens of people clambering to speak with her all night. The issue was her heart, the longing, the ache inside her that drew her towards Bede. It corrupted her, this feeling she despised.

 This love. 

 Gloria wrapped her arms around herself and sank further into the chair. "What if he knows?" she asked, her voice as quiet as a breath, faint and insecure. Full of fear. 

 "C'mon, Glo. There's no way he'd know," Hop said. He gave her arm a gentle rub, trying to comfort her. 

 Gloria let her vision blur, eyes falling closed. The lights out the window, tiny speckles like stars below, bloomed into ribbons of light. The glass was cold against her skin. Cold and hard, echoing how numb she felt. 

 "You know I'm not good at pretending," she said slowly. "I can't… hide my feelings well." 

 Gloria had never been good at that, hadn't seen the point in pretending to feel something she didn't. She couldn't fake it. She was an open book for anyone to read, and it had never been an issue.

 Until now. 

 Gloria felt vulnerable. Paper thin, as though everyone could see right through her. As though her heart was out in the open. 

 "You won't have to fake anything," Hop said. "Just be yourself. He can't read your mind, remember? He's your friend. If he does come up to you, act like nothing's changed, because nothing has changed." He nudged her with his elbow gently. "You said you've felt like this towards him for a while, right? If he didn't notice then, he won't notice now." 

 Gloria grimaced with a flash of pain. "I don't want to feel like this." Her voice caught. "I don't- I don't want to be in love." 

 Tears threatened to fall. She sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly to force them away again. She wasn't about to let the efforts of her make-up artist go to waste just because she couldn't stop herself from crying. 

 "Hey, love's not all that bad," Hop said. "You never know, maybe he feels the same about you-" 

 "That doesn't matter!" It came out in a beat of panic. Her heart clenched tight in distress, forcing a sob out of her throat. "It doesn't matter," she said again, softer this time. "Love only leads to pain. I don't… I don't want to go through that again." 

 Hop touched her arm. "Gloria…"

 "Sorry." She shook her head. "I'm being stupid again. I know you think it's ridiculous that I'm terrified of love." 

 "No, I…" He looked away. "I don't think it's ridiculous. Neither does your mum. Those of us who know what happened… we understand." 

 "But you still think I'm wrong." 

 Hop stifled a grimace, his expression twitching with regret. "I think… it's a shame that you won't give this a chance, that's all." 

 A chance. That was a risk she couldn't take. Gloria tried to shove her feelings away, to force them deep, deep into the back of her mind in the hope that she was strong enough to stop them from resurfacing. If she could get through tonight without crumbling to dust, then perhaps she could control this and keep those feelings at bay. It was a test, one she'd been practicing a week for. The Sky Taxi landed out the front of the Rose of the Rondelands hotel, and Gloria sat up straight. She took a deep breath and perfected her mask. 

 When the Sky Taxi door pulled open, she was no longer just Gloria, a simple girl from Postwick. She was Gloria, the Champion of Galar. She swept out of the carriage and into the blinding lights of camera flashes. Cries of her name filled the air, increasing in volume when she waved politely to the journalists with a smile. She felt like someone else. Someone more confident, more classy, someone who fit in the world of the elite and famous. The delicate make-up and stunning dress gave her a veil to hide behind. Her hair was styled into an elegant updo, fashioned with a French braid that trailed above her right ear.  Even her usually plain fringe was styled to fit, and she had soft wispy curls left to frame her face. It wasn't Gloria they saw, not really. They saw the Champion. 

 Behind her title, she could hide in plain sight. 

 Hop stepped up beside her, looking smart in his dapper, slim fitting navy suit, and he met her smile with one of his own, one that soothed away the final cracks in Gloria's mask. He offered her his arm, and she took it with practiced grace. The week they'd spent rehearsing paid off as they strode arm-in-arm with confidence through the doors.

 Gloria breathed the faintest sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, shutting out the buzz of noise and lights from outside. Hop's eyes twinkled with unspoken pride as they were led through to the grand ballroom. It was as exquisite as last year, and Gloria found herself dazed for a moment. Chandeliers glistened like diamonds over the marble floor, the ceiling towered above them, held up by pillars carved with intricate designs. Interspaced between the pillars were glass windows and doors that fed out into the balcony, the night a wedge of darkness outside.  

Gloria forced herself to keep moving as heads turned towards her and Hop as their entrance was announced. Already, the ballroom was filled with people, most of whom she didn't recognise. People mingled in groups by tables overflowing with tiers of cakes, arrangements of fruit, and varying morsels of food the size of which would've better suited a Skwovet. Waiters expertly swept through the crowds, carrying crystal glasses bubbling with what Gloria assumed was something alcoholic. She tightened her grip on Hop's arm and nervously glanced from face to face, from group to group. Instinctively, unintentionally, seeking him out. 

 "Look, there's Lee and Sonia," Hop said, tapping Gloria's arm. 

 "Where?" She forcefully dragged her gaze to where Hop was pointing as he led her over to them. 

 Sonia brightened when she saw them approach, looking absolutely stunning in an off-the-shoulder teal dress. A slit in her skirt ran halfway up her high, showing off her long, slim legs. She wore heels that matched the colour of her dress, the height of which made Gloria blink in shock for a moment. In her heels, Sonia stood as tall as Leon. 

 "Oh, don't you two look so precious!" Sonia said, gesturing with the glass in her hand. "Reminds me of the first Gala Leon invited me to." 

 She leant closer to Leon, their arms comfortably intertwined. He smiled at her, his eyes soft with remembrance, and Gloria suddenly felt as though she'd missed something. 

 "That was years ago," Leon chuckled softly. 

 "You didn't tell me you'd be here, Lee," Hop said, lifting an eyebrow. "I didn't think they let ex-Champions attend." 

 "I'm here as the proprietor of the Battle Tower," Leon said. "Turns out that makes me important enough for an invite. And here I'd thought I'd had enough of these for a lifetime." 

 Gloria managed a smile as her attention drifted away from their group. She looked past Sonia, to where a band was playing by the dancefloor. Couples spun and twirled in time to the music, manoeuvring around each other in a perfectly choreographed synchrony. Gloria's heart thumped as she glanced between the dancers. None of them had his height or his build. None had platinum blond hair or curls like his, none had his elegance or poise. She swallowed thickly and looked away. Would Bede soon be dancing like that with a gorgeous woman in his arms? 

 That thought soured her mood more than it already was, filling her throat with nausea. She pulled away from Hop's arm and gave him a tight smile when he looked at her. 

 "I'm going to grab a drink," Gloria said. 

 She ducked around Hop towards a passing waiter. One of them had to have something non-alcoholic, and if they didn't, then surely they could bring her something that was. She made for the waiter as quickly as her heels would allow while also retaining her sense of refinement. In her haste, she almost collided with someone. 

 "Oh, sorry!" Gloria apologised, swallowing her yelp as she stopped herself a split second away from walking straight into the young man in front of her. He jolted just as she did, his bright blue eyes widening with recognition. 

 "You must be Gloria," he said, "the Champion, right?" 

 She straightened and gave him a smile. "That's me," she said with a sheepish laugh.

 Gloria distracted herself from her nerves by fingering the bracelet around her wrist. She touched each tiny star, the crystals sparkling pink in the light, and her mind drifted to the moment Bede had given it to her, to when he'd gently clasped it around her wrist and her skin had tingled at his very touch. She felt her cheeks warm. 

 Not now! Gloria stamped that memory out. Don't think about that now! 

 "What luck, running into the Champion of Gala before I've even had my first drink," the blond-haired stranger said, smiling gently at her. He held up the glass in his hand, the clear liquid spotted with tiny bubbles. "Here, why don't you have mine? You seemed to be after that waiter before you almost barreled me over." 

 Gloria flushed darker. "Oh, um, I can't drink. Alcohol, I mean. I'm not eighteen yet." 

 "No need to worry, then. It's non-alcoholic sparkling wine," he said, offering it to her again. "I don't drink either, although I could if I wanted to. I'd rather not dull my senses, you see." 

 She accepted his glass, peering into it for a moment. As the stranger had said, there was no evidence around the rim that he'd tried it, and so she gave it a tentative sip. It tasted much like it smelled, though sweeter than expected. 

 "Thank you," Gloria said, appreciative that she didn't have to continue chasing a waiter. "I don't think I caught  your name?" 

 The stranger smiled. "That would be because I hadn't given it to you, yet. I'm Elliott Murdoch. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gloria." 

 She smiled back despite how strange it was to have people she'd never met know so much about her. She doubted that she'd ever get used to it. 

 "It's nice to meet you too," Gloria said. She filled his name into the back of her mind before pausing. "Hold on- Murdoch? As in, like Richard Murdoch?" 

 Elliott gave a short laugh. "That would be my father, yes." 

 Gloria's heart plopped into her stomach and churned with her nerves. She knew who Richard Murdoch was, almost everyone in Galar did- he owned most of the newspapers, the magazines, that circulated. He was one of the richest men in Galar, and could possibly be the richest now with Rose out of commission. 

 And she'd almost run into his son. 

 Elliott must've seen her pale, for he touched her shoulder gently. "Don't worry, I've got little to do with my father's empire at the moment. I find that associating myself with him tends to limit the amount of people comfortable around me," he said. "I'm sure you must experience something similar, being the Champion." 

 Gloria found her nerves loosening slightly. "I think so," she said. "People see me as the Champion, rather than as myself. It can get a bit exhausting, sometimes…" she trailed off, and slowly drank from her glass. She'd begun looking over his shoulder, her attention shifting between the people behind him. Searching the crowds. 

 Where is he?  

"I know what you mean," Elliott said, and Gloria snapped attention back to him. 

 Arceus, what am I doing? She scolded herself. Pay attention to who you're talking to! 

 She nodded stiffly, trying to listen to Elliott as her mind threatened to drift away again. Every flicker of movement in the corner of her eyes, the people moving about, the couples dancing, itched at the back of her mind. He would be here somewhere. With his date- perhaps with the one he'd spoken about to her, the one he liked. 

 Gloria's stomach twisted into knots. She lifted her glass to her lips and downed the rest to force away the nausea rising up her throat. Even now, Bede managed to invade her thoughts. Just knowing he was here, somewhere, sent something crackling and fluttering away in her chest, and filled her with a longing to find him. A longing that came with fear. 

 Elliott tapped Gloria's shoulder, giving her a sheepish smile. "I believe your date is staring me down," he said, and gestured behind her. 

 Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and caught Hop's gaze. He raised an eyebrow at her, his brow furrowed with the slightest hint of concern. A question in his eyes. 

 "I should get back to him," Gloria said. She gave Elliott an apologetic smile to which he chuckled. 

 "Yes, well, we wouldn't want your boyfriend to get the wrong idea." 

 Gloria stiffened. All the muscles in her body went rigid. Tight. "He's not my boyfriend," she said. Nausea returned with a vengeance, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest, each beat hollow with dread. "Hop's just a friend." 

 "Ah, my apologies, then," Elliott said with a sweet smile. "I'd heard you were dating the young professor's assistant, but really, of all people, I should know to take what I read in magazines with a heap of salt." 

 Gloria forced a smile. The polite breath of laughter she tried to give died on her lips. "Those magazines have… never been right." 

 "Well, since I've received information directly from the source, I'll be sure to tell our writers to stop publishing nonsense rumours about you two," Elliott said.

 "I'd really appreciate that, thank you." His assurance lifted a weight from the pit of her stomach. "It was nice meeting you, Elliott," Gloria said, giving him a grateful nod. 

 "As it was meeting you." Elliott flashed a charming smile, and said with a wink, "I'll have to ask you for a dance later, if your date doesn't mind me monopolizing a bit more of your time." 

 She shot a glance over her shoulder. Hop turned away unsubtly, but she caught Leon's eyes. His expression was unreadable, almost stern, but when their eyes met, it vanished beneath his smile. The look on Leon's face had lasted but a moment, and it still managed to disconcert her as she headed back to them. His attention remained on Elliott for a while longer. 

 "Who was that?" Hop asked, eyeing Gloria's empty glass. "You didn't get me one?"  

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Elliott offered it to me, and he only had one." 

 "Elliott Murdoch," Leon said. His smile had faded, leaving his gaze distant. 

 "Wait, that was Elliott Murdoch?!" Sonia gasped. "As in, heir to the Murdoch empire? Son of Richard Murdoch, the wealthiest man in Galar? That Elliott Murdoch?!" 

 Gloria shrunk, her grip tightening around her glass. With Hop, Sonia and Leon staring at her, it was like she was being interrogated, forced under a spotlight. 

 "I think so…?" Gloria said meekly. "Is he that well known?" 

 "Of course he is!" Sonia gaped at her. "Don't tell me you didn't know who he was?" 

 "He has a certain… reputation," Leon said slowly, pausing as though he was mulling over his words. 

 "What did he say?" Sonia asked. Her eyes sparkled with interest. "What did you talk about? Anything interesting? He offered you a drink- did he ask you to dance?" 

 "Um, we just introduced ourselves," Gloria said. "We didn't talk for that long." 

 Sonia sighed, deflating. "Aw, too bad. These functions get boring and tedious real quick without anything interesting to talk about." She took a long sip of her wine, and hooked her arm around Leon's, leaning against him slightly. He smiled at her warmly. "And the only thing interesting around here are the people, most of which I'd never see in person if not for Leon." 

 "So you've become a gossip," Hop huffed. "Never thought you had it in you, Sonia." 

 "That's Professor Sonia to you!" She rested her head against Leon's shoulder, peering at Hop with one eye open. "You might not be wearing your lab coat, but you're still my assistant! Don't make me fire you for insubordination!" Her lips, shiny with a coat of crimson lipstick, pursed into a pout. 

 Hop recoiled in shock, while Leon chuckled. 

 "Don't mind her," Leon said, his affection clear in his voice, "she gets a bit testy when she's had wine." 

 Gloria looked away. Their casual display of affection, the tenderness in Leon's eyes, made her chest tighten. She swallowed as a vice constricted around her throat. The conversation before her became a blur of noise, her concentration fading, and her gaze drifted past Sonia to the people standing on the opposition side of the room.  

Her heart stopped. She recognised him instantly across the grand ballroom, from the way he stood tall with confidence, the way he held his head high. 

 Bede. He was breathtakingly beautiful- even from a distance, the sight of him whisked the air from her lungs in a silent gasp. He wore a tailcoat coloured a deep lavender, his usually unruly hair parted to the side and smoothed down as much as his curls would allow, his fringe kicking up in parts that sat beside his right ear. Gloria couldn't breathe for a moment. She forgot where she was, who she was, what she was doing. Her feet moved beneath her, drawing her a single step towards him. 

 She froze, heart lodged in her throat. There was an arm linked around his. Desperately, Gloria glanced at the woman on Bede's arm. She braced herself. Every fibre of her body tensed, instinctively wincing, waiting for the pain. 

 It never came. The woman on his arm balanced herself with a dark, ornately carved wooden cane. Her floor-length dress matched the dark lavender of Bede's tailcoat, Ms Opal's outfit topped with a gorgeous, lavender headpiece. 

 He'd come with Ms Opal. Gloria stared at them, her heart plopping into her stomach in shame. Bede always attended events with Ms Opal, she'd accompanied him the before, it made sense that this year would be the same. Gloria had gotten herself worked up over nothing. Over less than nothing, and she cursed herself for being so stupid. Her feelings towards him addled her mind. She saw things, worried about things, that weren't there. It turned her into a lovesick fool. An idiot. 

 Gloria huffed and forced down the feelings welling up in her chest. The yearning, the longing, that she felt towards Bede tugged on her heart despite the creeping fear that always remained one step behind. A lump settled in her throat again. Heat washed over her eyes. She blinked it away and quashed everything else. Her fear would protect her. She wore it as a shield, wrapped it around her heart like a cloak, and refused to budge. She wouldn't give in. The distance between them kept her safe- a wedge, a dark rift, she refused to cross. Gloria would stay here, on the other side of the ballroom, and let the night pass without incident. Without pain. This way, she didn't have to pretend. She didn't have to lie. To herself, to Bede, to her heart. 

 If that meant all she could do was watch him in silence, then she would. To keep herself safe, she would. 

 You'll be okay, Gloria told herself. Soothing the ache in her heart. If you stay away from him, you'll be okay. It's for the best. 

 She sighed, and let herself glance at Bede one final time. Their eyes met. Through the mingling guests filling the space between them, he looked straight at her. 

 And took a step forward. 

 Gloria grabbed Hop's arm and yanked him towards the dancefloor. "We're dancing," she said- ordered. No room for argument in her tone. 

 Hop stumbled, almost tripping on his feet as she pulled him away from Sonia and Leon. Away from Bede. "What? Now?" 

 "Now." Gloria slammed her glass down on a table as they passed it, not slowing her pace in the slightest. Her heart thumped rapidly in her ears, silencing Hop's grumbles of protest, and she forced herself onwards, fueled by panic, by her nerves, by the fear spreading through her lungs. 

 Bede had stepped towards her. 

 Gloria pulled Hop amidst the dancers, not waiting for the current song to end, and turned towards him. She grabbed his hand, his shoulder, and they fell into step with the music. At this distance, she couldn't hide from Hop the shadows, the fear, behind her eyes. 

 "What happened?" Hop asked quietly. 

 He instantly settled into their dance, realising this wasn't just one of Gloria's impulsive whims. Their week of practice paid off as they turned in sync. 

 "I saw him." It came out as a whisper, as quiet as a gasp. "And he-" 

 Gloria clamped her eyes shut for a second, for a step of their dance, and she sucked in a breath. Tears blinked away. 

 "He saw me," she said. Knowing that somewhere across the ballroom, Bede was behind her. 

 "Your eyes met?" Hop stepped right, and she followed. 

 Gloria nodded. She tightened her grip on Hop's shoulder as the world threatened to crumble beneath her feet. Unbalanced no longer described how she felt- she wasn't stumbling, she was falling. 

 "It was bound to happen, Glo," Hop said gently. He didn't patronise her, he understood the roots of her fear, the grip it had on her, and remained realistic. "He's your friend, it makes sense that he'd be looking for you. It's normal to want to hang with people you know at events like this." 

 Gloria let his words wash over her as they slowed to a stop when the song ended. Some of the couples around them departed, new ones taking their places, and the music began again. 

 "I don't want to talk to him," Gloria said. Her heart squeezed tight. "Not yet. Not tonight."

 Hop gave her a rueful smile. "You can't avoid him forever, you know." 

 "I can try." She looked away, keeping in step with him as they followed the music. 

 "Is that what you want?" 

 Hop's words echoed the pain in her heart. The longing. The desire to risk it all. 

 "It doesn't matter what I want," she said finally. "This is what I need." 

 "If you say so…" Hop sounded unsure, but Gloria remained resolute. 

 She needed to avoid Bede. They danced for a while, until Hop's steps became sloppy and out of time, and Gloria decided to let him rest. They stepped off the dancefloor, and she immediately stepped into her role as the Champion, seeking out sponsors, esteemed guests, and patrons. People she recognised and strangers alike, anyone she could waste away time with.  She danced with a few young men, most of whom were heirs to their parent's companies or estates, until her feet began to ache. When she parted from the last one, her throat was dry and hoarse from talking. Her head spun from dancing too long. The endless names she needed to remember blurred together in her mind, leaving her nauseous again. She gave the tables of slowly diminishing food a wide berth, seeking out a waiter she could commandeer for a drink. 

 Someone stepped in front of her. Gloria stopped herself from sagging in frustration, her gaze following the waiter she'd been a split second from reaching. 

 "Sorry, if you don't mind, I was-" 

 A glass full of sparkling liquid appeared before her eyes. 

 "After one of these?" Elliott asked, holding out a drink to her. He held a partially empty glass in his other hand. 

 She smiled in relief at him. "Yes, thank you." Gloria accepted the glass and sipped at it slowly, letting the bubbly liquid ease the ache in her throat. "How come you always seem to have just what I need?" she asked, breathing a laugh. 

 "I'll admit, the first time was a coincidence, but I was looking for an excuse to talk to you again," Elliott said. 

 Gloria tipped her glass to her lips, drinking as she thought. "You were?" 

 "It's not every day one gets a chance to talk with the Champion of Galar," he said, smiling softly. 

 His comment made her feel slightly giddy, as though the bubbles in her drink had filled her lungs. "It's not every day I get to speak with the son of the richest man in Galar," Gloria replied. "I feel like you one up me here."

 She found herself relaxing further as he laughed. There was something about him, something comforting, and she ignored her sore feet when he asked her to dance. She felt like she was floating. Walking on clouds. She danced with Elliott, a smile on her face the entire time, and came out of it giddy and breathless. 

 "Okay, I think that's enough dancing for one night," Gloria said as they stepped off the dancefloor, gently fanning her face with her hand. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth. "Who knew dancing could be such a workout?" 

 "I'm impressed," Elliott said, turning his back to her for a moment to grab a pair of drinks off the tray of a passing waiter. "You turned down all offers to dance last year, so I thought perhaps you didn't know how. It seems I was mistaken- you dance like an expert." 

 He turned back to her, handing her a glass that she eagerly accepted. 

 "Thank you," Gloria said, sipping her drink to keep herself from telling him she didn't know how to dance until a week ago. "Do those doors open?" She nodded towards the glass balcony doors. 

 "Why don't we find out?" Elliott smiled at her, and she followed him over to the doors. With a simple push, the towering glass door opened, and Gloria skipped out into the cool night air. 

 "That's so much better," she sighed happily. Her body buzzed and tingled with warmth, and she welcomed the embrace of the cold air around her. She stepped over to the edge of the balcony, staring out at the lights of Wyndon. The Ferris wheel turned as a dark form on the horizon. 

 "I'll join you in a moment," Elliott said, "I'm just going to grab one of those cakes before they all disappear." 

 Gloria hummed her response, closing her eyes as a gentle breeze swept over her. She felt so light. So free, so uncaring. Everything she'd worried about had fallen off her shoulders, drifting away into the night with the wind. Footsteps sounded behind her, and Gloria turned with a smile. 

 "Back so soon? I thought-" She stopped. It wasn't Elliott behind her. Her mouth dropped open with a wordless gasp, and she reached for him without thinking. Time slowed around her as her fingers touched the soft fabric of his tailcoat. 

 "Bede?" His name fell from her lips in awe. He stared down at her, violet eyes full of longing, and his expression was so soft, so tender, that she felt lightheaded beneath his gaze. The tips of her fingers remained against his chest.  

"Gloria…" the sound of her name sent a tingle down her spine. "You look so-" Bede's eyes shifted from hers. "Nice," he said, clearing his throat. "You look nice." 

 Floating. Gloria was floating. Why had she avoided him? She couldn't remember. Whatever the reason was, it no longer mattered. He was here. 

 "You look nicer," she said, pouting. "How is it that you're so much prettier than me? It's unfair!" 

 Bede blinked at her, and she snorted a laugh. 

 "Y'know what? It doesn't matter," Gloria said. 

 Bede's expression softened. He searched her eyes for a moment, once again captivating her with his gaze. 

 "I see you found time to continue practicing how to dance," he said. A hint of pride showed in his smile. "You had me worried- I wasn't sure that you'd be able to keep up your practice since you were so busy."

 Busy? Had she been busy? She couldn't remember. Gloria found herself leaning towards him. Drawn towards him. Her palm flattened against his chest as she stepped closer. Something bloomed in her chest. Something warm, something powerful, and her heart felt full. The words were on her tongue before she could think.  

"Bede, I think…" She felt fuzzy, giddy. And light. She felt so, so light. "I think I-" 

 "Where did you get that?" 

 "What?" Gloria stared at him for a second. He was frowning at the glass in her hand. Bede reached for it, and she tugged it away from him. "Hey, get your own!"  

"Gloria, that's alcohol," Bede said with a huff. He looked at her incredulously, and she snorted. 

 "No, it's not," she laughed. "It's non-alcoholic sparkling wine. Arceus, Bede. I'm not an idiot!" 

 "Where did you get it?" Bede asked again. His expression turned serious. 

 She waved his concerns off with her hand. "The waiters are carrying them around. Elliott grabbed one for me." 

 "Elliott." The look on his face, grim with alarm flashing behind his eyes, sent a rush of cold clarity through her when he asked, "and who was it that told you it was non-alcoholic?" 

 Gloria's heart thumped slowly in her chest. "Elliott did…" 

 No.

 She stared at the glass in her hand, a few centimetres of the bubbly liquid remaining. The third drink she'd accepted from Elliott. 

 This isn't… 

 "But I…" Gloria shook her head. She couldn't think straight. Her mind was a blur, her thoughts fuzzy and clouded. 

 Oh.

 Oh no.

 Her heart plummeted into her stomach as everything fell into place. The way she'd been feeling, how comfortable she left around Elliott when she'd never met him before, how easily she mingled with sponsors and patrons without a worry. The strange confidence, the peace, that had overcome her. And now, the thick fog that had overcome her mind, the weightlessness she felt, carried an new meaning. One that made her feel ill. 

 Bede gently took the glass from her and turfed the remaining wine into the planter beside them. 

 "How many have you had?" he asked.

 Gloria reached for the balcony's railing, her fingers trembling around it as she tried to steady herself. The drinks Elliott gave her, one by one, flashed in her mind. She tasted the wine on her tongue. She'd been so stupid, so naive, to trust him, to accept those drinks. Disquiet settled heavy on her shoulders.

 "That was my third…" Gloria answered. Her mind clouded with disbelief. 

 Was this really happening…?

 "Have you eaten anything?" 

 She squeezed her eyes shut. Clenched her jaw to stop her voice from trembling. "No," she replied in a whisper. In shame. 

 Bede's touch on her arm almost brought her to tears. 

 "I don't… I don't understand…" Her voice caught. Fear loomed over her heart, crushed her chest, her soul. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. "Why would he…?"  

Footsteps made Gloria glance towards the balcony doors, Bede turning to face Elliott as he paused in the wedge of light streaming from the ballroom. He held a glass of wine in either hand. 

 "You gave her alcohol," Bede said firmly. He straightened, standing tall between Gloria and Elliott, and yet she still felt small. Vulnerable.

 Afraid. 

 Elliott shrugged. "The jig is up, is it? Shame. We hadn't even gotten to the good part yet." 

 Gloria stared at the floor, eyes wide and unseeing. She felt sick.

 "And what were you hoping would happen?" Bede asked. 

 "Does it matter?" Elliott breathed a laugh, remaining unperturbed. "Someone has to try and liven up these dull events. I thought that perhaps a drunk, underage Champion would do the trick." 

 Again, he shrugged. Everything he said, his calm voice, his laughter, fell over Gloria in a daze. It didn't feel real. Like she was somewhere else, watching this unfold. Witnessing a dream- a nightmare. One she couldn't escape from. Fear crushed her heart, paralysed her breathing, turned her blood into ice. Cold. She felt cold. 

 "You-!" Bede's hands balled into fists. "How dare you-" 

 She reached for him the second he moved, gripping the tails of his coat before he'd taken a single step. 

 "Don't-" A tear slipped from her eyes. "Don't go…" 

 The fury on Bede's face shattered as she began to cry. The fear she'd been holding back engulfed her all at once, buckling her knees and tearing a sob from her throat. Bede whirled on his feet, holding her arms gently before she could collapse. Gloria fell against him. Into him. Breaking into pieces once again. 

 Elliott snorted. "I suppose this will do," he said, voice flat with boredom. "At least it'll be amusing to see how she gets out of this." He shrugged and stalked back inside. 

 Gloria squeezed her eyes shut tight. She grit her teeth, grinding out her pain, her fear, her indignation. Outrage burned up her throat. She wanted to scream, to cry and wail. She wanted to tear after Elliott and shove his pretty little face into the tiles, to send her Pokemon after him and make him regret the day he chose to mess with the Champion of Galar. 

 But she didn't. Gloria pulled her face off Bede's shoulder and took a shuddery breath. She wiped at her tears with the backs of her hands before Bede produced a white handkerchief, lined with intricate lace details, and held it out to her. She blinked at it, at him, and somehow, it made her laugh. 

 "What are you doing with this?" she asked, her voice strained, yet soft with amusement. She accepted the handkerchief and dabbed away her tears as delicately as she could. Her makeup smeared across it.

 "Ms Opal insisted I carry one with me 'just in case,'" Bede said. His mouth twitched with the faintest smile, though it faded all too quickly. 

 "I'm beginning to think that Ms Opal can see the future," she laughed quietly before her lips began to wobble again with the threat of tears, and she grimaced. "Arceus, my makeup is ruined. I spent so much money on it, too…" Gloria sighed, lowering her hands in frustration. "Look at me- some guy I met tonight got me drunk and I'm worrying about my makeup!" 

 "Here, let me help." Bede took the handkerchief off her and gently dabbed it across her cheeks. "I wouldn't say it's ruined…" 

 Gloria huffed. "I must look like a Pangoro by now." She sniffled and closed her eyes, turning her cheek towards Bede as he patted away at the remains of her makeup. 

 "You look beautiful." 

 Her eyes snapped open. Bede's hand stilled by her cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin. He looked right into her eyes. There was something in his gaze that stirred the very depths of her heart, and her lips parted with a silent, broken gasp. His eyes flicked down to follow the movement. 

 Bede looked away, clearing his throat. "A-Anyway, I wouldn't worry about your makeup," he said quickly. His voice hitched and he stammered, the sound of which sent a spear of heat through Gloria's body. "We should be able to it clean up enough that-" 

 Bede jolted when her fingers cupped his cheek, eyes widening in shock, and the handkerchief fell from his hand. He was beautiful. Stunned into silence, Bede's violet eyes searched hers, and her heart stirred again. Her heart, her soul, reached for him. She swept her thumb across his cheek. Her mind was fuzzy. Clouded. She wondered what she was doing, leaning towards him like this. Drawn to him like never before. Nothing else in the world mattered- not her fear, not her pain, not the Gala taking place in the hotel just metres away. 

 Nothing else mattered to her than Bede. 

 His mouth opened with words he couldn't voice. Concern, then wonder, filled his eyes as he slowly rested a hand over hers on his cheek. 

 He's beautiful, she thought again.

 Bede stole his hand away, his eyes flicking from hers. "Gloria, what are you-?" He fumbled over his words, a blush blazing across his cheeks that made her heart swell. "You- you're drunk." 

 "Mm…" She didn't care. It was Bede. 

 This was what she wanted. Her hand trailed across his cheek and into his hair, her fingers weaving through those platinum blond strands. 

 Bede startled at her touch. "I think we should-" 

 Silence. And warmth. A soft warmth that spread from her lips, through her body, her chest, her heart. It felt right. 

 This was it. 

 This was what she'd wanted all along. 

 - 

Bede couldn't breathe. His mind screeched to a halt when Gloria pressed her lips against his. She stole the words from his mouth, silencing him mid-sentence, and kissed him.  

And he let her. The delightful sensation of her lips gliding across his addled his brain, his senses. Bede had wanted to kiss her for so long, he'd fought the desire within him to do so for months, that he couldn't stop himself from reciprocating instinctively. A gasp died in his throat. Without thinking, he followed the movement of her lips in a nervous dance that left him dizzy. It was slow and tender, and her lips were soft, so soft and warm, carrying the slightest hint of something sweet- 

 The wine. 

 "Holy shit biscuits!" 

 A gasp from the balcony doors jolted Bede back to reality, and he snapped away from Gloria, slamming the back of his hand against his mouth, and turned towards Hop.  

"This- This isn't what it looks like!" Bede protested, his voice cracking, body blazing with heat. He burned from head to toe, his cheeks searing hotly with a dark blush he knew was obvious for all to see. He jumped as Gloria's head dropped to his shoulder.  His lips still tingled from their kiss. 

 "Sure, mate." Hop held up his hands, taking a slow and stiff step backwards. "Whatever you say. I'll just… leave you two alone now…" 

 "Wait!" Bede glanced down at Gloria, realising how limp and boneless she felt against him. Her eyes were squeezed shut. "I need your help." 

 Hop frowned, then saw what Bede had- Gloria's pained expression, her grip tight on Bede's tailcoat. He rushed over, his eyes widening.

 "What happened? Did you kiss her so hard she fainted?" 

 "N-No!" Bede snapped, heat shooting down his spine at the memory of what had just happened.  

Gloria had kissed him. 

 "She's drunk," he explained to both Hop and himself. Reminding himself that Gloria hadn't been thinking clearly. 

 "What?! How?" Hop gaped.  

A low groan came from Gloria. "I don't… feel right…" 

 Bede's heart squeezed tight in his chest. He gently rubbed her back, wishing he could do more. Now wasn't the time to get caught up in the fact that she'd kissed him, not when she was suffering like this. Not when someone had done this to her.

 "Elliott Murdoch," he said through clenched teeth. "Know the name?" 

 Hop nodded. "That's the guy who gave Gloria a drink earlier-" he stopped and blanched. "No… Was that…?" 

 "It was." Bede nodded grimly. "Elliott has been giving her alcohol under the pretense that it was non-alcoholic sparkling wine." 

 "That douchebag!" Hop huffed, sending a searing glare towards the doors leading to the Gala. "What's his problem?!" 

 "A lack of entertainment, apparently." Bede swallowed the putrid taste of bile that crawled up his throat. 

 Gloria's grip on Bede tightened. She pulled off him enough so that she was no longer sinking into him, and groaned deep in her throat.

 "I feel sick…" 

 "I don't doubt that," Bede said softly. He let her stand on her own, but kept close enough to her that he could catch her if she fell. Her gaze was unfocused, brown eyes glassy and distant. "You've had three glasses of wine on an empty stomach."  

"Not to mention that you're not exactly the tallest person around," Hop pointed out.  

Gloria made a disgruntled sound in her throat, leveling a pained glare at him. "Fuck off, Hop," she huffed. 

 Bede blinked at her, and she frowned. 

 "What?" Gloria asked, before realising what she'd said. "Oh, shit. Wait- I mean- fuck." She closed her eyes and huffed as Hop stifled a laugh. "Shut up, Hop! You're not helping!" 

She grumbled, and held onto Bede's arm for a moment as her expression grew pained. 

 "Yeah, I… really don't feel well," Gloria said weakly. 

 "Shit, Glo. You don't look well," Hop said, gently rubbing her back in circles as her eyes squeezed shut. 

 Bede couldn't begin to imagine how she was feeling, from the effects of the alcohol and the knowledge that this had been done to her deliberately. Her small frame seemed even tinier than usual as she clung to him. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her arm to take hers, and stopped as he brushed a familiar bracelet. The one he'd given her on White Day. A silver bracelet adjourned with diamond stars that glistened a soft pink in the light. She'd worn it. His gift. It made his heart ache for her, more determined than ever to do what he could to help her. He couldn't ease her suffering, he couldn't take that from her, but there was something else he could do. 

 He could get her to safety. 

 "We need to get her home," Bede said. His mind worked ahead of him, already churning through their options.  

"She's drunk, can barely stand on her own, and if you haven't noticed, the ballroom is full of people!" Hop raised an incredulous eyebrow at Bede. "How on earth do you expect us to get her home without anyone seeing her like this?"

 "That was part of Elliott's scheme," Bede sighed. "However, we're not completely out of options just yet. Marnie came with her brother, Piers, correct?" 

 Hop nodded. "Yeah, I spoke with them earlier." 

 "Good." That could work. "From what I've heard, Piers is an expert at drawing a crowd. Do you believe he'd be willing to cause a distraction for us? Marnie and I can alert the staff to our predicament, and you should be able to leave through the back of the hotel, out through the staff entrance. It wouldn't be the first time that incidents similar to this have occured, and staff at the Rose of the Rondelands are trained to be discreet. We shouldn't need to worry about one of them leaking this to the press." 

 "Piers will definitely be on board once he hears what happened to Glo," Hop agreed. "Although you might have to restrain Marnie from going after Elliott herself. Even I don't want to walk away knowing he's still in there, getting away with this scot-free." 

 "Oh, I have a thought for how to deal with him," Bede said. He looked towards the ballroom, spying Marnie in a crimson dress next to Piers in a matching suit. He eased Gloria off him gently so that she could lean on Hop instead. "Wait until everyone's attention is on Piers. The staff should prepare a way out for you- head for it as quick as you can." 

Bede gave Gloria's arm a final, gentle squeeze. Her eyes were shut, her head resting against Hop's shoulder, and she gave no indication that she'd felt his touch at all. Shallow breaths sounded between her parted lips. He turned towards the ballroom, steeling himself. 

 "Wait, before you go-" Hop began, looking sheepishly away. "You've, uh, got some lipstick on your mouth." 

 Bede stiffened with a shot of heat. He furiously wiped at his mouth, his hand coming away with a slash of pink that matched the colour of Gloria's lipstick. He cleared his throat roughly. The blush on his cheeks sizzled in the cold air, and his body filled with warmth. The memory of her kissing him returned with force. He felt a ghost of her touch, a whisper of her lips, against his. 

 "Thank you," Bede said awkwardly. He fixed gaze on the ballroom beyond the glass in front of him as his nerves crackled alight at the reminder that Gloria had kissed him. The smudge of lipstick on the back of his hand. 

 In that moment, he hadn't noticed the glaze over her eyes. Bede knew very well that she had to be drunk, he'd told her himself, but when she'd reached for him, he hadn't been able to react in time. He'd been too speechless, too shocked, to stop her. 

 And she'd kissed him. Gloria, the one who denied herself love, who feared and despised the very thought of it, who swore she'd only kiss someone she was in a relationship with, had kissed him. He looked back at her now, standing only with the support of Hop, and his heart clenched with regret.

 He should have stopped her. How could he be happy about this when she'd kissed him under the influence of alcohol? Bede sighed and forced those thoughts away. He'd apologize to her later. When they could sit down and talk about this, when she was home safe and recovered, he'd ask for her forgiveness in letting his feelings get the better of him. It wasn't just that Gloria had kissed him- he had let her. He swallowed his guilt and met Hop's eyes. Hop nodded. 

 "Alright. Let's hope this works," Bede said and made for the ballroom, leaving Hop and Gloria, his feelings of regret, behind. 

 -

 It was like Hop had said- the instant Bede told Piers what had happened, he'd agreed to his part in the plan without another word. Marnie had glared something fierce, her dark eyes growing cold and sharp, and it was only the gentle hand Piers placed on her shoulder, the infinitesimal shake of his head, that stopped her from tearing after Elliott. Begrudgingly, Marnie played her part, waving over a waiter as Piers made for the band. Whispers spread through the crowd, heads turning, guests shuffling closer to the dancefloor and the band to get a better look. Bede swept his gaze around the room, and soon enough, everyone's attention was on Piers and the band as he began an impromptu live performance. The staff Marnie had spoken to waited by the staff entrance, and once all backs were turned to the balcony, Hop came through with Gloria staggering on his arm. Her bare feet were silent on the floor, Hop carrying her heels in his right hand, his left arm around her back. Marnie rushed over to help them usher Gloria out, and Bede turned from them. With the band playing, he needn't worry about his conversion being overheard. 

 As Hop and Marnie disappeared with Gloria through the staff entrance, Bede stepped up to Ms Opal. He offered her his arm, and she took it, meeting the intention in his gaze with a smile. 

 "What is it, dear?" Ms Opal asked. "What has that rascal Elliott done to poor Gloria?" 

 Bede's eyebrows lifted. He recalled Gloria's comment that Ms Opal was psychic, and wondered if she knew how astute that observation was. 

 "I'll get to that in a moment," Bede said, and Ms Opal nodded in understanding. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you're well acquainted with his father, Richard Murdoch? If so, then there's a favour I'd like to ask of you."

 Ms Opal smiled. Her eyes, keen as ever, sharpened with an intensity that made Bede stiffen slightly. "Ask away, my dear. I'll assist you in any way if it will help Gloria." 

 A weight eased off Bede's chest, and he nodded. Masked by the sound of the band, he told Ms Opal everything; from what Elliott did to Gloria, to his plan for retribution that would fall upon the scum who had dared harm the Champion. All the while, Ms Opal maintained her smile. 

 A smile that reminded Bede that she had once been the most powerful trainer in Galar. 

 "That can be done," Ms Opal said after Bede laid out his plan. "Since Elliott wished for entertainment so badly, I suppose we have no choice but to give it to him."  

The venom in her voice sent a cold shiver through Bede. 

 "Thank you," he said, grateful. 

 Ms Opal patted his arm. "No need to thank me. You've done your part in getting Gloria out of here safely. That's commendable in itself. Leave the rest to me." 

 Bede nodded to her, before sending a glance to the door Gloria had left through. The night wasn't over yet. Not for Gloria. He doubted she was experiencing the worst of it yet, and wished he could have left with her, wished he could be the one at her side. 

 He wished he could have done more. Perhaps, if he had gathered the courage to speak with her earlier, this wouldn't have happened in the first place, and Gloria needn't have suffered. Bede brushed that thought aside. There was no point in dwelling in the past. His regret and guilt had no place here, not anymore, not tonight. 

 Not when there was still hell to pay. 

[umbry-fic]

A Palette Full of You (1)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Anna Irving, Kratos Aurion Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 1 of 6 Word Count: 6218 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 09/06/2021

Chapter Title: Castle Invaders!!

Chapter Summary: Colette and Lloyd enjoy a sunny day at the beach as children. A sandcastle is made, but does it continue to stand for long?

(Colloyd Week Day 1: Childhood Friends)

Notes: 1st chapter of my multi-chapter Colloyd week 2021 fic, featuring my headcanon of asexual Colette. It's also a modern AU set in Singapore.

Chapter list Full fic Next chapter

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8-years-old

"Lloyd! The water's here!" Colette called out, setting down the heavy bucket filled with water next to Lloyd. Mission accomplished, and without a single hitch! Mostly. She wasn't going to mention how she nearly spilt all of the water when another girl's arm missed her by a hair's width. Or how her heart was still pounding from the close call. "We can get started with the sandcastle now." Lloyd was so occupied pushing sand into one giant pile that he hadn't even noticed her approach.

Having finally gotten his attention, Lloyd stared at her blankly for a few seconds before seeming to come to his senses. Scrambling to his feet, he began to shovel the pile of sand into the bucket. Overhead, a seagull's cry rent the air, barely audible over the screaming of all the children and adults on the beach that was packed to the brim, the two vastly different in tone. "Thanks, Colette! We might need another bucket of water, though. I don't think this is enough."

"Oh, I can -"

"Nah, I'll get the next one. It would only be fair!" Lloyd grinned a toothy smile at her, prominently displaying the gap from the baby tooth that had merrily vacated his mouth last week. She herself currently had a loose tooth that she absent-mindedly pushed at with her tongue, until she pushed too hard and caused a slight stab of pain. It would likely fall out soon.

"Come on, then! This sandcastle won't build itself alone!" Lloyd said, grabbing her hand with his, rough with the individual granules of sand sticking to it.

Colette giggled and joined him, attempting to lift some of the wet sand from the bucket to start making the base of their castle - only to find that the sand seemed to have solidified into one giant clump that refused to budge from its snug home. Every attempt to separate a tiny handful yielded a sucking sound that seemed to make the sand stick together even more, ever more determined to stay with their granular siblings. With a final huff, she put all her strength behind her arms - only to flop back down onto the beach with nothing in her hands.

"That's - hard!" Lloyd grunted, faced with a similar predicament and having no choice but to give up. The sand would remain in the bucket for the foreseeable future, it seemed. He wiped his hands on his red swimming trunks before offering it to Colette, helping her back up.

"Didn't think the sand would stick together this much," Colette muttered. This was why her father had advised them not to use a bucket, huh? She stole a glance towards the collection of colourful beach umbrellas that was close by, where their parents were taking shelter from the sun. They were sitting on the same striped picnic blanket where breakfast had occurred earlier, having a relaxed conversation over cans of lemonade while keeping a watchful eye on the two of them. Noishe was there too, taking a morning nap by the blanket.

Spotting Colette, her father waved cheerily, before taking another chug from his can.

She and Lloyd had been so excited to finally visit the beach during the March Holidays. They'd been jumping up and down on the car seats, sticking their noses into the window, and chattering non-stop on the journey here, giving Noishe, curled up on Lloyd's lap, no peace to sleep in. Her father, who had been sitting with them in the backseat, had just watched with an exasperated smile, having given up on asking them to calm down when his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

The two of them would finally get to see the breathtaking ocean they had witnessed multiple times when watching The Little Mermaid, their favourite movie to watch together. Lloyd loved the vibrant ocean and the possibility of an entire unexplored world full of magic under the waves. She liked the colours and the cute designs, and the absolutely beautiful story of true love overcoming all. They’d watched it one time too many, until Flounder and Sebastian easily visited her in her dreams.

Aunt Anna had made clear upon their arrival her two conditions for letting them in the ocean. Firstly, that an adult had to accompany them at all times. Understandable, given the terrifying power of the ocean with its roiling waves, that had only been impressed on her upon actually seeing it with her own eyes. Secondly, and expectedly, that they had to wait an hour after breakfast, the familiar argument of "You have to digest all those cheese sandwiches!" leaving Aunt Anna's mouth.

They might as well make the most of the one hour, so Colette had suggested building a sandcastle to pass the time. It was one of the activities that she thought was a must-do for a first-time beach trip. After all, where else were they going to find all the sand they needed?

Lloyd had happily agreed. She was glad to see him finally perk up after wilting a little at the reminder that he needed to wait - days were much better when they were both smiling, and it wouldn't do for Lloyd to spend his first time at the beach with a frown on his face. So they'd dug up the shovels and the buckets from the car's trunk and set out to make the best sandcastle ever, one that reached the sky! They weren't going to let their lack of experience hinder them!

Perhaps that goal was a tad too ambitious. But that sure wouldn't stop her from trying!

Having made zero progress in getting the sand out of the bucket, Lloyd resorted to upending the bucket and slamming on the bottom with his hands until the sand all came out in a single bucket-shaped mound. Colette spared a worried glance at the plastic bucket, which had let out a groan. She had no clue how sturdy it was. Hopefully, it wouldn't break.

"Come on, Colette, let's do this!"

"Yeah!"

Lloyd knelt to start tamping the sand into shape, and Colette joined him.

"Could you pass the shovel?"

"We're out of water again!"

"How about we try doing this?"

Those were the only words that left their mouths as they worked together, their hands brushing. There was also the occasional peal of laughter that slipped out of either of them at something funny the other had done. Otherwise, they were in perfect sync, without the need to talk. They could just adapt to the other's actions. She remained focussed on her task, tuning out the sounds of life around her and getting her hands covered in sand, until there was even sand under her nails.

The sun continued to get higher on its arc, its rays falling on all the bare skin revealed by her navy blue one-piece swimsuit. It felt like she was roasting alive. Sweat ran down the sides of her face and her throat was dry. A can of cold lemonade sounded really nice now. She was glad, at least, that their parents had insisted they put on sunscreen, and had helped slather the two of them in it from head to toe, Lloyd squirming the whole time. If not for that, she would surely have an excruciating sunburn by now. From what she'd seen of her classmates who had returned from last year's March Holidays with red and peeling skin, she was glad to avoid it.

They made steady progress, bar the few close calls where she nearly flung the shovel into the sandcastle. It slowly took shape with a few more water-gathering trips and repeats of the not very effective bucket-slamming tactic, until finally, it was complete. Even the bucket had survived all the abuse! Colette sat back on her haunches to observe their handiwork, a smile lighting up her face.

Their masterpiece.

Okay, it wasn't a masterpiece. It was nowhere near perfect, or even amazing.

A messy tower stood before her eyes, tapering from a wide base to a thin top. It was tiny at thirty centimetres high. From the middle onwards, the tower slanted to the side, a result of Lloyd pushing just a bit too hard. It resembled the Leaning Tower of Pizza now, but, just like that mysterious tower, their tower was still standing through some unknown magic. Using a random stick he’d picked up off the sand, Lloyd had etched a smiley face with wobbly lines into the side of the tower. He'd stuck the stick into the top to act as a flag, exclaiming that the Disney castle had a flag on top of the main building, so theirs would too! She'd also dug a trench, in which Lloyd had poured the extra seawater remaining in the bucket to create a moat. Now no villain could mount a successful attack on their castle! Not even the Goombas or turtles they stomped every weekend in Super Mario Brothers.

The moat had dried up in seconds as the surrounding sand had absorbed the water, but it was the effort that counted. And it looked cool for a while!

Their castle was pretty average compared to the other ones she could see on the beach, and most definitely was nothing compared to the grand, detailed designs she had seen that one time on TV. But she had fun building it, and it was something she'd made together with Lloyd, so it was worth being proud over. That was all that mattered.

It was nice to imagine their castle standing here for all eternity, even if she knew it wouldn't last once they left. She and Lloyd's castle, powerful and durable, even against the worst of enemies!

"Looks good!" A hand landed on her head, prompting Colette to look up and see Aunt Anna waving a polaroid camera around. She could see her reflection, wide-eyed and smiling, in the sunglasses resting on the bridge of Aunt Anna’s nose. Aunt Anna must really love that pair of sunglasses; she always wore them whenever she was driving her and Lloyd to school in the mornings. To protect her eyes from the sun, and to look stylish while doing so? Who knew.

Aunt Anna had put on a giant sunhat, the brim so wide that it cast a shadow over Colette's face. "Come on, let me take a picture of you two with the sandcastle!" Aunt Anna said, raising the polaroid camera to her eye and miming clicking the button.

After a bunch of poking and prodding from Aunt Anna to get them into the best position, with loud protests from Lloyd’s end, they were finally ready to have their photo taken. For the sandcastle to actually show up in the picture, they had to stand behind it. Lloyd looped his arm around her shoulder, while she gave Lloyd bunny ears with her fingers. She would never give up the opportunity to do so. "Say cheese!" Aunt Anna yelled, raising the polaroid camera with a massive smile and clicking the button, the camera emitting a flash of light that blinded Colette for an instant.

"Can I move now, Mom? And can we finally go swimming? Pleaseeeeee?" Lloyd whined, plopping back down onto the sand before he even received his answer. Colette blinked rapidly, still trying to get rid of the spots in her vision.

"Oh, the pictures are gonna turn out sooooo cute," Aunt Anna muttered, retrieving the printed-out polaroid from the camera and beginning to shake it, waiting for it to develop. She glanced at Lloyd, sulking in the sand, and gave him the thumbs-up. Lloyd perked up immediately and scrambled to his feet to run off, only to stop in his tracks after hearing Aunt Anna's next words. "Wait a moment, would you? Your father is gonna follow you and he's still coming over."

"Dad! Hurry up!" Lloyd yelled, impatiently hopping from one leg to the other as Uncle Kratos leisurely walked over. Noishe, having finally caught up on his beauty sleep, ran over too, barking in excitement. Colette giggled, crouching down and reaching her hand out for Noishe to bump his snout against with every round he made around Lloyd's legs. Would Noishe be joining them in the ocean? It was against the rules to bring dogs into the swimming pool, but there was no such rule here. Maybe Noishe secretly liked water! There was no better chance to find out!

And the more the merrier!

"No going further than the bobbing spheres, okay? And stay close to your father!"

"I know, Mom! I know! You told me this three times already!"

"Just checking," Anna replied cheerfully, ruffling Lloyd's hair and prompting a scowl to pop onto Lloyd’s face.

"You got it too, right?" Her father asked her, having come up behind her.

"Yes, Dad!" Colette replied, getting to her feet and preparing to run down to the ocean. "I promise I'll -"

Unfortunately, Colette didn’t get to finish her sentence. One small step forward and her foot caught instantly against the spare shovel still sticking up in the sand, which had completely escaped her notice. Everyone, even Noishe, stopped what they were doing. All three adults stretched out their arms in a desperate attempt to stop her fall, but they were too far away to have any hope of catching her. Flailing her arms, she fell, the world seeming to go by in slow motion as the tower of golden sand became increasingly larger in her vision.

Until she crashed right through the tower she and Lloyd had spent the last hour crafting, in her unstoppable path to face-planting on the beach. Her hand felt the roughness of tightly-packed sand as that sand exploded in every direction. Closing her eyes against the rain of sand, she threw her arms out to cushion her fall, finally landing on the sand.

The action now over, Colette pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing. No visible wounds anywhere. No blood. No lasting pain. At least the sand was somewhat soft.

Oh no… Heart sinking in her chest, she stared at the mess that had once been a glorious sandcastle, now just a sad misshapen mound of sand. The top of the tower had been scattered everywhere.

She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, an awkward silence arising even as noise continued to surround them. She'd ruined everything with her clumsiness again... She wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to hide out here in the open. Maybe she could dig a hole in the sand and hide forever...

"Colette! Are you alright?" Lloyd’s voice broke the silence, a helping hand offered to her as he stared down in concern.

"Yeah." She took his hand, using her other to try brushing off the grains of sand now sticking to her whole body. There was so much... She'd never get all of it off. She opened her mouth, ready to apologise.

“Come on, there’s no time!” Lloyd interrupted before she could even say anything, tugging on her hand as he had done before. She was being pulled in the direction of the waves, stumbling a little in surprise at the sudden movement. “Our castle was attacked by enemies, and they’ve fled to the water! We need to pursue them! Right?”

Lloyd winked at her, a huge grin on his face. She could read the message in his actions loud and clear: there was no need to apologise. Just get back to the fun!

“Right!” She replied, wiping the hesitance from her expression and replacing it with a smile, worries already forgotten. The ocean would be one solution to all the sand stuck to her skin!

“Race you!” Lloyd yelled, letting go of her hand and abruptly taking off. She cried out indignantly in response, chasing after him as fast as she could, Noishe following hot on their heels with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, ears flapping up and down. Their yells about being first to get in the ocean reached Kratos’ ears, who simply sighed at their familiar antics.

~~~

“Here,” Lloyd said, pressing something small into her palm. He and Colette were both drenched from head to toe from all the swimming and water wars that had occurred. The tips of her hair brushed her shoulders, leaving tiny trails of water behind and causing water droplets to slide down her arms. Not even Noishe had been spared, shaking his matted fur furiously. The water had been colder than she'd expected, but all the running around had helped to combat it. In fact, she was exhausted from all the activity, the smile on her face so wide her cheeks hurt and her throat hoarse from all the screaming and laughter.

Now that they were on dry ground again, they were standing by the picnic blanket, waiting for their parents to return with towels. Whereafter their parents would hold the familiar ritual of smothering them with towels, squeezing each strand of hair dry.

In her hand was a seashell, rough against her skin - not the stereotypical blue ones that were always on the pages of the Chinese textbook whenever the ocean was mentioned, with its fan shape and equally-spaced out ridges - but rather an off-white colour, fantastically curved with little spikes sticking out of it to form a geometric pattern. It had a gaping opening that revealed its pink insides.

“Dad said it's called a conch shell,” Lloyd explained. “Snails hide in them, but this one is empty. I found it just now!”

“Oh, it’s so pretty! I haven’t been able to find any...” She’d been scouring the beach to no success. The most she’d spotted among the sand were tiny fragments of what had once been seashells, smashed to smithereens by the wrath of the ocean.

“Put it against your ear! I tried it, and it really works!”

“The sound of the ocean...?”

Colette lifted the conch shell, aligning the hole with her ear and closing her eyes to listen closely, covering her other ear with her hand. She and Lloyd had read about this many times before - how a shell contained the entire ocean within it.

And it did. It was a strange, mysterious sound - like there was water within the small shell lapping against its walls, somehow, even though that wasn’t the case, for any water would have leaked out of the opening by now. It was almost like she herself was surrounded by the ocean, as the shell in her hand must have been as it was carried by the currents to stop on this beach. What a lonely journey that must have been, alone in the deep darkness.

She opened her eyes to see Lloyd’s smiling face, his hand gently pulling hers away from her ears.

“Did you hear it?”

“Yeah. That was incredible...”

“Well, the shell is for you.” Lloyd gestured, grinning.

“Oh, really?” She gasped. “No, you found it, so it should be yours!”

Colette tried to pass it back to Lloyd, but he refused. He only closed her fingers around the shell with his hand before hopping just out of arm's reach. Infuriating.

“Nah, it’s fine! Keep it! I insist!”

Colette pouted, knowing Lloyd wouldn’t budge on the issue. There were times she wished he wasn’t so stubborn. There was no way she was going to win this.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you one in return… I can try and find one now!” she suggested, already scanning the beach as she took a step forward.

“No need for that!” Lloyd reassured her, returning to her side and grabbing her arm to stop her. “Mom said we aren’t staying here for much longer after we’re done cleaning up. You can just make it up to me some other time.”

“Alright! That’s a promise, then. Thank you for the gift,” Colette said, feeling the ridges of the seashell dig into her skin as she tightened her hold. They had gifted each other little trinkets like these many times before, mostly curious objects they came across whenever they played at the playground. She kept every single gift from Lloyd, just as she would this one. Anything she got from her best friend was precious.

Colette could see the adults walking over in the corner of her vision, holding the aforementioned towels and… Popsicles! Oh, those would be delicious. But it also meant her time at the beach was coming to a close.

Colette knew she wouldn’t ever forget this day. This sunny day, filled with joy, fun and wonder…

~~~

28-years-old

"Remember this one?" Lloyd laughed, pointing to the open scrapbook sitting in his lap. His finger sat on a polaroid that was held in place on the page by 4 pieces of cellophane tape, one of which was crooked, and another of which was starting to peel. Colette tapped her finger on the yellowing polaroid as well, recalling how she had gotten it from Aunt Anna and proceeded to stick it in her sketchbook. Words filled the rest of the page, denoting the events of the day, together with a doodle of a seagull sitting on a giant seashell. If she recalled correctly, this was one of the last pages of her scrapbook before she'd gotten too busy to keep it up. It was fun while it lasted, though, absolutely cramming the border of each page with a horrendous amount of washi tape.

She and Lloyd's happy faces peered up at her from the polaroid, a tiny, not very impressive sandcastle visible in front of them. The weather on that day, a foggy memory but not forgotten, for it could never be truly forgotten, couldn't be any more of a contrast to the rain currently slapping against the windows of their apartment, turning the world outside into pure white as the rain obscured all. The wind howled and caused the window panes to rattle in their housings. The air was chilly, fogging up the windows and further blocking their view of the world outside.

Colette should have been shivering on the bed in her denim shorts, but she was nice and toasty instead, legs covered by a thick blanket. She was resting against the backboard, legs stretched out, hair falling to mid-back in messy tangles. The blanket itself had the sewn pattern of dogs doing various things: jumping over fences, dozing off on clouds, running with bones in their mouths. It was adorable! And most of all, it reminded her of another dog who used to run circles around her feet and snuggle on the blankets with her, but who was no longer with them.

She’d even gone the extra mile and put on socks and a hoodie. Lloyd had taken one look at her and… hadn’t done anything else, because this was normal behaviour from her when she was cold. He’d long since accepted it.

Plus, she was leaning against the ultimate source of warmth! Lloyd, who was also under the blanket, legs pressed snugly against hers. Just as always, he could somehow survive the cold in just jeans and an old T-shirt, showing absolutely no signs of being affected. No shivers, nothing. It was impressive. He took "warm-blooded" to the next level.

Her entire body still felt tingly from the cups of hot coffee that Lloyd had brewed in the kitchen earlier. He’d done hers perfectly without even having to ask, the knowledge of how to do so having long been ingrained in his memory. “Precisely half a teaspoon of sugar and half a cup of milk,” he’d said in a sing-song manner, the warm orange of the kitchen’s ceiling light falling upon him and his gentle smile as she’d stood next to him cutting apples. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board, the clinking of the metal spoon against the side of the porcelain cup, and the thudding of raindrops against the window had been the only sounds filling the kitchen.

They’d drunk the coffee first, backs against the countertop and their eyes meeting across the rims of their cups, his hand finding hers in the little space between them. The hot liquid had slid down their throats with ease, settling warm in their bellies. Having drunk his coffee all at one go as he always did, Lloyd had waited for her to finish. He hadn’t said a single word, preferring to maintain the comfortable silence. The only thing he’d done was rub her fingers with his thumb.

They’d then taken turns popping the apple slices in each other’s mouths, the flesh crunchy when they sank their teeth into it, the sweet juice from the fresh fruit a refreshing contrast from the bitter liquid they’d just consumed. Lloyd, as messy an eater as always, had left little bits of apple at the corner of his mouth like tiny yellow spots that she’d had to brush away with her fingers.

Today was Sunday, the day where they both didn't have work to do, unless they were handling some big project with a pending deadline, and had some time to themselves. Their favourite activities to do on this wonderful day of the week included marathoning Disney movies, playing video games together, and going out to their favourite destinations. They also weren't opposed to just lounging on bed together, or taking some alone time.

But today was also a rainy day. She'd actually been woken up by the first claps of thunder in the early morning. The rain had no business being this heavy after the conclusion of the monsoon season, but Mother Nature was fickle, and they could do nothing but accept their given lot. No going out to the Botanic Gardens as they'd originally planned. The only thing they could do was stay home, unless they wanted to catch a cold on purpose.

It was Lloyd who had found her old scrapbook in a corner of their room while aimlessly wandering around the apartment, the book having gathered a thin layer of dust that made her sneeze when he brought it over. She'd forgotten it was sitting on one of the shelves. He had suggested looking over it, since they had nothing better to do. They had just gone through Frozen, Tangled and The Little Mermaid last week - the plots were still fresh in their minds. More fresh than usual. She could recite the entire script of The Little Mermaid from memory if she needed to.

What better time was there to reminisce than with their second anniversary coming up? What better place to do so than in the bedroom they shared, its corners teeming with keepsakes and memories, absolutely overflowing with their love for each other? Just being in here for a minute was enough to make her heart feel warm.

The framed pictures hanging on the walls and sitting on the nightstand - of them and their parents; of the two of them under a sky full of stars; of them and their friends, laughing and popping bottles of wine, fitted in elegant dresses and stylish suits. There were many more pictures, kept in the various albums lining the bookshelf above the bed, which she occasionally took down to look through on days when she was feeling rather nostalgic. Staring up at her from the pages were contented faces from all throughout time, allowing her to track her progress from days long past to the person she was today.

The Siberian Husky plushie she was currently hugging to her chest. The soft fur felt incredible to the touch, and it was so comforting to just run her hands through the fur, tightening her fingers on tufts of it. Behind those beady black eyes were more, however, a significance that no one else but herself could see. A precious memory of a carnival and the time they were finally honest with each other; a step she had been terrified to take but which she’d mustered up the courage to, in order to join Lloyd at the other end of the open door and grab the encouraging hand he offered her. She had stumbled many times along the way, but Lloyd had steadied her every time. She’d gambled on the chance, but it had all been worth it - for she had managed to find her home in Lloyd, and it had all led to the beautiful life she led today, where she got to see his happiness every day.

The wall painted over with galaxies, swirls of pinks and purples and blues, and a single adorable dog in a spacesuit, which they had hand-painted when they first moved in until they were both splattered with paint and giggling.

And of course, the two matching, nondescript metal bands, one lying atop the other on the nightstand.

"You destroyed the sandcastle not soon after, right?" Lloyd said.

"Hey!" Colette pouted, poking Lloyd's side. "Don't tease me."

Lloyd shifted his body away from her attacking finger, still smiling warmly. "I'm not teasing you. I'm just stating what happened." He turned around and retaliated by poking her on the nose, sending her reeling back in a fit of giggles. "It was fun, though!"

"It was," she agreed, struggling to hold back further laughter, bubbling up within her chest like an uncontrollable fountain. “You gifted me a conch shell afterwards. Remember?”

“Of course I remember, silly. It’s sitting on your shelf right now.”

That it was. She’d kept it all these years, the passage of time causing its colour to fade. In all other aspects, it was perfectly conserved, looking just the same as it had on the day he’d pressed it into her hand. She lifted it up to her ear sometimes, just to listen to the sound of the ocean.

Colette flipped to the next page of the scrapbook, looking over all of the memories contained there. Her childhood had been filled with joy, in no small part due to Lloyd, who took every opportunity he could to make her days fun-filled and exciting as he strived to make her face light up with a smile. There were moments where she was suddenly overwhelmed with a great sense of gratefulness for the fact that, out of an infinite number of possible outcomes, she had met Lloyd when she was young. For she was so incredibly fortunate, more fortunate than most, to have met someone who loved and accepted her for everything that she was.

She placed one hand on his cheek, fingers splayed, and turned his head to face her, his warmth spreading through her cold fingers from that one point of contact. Lloyd leaned automatically into her touch.

“Colette...?” Lloyd whispered, leaning automatically into her touch. His eyes searched hers, as he slowly came to understand what she was about to do. This close, she could make out each individual eyelash, attached to the eyelids that fluttered closed over russet eyes. Most people would conclude Lloyd was plain. Average, even. There’d been people who asked her upfront why she’d chosen to settle for him, when according to their honest opinion, her beauty could have landed her much better. They didn’t understand. She was the one fortunate enough to know his love and the miracle of such an incredible person staying by her side when there were so many things she couldn’t give him. A relationship with any other person would have been easier for him, filled with far less of a need for compromise, but he’d chosen her in the end.

Besides, there was beauty in plainness. The daisies that were ignored in favour of the orchids, the mynahs that were overlooked for the orioles. There was beauty to be found there, in the most ordinary of things, the ones people saw every day and had ceased to notice. It was a beauty she itched to capture.

Lloyd, to her, was the most beautiful of them all, a rare treasure that had somehow landed in her hands.

“Shh,” she whispered in return, eyes fluttering shut as she closed the small distance between them. She pressed her lips against his slowly, trying to push behind this one action - the gift she was currently giving - every ounce of the love and appreciation she felt at the moment, enough to fill her heart to the brim. It’d been a while since she’d done this. Two months, maybe? It was a little overdue, having slipped her mind for a time as it always did, no matter how hard she tried to remember. If not for the reminder that had pinged on her phone this morning and made the issue fresh in her mind again, she might have gone another month. She’d have to give him more soon, as per her end of the compromise they had both agreed upon when they’d first started dating, which had served them well all these years. He'd said before that he was alright with getting nothing at all, but that didn't sit right with her. She didn't think it would be fair for him to be the only person giving something up.

Kisses and anything further were always up to her to initiate, since Lloyd, as he’d told her time and time again, wanted her to be comfortable in everything she did. He’d never forced anything on her, content to wait patiently for her to feel ready, whether it be in an hour, a day, a year, or never, perfectly willing to compose their entire relationship on quiet moments spent together and nothing more. She still occasionally struggled with the idea that he was far more than she could ever deserve, even as he gripped her hand tightly and told her she was worth everything. It was getting better with every day she spent in his loving company, the extensive wounds left on her heart in her younger days by a world that told her she would never be enough slowly starting to heal. There would always be scars, but those would fade one day until they were barely visible, until the twinges of pain could barely be felt.

Lloyd’s lips were a little chapped from the cold, unmoving against hers, still tasting faintly of the sweet apple slices from thirty minutes ago. All in all, a pleasant experience.

After a second of shocked stillness, Lloyd came to life again, a small sigh leaving his lips and brushing against hers. His hand came up to cup her ear, his fingers curling in her hair as he kissed her back with nothing but gentleness, always mindful of her boundaries and never pushing her any further. Of course, he had boundaries too. If he’d decided to pull back, she would have respected it. It was the bare minimum she could do for him.

Thirty seconds passed and she pulled away, though not too far, opening her eyes to stare into his. Their hands remained where they were, connecting the two of them.

“Where did that come from?” His words became butterflies, brushing their soft wings against her lips. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers stroking the skin above her ear with the tenderness he always showed her.

“I just felt like saying thank you.” For everything. For all their years together. For all the love he showed her. For the knowledge that Lloyd would continue to stay in her life, for the rest of her time on this wondrous Earth.

Not that long ago, she would have broken away and covered her face with the plushie that was still in her arms, cheeks flushed and too embarrassed to meet Lloyd’s eyes, preferring that he talk to the plushie instead of her. Much like the first kiss, unconventional as it was, that they had shared. Now she could stare unflinchingly with confidence to witness the happiness that bloomed like the most incredible flower on his face.

“Thank you. For the gift,” Lloyd replied, always seconds away from showing his appreciation.

“Shall we look through the rest?” she asked, removing her hand from his cheek to cover the one he had placed on her face, her fingers slotting in perfectly between his as she smiled sweetly.

Here was her sanctuary, where all she knew was serenity and the warmth of loving and being loved.

“Let’s.”

~~~

“Mm.”

Lloyd froze in the middle of flipping to the next page of the scrapbook, watching Colette with eagle eyes. Had he…

But she didn't seem to have awakened. Not really. She made no other sound, only tightened the hold of her arms around his midriff, her face buried in his side and the rest of her lying on her side on the bed. He'd resorted to holding the scrapbook up in order not to accidentally jolt her out of her peaceful sleep. So far, his arms had not started to hurt yet.

Lloyd heaved a sigh of relief, tucking the entirety of the blanket tightly around her shoulders, leaving himself uncovered. Now, swaddled in the blanket, she resembled a cocoon. Adorable. And also what tended to happen each night, as she ended up stealing the blanket eight nights out of ten.

Satisfied that Colette was soundly asleep, Lloyd returned to perusing the contents of the scrapbook, a small smile playing on his lips.

And silence reigned supreme, interrupted only by quiet breathing and the crinkle of paper.

~~~

Next chapter

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 20

We’ve reach chapter 20! Does anyone really read this thing though? lol

SPOILER ALERT: This is leading up to the Redemption Arc, so there’s a bit of spoiler to the main story here. This one is a much shorter chapter compared to the last one.

Read. Ch. 19 | Masterlist

With November coming to a close, winter was in full swing. There was always something about the cold in Japan that made Ren want to bury her body under a kotatsu and hibernate. She lethargically emerged from the her warm cocoon of her bed to get ready for class. The chill of the air made her shudder aloud and rubbed her arms furiously to stay warm. Putting on her designated “home hoodie,” she grabbed her belongings to wash up downstairs. Even after fully clothed, 1-A’s resident advisor found herself moving much slower than she liked. And her monthly visitor’s cramps did little to help. She saw Asui coming down with half-lidded eyes and yawned aloud.

“I’m sorry, ribbit,” the amphibian girl apologized and rubbed one of her eyes. “Winter is always hard for me.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Tsuyu-chan,” Ren agreed and proceeded to boil water for some tea. “Would you like some? Maybe it’ll help wake you up.”

Asui slowly nodded and let out another yawn.

Leaning her head on the refrigerator door, the pink-haired girl found herself drifting asleep, only to be rudely woken up by Bakugou.

“If you’re gonna sleep, don’t do it somewhere where people need to grab stuff,” he exasperatingly refuted and pinched her cheek hard to get her to move.

The stinging from the pinch woke her up halfway as the electric kettle turned off automatically. Heaving a heavy sigh, she wobbled over to the other counter and made English Breakfast tea for herself and Asui. Adding a splash of milk and half a spoon of sugar, she stifled a yawn before sipping the hot beverage. She then handed the second cup to the napping frog girl, to which she thanked her for. Heaving a long sigh, she grabbed two pieces of toast and munched on it like a turtle.

Class went by in a blur and Ren managed to halfway wake up just as the day ended. The classroom door to 2-A suddenly slid open and revealed a very excited Ito with something in his hand.

“Everyone! The photos from the festival have been printed!” her classmate announced.

“About time!” one student chimed.

The class crowded over Ito as he opened the album and flipped through until they found the group shot of their class.

“Whoa! We look out of this world!” Tomoe exclaimed.

“I do have to say, the costume team did a wonderful job,” Seri commended. “My dress was so comfortable to move around.”

“And thanks for adding that last minute train to mine,” Ren sighed out. “It was much appreciated.”

“You’re still sensitive ‘bout that?” Tomoe asked with a tone of surprise. “Dude, let it go. Flaunt it.”

“I absolutely refuse to,” the pink-haired girl deadpanned and blushed. “I don’t want it to be bodysuit-gate all over again.”

“Speaking of your costume, Takahiro,” Ito interjected with a sly smile. “Your photo was one of the top three most requested for reprints next to Hadou-senpai’s.”

She blinked stupidly.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“This one.” He flipped to the page where her photo had the full page spread of a mid-action shot from when she jumped off of the swing. She let out a panicked scream.

“It seems the audience was quite entranced by your wisp character,” Hayasaka remarked, staring at the photo. “Maybe it was a blessing in disguise I injured my ankle and helped backstage instead.”

“Your quirk would’ve made the wisp freakin’ legendary!” she reasoned. “I did what I could while running on 3 hours of sleep and barely remembered half the shit I did!”

“So?”  Akiyama huffed. “ I was on energy drinks and was awake for nearly 36 hours making all the costume adjustments.”

“Well no matter,” Miyake disregarded. “What’s important is the festival was a huge success and we were able to pull off the performance thanks to your help, Takahiro.”

Heading back to 1-A, she found Aizawa with the Big Three and Eri-chan sitting on the couch. She overheard Aizawa saying U.A. was now in charge of her well-being. Before Ren was able to go over to say hi, Togata and Aizawa waved her, Uraraka, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima out the door to talk.

“It seems like Eri-chan’s parents abandoned her,” their homeroom teacher revealed. “And her closest blood relative is the boss of the Hassaikai, who is currently in a coma. So she has no where to go.”

“You may have heard this from sensei, but her horn is the source of her quirk,” Togata chimed in and tapped the left part of his forehead.

“We heard it shrunk and everything was good though...” Kirishima replied.

“The horn seems to have grown a bit recently,” the third year blond revealed.

“So… we need to make sure “that” doesn’t happen again?” Ochaco asked, thinking back to what happened to Midoriya after Overhaul was taken down with Eri’s quirk.

“That’s why her transfer was U.A. rather than a foster home,” Aizawa summarized. “I’ll be watching over her in the teacher’s lounge to monitor her situation. Hopefully, we can find a way to work out her power.”

“Aizawa-sensei, it seems like you’re taking on a lot of work,” Asui said with a tone of worry.

“This is where, I, friend of Eri-chan and student-on-hiatus, come in!” Togata shouted happily with both hands on hips hero pose.

“We’ll be busy but you can visit her every once in a while,” Aizawa finalized to which those present agreed to.

“If Eri-chan’s mind and body are stable then maybe...” Amajiki clasped a hand on Togata’s shoulder. “The return of the fearless hero could be soon.”

“That’d be nice,” Togata replied with a dry laugh.

“Third years, this is sudden, but can I leave Eri with you for a bit? I have something do.”

“Of course!” Togata enthusiastically agreed.

The first years were asked to return to their dorms to receive some guests. Ren followed them back in and saw the Wild Wild Pussycats talking with the class. She remembered from the report Aizawa gave her they were there at the training camp when the villains attacked. The resident advisor politely greeted and introduced herself to the idol heroes, noticing a small boy bashfully standing with Midoriya.

Talks of their return to the spotlight and the JP Hero Billboard Chart came about; the list of heroes aggregated twice a year based on their level of contribution to society, approval ratings, popularity, etc.

The following night, everyone tuned into the official announcement of the top 10 heroes. As expected, Endeavor was in the number one spot, with Hawks moving up to second. The R.A. glanced over at the bi-hair coloured boy, unflinching and expressionless watching the ceremony. His back almost felt distant from everyone. She wanted to ask how he was feeling about all this, but didn’t want to pry into something that’s not her business.

The next day, everyone was doing their own thing in the dorms. The TV could be heard in the background as several 1-A students hung out in the common area; Ren was huddled on the corner of a couch knitting. Some of the guys were talking and joking around with a few of the girls.

Kirishima, however, was entranced and emotionally invested with how fast their R.A. was going through the yarn, trying to figure out how she was creating something tangible from a thread like magic. Stopping momentarily, she counted her stitches and clicked her tongue. Muttering under her breath, she immediately removed the needle and unraveled a row. The spiky redhead exclaimed loudly as she did it, catching her attention.

“Did something happen?” she looked up and blinked in surprise.

“Gah, you worked so hard at it and you’re taking it apart?!” Kirishima groaned out. “Just leave it!”

“It’ll be uneven if I did. Besides,” she looked down to smooth out the yarn thread before starting again. “One row is nothing. I can remake it in my sleep.”

“What are you making anyway?”

“Something for Eri-chan,” she answered mid-stitch and picked up the rhythm after figuring out where she went wrong. “Christmas is coming up and I figured I’d give this to her as a present.”

“Oh that’s right!” Ashido chimed in. “We should all do something as a class!”

“We can’t exactly go off campus to have a party,” Kaminari lamented and leaned back on the couch across. “Kacchan and Todoroki still have their provisional lessons too.”

“How about we throw a party here after those two take their licensing exam?” Ren suggested and looked up. “As for presents...”

“We can do a Secret Santa!” the pink-skinned girl excitedly proposed.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Hagakure agreed and clapped her hands together.

“Looks like we got a plan!” Uraraka eagerly said. “I’m getting excited!”

“Mina-chan, I’ll let you take care of the Secret Santa details then, budget and everything,” Ren directed.

“Roger!” The alien queen saluted with a wink and toothy grin before heading up to her room.

The TV suddenly turned to a breaking news screen, showing part of a city in ruins somewhere in Kyushu with the headline “Endeavor, Number One Hero, Fighting Engineered Nomu.” The camera then pans into a bloodied Endeavor laying on top of rubble. The once vibrant common room fell silent with shocked eyes on the screen. Midoriya grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to hear the newscast. Ren dropped her knitting needles and clasped her hands to her mouth.

Feeling a new presence, those sitting on the couch turned to see a shocked Todoroki staring at the TV. It was like time suddenly slowed down and all the noise faded away from the loud beating of his pulse in his ear. Ren could only look on at the boy with extreme worry.

“Todoroki!” Kirishima called, with Midoriya following right after.

“The scene here, is sadly reminiscent of the nightmare from three months ago...” the caster presented.

The camera zoomed in at the Nomu beginning to walk away, with Endeavor immediately getting back up and rushed the monster with his flames. The scene then cuts to civilians panicking and screaming as they’re trying to escape from the disaster.

“This is society without a symbol of peace!” the live voice over strongly stated.

The main entrance of the dorm bursted open, revealing Aizawa running to them.

“Todoroki...” he panted. “You already saw what’s going on?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” the red and white colored haired boy uttered out nervously.

“Stop saying that crap already!” A voice from the TV abruptly shouted, revealing an angry young boy on camera. “Open your eyes before you say that crap! Especially at a time like this! You still see those flames up, right?! Endeavor’s still alive and fighting! So don’t give up just cus the other guy’s gone!”

Panicked pedestrians were still pushing the boy, but he wasn’t giving up.

“He’s still out there risking it for all of us! Can’t you see?!”

The camera changed back to the aerial view they have of the fight. As the broadcast continued on, everyone watched on with bated breath, hoping for a good outcome for Todoroki’s sake. Endeavor’s flames discharged with intensity out of his body and at the Nomu. Hawks then came from behind to assist him with his feathers. By now, the newscaster had changed her tone.

“Dad...” Todoroki’s voice quivered out with strength. “I’m watching!”

All they could see on the screen was a blinding exploding supernova in the sky on the screen and in that instant, two falling figures dropped from the sky at an alarming rate. After the smoke cleared, the victor was clear.

There he was, Endeavor bloodied and beaten up holding a victorious pose with his right fist up in the air and a super crispy Nomu on the ground.

“It’s Endeavor! He’s standing tall in victory, no! Standing tall for his beginning!” the newscaster shouted in elation. The once panicking crowd then erupted into screams and cheers. The other students jumped off of their seats and ran to over to him. Any energy Todoroki had was completely zapped when he squatted down and breathed a sigh of relief and placed his hands together over his forehead. But that peace didn’t last long as the surrounding area was engulfed with blue flames.

“It’s him!” Aizawa stated. “What’s he thinking being out in the open like that?!”

“The League of Villains is here! It’s league member Dabi!” the newscaster announced. “He’s surrounded Endeavor and Hawks with a wall of flames!”

The three got into a confrontation and a fight started breaking out, but was soon broken up by Mirko’s powerful kick.

“You’re one of those League of Villains bastards ain’tcha?!” she proclaimed. “I’ll kick your ass till kingdom come!”

As fast as Dabi came, he disappeared with a black essence coming out of his mouth. And moment of silence filled the void, with only the TV caster announcing the fight was won. Heaving another soul-leaving sigh, Todoroki gathered the strength in his legs and slowly stood back up. Aizawa took him to the side to talk one-on-one. All Ren could do was look on like an outsider.

After a quick discussion, 1-A’s homeroom teacher gave special permission for him to go home for a few days. With the rest of the students retreating back to their respective rooms, Ren decided to stop by Tororoki’s to check on him. She stood in front of his room door and swallowed hard, her right hand freezing mid-air.

What kind of face would he show her?

Would he even want to talk?

Was she here as his friend, the R.A. or something else?

Gathering what courage she had, the door opened just as she was about to knock. She met his hetero-chromatic eyes expressing surprise. All she could do was stand there in stupor, unable to move.

“Ren-senpai...” he softly greeted. “Did you need something?”

“Huh? I, er, uh…” she stammered out at a higher pitch than she liked, feeling her cheeks get warm and looked down at her now fumbling hands. “I-I just wanted to see how you were d-doing and–”

She cleared her throat and calmed herself from her botched words.

“I came by to see how you were doing, that’s all,” she managed to get out and looked away.

Todoroki merely blinked at her slowly. It took him all of his willpower to not pull her into his room and embrace her. He wanted to feel her warmth to comfort him, but he had to hold back. Anyone could come out of their rooms at any moment and would misunderstand their relationship.

But… what was their relationship exactly?

He wanted to say more, but all he could default to was, “I’m fine. Aizawa-sensei’s letting me go home tomorrow to see my siblings and my dad.”

“Oh, right. I’ll… leave you to it then,” she said with a look of distance in her eyes.

Watching her small form walk away from his door, Todoroki felt that sensation bubbling up again. The tinge of pain in his chest she’ll disappear if he dared look away for one second. His hand instinctively grabbed a hold of her wrist, jolting her muscles and turned her head. He looked at her with loneliness reflecting off of his glassy gaze.

“Todo-kun?” she questioned.

Realizing what he’d done, he immediately released his hold.

“I-I’m sorry...” he whispered and grabbed his hair by the roots, looking away with shame. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ren slowly walked back and stood in front of him with a softened gaze.

“Just remember it’s okay to not be okay,” she gently spoke with an encouraging smile, making sure to keep a moderate distance from physical contact in case anyone saw. “You have people on your side to help.”

[justkimberley]

Painted In Our Hearts

Surprise! @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus I am your pride gift exchange person!

I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on Ao3 here: x

Chapter 1 - If Only There Was An Exact Science

           For as long as Cyrus could remember, his parents had beautiful marks painted across their left shoulder blades that looked like pieces of artwork. They were vibrant and colourful, and made up of different pictures and words and numbers. All of his friends’ parents had marks like these too, and they were all just as beautiful. But his friends’ parents’ marks always had names in them, and Cyrus thought that was strange. There were no names in Cyrus’ parents’ marks, at least… there weren’t until after the divorce.

           Cyrus could still vividly remember the day when his mom came home with a name on her shoulder. She was smiling, she seemed happier than she had been in a long time. She was already humming when she walked through the door after work, and she kept humming while she changed out of her work clothes. He could hear her from his room, where he was playing with his dinosaurs. He didn’t know what had happened to make her so happy, not until she reappeared wearing a tank top and headed to the kitchen to make them some supper. As always, Cyrus followed his mom to the kitchen so he could help her, and that’s when he noticed it. His mom’s mark had a name! So, naturally, Cyrus asked her who Todd was, and she, having never told him the name of the guy she was meeting today, looked at him with surprise and asked how he knew Todd. Cyrus just pointed at her shoulder and told her that the name was written in her mark, clear as day.

           Cyrus remembers the gleam that entered his mom’s eyes when she realized what that meant. When she realized that she had finally met her soulmate. Of course, Cyrus didn’t know why his mom was so happy about having some guy’s name written on her shoulder, and he told her as much, so she decided to explain the history of soulmates and soul marks, and how they worked to him while she made dinner. Cyrus listened with wide eyes and rapt attention.

           She explained it like this: every person has a soulmate and at some point, during every person’s thirteenth birthday, their soul mark shows up. Every person’s soul mark is unique, but they do have some things in common. For example: they all show up on your left shoulder blade, they all have the age your soulmate will be when you meet them, and they all eventually get a name.

           No one really knew why it was always the left shoulder blade; some people believed that it was because your heart is closer to that side, other people thought that the left side of the body was the ‘love’ side of the body, but no one really knew for sure. The ‘meeting age’ was probably the most straight forward part of the marks. Every mark appears with a number, usually in roman numerals, that represents the age that your soulmate will be when you met them. Most people have numbers that are thirteen or higher, but some people have numbers less than thirteen. Those people are pretty lucky because they already know their soulmate. Some people’s marks have names the second that they are formed (these are the people that have already met their soulmates), and some people’s marks don’t (these are the people that have not met their soulmates yet). People who haven’t met their soulmate before their mark shows up have a nameless mark until they meet their soulmate and their soulmate introduces themselves.

           Besides the names and ages, everybody’s mark is different. The pictures and words that show up are related to your soulmate’s interests, characteristics, personality traits, and sometimes things related to their identity, but, no matter what, they were always beautiful. After all, how could something that describes someone who is your perfect match, your soulmate, be anything but beautiful?

           Cyrus had thought that the whole thing sounded very romantic and lovely when his mom first told him about it, but over the years he had learned that soulmates weren’t always such a ‘romantic’ thing. Some people’s soulmates were their best friends, some people had multiple soulmates, some people didn’t realize they met their soulmates until it was too late… the whole soulmate thing was a lot messier and more complicated than he had originally thought. He couldn’t really blame himself though, things like that always seemed romantic and simple to eight-year-olds and, if he was being honest with himself, he still found it romantic at the ripe old age of twelve; it just seemed a little bit more terrifying and a whole lot more complex now.

           Now, instead of allowing himself to get swept up in the romance of it all, he got swept up in worrying about whether he would realize that he had met his soulmate before he couldn’t find him again and about what he would do if his soulmate didn’t want him. That was one of Cyrus’ biggest fears, and he had a lot of them, he was terrified that his soulmate wouldn’t want him; he was just Cyrus Goodman, there was nothing special about him, so why would his soulmate want him? Not to mention, there was that pesky, irrational part of his brain that really liked to tell him that he would be the first person in the history of the world to not have a soul mark. Cyrus really didn’t like that part of his brain.

           That part of his brain was being especially active tonight, the night before his thirteenth birthday, but it helped that his friends were around to distract him. Buffy, Andi, and Jonah were all staying over for a sleepover that night so that they could be there for Cyrus when his soul mark appeared. Lots of people liked to have their friends around when their marks were supposed to appear, it was a pretty common thing to invite your friends over on the night before your thirteenth birthday, but not everyone did it.

           Jonah had been the first one in their group of friends to get his mark, but he refused to show it to anyone. He had even taken to swimming in t-shirts to keep it hidden. Cyrus wasn’t really sure why Jonah was doing it, but he figured that Jonah would talk about it when he was ready. Andi, on the other hand, had shown hers to them as soon as she’d gotten it. It was different shades of pink, orange, and purple with some art supplies, a camera, a lesbian flag, and the number fifteen in roman numerals inside of it. Andi’s mark probably had the fewest ‘things’ in it that Cyrus had ever seen at the time, but he also knew that marks gained things and changed as your soulmate grew and changed, so he supposed that maybe all marks started out that sparse. Besides, Andi’s soulmate would be fifteen when she met her so there was probably a lot of time for her to find more interests.

           Despite Jonah keeping his mark to himself, both Andi and Jonah had described what it felt like when their marks showed up to Buffy and Cyrus many times. When their marks started appearing, they both felt a weird tingling sensation traveling up to their shoulders and then the mark slowly risen from the depths of their skin into existence. Cyrus had asked them to tell him so many times, that it felt like they were starting to get annoyed with him, but he couldn’t help it, it was so interesting. Besides, Cyrus’ mom said that she hadn’t felt anything when her mark appeared, so Cyrus wasn’t really sure if he’d know when his mark was coming in or not, and he wanted to be able to at least imagine that he could feel it appearing on his skin if he didn’t get to actually feel it.

           Speaking of Cyrus’ mark and not knowing when it would show up, Andi, Jonah, and Buffy had all agreed to stay up with him until midnight, just in case his mark appeared exactly at the time he turned thirteen (after all, he was born at 12:05 in the morning). It wasn’t like they were going to stay up all night, Cyrus wouldn’t even stay up all night (he needed to sleep), but it would be more fun if his friends were around when his mark started showing up. At least, that’s what he told them. In reality, having them around to distract him from thinking about it too much was the main reason he wanted them to stay awake with him.

           When Cyrus’ alarm suddenly went off, saying that it was officially 12:05, it startled them out of their relaxed state. Andi looked at him from the floor where she had been trying to catch cheese puffs in her mouth and Buffy and Jonah sat up a little bit from the reclined position they had been cuddling in (Cyrus really needed to remember to ask them what was going on, this whole cuddling thing between the two of them had started happening a lot lately).

           “Do you feel anything?” Andi asked after she swallowed the most recently tossed cheese puff.

           Cyrus closed his eyes and tried to see if he could feel anything different happening in his body, but he couldn’t feel any new or weird sensations, “I don’t think so,” he said, watching their faces fall, “But, my mom said that she didn’t feel anything when she got her mark, so maybe it’s showing up without me feeling it,” he said, turning around so that his back was towards them, taking off his sweater and uncovering his tank top, revealing his shoulder to them. “You see anything guys?” he asked.

           “No Cy, sorry. I guess it’s not showing up now. If only there was an exact science to when the marks showed up,” Buffy said conspiratorially. Jonah nodded along with what she was saying, staring at her with a small smile the whole time, Cyrus wasn’t even sure if Jonah had heard what she said.

           “Eh, that’s okay. It’ll show up later.” Cyrus said, trying not to show how disappointed he was that the mark didn’t show up when he thought it was going to, “We’ll just finish watching this movie and then we’ll head to bed, sound good?”

           The others let out affirmative sounds and nodded before returning their attention to the movie. Cyrus turned to look at the movie too, trying to pay attention, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiraling as the minutes passed without his soul mark appearing. He put his sweater back on because it was cold in the basement, but also because he didn’t want to be tempted to just stare at his shoulder the whole night. What if he didn’t have a soulmate? What if he was the one person in the world that didn’t have a soulmate and would never get a soul mark? Cyrus knew that his thoughts were irrational and that they weren’t helpful, but he couldn’t stop himself.

           He shook his head and looked at the TV again, hoping that the movie could distract him from his thoughts, surprised to see there was only about ten minutes left. Despite his attempt to watch the movie, a few minutes after turning back to the movie he was still worrying. As his thoughts spiraled farther and farther from where they should be, he felt a weird tingling sensation spread up his sides. It started on his lower back and then slowly travelled to his left shoulder. Cyrus was tired and his brain felt dead from all the worrying he had been doing, so he didn’t realize what was happening. The tingling continued for about thirty seconds before Cyrus snapped out of his stupor and realized what was going on. “Guys!” he shouted, making his friends jump from their relaxed positions again as he quickly threw off his sweater and turned so that his back would be facing them, “Do you see it? Is it coming?” he asked, trying to turn his head to see his shoulder.

           Andi was the first one to stand up, peering closely at Cyrus’ shoulder, “Yeah! It’s coming in Cy! Go check it out!” She exclaimed and Cyrus ran to the bathroom, thankful that there were two mirrors so he could angle them to see what was happening on his shoulder without straining his neck. It was the most magical feeling, watching the colours swirl up as if they had been hidden inside of his body his entire life and were only now coming to the surface. The first noticeable shape was a basketball, and Cyrus worried for a second that his soulmate might be Buffy (not that he didn’t like Buffy, but he had really hoped for a romantic soulmate, and he could never have romantic feelings for Buffy), but the second thing that showed up was a gay pride flag, and he knew that everything would be fine. The images started showing up faster now, a piano keyboard, music notes, a book, and then finally when it seemed like everything was filled in, the meeting age showed up. Cyrus held his breath as the roman numeral X, for ten, slowly drew itself onto his shoulder, then the I’s, for ones, started showing up until finally the numbers were done and all of the shapes that were going to appear that night had appeared. The final number on Cyrus’ shoulder was XIII for thirteen. That meant (most likely) that he would meet his soulmate this year. Cyrus felt tears of joy spring to his eyes as he took in everything that had happened, and everything that he knew about his soulmate so far, smiling as his friends engulfed him in a group hug.

           They stayed up chatting for a while after the euphoria of the mark had dropped a bit before deciding that they should go to sleep. They all tucked themselves into their sleeping bags, and laid in silence, trying to fall asleep but, every once and a while, one of them would ask a weird question, causing the others to erupt into a fit of giggles. Eventually though, all the talking died off and Cyrus’ friends fell asleep.

           Cyrus, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. At least, not yet. He was too excited about what had happened. He had actually gotten a soulmate! He smiled to himself and decided to recount what he knew about his soulmate so far. He knew that his soulmate was gay, that he liked basketball and reading, that he could probably play the piano and liked music. And that his favourite colours were blue and green (or at least Cyrus assumed they were because that was the colour of the majority of his mark). Cyrus felt like he was walking on air, he had never been happier. If just getting the mark made him this happy, he couldn’t even imagine what meeting his soulmate would feel like. Eventually Cyrus drifted off, thinking about what his soulmate might look like, how they might meet, and whether they went to the same school or not. Little did he know that somewhere else, across the city, another thirteen-year-old boy was drifting off to sleep thinking about the exact same things.

Chapter 2

[whereisvanderwood]

Interleave

At last, this is my full contribution for @saeranzine I had the honor in taking part in this year. The project had equal parts challenges and achievements, and the fun shared with every other writer, artist and mod during this time is an experience I’ll never forget as my first zine being part of. Thank you everyone who supported us!

Please enjoy the piece :) Happy holidays, everyone!

☆☆☆☆☆

You’d gotten the good ending, the normal one, too. All that was left was to break his heart five times for that one-hundred percent completion of his love story. It was a bittersweet feeling upon realizing that your journey was on the home-stretch. The more you thought about it, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to break his heart like that after all the brokenness he’d been subjected to before. Especially since you knew what the bad endings for the RFA members were -- Ray’s could only be tenfold more devastating. You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it.

The familiar ping of the messenger popped your bubble of thought and enticed you to pick up your phone as it sat on the marble-finish coffee table. It was the 10:23am chatroom of Day Six. You knew what it meant for you if you opened it -- the kinds of answers you would have to choose to get a new outcome. You refused to play along, tapping onto Ray’s contact to give him a call instead.

One ring… Two rings… Three rings… No answer.

You rose from the table and carried yourself to the lancet windows. The morning was young and the garden flickered with quartz-like raindrops under the dawning of the day’s first light. You knew he wouldn’t pick up at this time on the sixth day, but your thumb wouldn’t desist in tapping his name again and again as though you were in a stupor.

A shrill of static noise ripped through the air, causing you to block your ears and drop your phone. As you frantically inspected the device for cracks, you noticed the screen displaying that you were in a phone call. You held the phone to your ear and timidly spoke.

“Ray...?”

“MC! Did something happen? I got worried something happened to you.”

“Oh, uh… no, I’m okay. Were you, um, working?”

“Saviour said I can’t speak with you until I finish improvements. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the first time… Are you mad?”

“N-No, of course not! I just… I was wondering if you wanted to maybe… go out?”

“Go out? As in... leave?”

“Yeah! I mean, not like that, but with you!”

“I… I can’t, MC. Saviour would be upset if I did. There’s so much to be done.”

“We’ll come back by the end of the day -- just for a few hours. It’ll be good for you, too!”

He exhaled, the sound of his breath dragging past his lips. “MC, you don’t have to do this for me. I don’t deserve it. I’m weak, and an airhead--”

“You’re not to me. I want to spend time with you.”

“But what if something bad happens to you because of me? I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Ray, I swear nothing will happen to you, or me. I just want to… see you smile.”

He sighed a second time. “Meet me in the garden. Hide next to the geraniums where security won’t see you. I’ll be there in a few minutes... Please, don’t go anywhere.”

Once the call ended, you sat on the bed with a hand on your chest, your heart pounding with adrenaline every passing second. He’d answered the call when you could’ve sworn he wasn’t meant to, and that wasn’t an ordinary conversation. It was too ordinary to be ‘normal’ by the route’s standards.

You snuck out from your suite to meet him, going with the flow of the unexpected turn.

…

You gazed silently outside the moving car’s window as distance grew between you and Mint Eye. Maple leaves dusted the asphalt with their fiery hues of red and orange, adding colour to the seemingly grey road. Nothing could beat the beauty of mother nature and her sky-scraping pine trees high up in the mountains.

“We’re almost there…” Ray spoke quietly as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Thank you for lending me a Believer’s uniform.”

“I didn’t want you to get cold.. A-and I had to make sure we wouldn’t be seen leaving. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know… I think it’s really brave of you to come out with me like this.”

It wasn’t long before the familiar bustling of people came into view around the last corner.  Ray parked the car a good distance away to avoid being spotted by the security cameras. It seemed much more vast than you’d last remembered. For a place that you could only enjoy in the prologue for a scarce moment, you wished you were granted more time for exploration.

Together, you walked along the brick road of the metropolis, the splashes of colours from cafes and clothing boutiques catching your eye wherever you looked. Finally free from your beautified prison after a number of repeated weeks, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

Before long, you found yourself standing in front of the same cafe you were first picked up from. You felt your stomach grumble.

“I heard they have really good ice-cream here… Should we get some?”

“I-If you’d like,” Ray smiled.

Many people had queued in line to enjoy the mouth-watering delight on the cloudless morning. How long had it been since he’d taken gladness from this secret pleasure of his? It must’ve been an awful number of months.

“My treat,” you insisted as you pulled out a coin purse from the cloak’s pocket.

“Oh no, MC, I really don’t think--”

“You deserve it, Ray. I won’t let you think otherwise.” Without another word, you approached the counter, Ray following you closely behind.

With icy scoops of the sweet dessert in hand, you both ambled down the promenade and admired the sights of the gaily store fronts. Distant echoes of buskers danced to your ears and you found yourself swaying with the melodies in your steps. A few times you looked over to Ray, who looked like a kid in a candy store with his obvious intrigue.

Scattered flower-beds along the stone pavement caught his attention with their vibrant petals and he felt tantalized enough to brush his finger along the the petals of a white daisy. Mint Eye’s garden succeeded in elegance ten-fold when compared to this place, and yet they seemed much prettier here.

His eyes sparkled with wonder and curiosity the further you strolled, but he only really glowed when beyond all of the outlets was a wide open field, devoid of any other soul. It was just you and him -- the perfect scenario.

Florae of many kinds scattered across the green blades of grass like splashes of paint on a canvas. Entranced by their beauty, you took him by the hand and led him through the field, finding a perfect patch to sit in and bathe in sunlight surrounded by colours of grace. You felt content, the back-burner-nagging of your conscience telling you “you can’t do this” finally silenced. It didn’t matter what was to become of this -- what truly mattered to you was that you were able to do this for Ray outside of the game’s limitations.

After all, you’d probably never get to do this again.

“Hey…” you mumbled, “have you ever made a flower crown?”

“A crown? From flowers? I don’t think I have.”

You sprang at the opportunity as you swiftly picked as many flowers around you as you could. “I’ll show you! They’re really easy, just watch what I do.”

He observed from over your shoulder as you intertwined the delicate stems of each flower into one another. There was a moment of peaceful silence as you both created your flower circlets, until he broke the quiet.

“MC… why did you want to do this for me?”

“Do what?”

“Take me out. Eating ice-cream with me, making crowns from flowers, just doing nice things for me. I haven’t done anything that deserves your praise.”

“Not everything has to be a prize, Ray. Most things should be done for someone out of love, not as a reward for good behaviour.” You saw his weaving slow, knowing your words were reaching him. “You know what I’m talking about… right?”

“If it wasn’t for Saviour, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

You paused. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t be saying this, but… is who you are right now really who you want to be?”

He turned his head and gazed deeply into your eyes. The wind swayed your hair across your face, making you appear even more so as an angel sent for him with your words of wisdom and love. His face showed an expression that couldn’t be put so easily into words. You reciprocated as you felt the same way, but made yourself busy again.

“Here, this is for you,” you smiled as you gently placed your finished work onto his head. It was a treasure shaped from orchids and gypsophila, together meaning ‘beauty, strength and undying love’.

Tenderly, he placed his own crown of ‘lily of the valley’ on your head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t be in love with you,” he muttered closely to your ear.

Every hair on your limbs were raised with anticipation as you felt his breath on your neck. He was so close, right there in front of you, alas he felt so far away no matter what you could say. The sweet, earthy perfume of the flowers surrounding you both filled your nostrils, bringing a new calmness to ease both your nerves.

His face hadn’t retreated from yours yet, and your heart was beating harder the more he lingered. Was this true affection? Or had the game somehow reprogrammed his character to act this way to compensate for the new turn of events? You eyed the shrinking space between your lips.

“Is this real?” the whispered words escaped your mouth.

At last, the gap was closed with a gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, but you didn’t mind. His cold hand found the side of your neck, soon cupping your cheek as you both grew passionate. All the uncertainty melted away with intimacy -- this was the realest thing you’d experienced with him, with any of them, and you didn’t want the moment to end.

…

Tip-toeing through the lantern-lit hallways, Ray led the way as he guided you back to your room while attempting to remain unseen. Once the door to your room was finally reached, he hurried you inside when he could hear footsteps approaching from a distance.

“You should go before someone sees you,” you urged him.

“I will… I’ll see you again soon, my Princess.” He smiled before swiftly planting one last kiss on your forehead, then closing the door.

You sighed in bliss, letting yourself twirl a few times before flopping onto your soft mattress. You knew that nothing could top what you had managed to do for Ray today, and the reward of euphoria from both parties was more than enough to satiate your desire to be with him. Having lost track of the time of day, you checked your phone for the first time in a number of hours.

Nothing could’ve made you sick to the stomach faster than what your screen displayed — a seemingly endless list of notifications full of missed texts, calls and chatrooms from the RFA. You quickly opened the app and saw the day had already reached the route’s first bridge. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your face had drained its colour. You covered your mouth.

“Crap… the participation target...”

You tried to be hopeful that the previous day’s progress would be enough to get you over, but you doubted it. You wished you could’ve said goodbye to Ray properly if you’d known this was going to happen. The guilt you’d worked to avoid came rushing back. Your throat closed up and your hands became clammy with anxiety. There was nothing more you could do. The damage was done.

You looked away from the screen as you unlocked the story mode, waiting for what was about to happen. Normally, you would leave your room and meet Mint Eye’s leader outside your door; the plot progressing forward.

So when a Believer entered your room unannounced, demanding your audience with the Saviour, you knew it was over.

☆

[natasharomanovs]

For the Love of Photography | bucky barnes x tony stark

Prompt: Phantomas67′s Winteriron Bingo - Square 1 - Advertisement Pairing: Tony Stark x Bucky Barnes Warnings: Emotions, photography, exhibitions, some tears, fluff Words: 1920 A/N: This is my first bingo fill, so I hope I did okay!

AO3 | REQUEST

Getting out of the car, they were immediately blinded by flashing lights as they held hands and sifted through the crowd of cameras with ease. Looking towards Tony with a smirk once they had stepped inside, he looked towards his partner, "Usually I'm the one with the camera."

“Usually I’m the main attraction, not today - that one goes to you babe.”

With a smile on his face, the two entered the room where Tony was the first person to officially view Bucky’s exhibition.

He had the advertisement that showed the time and place for Bucky’s exhibition held tightly in his hand, though he was trying not to crinkle it. Even though he knew Bucky could get a new one without hassle. It was only a small, about half the size of an A4 paper, it was a light pink colour with one of Bucky’s pictures from the exhibition on the front. It was a standard portrait of a woman's face, but there was a way that Bucky had left in the imperfections and the expression in her eyes that really sold it. There were, of course, other things on it like a little doodle of white leaves in the corner, but they weren’t all that important anymore. Not when he was standing in the middle of Bucky’s hard work.

Tony let go of the metal hand, the advertisement still in his hand as he started to walk slowly through the exhibition, taking in the overall imagery and feel before taking a closer look at each individual section. Most of the photos were just photos of peoples faces, pure and raw and Tony then noticed a few sneaky pictures that Bucky had taken of Tony when he was unaware.

Continuing to walk along the walls without Bucky by his side, Tony was starting to get overwhelmed with emotion as he realised that the theme of his exhibition was love and misfortune, something that the two had shared a lot of together. Some stories were so mixed that it was hard to tell whether it was one or the other, but it was very easy to see that every single photograph was raw, none of it was fake. Something Tony knew Bucky took a lot of pride in.

Tony started reading through some of the interview answers and his heart melted.

What's one thing you wish you could tell your partner?

That even when I can't say that I love them, I love them. It's hard for me to express emotion with everything I've faced in life and I just want her to know that she's my world. I know it’s something that she struggles with, and I’m grateful every day that she stays by my side, but some days it’s harder to say than others.

Are you happy in your current relationship?

Sometimes I'm more happy than other times. Relationships, to me, prove their strength by sorting through everything messed up and coming out alive and together. I believe that no relationship is perfect and there will always be obstacles, no matter what they are. No one is ever perfectly content in anything, and if they are, they’re lying.

Tony took extra time to study each expression in the photos. He hadn't any idea that Bucky's exhibition would be as moving as it was, though he knew that Bucky had struggled with his own emotions a bit during the process of creating it. One time, after an interview that was particularly rough, Bucky had walked into their home with tears in his eyes and had just held Tony, telling him that he was loved.

Bucky had been dabbling in photography for almost his whole life, never really taking it seriously until a few years ago. His best friend Steve had always been the one interested in photography and exploring different viewpoints, trying to see things how others would. Eventually his love for photography led to painting, which he was still doing now. Some of his works placed strategically around Bucky’s exhibition with full credit as sneak peaks for Steve's future exhibition in the same place.

What had really gotten Bucky into photography, though, was coming back from the war, down one arm and trying to explain just how he viewed different things now, not able to explain his emotions so freely when he felt too many things to place in one specific category or feeling.

When even therapy hadn’t worked completely he had picked up a camera and managed to take a somewhat awkward picture of the sky and a mountain on a gloomy day, travelling for a bit which helped to clear his mind and give him some peace. He then waited until a sunny day when his friends went to the beach, snapping a photo of everyone having fun and laughing, smiling down at the moment he had captured.

When he had gone to therapy next, he hadn’t tried to talk about his feelings at any length. Knowing that would only make him frustrated and talk about his feelings of anger, rather than the others, he merely pulled out printed versions of the pictures he had taken and said, “Most days I feel like this one, grey, gloomy, uninterested with no hope. People want me to be like this, laughing, happy, vibrant, when I can’t be and it makes me feel like the skies are getting even greyer.”

It hadn’t been much of a big deal for him to say aloud. With the help of the pictures, he could easily connect the parts to himself without really having to think much about it. His therapist had merely smiled at him and told him that maybe he should look into turning photography into a hobby, suggesting that if he was feeling a certain mood, but not understanding it, he could go look for places where he might capture what explained, to him if no one else, just what he was feeling.

Listening to that advice had been hard at first, even with one arm, but he managed to take better photos and soon photos that explained his feelings turned into things he found memorable, and in no time it was simply passion that drove him to taking photos.

He had soon met Tony through getting his prosthetic arm and soon meetings about the arm and checking up on the arm to see how it was working and if it needed anything extra turned into dates and spending more and more time together, inevitably falling in love.

Their relationship was nothing without it’s hardships though, but with every fight, every time Bucky fell into his shell and refused to come out or when Tony was spending too much time working, they continued to grow stronger and love each other more and more fiercely.

They were also nothing without the help of their friends though and Tony smiled when he moved on to another part that was focused on platonic love. It featured their own friends talking about each other, along with lifelong friends and new friends that Bucky had found along the way. Tony couldn’t help the grin getting bigger as he continued to read along, finding himself relieved in the fact that instead of focusing on just romantic love, Bucky had focused on it all. He knew they were nothing without the love of their friends and Bucky knew that too.

There was also quite a large television in the middle of the room and looking closer Tony could see it was playing different sections of the interviews, Bucky mentioning it was parts that hadn't quite made the photographs but he thought still deserved a place in the exhibition as he noticed Tony taking a closer look at what it was showing.

Moving along to the last section it was completely full with photos of Tony and Bucky throughout their time together, whether they were alone or they were together. He noted some from lazy days, or when they had been out on dates. Tony’s mouth twitched when he noticed some from when they had some fights. The subtle location and pictures of Tony slouched over a couch, hands pulling at his hair made him go a bit misty eyed for a moment. The point of the exhibition definitely came across even in just the section about them. Each photo, no matter what mood they were in or what they were doing, showcasing real, raw emotion.

Tony walked back to Bucky then, who was standing in the same place as Tony had left him, and smiled as he stood directly in front of him, taking both of his hands in his own, "I love it, so much."

"I'm glad you do, you inspired me the most." Tony blushed lightly and looked down towards the ground before looking up at Bucky with a bigger smile, "You're such a sap."

Bucky let out a soft chuckle and leaned forward, whispering, "It's because I love you” before he kissed Tony. There was no hesitation in Tony’s actions as he placed his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and held him closer before pulling away from the kiss and resting their foreheads together, "I love you."

They stayed standing for a few more moments before Tony pulled away, tears in his eyes and a wider grin on his face. He clapped his hands, “Right! Shall we open this to the public?”

“All for nothing if we didn’t.”

They started walking towards the door and Bucky gripped Tony’s hand in his own - flesh on flesh as they opened the door to the crowd waiting to get in.

----------

LOVE, PAIN, AND A WHOLE LOT OF TEARS

as we all know, the up and coming photographer James Barnes has opened his first public exhibition to the this week after releasing teasers in the past few months about what it would hold and a few select images that didn’t reveal all that much.

many were interested in going and on the night more people than expected showed up to the opening night to really see what the fuss was about and whether it lived up to expectations - and to put it short, it exceeded expectations further than any of us could have guessed.

being an art critic for many-a years now, we see that the theme of "love" has been overused in every sense possible, yet just when we thought we'd seen it all and would rather die than go to another exhibition about love, Barnes has successfully pulled us all to our senses and shown us what love is really about rather than our hollywood expectations with his theme of "love and misfortune."

with interviews from everyday normal people, along with his own take on love in his relationship with one Tony Stark - something and someone that is focused on greatly, we get a massive sense of rawness and reality, a big relief and something dearly missed to this critic after years of false expectations of love.

I mustn't say more and ruin it for those who haven't yet been or seen pictures floating online, but i for one would rate this exhibition a firm five stars.

I haven't seen a whole group of people moved to tears so quickly in my entire life, and the tears were still fresh on cheeks even as some left.

we wish Mr. Barnes much luck with his future and look forward to seeing what he does next and what he does with it.

dawn campbell - art critic

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[avi-stella]

1000 Words (Part 1/2) | V x Reader

RATING: Teen | GENRE: Angst | WORD COUNT: 2,659 SUMMARY: You love V, but he only sees you as a friend. Unable to handle the heartache, you leave him. ...He then leaves you. NOTE: Contains spoilers for Secret 01 and very small spoilers for Jumin's and Jahee's route. Reader is not MC. This part takes place pre-game.

"Get that fucking camera away from my face, or I swear you'll be spending your next few days trying to find a new one," you threatened the blue-haired male as he pointed the lens of his precious camera towards you while you covered your face with one hand and tried to push him away with the other.

The young man laughed softly at your threat, knowing full well that you would never follow through on it but relented all the same after seeing how adamant you were about not having your picture taken. "Why won't you let me take your picture?" he asked, voice full of innocent curiosity. "You look cute."

"I'm not cute! Don't call me that!" you responded sounding much more sharper than what you had intended. From the corner of your eyes, you saw your friend furrow his eyebrows together, the sweet smile on his face slowly tugging themselves downwards. Whether or not that reaction was due to your harsh tone or due to him disagreeing with your words, you didn't know, but you immediately felt regret and hung your head low in a silent apology.

You bit your lower lip. It wasn't like you wanted to upset the young man, but you hated getting compliments from him. Getting compliments from him didn't help ease the aching pain in your heart. In fact, it just made it worse because you knew that those compliments would never be the same kind of compliments he gave her.

"Don't let [Name] bother you too much, V," a new but familiar voice spoke, joining in the conversation. "It's probably that time of the month for her."

You gave an exasperated sigh but silently thanked the raven-haired male for helping chase away the awkwardness of the situation, "Jumin, please. What do you know about women and how their bodies work?"

"So I take it that that red stain on your pants are from you not paying attention to where you sit?" Jumin asked, the corners of his lips curving upwards into a slight smirk.

"Oh my god Jumin, I didn't think you'd be one to stare at my ass," you laughed at him but still turned to try and see if there really was a stain there. When you saw nothing, you glared at your friend before commenting, "you dick."

Jumin shrugged his shoulders just as a soft giggle reached your ears. "You guys look like you're having fun," a soft and feminine voice spoke out, but hearing it made you feel nothing but bitter dread.

"Rika," V called her name, his eyes brightening instantly at her presence. It was too painful to look at, so you directed your gaze to the ground instead. Who knew grass could be so fascinating, with their vibrant colour and weird shape? And was that an ant? Wow, that ant sure was amazing for being able to carry that crumb of food. "Are you feeling better now?" you heard V question the female, concern lacing his voice.

"Yes," Rika answered. You can hear the smile in her voice and all you wanted to do was silence it, but you were quick to shake the thought away. "Sorry for worrying you. I'm alright now, thank you."

You clapped your hands, bringing everyone's attention towards you before V could continue expressing his concern for the blonde woman. "Well then, now that our precious sun is feeling all better now, the three of you can continue with this little get-together by yourselves. I'm a bit tired, so I'll be heading home now." You barely took a step when V suggested that they at least walk you home since it was getting late, but you quickly refused. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" V asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.

"Yes," was your quick response before speed-walking out of there, eventually breaking out into a full-on run, wanting to leave the sickening feeling that came along with seeing V and Rika together as soon as possible.

As soon as you were in a secluded but still familiar area, you collapsed to your knees, palms pressing against the ground to support your weight as you heaved and gasped for air, occassionally letting out a few coughs every now and then. You stayed like that for a few more moments, trying to bring your breathing back to normal when you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. A whispered curse escaped your lips, not wanting to have to deal with some stranger's concern for your well-being, as you shakily stood up and got ready to run once more.

"Wait."

The familiar deep voice made you freeze for a second which was enough time for the person to grab hold of your hand to prevent you from running away. You relaxed your body as you let out a sigh. "I thought I said I'll be fine going home by myself, Jumin."

"And leave me alone with those two? You're not the only one with a one-sided attraction, you know," Jumin spoke in a strained voice, his grasp on your hand tightening a slight bit at his last comment.

"...You're right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." you trailed off, not knowing what to say. You were aware of Jumin's feelings towards Rika, and Jumin was aware of your feelings towards V. While the two of you didn't have much in common with each other, the two of you shared a connection in understanding an unrequited love, and that was more than enough reason to support one another.

"I would ask you if you're okay, but since I already know the answer, I'll ask you again if you don't want me to have someone drive you home instead," Jumin offered.

You shook your head as you absentmindedly fixed up your hair with your free hand, "I'd prefer to walk, but thank you for the offer."

"Let me walk you home then. It'd be troublesome if something happened to you if you broke down again."

You opened your mouth to refuse, but words failed to escape your lips when you realized that Jumin was being much more reasonable than you were at the moment. Pressing your lips together in a firm line, you gave a small nod of affirmation. Squeezing your hand once more, Jumin started to lead you back home. The two of you walked together in a comfortable silence as the sky continued to darken above your two forms.

"...I'm sorry," Jumin curtly apologized, breaking the silence and leaving you in confusion. Glancing at your expression, the young man continued, "for inviting you to come along to our outing. I know how painful it is for you to see both V and Rika together, but..."

"I understand," you quietly replied, your voice barely a whisper for Jumin to hear. "It's the same for you, right? That's why you invited me to go along, so you didn't have to face those two alone, right? I know, and it's okay; I would have asked the same from you. Sorry for leaving so suddenly."

"...If it's any consolation," Jumin started, "when you left, V noted that you didn't look well, so he asked if I could check up on you when I excused myself as well. He was worried about you."

Hearing those words, you stopped walking, and Jumin paused just a few steps ahead of you. With your free hand, you wiped away the tears that started to form in the corner of your eyes as you bit your lip in a poor attempt to hold back your sobs. "Fuck... I'm sorry, just... Please just give me a second."

The young man nodded silently as he watched as you take deep and shaky breaths. He felt you squeeze his hand tightly, but he never once let go nor show pain in his expression. Once you regained your composure, the two of you resumed walking in silence.

"Jumin, as your friend, I request that you let me freeload off of you," you jokingly said as you unreservedly sat down on his couch in the penthouse. Feeling rather bored, you had decided to bother Jumin that day since you knew he was free at the time. What you didn't know was that V had come to visit at the same time, but you didn't mind it. If it was just V alone, then that was fine. It was bearable.

"Maybe if you worked harder for the RFA party, I'll consider it," Jumin answered, and you couldn't tell if he was actually being serious or not.

"I work hard enough!" you retorted, sounding quite offended at his implication of you slacking off when it came to the RFA party. Well, he wasn't wrong; as much as you wanted to help, the RFA was something that belonged to both V and Rika, and just that alone was enough to make your heart clench. You weren't enthusiastic to join, but V had asked you so kindly that you couldn't refuse.

"And just how many potential guests have you suggested?" Jumin continued with his assault.

You grimaced. "You know I'm not a social person..."

Seeing the troubled look on your face, V decided to join in. He offered you a pleasant smile as he said, "you're helping in your own way. There are other ways to help, not just by suggesting guests. You're helping more than enough, [Name]. Don't worry about it."

Jumin sighed, "You spoil her far too much, V."

"Do I?"

"Yes," Jumin answered.

"No," you answered back before sticking your tongue out at the raven-haired male.

Joy coursed through you as the three of you idly passed the time with meaningless yet fun conversations. It was just like back then when you were younger. You had a distant relative that lived in the same neighbourhood as Jumin and V, and it was during one of those visits to your relative's that you met the two, eventually becoming friends with them. It was a lot of fun, and everything was perfect. You enjoyed teasing Jumin, and...you fell in love with V. You thought those days would last forever before Rika came into the picture.

"That's right...childhood friends never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Hm? What was that?" V asked you, not realizing that you were talking to yourself.

You quickly shook your head and hurriedly tried to change the subject, "It's nothing. Just thinking about a drama I watch. Anyways, Jumin, I heard you got a new assistant."

The young man nodded, "Yes, it was V who picked her out."

"Is that so?" you asked curiously.

"I just looked through the resumes and chose the one that seemed to suit Jumin the best," V humbly responded as he recalled that event. "Oh, that reminds me. I still haven't told you yet, have I, [Name]?"

"Told me what?" you asked, feeling your heart drop when you briefly saw Jumin avert his gaze, his expression becoming slightly gloomy. Judging by that kind of reaction, you already had an idea as to what it was that V wanted to tell you. You didn't want to listen in case your suspicions were correct; if you didn't listen, then maybe you can keep on living in a certain state of denial, but as V's friend, you forced yourself to listen to his news. His friend. That was all you ever were to him and all you ever would be.

"Rika and I decided to get married," V announced happily to you.

...

...You couldn't do it. Seeing V smiling so brightly like that while telling you he was getting married, all the while completely unaware of just how deeply you loved him, was too much for you. You started crying, unable to hold it in, and V was quick to be by your side while Jumin awkwardly remained standing where he was, uncertain of how to handle this situation.

"No, don't be kind to me," you thought as you hung your head and buried your face in your hands. "If you do that, then it'll just make me feel worse."

"[Name], what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" V asked, his brows knit together in concern as he tried to get you to look at him.

"I'm fine," you choked out. You let out a self-deprecating laugh, hoping V wouldn't realize it as one. "I'm just really happy for you, oh my god. I didn't think—ahaha, I kinda wanted to be the first one out of us three to get married. Sorry for crying like this; I guess I just feel a bit lonely, hah... Sorry for sounding so selfish just when you told me this g—good news. But congratulations, truly. I hope you and Rika will be happy together."

"Thank you," V smiled softly as he went to soothingly rub your back as a way to comfort you and your crying figure. It had the opposite effect; V's touch stung you, but you couldn't push him away. The young man continued, "and don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone to love and marry soon. You're a wonderful person, so I'm sure of it."

"No."

A few days after V had announced to you that he was getting married to Rika, you had made your choice. It was extremely late at night, almost 4AM by now. You opened your phone and logged into the exclusive RFA app. As expected, nobody was online at this time, but it was easier this way. You wouldn't have to answer anybody's questions.

You pulled up Seven's contact information and sent him a quick text, "Don't try to find me."

You then sent Jumin a text, "Sorry for leaving so suddenly, but no matter what V asks of you—if he does—do not waste any of your resources, time, or personnel to try to bring me back. I can't. I won't. Lie to V if you have to. I'm sorry."

Once you finished sending Jumin that text, you went onto the messenger and typed up one clear and concise message.

"I'm quitting the RFA."

Just a few seconds after you sent that message, V had logged on, and in a panic, you immediately logged off, not giving the young man a chance to finish typing up whatever it was he was typing. With no hesitation, you uninstalled the RFA app. But even so, your phone kept on vibrating with multiple texts from V.

"What's going on?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why are you quitting?"

"Do you need my help?"

"Please answer me."

"Please get back to me, [Name]."

"Please."

You ignored all of his texts. Since you weren't responding, V tried to call you instead. With a heavy heart, you shut off your phone. There was no doubt that you would be getting a lot of calls and texts from the other members asking about you, so you decided to get yourself a new phone number as soon as possible. Hopefully Seven would respect your wish and try not to track that new number. You figured that V would probably ask Seven for help, but you were sure Jumin would interfere somehow. In any case, as you lay on your bed in silence, you thought about what to do next. V might try to come over to your house, so you considered crashing at a friend's house for the time being until everything died down.

You felt horrible for leaving so suddenly like this, but you knew that it would be unhealthy for you both you and Rika's and V's relationship if you stayed, allowing your bitter resentment towards Rika to grow and fester. You didn't want that. It was your choice to leave the RFA—no, to leave V—with some of your dignity still intact. Perhaps once your love for V passes—if it ever passes—you'll be able to face him again and apologize. But for now, you decided to sleep, finding comfort in the darkness where the sun can't reach.

[NEXT PART]

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[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 20)

Warning: As mentioned in previous chapters, Ruby and the others are going to fake Weiss death. There's going to be fake blood and a faked execution, and believe me, things WILL get very dark and intense soon.

--

Your heart pounding so fast, liable to stop dead at any moment from sheer terror. Icy claws wrapping themselves around your chest, piercing your lungs, making it impossible to breath. Every muscle in your body paralyzed, your eyes affixed to that nightmarish face, feeling those red orbs plunge into your very being, killing you little by little from the inside.

Weiss clutched Eluna in a death-grip, cold sweat pouring down every inch of her skin, her mind screaming at her to look away, away from the face of her impending doom, her body unable to do anything but stare.

“Weiss...?” Ruby asked. <Oh crap--!>

She grabbed the mask on Qrow’s face, pulled it off, and shoved it underneath her cloak and out of sight.

Then, just as suddenly as the most vicious, visceral panic attack Weiss had ever experienced started, it stooped.

She gasped for breath, still shaking. “W-What was that?!” she whispered, her eyes throbbing, a piercing, awful pain slowly spreading in her head.

“That would be the Mask of the Keeper,” Qrow replied. “Specially carved, designed, and improved over the centuries to induce screaming, paralyzing terror, and sudden bowel evacuation in 9 out of 10 humans.”

“How…?” Weiss muttered.

“Magic,” Ruby said as she was lowered back onto the floor. “Don’t know how it works, but it works! Anyway... Weiss: this is my Uncle Qrow!” she said, gesturing to him.

Qrow waved. “Sup. Qrow Branwen, but just call me Qrow,” he said as he walked over and offered his hand—or talon, as the case may have been, as his human shaped hand was covered with a rough and bony layer on both sides, and his “fingers” ended in black claws.

Weiss very carefully took it and got a good look at him as they shook.

What she assumed to be messy, spiky black hair was actually a head of sharp feathers sweeping back from his forehead. His eyes were aquiline, and the skin around his nose and mouth was covered in the same material as his hands, like a beak. Where ears would have been on a human, he only had two holes on the side of his head, covered over by more of his feathers and some fluffy down.

“You’re here to record your ransom video, right?” Qrow asked as he took his talon back. “Studio’s all set, even got a script all written up for you.” He smirked.

Weiss scowled. “There better not be what I think you put in there!”

“What do you think is in there, Weiss?” Ruby asked innocently.

“It’s not important,” Qrow said, still smirking. “Come on, this way,” he said, beckoning with his arm.

Weiss stayed put. “Does you have to be with us?”

“Yes,” Qrow replied. “It’s part of my duties as a senior Watcher, Chronicler, and part-time Keeper for all the Keeper-stuff Ruby can’t do.”

“Keeper-stuff?”

Earlier, in the underground jails of the Bastion.

Qrow was dressed up in a larger version of Ruby’s cloak, the mask on his face, and a pair of fake reindeer antlers on his head. In front of him and backed up against the wall were the survivors of the ill-fated third and fourth expeditions into the Valley.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU DUMB FUCKS ABOUT GOING INTO THE VALLEY?!” Qrow yelled.

“AAHHHH! NOOOOO...!”

“PLEASE!  I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST LET ME GO...!”

“MOMMY! MOMMY! MOOOMMMMYYY-YYY-YYY...!”

Underneath the mask, Qrow cringed as his nose was assaulted with a fresh wave of the unmistakable scent of fear and repeatedly soiled underwear.

“Ah,” Weiss replied.

“It’s hard to believe a story where the Keeper is barely 5 feet tall without antlers,” Qrow replied.

“Hey!” Ruby cried. “I’m still growing!”

“Just keep on drinking your milk, and eating vegetables instead of cookies every once in a while, and you’ll be fine in a couple of years,” Qrow replied.

Ruby grumbled under her breath in Actaeon.

“So how many Keepers are there?” Weiss asked.

“Not including part-timers like me?” Qrow replied. “One.”

Weiss blinked, then looked at Ruby. “I thought you said there were other Keepers!”

“Yeah!” Ruby replied. “There was my mom, and her mom, and her mom—stretching all the way back to my great-great-great...” she continued on for about a minute or two “… great-grandma, Gabija!”

Weiss glared at Ruby.

“What...?” Ruby asked.

Weiss groaned. “Nevermind...” she muttered.

Ruby looked at the others, they shrugged, smirked, or showed that they couldn’t really have cared, and the group finally went on their way to the studio.

Weiss supposed she shouldn’t have been too surprised to see that it was just like any other set; the building materials and equipment may have been made out of enchanted rock, wood, or a specially-grown plant, and instead of AV drones it was birds and other small animals, but everything looked the same, from the cameras and the lighting, the sound equipment, and even what she assumed to be a green screen.

In the center of it all, directing everything through a mix of barking orders and moving things around with magic was who Weiss assumed to be Elder Glynda Goodwitch.

She was dressed differently from the other Fae, wearing especially vibrant robes with intricate designs, the patterns of vines, roses, and animals pulsing with bright magic, sometimes even moving by themselves. But even without the outfit, the aura of confidence, authority, and power she exuded would have told you she was the one in charge.

… However, Weiss found herself incredibly distracted by her animal features: a pair of large, floppy bunny ears, and a poofy, cotton-ball tail poking out from the back of her robes.

Glynda turned around, her mouth a hard line, her eyes narrowed just slightly enough to be the right mix of intimidating and cool. “You’re late,” she said, her tone level, but with an edge that warned you not to annoy her ever again.

<Our sincerest apologies, Elder Goodwitch,> Blake said cutting through between them. <We had a delay back at the hospital.>

Glynda raised her eyebrows, silently asking them to explain.

“Just a normal case of miscommunication, Elder Goodwitch!” Penny explained. “Ruby accidentally told Weiss we were going to kill her, not fake her death.”

Glynda’s expression remained neutral, but you could just feel how hard she was resisting the urge to put her palm to her face.

“And I assume this has been cleared up?” she asked.

“Yes,” Weiss said as she stepped up, “alongside the fact that I’ll be writing the script to my ransom video.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Qrow cried. “Can’t we just use mine? I worked hard on that—legitimately this time!”

Glynda ignored him. “Give me one good reason to let you do this.”

“I know my father better than any of you, and know just what to say to press his buttons,” Weiss replied.

Glynda smiled. “Good reason,” she said, before she turned around to the crews and animals awaiting filming, and shouted something in Actaeon. They soon abandoned their posts and went to a buffet table on the side or formed their own little groups to the side.

She turned back to Weiss. “Can you do it in an hour? I would like these attacks to stop before your father can mobilize another expedition.”

“Deal.”

Little under an hour later, the studio crew was back to work, getting the lighting and sound calibrated, meticulously putting make-up on Weiss to make her look the part of “poor, innocent hostage scared out of her wits,” and double-checking that her new script had been transcribed properly in the teleprompter.

They were only getting one chance to do this, since Jacques had unintentionally given them the perfect opportunity: a press conference in one of Candela’s largest auditoriums, broadcasting through all of Avalon on unsecured channels that the Fae could easily hack into.

Ruby was wearing a mask identical to the original, only without the nightmare-inducing magic. “It tends to mess up cameras of any kind,” she explained, her voice talking on a deep, ominous tone from the modulator inside.

She still looked unnerving to look with the still glowing red eyes, but at least she wasn’t inciting panic attacks from a mere glance like Qrow had earlier.

“Got the bleeder bandages and your fake scythe!” Penny said as she came up with container with green strips of plant matter and a scythe that looked almost identical to real thing.

“’Bleeder bandages’?” Weiss asked.

“An extremely common prop in both live and recorded productions!” Penny explained. “It simulates grievous wounds and other types of injuries while leaving the wearer completely unharmed. It’s filled with fake blood, you see, and the membrane is thin and sensitive; even with a dull prop like this, just a little bit of pressure is enough to break it.”

Weiss looked at the strips dubiously. “I doubt these are going to trick anyone...”

“That’s because you haven’t put them on, silly!” Ruby said as she took one of the strips and put it on her arm. Weiss watched with a mixture of interest and unease as the bleeder bandage instantly, perfectly mimicked the colour of her skin. “See?” she said, holding it up.

If she hadn’t seen it come on, she wouldn’t have had the slightest clue where it was.

The small crew manning the jury-rigged and salvaged communications tech from the expedition gave Glynda the thumbs up. “We’re ready to broadcast on your command—make it soon, that press conference isn’t going to last all day.”

“I know how long the average Avalonian’s attention span is, don’t worry,” Weiss said as she put a bleeder strip around the front of her neck. “Just one more thing—Ruby! Penny!”

“Yeah Weiss?” Ruby asked as the two of them came over.

She pointed at Ruby. “Just in case my father refuses to surrender, I want you to practice ‘slitting’ my throat.” She pointed at Penny. “You go see if she does anything that's going to make someone reviewing the footage suspicious.”

Penny nodded. “As you wish, Weiss.”

Ruby balked. “Wait, what?!”

“Wasn’t it you and Blake’s idea to fake my own death?” Weiss asked.

“Well, yeah! But like in the, in the...” Underneath the mask, Ruby's face scrunched up struggled to find the right word.

“Threatening to kill her way, but not actually going through with it?” Penny offered.

“Yes! That! Thanks, Penny.” Ruby turned back to Weiss. “Are you sure about this, Weiss...? He's your dad, he's probably--”

Weiss scowled. “Just do it,” she growled before she knelt down to the floor.

Ruby reluctantly guided her prop knife to her neck, where the bleeder strip was.

“Ruby!” Weiss yelled.

Ruby pulled away. “What?”

“Your hands are shaking!” Weiss cried. “Who's going to believe you've actually killed me if it looks like you've got stage-fright?”

Ruby whined. “This is really messed up, Weiss! Your dad can’t possibly think that we’re not serious, right?”

Weiss didn’t reply.

“Right…?”

“How about Weiss pretends to grab the handle, hold her steady whilst pretending that she’s trying to stop her?” Penny suggested.

“Let’s try it,” Weiss said.

Ruby frowned. “Weiss--”

Weiss stood up, and looked Ruby in the eyes. “Ruby?” she asked calmly.

“Yeah...?”

“You want these expeditions in the Valley to stop, right? You don’t want any more people to get hurt or killed? Or for anyone else to come sending another expedition for a good, long time?”

Ruby nodded meekly.

“Then I need you to act as cold, bloodthirsty, and cruel as you possibly can—leave absolutely no doubt in my father’s mind that you’re serious, that you’ll kill me if he doesn’t agree to a complete surrender. Can you do this for me…?”

Ruby looked down.

Weiss expression softened as tilted her head back up, gently removed her mask and looked her in the eyes. “Ruby: can you do this for me? Please?”

Ruby sighed. “… If I have to ‘kill’ you, can you do all the work? I don’t think I can get my hands to stop shaking.”

Weiss nodded.

“We're running out of time here!” Glynda called out.

“Coming!” Ruby called out. She turned back to Weiss. “Are you sure you can’t get my Uncle Qrow to do it instead?”

Weiss shook her head. “It’s going to be very suspicious if the female Keeper of the Grove suddenly sounds like a man.” She paused, casting a glare at Qrow standing in the corner. “Plus, I have this sneaking suspicion he'll probably make a stupid joke that’ll ruin everything...”

“Sorry, Ruby!” Qrow called out. “She’s definitely right on that one!”

Ruby sighed. “Okay...” She put the mask back on. “Let’s do this.”

[noblehippy89-blog]

Laos - the delights of Luang Prabang & our memorable trip to Kung Si waterfalls

Luang Prabang is a UNESCO world heritage sight and there is no denying its delights with its French colonial architecture set amongst the backdrop of the temple topped mountain and Mekong and khan rivers. The town was in complete contrast to the modest and traditional village on Pak Beng. The streets pretty and clean with frangipani bushes covering every corner, wooden balconies and palm trees lining the street. I was surprised by the number of teenage girls, gracefully riding motorcycles with perfect postures and relaxed facial expressions. I don't know how the Laotian women manage to look so elegant and classy on motorbikes.

We came to a junction which was decorated in small multi coloured lights and an assortment of triangular flags. The sun shone on the trees and glinted of the wide and softly flowing river. in the distance, high above we could see a temple on the mountain, the mountain is named Mount Phusi and is much like the grand centrepiece of the town.

At night when we went for an orientation walk we came across various restaurants and bars, some set in gardens with delightful lanterns. The pretty little lights shone on the greenery and the white and brown French colonial style balconies added to the beauty.

The night market was filled with the usual arts, crafts and tourist accessories. I drank my fifth fruitshake, which was an icy relief during the sticky evening. Although very pretty, as I walked there were far more tourists than locals. Many of the bars were Western style and boasted 'We sell western food' on their outer window. I understood the need to cater to tourists, but as I came across more and more of the same sort of shops and cafes , I thought it was a bit of a pity as the town seems to be struggling between preservation of its colonial heritage and accommodation of its heavy influx of tourists. 

Kung Si Waterfalls was by far, one of my highlights of this trip. We took a one hour mini bus ride from Luang Prabang to see the black bears and the waterfalls, which we were all very excited to swim in, given the heat. The journey was filled with windy roads, rice fields and occasionally, basic shops.  Once we arrived, we entered a tropical jungle filled with beautiful and vibrant butterflies. Stop one were the curious black bears, rescued and cared for from cruel captive conditions by the charity ‘free the bears.’ Dark, large and fluffy, we saw about four bears; 3 were laying resting, and one was actually chilling in a pond!

Onto the waterfalls, as we climbed to higher ground. And then we saw it. I was honestly unprepared for its beauty. A deep and cream aqua lake lay ahead of me, and in the distance, a higher level with another spectacular pool. As we walked on we came across two smaller waterfalls. I was captivated and had fallen deeply in love with their seductive sights.

It was time to get wet and I was anxious to be one with the water. But as I approached the shallower parts of the pool, I could see many mini fish. It’s ok, I told myself, after all so had allowed myself to have my very first and incredibly frightening fish pedicure a week before. As usual, Kamran was reluctant to take the lead, so I mustered the courage to be one with the fish. And floating ant flies. I noticed that as the water got deeper there were no fish or insects, so I quickly swam further into the lake. The perfectly cool temperature and spectacular sights made my eerie encounter with any fish or bugs well worth it. The best part of all this was the kindness of strangers, as members of my group caringly encouraged me and congratulated me for combatting my fears.

We then sat in one of the lakes, some of us swimming, some of us sitting by the edge, feeling the pressure from the gushing water, on our backs. I remember just laughing and screaming, and having an enthralling time. For some reason Kamran would not join me in the middle of the pool and I felt achingly disappointed. Why did he always have to be like this? Thankfully, the cheerful and spirited company of other group members quickly helped to dissipate my sadness. I somehow managed to co Vince Kamran to bring g his camera phone and attempt to take photos in and near the water. Sadly, this led to the demise of his phone.

Above the pool that we were all sat in was a lake with a great and glorious waterfall. Just in front of the waterfall was Melo (one of the lovely 50 something Irish social workers) perched on a massive rock with her feet dipped in the water. ‘Come on in up here, it’s beautiful!’ she yelled with heaps of enthusiasm. I was told that the water on the way to the waterfall was extremely deep. I was quite scared, but Sheila (the other Irish social worker) reassured me that they were all around and would therefore assist me if needed. I gulped and gestured to Kamran (who was now rather curiously sat on a bench) to join me. Once again, that tinge of sadness, as he refused and left me to my own devices. Remember that extremely iconic photo of princess Diana solitarily sat in front of the Taj MahaI? That was how I felt, and it slowly became a regular feature of what was meant to be a trip that brought us together. Anyway, back to the waterfall, I composed myself, and jumped in, ready for the depths and incentivised by the stunning pouring water that appeared in the distance. After my courageous swim, I will meet the waterfall I told myself. Two minutes and fifty strokes later, I made it to the rock with Melo kindly lending a hand to help me sit. 'You did it! You are such a brave girl!’ She told me . Together, we swam to the waterfall which was only 5 meters away. Joined by Mika and Hans, we sat under the gushing waters, which felt like a super energised aqua massage. All I could hear was the gurgling and rushing of water, and all I could feel was a soothing icy pressure. We all laughed, whooped and screamed, and in that moment I felt incredibly alive. In those few minutes I felt so much happiness, that I will always carry with me. The sadness of being unable to share such experiences with Kamran juxtaposed with the care and love from newfound friends who were strangers only days before, created emotions that are hard to describe. What I can say for sure, is that those few hours were the best part of my trip. I challenged myself, connected with beautiful souls and was awakened. And how tragic, that those incredibly precious memories were without the company of my seemingly cautious and conservative husband.