#then the next one makes me utterly feral because he's so soft and checking in when they're in the middle of a job??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #unawakened #prompter I have no idea what you were looking for #and it's probably not this #but this is what came to mind #omgpurplefattie

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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Naruto #Harry Potter #Boku no Hero Academia #Stranger Things #Knives Out #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #John Wick #Fairy Tail #Natsume's Book of Friends

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

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seasonofthegeek · 5 years

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Saving My Life, Part 3

Today’s drabble was requested by the lovely @ming85 with a ko-fi donation. Thank you so much!

Parts 1, 2, 3:

Marinette ran her fingers along the white ribbon with a frown. It’d been three nights since Chat Blanc landed on her balcony and touched the same ribbon. Three nights since she’d coaxed Adrien to sleep beside her in her small bed and watched him have nightmares she knew it would be no good to wake him from.

She missed the days they’d had school together. At least then she would have a reason to go check in on him, but she didn’t want to make Gabriel suspicious. She would try to be patient and trust that he would visit again when he could. He was trying to protect her as much as she was trying to protect him.

She would go to Master Fu tomorrow if Adrien or Chat Blanc didn’t show up before she could get over there. They were running out of time and she knew Hawk Moth would be running out of patience.

__________________________________

“Well?” Hawk Moth walked a wide circle around his son, watching him flex the sharp silver-tipped claws.

“It’s different than I thought it’d be.” Chat Blanc flinched at his voice. It sounded deeper even to his ears and held more of a rolling growl to the tone. His body felt different too. He was taller and broader and...

His tail twitched and he looked back to see it was a thicker white leather now and studded with dangerous spikes. He swallowed hard and stood, feeling it weigh him down, though that could’ve been his imagination. Spikes similar to the silver tips of his claws lined his wrists and his ankles and ran along the front of his body with the wrapped belt.

“You and Ladybug seem to be falling into close combat everytime you fight,” Hawk Moth mused as he studied his handiwork. “It seemed prudent to give you more protection.”

The thought of one of the spikes tearing across Marinette’s skin had him trying to suppress a visible shudder. She’d been so soft and warm against him the other night. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. “I was holding my own before.”

“Yes, but now you’ll actually be able to defeat her.” Hawk Moth held up his hand and one of the white butterflies settled into it easily. “And now that you’ve let me finish the ritual, we’ll be able to communicate much easier to keep you on task.”

And that was the part he’d been dreading the most. “How do I contact you?” Chat Blanc asked, trying to keep his voice light and curious.

“We can speak whenever I’m transformed. You’re the first of your kind so we’ll have to figure out some of the connection issues along the way.”

The proud smile his father gave him would’ve been better suited for the day he’d graduated rather than the day he’d finally lost his will. “But you’ve been able to communicate with all of your akumas, right? How am I any different?”

“The spell I laid on your ring gives you a bit of a power-up,” he explained. “And now that it is complete, it will protect you from the power of other Miraculous so Ladybug shouldn’t be able to effectively use a Lucky Charm against you.”

He frowned and his teeth felt too big for his mouth. He wondered if they were spiked now too. “But you were able to akumatize me.”

“Because you willingly accepted it.”

“Oh.”

Hawk Moth pursed his lips. “Perhaps you should go to your room and get some rest. The ritual may have taken some of your energy and I want you in top shape the next time you face Ladybug. You will take her earrings.” His expression softened as he reached out to touch his son’s shoulder. “We’ll have your mother back soon and everything will be as it should be, I promise.”

Chat Blanc nodded, afraid to speak because he wasn’t sure what he would say. He left the lair, forgoing the extravagant lift system to take the stairs back down to the main part of the house. His steps felt heavy and he knew it was his new akumatized form as much as his heart.

Once in his room, he stood just inside and wished more than anything that Plagg would come out of the ring. He’d been his constant companion for years and it was hard not to have him to talk to anymore. He was tempted to talk just to get it out of his system but he couldn’t know if his father was listening. He wouldn’t chance it.

He trudged across the room to the bathroom and took in a deep breath before going through the door to look into the mirror. His hair had darkened even further and grown out longer and wilder. His eyes were still a glowing magenta and he remembered Marinette’s comment about not liking the color but that they were still his eyes. He hoped she would still be able to say that now. He thought he just looked feral.

He slid down to the cool tile before he could assess his looks anymore and tried to talk himself out of crying. His father would be able to sense his emotions if he wasn’t careful enough. He needed to be strong. He would be strong.

He just had to think. He could be smart about this. His father could only communicate with him as Hawk Moth so he would just have to wait until he wasn’t Hawk Moth anymore and then he could get out and warn Marinette. He couldn’t trust business hours since Nathalie knew about Gabriel’s supervillain activities so it would have to be when his father fell asleep. He could wait him out.

__________________________________

Marinette wasn’t sure what roused her from sleep. Maybe it was the shadow interrupting the moonlight streaming over her bed or maybe it was just intuition. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes and caught a glimpse of glowing pink before it blinked back into darkness.

“Chat?” she whispered, pushing the skylight up and peering out on the balcony with tired eyes. She became more alert as she took in his hunched form, one hand gripping the end of the white ribbon.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and he sounded utterly broken as Marinette climbed the rest of the way out of her room. “I...I had to do this.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he straightened. He’d grown in size, as a lot of akumas did, and silver spikes glinted all over his body. She couldn’t even hug him now. She covered her mouth, trying to hold in the sob she could feel building in her throat.

Chat Blanc wouldn’t meet her eyes, his shoulders hunching in once again to make himself seem smaller. “I have a connection to him now,” he said quietly and it came out in a growling sound. “I don’t know if that helps you, but I thought maybe...I thought maybe it would, I guess.”

“Adrien...” she whispered. She reached up to brush hair from his eyes and he froze when her hand drew near. She cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the edge of the white mask and he melted into her touch.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m going to fix this, I promise.”

He audibly swallowed and it was a painful sound. “I don’t have much time. The, uh, the spell he used on my ring, he said it gave me protection against other Miraculous unless I allow them to affect me. At least I think that’s what he meant.”

“So I could use a Lucky Charm on you and it wouldn’t do anything?”

He nodded. “I think so, but anything you try to do to me, I’ll let happen.”

Marinette worried her lip. “Will he know that?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Did he do the spell to his Miraculous?”

Chat Blanc blinked. “I don’t...no, he couldn’t have. He hasn’t changed and he can detransform.”

“And it’d be dangerous,” she muttered with a dark look. “So that means he isn’t protected.”

“That’s not what it means. We’ve fought him hand-to-hand before, my Lady, and he wiped the floor with us. He isn’t helpless. Who do you think taught me fencing before I ever started lessons?”

“But if I can get him as Gabriel--”

“I don’t want you near him,” Chat Blanc growled and a frightening sound rumbled through his chest as his spiked tail lashed out behind him, metal tips clinging against the balcony railing in a menacing staccato.

Marinette tried not to let the fear that his reaction had elicited show through. She rolled her shoulders back and straightened. “You don’t need to protect me, remember? I’m Ladybug. This is my job.”

“And it’s my job to protect you!” he roared, eyes going wide and wild as he loomed over her.

She shrunk back and Chat Blanc stumbled away in shock as Adrien began to peek through again.

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he whispered, clawed hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Marinette, I don’t...I’m not...”

She swallowed back her anxiety and moved towards him, reaching for his face like she had earlier. He crumpled and shied away from her touch but she kept moving forward until he was huddled against the balcony railing.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” she said, proud of how calm and confident she sounded when she wasn’t completely certain she knew that for sure. She felt him push against her hand with his cheek and she went down to her knees, keeping a small bubble of safety between herself and the spikes around his waist, ankles, and wrists. “We’re going to beat him and we’re going to fix this,” she assured him. She saw the doubt in eyes that weren’t the right color and very carefully leaned forward and moved the wild dark hair away so she could press a gentle kiss just above his mask. “I promise.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Then you should.”

He finally met her eyes. “I know even alone, you’re strong and capable and the best.” He saw her open her mouth to argue so he quickly continued on. “But I’m not sure you can do this on your own, my Lady, and I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt.”

“I need reinforcements,” she nodded.

“I think that’d be best.” He stiffened and quickly stood, pushing her away roughly so the metal tips didn’t catch against her clothing and skin as he moved quickly. “He’s awake. I have to go.” He lept up onto her railing without a second thought and then was running away.

Marinette watched him leave, feeling her heart crumble. She was tempted to fall apart right there on her balcony but she gathered her pain and resolve like a suit of armor and marched back down to her bedroom. She had a plan to create.

Buy me a cherry coke?

#marichat #mariblanc #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #chat blanc #adrien agreste #hawk moth #miraculous ladybug

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allthephils · 4 years

Text

Luna Ursi

Rated T word count: 2743 so far

Phil takes in a stray dog and soon realizes he’s found his other half.

This fic has a fairly stark change in tone in the middle so I’ve decided to post it in two (maybe 3) parts. I’m keeping the tags minimal to avoid spoilers and will update them when the second part is posted. Don’t worry, it’s all fluff and happiness.

Read on ao3

Chapter 1

Phil’s nightly walks have become a ritual. Just as it gets dark, he bundles up and heads out for a stroll up the road, once around the park, and then back again. There was a time when he would have been too scared to walk alone but therapy and practice has changed that. His very tall and very wide frame means people tend to keep their distance unless they’re checking him out. It took quite a few tries, going out and carefully watching the world around him, before he began to feel almost safe. The moon and stars and the lights of his little corner of the city are worth the quiet hum of anxiety that remains. Knowing he can prioritize this thing he loves over that subtle ever present fear brings him a great deal of pride.

This night is surprisingly clear and cold. The park is lit up by a bright full moon and Phil stops to look, making out seas and craters. His hands are in his pockets as he gazes at the sky. It feels so good, this solitude. It’s a moment of simple stillness but it doesn’t last. The static vibration that resides at the back of his neck increases in volume, just slightly, and Phil’s head whips around toward something moving in the dark. He takes his hands out of his pockets.

It’s not a man and so his heart slows to it’s usual hyper alert pace while his eyes struggle to focus. It’s an animal, a big one, and it’s coming closer, black with shining eyes and pointed ears that face forward, standing tall. A dog.

Any residual fear dissipates, taking with it some of the anxiety Phil carries with him all the time. His posture softens, his fists unfurl, and the dog picks up it’s pace until it’s maybe ten feet away. It doesn’t sit, it doesn’t approach him, it just stands and watches, it’s tail swishing once or twice. Phil pulls his scarf tight around his neck and puts his hands back in his pockets before continuing on his way.

The next day is spent editing and emailing, planning and outlining, every meal eaten at his desk. Phil takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, glancing out the window at the silvery glow of the night outside. He had no idea the sun had gone down. He considers skipping his walk, he’s so tired. That bright moon calls him though. By the time the next full moon rolls around, it could be cloudy, it could be pouring rain, and he’ll regret missing out. Stepping into his shoes, he wraps up in his warmest coat and steps into the cold.

He walks briskly doing his best to generate some warmth. Stopping to moongaze just isn’t an option in this weather so he finds himself rounding the park in record time. The trail that leads around this park follows the edge of a wooded area, thick with trees. There’s no way to avoid it as the trail comes right up against the trees before it ends at the main road. Phil’s pace always picks up, eager to pass that bit as quickly as possible. It’s not a forest by any means, just a little stretch of woods in the city. It’s likely littered with beer cans and condoms in there and that thought is even more discomforting than the deep mysterious darkness itself. Just as Phil begins to slow his pace, he hears a rustling from the trees and speeds back up again. There’s a huff of breath behind him and he stops, turning cautiously to see who or what has come up behind him. His breath is held for a moment but he lets it out with great relief when he sees the dog from the night before. It’s saunters forward until it’s right there, looking up at him with big brown eyes that reflect the moonlight. It’s head tips to one side, tongue falling out for a moment.

Phil can’t help but laugh. He should not pet a stray dog, especially not one the size of this one. It could definitely take his arm off if it wanted to. It’s just so cute though, sitting there, regarding Phil like he’s something to figure out. It doesn’t look scared or dangerous, just curious and maybe a little sad. Phil crouches down and carefully, slowly, reaches out to let the dog sniff his hand. It does, it’s ears pulling back slightly. Phil strokes over the dog’s ear and gently scratches behind it.

“You’re a good pupper, aren’t you?” He coos, “yes, you are.” He feels his away to the dog’s neck but there’s no collar. This dog does not look like feral, it’s so clean and soft, so well behaved. It looks loved. He strokes down the dog’s side once before he stands to leave. When he looks over his shoulder, the dog is sat there, head still tipped, watching Phil walk away.

On the way home, he stops at Tesco for milk and picks up a small baggie of dog treats that he tucks into his pocket, just in case. He can’t help but wonder if the dog will be ok out there, if it has a family somewhere, looking for it. Maybe he shouldn’t have left it. The dog is still on his mind when he climbs into bed. He’s googling dog breeds, trying to decipher what kind of dog that was, but his eyes are slipping shut so he gives up the search and drifts off.

His dreams are moonlit that night. He’s running through the park, through the woods. He on all fours, running faster than he ever could in real life, wind rushing past, animals skittering out of the way. He pounces on something, a rabbit maybe. His teeth sink in, tearing flesh, blood spraying and he thrashes the animal side to side, gripped in his jaws. It’s not frightening or disturbing, it’s exhilarating.

***

Phil is always aware of his surroundings. It may not appear that way as clumsy as he is, but the reality is that he’s focussed on everything but his feet. Tonight, his awareness is focused on the trees and the dark expanse of lawn that stretches alongside the path. He scans carefully as he walks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the big black dog.

He doesn’t have to wait long before he hears something moving closer through the edge of the woods. It emerges slowly but bounds toward Phil when it sees him, slowing back down a few away, as if it remembered it’s manners.

“Hey there. I brought you something.” Phil crouches down, pulling a few treats from his pocket. Hand out, he waits, as the dog moves closer. It lowers its nose to his hand and sniffs before looking at Phil, eye to eye. Phil’s heart feels warm and connected, he could reach out and hug this pup right around the neck, tackle it to the ground to wrestle. He doesn’t of course, they just met and Phil has manners too.

The dog takes a treat, and another, and then what’s left in Phil’s hand, leaving a slobbery mess behind. Phil wipes his hand on his jeans and laughs as the dog pants and follows his empty hand. Phil rubs it’s head and smiles wide at his friend who bounces a bit, panting, smiling too, really. The dog leans into him, nosing at his hand with enough force to practically knock him over and Phil has to put his hand on the ground to avoid it.

“Woah!” Phil laughs, “careful pup, you’re stronger than you think. You are strong like bear,” he says in a mock deep voice. He pets the dog vigorously and is rewarded by a rapidly wagging tail. “That’s what I’ll call you, Bear. It suits you.”

Phil pulls our another treat and feeds it to Bear. “Night doggo,” He says before standing up. As he walks, Bear falls into step next to him.

“Bear, you’ve got to stay here,” Phil says, “Stay.”

He carries on and Bear is right behind him.

“Bear!” Phil giggles as he turns to see the dog, happily trotting behind him. “Don’t you know that command? Sit.” Bear sits. “Good dog. Now stay.”

Again, he walks on and again, Bear is right there on his heel. Phil stops and crouches down again. He looks at the sky and absentmindedly moves his hands to rub Bear’s neck. Clouds have rolled in, dark grey ones, that look heavy with rain. Phil thinks about Bear finding shelter in the woods, shivering in the cold London rain. Sure, he’s a dog, covered in thick fur, but Phil just can’t stomach the thought of him out here alone all night.

“Ok Bear, you can come home with me.”

Bear pants happily, watching Phil closely as he pulls himself up to stand. When they get home, Phil finds a blanket and makes a nest for Bear to sleep in on the rug in the lounge.

“No barking now, I’m not strictly sure I’m allowed to have you in this flat,” Phil says, “Goodnight Bear. Sleep tight.” He leans down and rubs his cheek over the soft fur covering Bear’s head and the dog makes a sweet sound, like a soft whine before laying down on the blanket. He huffs a breath and closes his eyes, looking utterly relaxed. Bear is safe and cozy so Phil heads to bed.

When the sun streams into the window, bright and glaring, Phil winces and turns away like he does every morning. Then, all at once, he remembers Bear. Suddenly, this day holds a lot of promise. Pulling on pajamas and a warm hoodie, he shuffles to the kitchen to make coffee then carries his mug to the lounge.

“Morning Bear,” he says, voice still groggy but full of sunshine, “what should we…”

The blanket nest is there, just as he left it, but Bear is nowhere to be found.

“Bear?” Phil grabs some treats and walks all over the flat but Bear is gone. He can’t for the life of him figure how he got out. Had Phil left the door open? That makes no sense, it would be freezing in here, and it’s locked. The flat is all locked up tight, the way he left it. He sits down on the blanket and picks off a few stray dog hairs. His chest feels tight, tears flood his eyes. He shouldn’t have let himself get attached to a stray. It was just a couple encounters but he just felt so connected to Bear. God, he can’t believe he named him. He wipes a tear, cursing himself for being too sentimental and desperate for companionship. He needs to spend more time with friends because this is ridiculous.

1 month later

In the past month, Phil has been to 2 dog shows, 3 dog rescue shelters, 1 pet adoption fair, and paid 3 visits to the RSPCA. Every dog he’s met has been wonderful. They all lift his spirits, making him feel warm and happy. They’d all make excellent companions. He’s knows he’d be lucky to take any one of the pups home but something in him says he can’t. He already has a dog. Out there somewhere is a dog that Phil loves and he’s spent every day of the last 4 weeks pining for a pet he’ll probably never see again.

Each night, he walks through the park, slowly, giving plenty of time for Bear to show himself. Each night, he peers into the woods with bated breath and whispers, “Bear? Here boy.” And each night he goes home and climbs into bed with a heavy, lonely heart.

This night is just the same as every night. Phil stands from the sofa where he’s been working and stretches till his back cracks. He drinks the glass of water he’s been neglecting before slipping into his shoes and coat. He hadn’t realized there was a full moon tonight but as he moves further from the lights of city street, the park stays illuminated, bathed in gossamer light. There’s a bench near the halfway point on the path that leads around the park. Phil sits and rests his head back, taking in the view of the sky, feeling the cool crisp air on his cheeks. His eyes slip shut and he listens to the subtle sounds that break through the quiet.

Something bumps his knee.

Startled, Phil sits upright as his eyes fly open. There, nudging his knee, is Bear. Brown eyes shine up at him and Phil’s heart soars.

“Bear!” he practically shouts, “Oh my god, where have you been? I thought your family found you!” His eyes well up just a bit and he’s laughing out loud. He’s never been so relieved to see a stray dog in his life. “You wanna come home with me Bear?”

Bear jumps to his feet, tail wagging, tongue wagging too. He nudges at Phil’s thigh till he stands and they walk toward home together.

This time, the nest of blankets is in Phil’s room. He’s still not sure how Bear got out that first time and he’d like to keep him close, where he can hear if he gets up and scratches at the door.

Bear is curled up, eyes half open, watching Phil move about as he gets ready for bed. His last stop is to bend down and scratch Bear behind the ears.

“Goodnight Bear. I’ll see you in the morning.” He sets his glasses on the bedside table and checks the alarm on the phone before clicking the light off. The sheets are cool in the warm room and he can hear Bear’s soft breaths from where he rests at the foot of the bed. The flat has never felt so much like home as it does right now.

When the alarm goes off at 10 am, Phil jumps up. He’s got meetings today, and he’s late. He’d been so excited to have Bear back last night, he’d forgotten that he had to actually go out into the working world today. He’s in and out of the shower in minutes. Bear is already up, exploring Phil’s filming room. He can hear him in there and he really hopes he doesn’t knock anything expensive over. There’s no time to check right now. He makes his coffee in a travel mug and runs out the door, shouting over his shoulder.

“Be good Bear! See you tonight.”

The sun is setting when Phil leaves his last meeting. He takes his time walking to the tube, enjoying the golden light and the sherbert horizon, purple and orange and pink. He’s smiling to himself, content, when he sees a posh little pet store with the open sign lit.

He figures he’ll pick up some dog food and a leash, but £200 later, he’s got the biggest dog bed he’s ever seen, a collar, a leash, and a variety of treats and toys. The tube ride home is awkward to say the least.

Phil can’t remember the last time he was this excited to get home at the end of a day of meetings. As he fumbles for his key, he hears Bear’s wild footsteps followed by a gentle bark. Pushing the door open, he drops his packages and opens his arms to Bear, who is already jumping up. Phil’s back hits the door as Bear’s paws land on his shoulders. There’s not a whole lot he can do in the face of the welcome so he scrunches up his face and let’s bear lick his face, big wet dog kisses all over his cheeks, until Phil is out of breath from laughing.

“Okay! Bear! Down, come on, down boy.”

Bear jumps down and crouches, tail wagging furiously, ears pulled back. He wants to play.

“Ok Bear, it’s time for my walk anyway.” He grabs a toy and the leash and takes his first nightly walk with his dog by his side.

This was the missing piece. The challenge of pushing through fear and anxiety to enjoy the night is gone. All Phil can feel is calm, he feels truly safe for the first time in as long as he can remember. He’s come so far, built up so much courage. He knows he can be brave on his own, but with Bear here, he doesn’t have to be brave.

#phanfic #myfic #luna ursi #phan #phanfiction

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

Undine 8

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hicret/Hicretstrid

Modern AU. Kinda-Mermaid AU.

FF-net AO3

. o O o .

AN: This story received a sudden surge of attention lately, and I hope I can keep up with the expectations. :)

. o O o .

Hiccup had to say that he quite enjoyed the sight of his sleeping boyfriend as he lay naked between the rumpled sheets. He'd been so tense lately, obsessed with researches for an additional chapter. Hiccup wondered what had prompted this since, in principle, Eret had been done with the rough outline of his book. But Eret had only reacted with an absent-minded grunt when Hiccup had asked him once, so he’d left it at that. He knew by now that Eret would gladly talk about it – when he had the mind for it.

That was one of the things that worked so wonderfully between them, after all. They could talk about everything, but they also both recognised and respected when the other needed more time to first sort through their own thoughts.

Either way, today Hiccup still planned to get Eret out of this almost gloomy mood. He crawled onto the big bed and woke his boyfriend with light caresses and a teasing mouth on his neck and shoulders. Eret reacted with a low grunt and then with pleased hums, leaning into Hiccup’s touches.

“Morning,” Hiccup murmured after a few minutes, grinning against warm skin. “Time to get up.”

“Nooo, not yet,” Eret mumbled sleepily, and turned to pull Hiccup into a kiss and an embrace that would easily lead to more. “Although, something definitely up already.”

But Hiccup retreated, laughing, and shook his head. “No, no, none of that now. Come on, I have plans for today.”

Eret pouted, but eventually got up and followed Hiccup into the kitchen, glancing curiously at the food his boyfriend was packing into a bag right now. “What’s all this for?” he asked, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Hiccup had already prepared for him.

“We’re going out today,” Hiccup declared as he stowed away the last bit of the snacks he’d prepared. “Remember the ruins you once mentioned? I asked Mrs Ingerman where exactly they are, and that’s where we’re going today. A field trip for you to investigate those ruins and for me to take pictures for inspiration or to draw right there. We can stay there all day,” he added, nodding toward the picnic blanket.

At that, Eret’s expression turned into a wide grin. He placed his mug back onto the counter and approached Hiccup with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We can stay outside all day, eh?” he mumbled into his ear, his broad hands gliding down Hiccup’s sides and wrapping around his hips, making him shudder. “And I bet that picnic is all you’ve planned. Just a nice day in the sun.”

He bent to nibble at Hiccup’s neck, and he wasn’t able to keep in a needy moan, pushing his hips forward against Eret’s. But Eret retreated, chuckling.

“No, no, none of that now,” he repeated Hiccup’s words from before, grinning. “Better save that for later.”

Hiccup groaned, but also couldn’t help a renewed shudder running through his entire body. Eret knew him too well. Later meant that Eret had seen right through him, and Hiccup was reminded of how lucky he was that his boyfriend didn’t mind his outdoor kink at all.

. o O o .

The ruins were just as interesting as Hiccup had suspected. They were the remains of a moated castle, standing at the end of a small and calm cove. The outer walls still reached into the sea, and there also was a small tower, standing freely amidst the water. On solid ground, many other parts of the former building were also still standing with patches of green in between, partially former gardens and partially places mother nature had reconquered over the centuries. There was one place in particular, a sunny patch of grass near a small beach within the castle’s walls, that immediately drew their attention.

Without a word, Eret spread out the blanket and stretched out on it. “Yeah, I think I can stand staying here,” he sighed, turning his face toward the sun. “Too bad we didn’t bring our swimming kit. It’s certainly warm enough and the water looks so inviting!”

“Well… I did pack towels. It’s not like there’s anybody around to see us,” Hiccup replied as he placed the bag with Eret’s laptop, his own tablet, and their camera on the ground next to the food.

Eret snorted, but didn’t even open an eye to give Hiccup the smirk he knew he would get under different circumstances. “Of course you did.”

The first hours of their day out passed just as lightly as planned. They roamed the old castle’s ground, climbing on walls and discovering hidden spots at the most unexpected places. Eret took notes and pictures of all the things they found, cataloguing everything for later researches, while Hiccup took more pictures of the general scenes for background inspiration. Every now and then, they took breaks to eat some of the snacks, self-made bread, cheese, fruits, and Hiccup’s famous banana bread. Around noon, they dozed off, the warm sunshine on their skin, and when Hiccup woke, it was to a warm body cuddling up to him, a large hand slipping beneath his tunic-style shirt.

“Are you awake yet?” Eret muttered from behind him, his hand leaving a trail of sparks on his skin that made heat pool in his lower belly.

Instead of an answer, Hiccup pushed back against where he could feel Eret already half hard against his ass. What followed was an intense playfight of groping and tugging clothes off, of pushing each other down, and of laughter and kisses. In the end, Hiccup won, though probably only because Eret let him. They both knew what being outside did to Hiccup during sex, and Eret was always eager to take this wild, almost feral side of his boyfriend.

“Fuck, Eret!” Hiccup groaned a good amount of lube and preparation later as he pushed into welcoming heat. His vision and mind were already blurry, his hands on Eret’s hips to steady them both.

Beneath him, Eret gave a needy grunt as his prostate was hit, already so sensitive after Hiccup stimulating it with his fingers. He was on all fours, the best way to take Hiccup in this primal state in his opinion, but even though they’d barely started, his arms were already shaking.

It didn’t take long before Hiccup lost himself to their surroundings. He couldn’t say what it was, but there was just something about having sex outside; about the fresh air, the wind on sweaty skin, the scent of grass and flowers, of the sea and the earth, the sounds of rustling leaves – it all mixed into the usual experience and turned sex into something more. Soon, he lost his ability to think and only felt, the heat, the pleasure, how it all grew in intensity until his body felt on fire.

“Oh, Gods!” he grunted through gritted teeth as he felt his orgasm building, everything insight him growing tight. Eret replied with an unarticulated noise somewhere between a whine, a groan, and a shout, and it gave Hiccup the last push. He came with a primal howl, buried deeply inside Eret’s twitching and clenching body.

When he came to his senses again, he was enveloped in Eret’s embrace, looking up into a lazy and satisfied smile.

“Hi there. Back to human brains?” he asked teasingly, making Hiccup chuckle weakly and burrow deeper into his embrace.

“Mmh, not quite, but I’m getting there,” Hiccup mumbled back. “But how are you? I’m sorry, I lost myself again, and–”

“Oh, don’t be daft,” Eret interrupted him, laughing, and cut him off with a kiss. “There’s nothing quite like getting fucked by that animalistic side of you, and you know how much I enjoy that. No need to apologise for anything.”

Hiccup hummed, but still threw a quick glance below and was relieved to find Eret soft and satisfied. Yes, outdoor sex always was an intense experience, for them both, but he still always worried about how utterly unobservant he would become.

For a while, they only kept cuddling in silence until Eret broke it. “Thank you for this day out,” he sighed. “I really needed that.”

Hiccup only nodded, waited for him to continue.

“I’ve… I’ve been too obsessed with this thing lately. Remind me to stick to my original opinion and trust in my instincts in the future.”

“I will. What were all your researches about anyway?”

Eret let out a weak laugh, sounding almost embarrassed. “It was… well, it was about the Undine.”

With a low grunt, Hiccup retreated to look at Eret, checking whether he was serious. With how vehemently he’d turned down this specific topic over and over, this was probably what Hiccup had expected the least.

“Yeah, I know what you want to say, H. ‘Wasn’t it you who always told me it’s nothing but a weird fairy tale, not even worth thinking about it twice?’ It’s just... How we sometimes lose entire hours without remembering them.” He gave a helpless shrug. “It’s strange. I don’t have an explanation for that, so I thought… well, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to look what this local legend even was about.”

“And what did you find?” Hiccup asked, half worried and half amused.

Eret just snorted though. “Nothing. Nothing that makes sense, at least,” he grunted. “There’s the story Mrs Ingerman told us, about that boy who died, and I’ve heard the same story from others in the village too. One elderly man even claimed that one of his ancestors had seen her. A beautiful woman wandering through the village in the middle of the night. That’s apparently what started all the other stories, because a stranger in the middle of the night obviously can only be an evil spirit.” He snorted and shook his head. “And since then, the Undine gets the blame for every accident and every misfortune, be it a stillborn child or just someone losing their keys. There isn’t even an explanation for who or what she is, where she comes from, or what she wants. It makes no sense. Usually, such legends have a more… more decorated core, you know? Something more substantial. More details and background, another source than just ‘a woman was seen as she walked through the night’. It’s so flimsy compared to other legends I’ve heard.”

Hiccup nodded. He understood what Eret meant, had heard about enough other legends to see the difference. “So, then you don’t believe in the Undine anymore?”

Again, Eret snorted and rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. “I wouldn’t say that I ever believed in her. You should know me better than that by now.”

Hiccup hummed in agreement. Eret was too practical and too grounded to believe in the supernatural. Yes, he researched the old legends and treated them with respect when he talked about them in his book, but that didn’t mean that he believed in them. “What changed your mind then? To look into it in the first place, I mean?”

Eret gave a little shrug. “I guess I was hoping to find some answers. I mean, there is something out there. There has to be some explanation as to why we lose track of entire hours all of a sudden. It’s not just you, after all, not just one person, but two. And something like that never happened to us before. I thought it might be some… some hallucinogenic gas leaking from the earth, or something. Or an intense magnetic field that plays tricks on our minds. Just anything. But even if it was something like that… that doesn’t explain why it would affect us so strongly.”

“Maybe the general population here is more used to it by now?” Hiccup offered as a possible explanation. Personally, he was fine with accepting it all to be the doing of a sentient water spirit, but he knew that Eret felt differently and Hiccup enjoyed throwing ideas around with him.

But Eret shook his head. “That would be a possible explanation,” he admitted. “If it wasn’t for the fact that tourists generally stay entirely unaffected by this, by the Undine. No, not even that makes sense. I should have just left it be, because none of it makes sense!”

In a way, Hiccup would have liked to keep talking about this topic. It was the first time Eret didn’t just ward it off as complete nonsense, after all. But he respected his boyfriend’s wish for a change of topic. “Maybe you’re just overworked and after today everything will be clearer again. Anyway, how about we go swimming before the sun gets down? Because having brought those towels for no reason would be a shame.”

It didn’t take any more convincing after that. With the days getting longer and warmer, they’d both been eager to go for a swim in the ocean, and this secluded place was just perfect; no too strong waves or hidden currents, with only calm clear water, the tower, and interesting rock formations. For nearly an hour, they stayed in the cool water, swimming around the rocks, diving along the old castle walls, and picking up a couple of pretty shells. Hiccup nearly died of laughter during a water fight that left them both panting and grinning, and that ended with a passionate kiss which left them even more breathless. Hiccup greatly enjoyed the taste of salty water on Eret as he went down on him, with Eret’s hands clawing into the damp beach as he came since they’d not even made it back to their blanket.

All in all, it was a great day. And when Eret said so too as they snuggled under their blanket that night, Hiccup couldn’t help the satisfied grin. This was it, the life they had been looking for. Not free of work, but free of obligations and expectations, free to divide their time as they chose, and free to be with each other in whatever way they wished. And it made him happy.

. o O o .

When her humans had left their construction shortly after dawn, she’d followed them along the coast and to the other, much older construction. This one was even older than she was, from the time of her predecessor or even earlier still. There had always been one like her in these waters, after all.

The creature couldn’t help but smile as she watched them all day long. Even though she had to keep a little more distance in the calmer waters, she still saw how happy they were, and that made her happy in return. Their behaviour didn’t make much sense to her, sometimes wild like a storm and then calm like a breeze only a few moments later. She paid close attention as she watched them that day, trying to understand and to learn. And even though she understood barely anything of what they did, she couldn’t smother the wish to join them.

She wanted to climb those walls too, an exercise so different from swimming that she could barely wrap her head around it. She wanted to taste the food they obviously enjoyed so much, not being used to eating herself aside from what the light and the water provided her with. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin, even as the memory of said skin forming around her still made her shudder. She wanted to know how it felt to touch and be touched. She knew how a rock felt when she leaned on it, but another living being would certainly feel differently – and also different from when a fish accidentally swam through her.

When they eventually entered her world beneath the ocean’s surface, she couldn’t make herself stay away from them, though. She was careful not to poke her head over the calm surface and also made sure to stay behind rocks so they wouldn’t spot her vague face floating around. But still, she stayed close, swimming around them in circles and enjoying their presence.

That night, she watched their small construction with an entirely new feeling. Being so close to them had given her a thrill. It had been exciting and wonderful, and she’d deeply missed their warm trail when they eventually ventured back onto solid ground. However, she felt as if part of the warmth she’d witnessed all day was still there, in and around her, making her mind tremble with joy. And she hoped that, with the warmer season coming, she would get the chance to do something like this more often.

She didn’t fool herself though. Today, the memory of tight skin trapping her might have been enough to keep her in the water – but it was only a matter of time before her curiosity got the better of her.

. o O o .

Uh-oh... I wonder how that will turn out...

#Undine #fanfiction #Hicret #Hicretstrid #Mermaid AU #Modern AU #OT3 #Hiccup Haddock #Eret son of Eret #Astrid Hofferson #httyd

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acidicwriting · 5 years

Text

Billie Eilish -Lovely feat.Khalid

Isn't it lovely all alone

Heart made of glass my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces skin to bone

Hello,welcome home

She lay on her back,the bed sheet caressing her skin with a smooth touch.The sheet covering her didn't seem to offer her any warmth. Alyssa's fingers were cold, body involuntarily shivering whenever a cool gust of wind blew in through the half-open window.Her previously harsh sobs had subsided into silent tears that now only remained as dried-up tracks on her face.Her heartbeat was even,no longer hammering against her chest .Her whole being was now eerily calm, similar to a formerly angry bee, buzzing with menace before being smoked into serenity.A brilliant flash of light danced across the sky,turning it green for a moment,followed by the loud clap of Thor beating his hammer high up in the heavens yet she lay impervious to it.

As if on cue, Patches darted into her room and jumped up on her bed with a shaky meow.The cat's eyes were wide, bottle brush tail flicking in the air as he made his way to Alyssa , sniffing her face before climbing onto her chest and taking a seat. He looked regal really, posture like that of a noble general marching his brave soldiers into the battleground.She was going to miss him.The comfort he brought simply with his presence was unparallelled.His meows, his purrs, that look of smug satisfaction on his face he when he caught a cockroach and brought it back to proudly show off to her.Those two lone patches of brown on the base of his ears that contrasted softly with his white fur.Even his weight on her chest was reassuring .Like everything was going to be alright in the world. Only it wasn't. Not for her.

But that was fine, really. She'd come to terms with it.It all had to end now. No more anxiety, no more constant self-loathing, no more loneliness. She felt numb. And oh,so tired. Her hands were stable as they softly scratched the top of Patches' little head. The kitten responded by resting his chin on his feet and closing his eyes.It seemed like a nice enough way to go ; lying on her bed, cozy, with the only creature in the world that never made her feel silly or worthless,who looked at her with unconditional love brimming in those icy blue eyes.She felt a sharp pang of guilt in her heart as she thought about how Patches would feel when he finally realised his master was dead.In the goodbye message she'd sent Alicia,she'd told her to take care of the cat in her permanent absence. She had turned off her phone so there was no chance of her getting a reply text. Not that she'd get one too soon anyway. Alicia hardly had time to check what her attention-seeking little sister texted her,what with her jam-packed schedule. Who'd actually notice her absence first? Her father? Her sister? Certainly not her "friends". At least she'd filled several bowls of food and water for Patches so he could survive on his own for a while.And if those ran out then,well,he could just eat her right?

Her lunch was leftover linguine with a simple sauce.Last night it had tasted like spring and sunshine on a plate.Today it tasted like ash.She managed to chew and swallow the whole thing, walked to the bathroom,gulped down the contents of the little orange bottle of Ambien and washed that down with a bottle of wine.Then she lay down, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

Her wait wasn't a long one. In less than a half hour her inhalations began to consecutively become shallower with her heart rate picking up.Her lips felt dry and when she tried to lick them even her tongue turned out to be parched .Calm down,she told herself, it's okay. She attempted to swallow but that small action stung as if her throat were scraped raw on the inside. She needed water. Right then.

Alyssa sat up ,dislocating Patches ,and promptly fell back onto her sheets, hit by a sudden wave of light-headedness. Inhaling deeply she sat back up, her arms quivering as she pushed herself off the bed, only to take two steps forward before plummeting to the floor. Her legs felt like jelly.Everything looked hazy.She blinked hard, trying to clear her unfocused eyes but to no avail.Heart pounding, she crawled to the dresser on top of which her phone was. She reached out with her hands but only ended up pushing it farther away brushing her fingers against it.Alyssa was slightly breathless now,mouth hung open, insides twisting as she tried to push herself up holding the dresser drawers but found that her body didn't really do what she wanted it to anymore and fell back limply on the ground with a loud thud.Her body felt like it had been hit by a truck.Her hands were shaking and she couldn't do anything to stop them,the muscles of her legs,back and shoulders were contracting wildly yet she was utterly helpless.Her throat seemed to be closing up.Her mouth still hung open but except for the loud gasps of breath she inhaled and exhaled she could make no other sound.She was crying now, screaming in her head for someone to come save her. This was not how her life was supposed to end.Her body was not supposed to betray her like this.Alyssa felt a wild stab of fear clawing at her insides that came with the blunt realisation that she was not ready to die."Help me please please anybody please just someone help me " the voice inside her head kept screaming and screaming and screaming while all that came out of her mouth were small choked whimpers and gasps.She could hear Patches wailing loudly, scared of whatever was happening to her before running off into another part of the house,seemingly eager to put a distance between them and leaving her to fend for herself. It was hot,so unbearably hot.Her body felt like it was blistering. Her eyes burned as they fluttered shut.

She could hear a voice and the sound of footsteps .Someone was in her apartment. "I'M IN HERE! " the voice in her head screamed. It was a familiar voice that said "Uh, Alyssa it's me Johnny from next door, I brought your cat back.He came into my apartment meowing his ass off and it was actually kinda freaky 'cause I thought he was feral but then I saw the collar and HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT HAPPENED" he had walked right into the doorway to her room.Johnny dropped Patches and rushed to her side, turning her on her back to feel her neck for a pulse and simultaneously calling and shrieking the address to a 911 operator. Patches anxiously paced half circles around the both of them,sniffing Alyssa's trembling hands and wailing loudly at her .

The last thing Alyssa saw before losing her consciousness was the face of a medic as she pulled her left eye open,aimed a flashlight at it and yelled something to someone behind behind her.

Everything happened in a rush after the medics came.Alyssa was heaved onto a stretcher,her still-convulsing body strapped down and pulled inside an ambulance that sped away instantly with Johnny in it with her.She was wheeled to the operating room, tubes attached to her arms,a particularly big tube in her mouth pumping in the necessary fluids. The doors closed behind Alyssa and the emergency medical team, separating them from Johnny who had been running right beside them. He stood there, shaking with fright before sinking into one of the couches with his face in his hands. What the hell just happened? Why was Alyssa having a grand mal seizure in the middle of the day? How long had she been like that before he found her? What would have happened if her cat hadn't run to his apartment?Was she even going to make it?

Alyssa was trapped in a nightmare.She kept running but they always found her. The malicious enigmas that her subconscious had created.There were many.People she used to know,people she didn't remember ever seeing.She didn't know exactly what it was about them that terrified her.Maybe it was simply their malicious aura,or maybe it was the way they smiled at her.Cold smiles with sinister eyes .They smiled like they knew a secret of hers.As they'd try to grab her they'd laugh.And when she got away they's scream and moan as if they were in pain.There was a small boy too.He wore a yellow shirt,black pants and black shoes.He never approached her.He stayed in the shadows, just quietly watching her.There was something about him that absolutely terrified her. On seeing him her breaths stuttered, she'd shake and just collapse. Was this all in her head?Or was it real life? Was she simply trapped in another dimension?Was this limbo? Or was this where the dead stayed? If that was the case where were the others?

There was a light now. A brilliant light that had an otherworldly quality to it.It seemed to emanate a soft music. And she inexplicably found herself being drawn to it. She took a step towards it, entranced, reached out a hand only to be pulled back into darkness with a shriek.The monsters were back.

After what seemed like an eternity of suffering,Alyssa's eyes flickered open.And to her massive surprise she found herself in a hospital room, with needles in her arm, what looked like a catheter hooked on her torso and the sound of beeping from the device measuring her heart rate.'What the hell?'she thought and turned her head to the left to see Johnny sitting there tapping away on his phone. He looked so out of place in the drab,pale cream room, dressed in a pink t-shirt, black jeans and white shoes. And yet he looked so good. She suddenly felt inferior and oddly exposed to him in the hospital gown with its thin,white material,hair that was most probably matted to her head and her pale skin.Awkwardly fumbling with the sheets,she tried to pull them all over herself when he looked up and went "Oh thank god you're awake I was beginning to get worried" with a smile so bright she could only stare for a moment before she snapped out of it. "Why were you worried?" it came out harsh due to her not having spoken in a while but Johnny either didn't notice or just chose to ignore it because the next second he was going off about how he was so scared when he found her, and the doctors gave him a mini heart attack when they declared that she had died on the table and then almost fainting in relief when that one particularly determined doctor who seemed to just not know how to give up had miraculously brought Alyssa back from the dead. "YOU WERE DEAD FOR 2 MINUTES AND 42 SECONDS ALYSSA THAT'S ALMOST LIKE 3 FUCKING MINUTES" .He then proceeded to explain how her sister had showed up that night in tears."I swear she would've wiped the floor with the face of that nurse who told her she couldn't see you in the icu right then if I wasn't holding her back" and how Alicia practically lived in her hospital room for the entirety of four days and only went home to shower when Johnny visited each day. " I told her you're up.She's on the way now, it's gonna take her,like,10 minutes and she says to tell you that she's gonna kill you". "Oh" is all the reply Alyssa can muster before a doctor walks in with with a nurse and a woman who introduces herself saying "Hi, Alyssa my name is Charlotte" "She's one of our doctors who are going to see you during your stay here", added the doctor. After a moment she again replied with a quiet "Oh",which seemed to be the only word in Alyssa's muddled, slow brain yet her heart rate had picked up and she began to fidget uncomfortably at the idea of having to talk to someone. She spaced out, didn't even notice them leaving or Johnny resuming his seat on the couch and refocusing his attention to his phone. "Thanks Johnny" she said when she finally came to her senses. He smiled softly at her, "Don't sweat it" he said before he went back to his phone.His smile seemed to calm her down a little.She looked to her right and there was a tray laden with soup and a glass of orange juice.She carefully picked up the glass, pleasantly surprised to see she had the strength to do so, and took a small sip. It tasted bitter. She put it back down and settled back against the pillow,at ease. Her calmness didn't last long ; the next moment her door was flung open and there she was. Alicia, her older sister who didn't really seem to care before but now had eyes brimming with tears.She half-ran to her bed and flung herself at Alyssa and held her so tightly Alyssa wasn't sure if her sudden lack of breath was due to the fact that she herself was overcome with emotions or her sister's stronghold on her. And she seemed to not even care about that because they were both sobbing now,shoulders shaking,saying words the other couldn't comprehend.Johnny excused himself with an awkward "I'll get going then",leaving the door open behind him.

When Alicia finally detached herself, Alyssa found herself become nervous again about having to explain her actions. She opened her mouth, about to say something when Alicia gasps and reaches for her handbag, through which the head of a certain cat with white fur and a lone brown patch at the base of each ear could be seen "I couldn't not bring him he's missed you so much. Johnny says he's been crying for you all the time",she said,letting him out .He runs to Alyssa, meowing, without missing a beat. Patches stands on her half sitting body, hind paws on her stomach, soft front paws on her chest, sniffing her face and then rubbing his head on her face while meowing.Alyssa realised she loved this cat to death.While Johnny may have called an ambulance it was Patches who had run off to Johnny's to bring him to her.She hugged the cat to herself, kissing his small head."Johnny took care of him?" she asked Alicia."Yeah he loves the cat he says it basically saved you", she replied, in an amused voice. "He did,he's my furry little hero" Alyssa said, kissing his head again and smiling softly. "I'll be there for you from now on Aly". Alyssa froze, her mind immediately blanking but as hard as she struggled she couldn't find any words to form a sort of reply.In lieu she said "The door's open".Alicia's face portrayed hurt as she stammered " OH I um yeah I'll leave I'm sorry I know I-" "I didn't mean that you have to leave I just don't want the staff or a doctor to see Patches in here with me". "Oh thank god" Alicia said, visibly relieved as she quickly went to the door and shut it. When she came and sat back down at Alyssa's side she took a deep breath and said "Johnny's hot" Alyssa snorted before replying "Tell me about it". In response her sister smirked "I think he likes you" ."Alicia he calls me a crazy cat lady ", Alyssa replied half exasperated half amused. Alicia grinned, "He told them you two were engaged". "He what ?". Alicia's grin grew bigger "Well they wouldn't let him ride with you in the ambulance but apparently he had to come with you so he just lied". "He was just being the nice guy that he is?", Alyssa offered." Her sister snorted, "He so likes you."

Hi guys.So this is the first story of mine that I feel confident enough to post.It's kind of special to me.And if you've made it this far,through all that cringe shit,thank you.I hope you had a somewhat good read.Merry Christmas!🎄🎄✨

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krisrix · 6 years

Photo

Prose under the cut (≈2,000 words)

Yang Wen-li approached the quarters of Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramm, escorted by two officers, one at each elbow. A few more were further back down the hallway, tailing Yang and his chaperones. This wasn’t new. Everywhere he went, formally escorted or otherwise, Imperial officers followed. Yang wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be discreet and failing, or if they were meant as a deliberate, constant reminder. Watching me from all corners, everywhere I go, huh? No funny business from the cripple, sure.

Well, he wasn’t really crippled, not anymore. Though, the seam where flesh met lab-grown skin still itched and felt tight, and the ache deep within his thigh had yet to cease. Yang didn’t actually think it was possible, but he could swear that every connection between nerve and cable, man and machine was noticeable. Another constant reminder.

The doors of Reinhard’s personal quarters were opened for Yang. After he stepped through, the officers held a salute until the heavy double doors fell shut behind him with a thick sound. The sudden absence of Imperial soldiers watching his every move was palpable. It was a sensation Yang was still partially unused to. This was the only room where Yang was left unsupervised. He had been trying to settle on exactly why that might be, and why it made him anxious, but it was difficult to dwell on for too long.

A show of faith, perhaps. That was as good of an explanation as Yang was ever capable of making for this. He was essentially wrapped up neatly with a little bow for Reinhard; it wasn’t absurd to think that allowing Yang free rein in these moments when the Kaiser was most vulnerable was a nod of appreciation for his good behavior and patience thus far.

While Yang Wen-li was not especially accustomed to any of this yet, a certain ease was slowly making itself known. Even if he couldn’t rationalize most of it, he was too weary to continually fret over the same things again and again. The anxiety caused by the sound and feel of the closed doors at his back faded quickly enough. And as he waited for Reinhard to enter this small sitting room through the adjoining bedroom, Yang would have liked to take the moment to ruminate over if he was going to be offered coffee or tea today, rather than the absurdity of all of this. But such banal thoughts were banished instantly as Reinhard unhurriedly entered in attire that utterly baffled Yang.

Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramm, the indomitable and insufferable, was still wearing his morning gown this close to lunch time. True, these were Reinhard’s living accommodations and not his office or any proper place, but it still came as a shock to Yang. All this, and he can still surprise me. And, well, he could toss those thoughts around in his head later.

Their eyes met and Yang offered a quick salute. “Thank you for coming to see Us.” Reinhard lifted his hand to dismiss Yang’s salute, and the loose drape of his robe’s sleeve pooled down, allowing a small peek of his forearm to be exposed. It was a pale arm, and while Yang didn’t glance at it directly, it seemed frailer to him than he would have expected.

“Of course. Excellency.” Yang’s simple reply caused Reinhard to lift an eyebrow at him.

No retort like ‘I didn’t think I had a choice’ from you today, Yang? Reinhard’s lips moved slightly in what might have been a smirk, had he not stopped it. He crossed the room, past Yang, and took a seat on the sofa. He gestured for Yang to sit across from him.

Yang obeyed, but was dazed. Reinhard’s attire was still throwing him off. The informality of it felt as if the entire universe was conspiring in some joke against him. The Kaiser, in front of him, in pajamas!

(It didn’t help that the pastel hue and thin silk were, admittedly, an alluring combination to Yang. Hopefully not just on Reinhard, because that train of thought was too shameful to bear.)

Is he mocking me, or is he really this comfortable around me now? Both options were unappealing and paradoxically welcome in comparison to the other. Yang scratched at his hair. The list of things he would need to mull over later was ever-growing.

Reinhard leaned back against the cushions in a way Yang had seen him do many times. However, something was different about it today - in fact, something was different about him in general today, Yang realized belatedly. Truly, the pajamas had thrown him off a good deal, but now as their effect on him slowly abated, Yang began to pick up on other differences in the golden-haired man before him.

“The new palace is nearing its completion. We would like to go over some ideas on how best to accommodate you there,” Reinhard explained. His voice carried a strained breathiness to it. It was subtle, but once Yang caught notice of it, it was impossible to deny.

Reinhard’s icy eyes were set on Yang, but the usual sharp focus wasn’t quite there. He was silent, merely staring, and Yang had to bookmark his slowly forming hypothesis for now, as Reinhard was clearly expecting a reply.

“Ah. I wasn’t thinking of staying within the Palace…”

Reinhard released an impatient note along the breath of a heavy exhale. “You have a more secure place in mind? A bunker, perhaps?”

Even this type of testy retort from Reinhard offered up far more clues than the Kaiser surely would have liked. Yang was like a hunting dog who had picked up a scent; with sudden focus, the path was becoming clearer and clearer with each passing moment.

“More pressingly, your Excellency,” Yang started, slowly leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees (two of them, again!), “shouldn’t you be in bed? We can plan for me later.”

Yang Wen-li’s mouth went dry as an icy fierceness flashed in Reinhard’s eyes. It wasn’t a desirable response to receive, but it was certainly more classically him. “What do you mean, ‘in bed’?”

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Yang leaned forward more to get a better look at Reinhard. Yes, surely, his cheeks were flushed.

Reinhard tsked and pushed his shoulders back into the couch petulantly. “We are fine, and we do not need you playing at physician.”

“Do you have a fever? Have you checked? Your cheeks look red.”

Reinhard bit out a laugh that in another setting might have struck a chord of fear in Yang. Now, it only seemed forced. “Your concern is charming, Admiral Yang Wen-li.” The title was expressed as an insult, said in the way that it was.

“Are you asking me not to care, Reinhard?” It was extremely petty of Yang to call the other man by a name that might also invoke insult. And though he instantly felt the weight of regret, Yang didn’t offer a correction to it. If such a thing would bring Reinhard’s cold ire down upon him, than that would be preferable to watching this feverish young man falter before him.

Reinhard’s nostrils flared and his pupils pinched to pinpricks, but no quick reply came. That alone was enough to make Yang’s temperature drop in direct contrast to Reinhard’s own. It was a bad sign.

“What are you doing?” Reinhard all but yelped as Yang was suddenly on his feet and clearing the scant space between them far too quickly for a man still unused to his new leg. Yang knelt his good (real) knee on the cushion next to Reinhard and reached a hand out. There was an window of time in which Reinhard could have slapped the hand away, but it passed too quickly, and neither man was sure if the opportunity was missed due to Reinhard being dulled by illness or by something else.

“I’m checking.” Yang slipped his palm under the luminescent blond locks of Reinhard’s bangs. It was so soft. But more importantly, thin tendrils were clinging to the damp skin of Reinhard’s forehead. While that was evidence enough, more certainty couldn’t hurt. Yang pressed the skin of his palm there, but then shook his head and corrected himself; he flipped his hand over, using his wrist instead. And then I’m supposed to check it against my own, right? Julian was a hearty boy and only got sick very rarely. This sort of thing was almost entirely out of Yang’s skill set. He persevered, touching his other wrist to his own forehead. It didn’t take more than half a second to feel the disparity between their temperatures.

Reinhard’s face grew redder and hotter beneath the concerned touch. “This is ridiculous, Yang. We have a team of doctors, as you’re well aware.”

Yang felt rather ridiculous too, now that he took better inventory of their situation. The flushed, golden Kaiser looked very much like a disgruntled feral kitten as he glared up at the looming Yang, past his touch. Yang made a rather apologetic expression as he withdrew his hands, busying one with rubbing the back of his head instead.

“You should get in bed, and I’ll get someone to call over one of those doctors,” Yang suggested.

Reinhard huffed and pushed himself away from the couch, and Yang. For a moment, Yang thought this meant his advice was being heeded, but alas. “We are very well aware of our limits, and would like you to keep your suggestions to yourself. Your fussing is beyond the pale.” And disarming, Reinhard continued in secret.

“Your Excellency—” Reinhard spun away from Yang, but that did not deter him for long. “This is the second time I’ve seen you with a fever, and I haven’t even been around for two months yet.”

“And We have seen you with just as many!”

“That’s because I lost a leg and had surgery twice,” Yang groaned with the thinning patience of a man having to continually explain something to a stubborn child. “What’s your excuse, Excellency?”

“Enough!” Reinhard struck out an arm at Yang to ward him off. “If this is how you are going to behave in Our presence, then We will have you removed, your mortality be damned!”

Are you going to be a hard-headed fool like all the other superiors I’ve given advice to over the years? Yang sighed and took a cautious step toward Reinhard, despite the harsh line of his back and outstretched arm indicating that no such behavior would be accepted. “Kaiser Reinhard…” Yang attempted again, softening his tone and approach. The dog would not give up on this hunt. “Both of us need to stay alive and well.”

Reinhard’s arm remained outstretched, though his entire demeanor relaxed with weariness. Just the slightest, he turned his head, and while it wasn’t enough to actually make him able to glance at Yang over his shoulder, it was a concession nonetheless. “Our schedule has already been cleared for the day, Admiral. You’re the only appointment We kept, since We - erroneously - thought talking with you would be simple enough. After this, We will spend the day in bed.”

Yang released a noisy, exasperated sigh. “You should have said so from the start!”

#logh #legend of the galactic heroes #yang wenli #yang wen-li #reinhard von lohengramm #logh au #my art #my writing

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glimmerkeith · 7 years

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(hahaha last one i promise, obviously you can do 1 or zero of these

ty for the indulgence, as always…omfg

***

Staying up until two in the morning to write a term paperwasn’t unheard of in the world of uni students, not by any stretch of the imagination,but most of them were likely doing so because they had procrastinated and putit off until the very last minute. And all right, perhaps some trouble mighthave been saved if Mick had started his economics paper just a bit earlier, but he had gotten started with plenty of timeleft—the trouble was that he kept going back to edit it, to add moreinformation, to re-edit, to make sure it was perfect.

And he set an alarm for early the next morning, to look overhis final version one last time. He’d even forgone his usual early-morning tripto the gym to glance over the monstrosity again, all twenty-plus pages of it,lips moving soundlessly as he read parts of it over. This couldn’t last long,however, the class started at eight o’clock sharp, and the lecturer wouldn’ttolerate late arrivals on so crucial a day.

Throwing an outfit together and pushing the binder with thepaper in it inside his backpack, Mick bolted from his tiny flat with what washopefully plenty of time to spare. The brisk walk to the train station thatwould take him further into the city was marred by gray clouds alreadygathering above, no trace of early morning sunlight visible at all. He didn’tstop to worry about that much right now—what was more urgent was fighting hisway onto the first train compartment he could get on, hauling his all-importantcargo along.

By the time he got to the station, his head been nodding offagainst his seat more than a couple times, the result of a long night up andnot near enough sleep. Checking his watch indicated that there was enough timeto squeeze in a quick visit to the usual coffee place where he would stop by toget a drink in the morning, and his feet were carrying him there without hiseyes bothering to look up at the sky again.

There was a queue already lined up in the warm, brightly-litshop, a sharp contrast to the darker, chillier day outside. By the time Mickwas thinking that perhaps this hadn’t been the smartest of ideas, it wasalready a bit late—he was so far ahead in line, he might as well just stay herenow. It was a popular enough destination for many of the students at variousschools nearby, and he could spot some familiar faces even here now.

The guy in front of him was dressed all in black, with aguitar case slung over his shoulder. When he turned a little, Mick thought theprofile looked vaguely familiar…he’d seen him in here from time to time,sometimes with a skinny blonde woman, but always with the guitar case. Anotherfriend, Andrew, had been in here and said he vaguely knew him through a friendof a friend at the local art college—Keith, maybe? Something like that.

He shuffled forward and gave his own order, leaving Mick toall but fidget with impatience on the spot as he checked the time on his phoneagain. He’d be fine if he hurried. There wasn’t any need for concern.

A few minutes later, he was grabbing his own coffee orderand hurrying outside the shop and onto the pavement—and just in time to noticethe now-sinisterly dark sky, accompanied by a rumble of thunder. There was onedrop, then another…and within moments, the rain started to come down inearnest. Mick swore profusely and moved faster, his wet hair starting toplaster to his cheeks as he tried to remember if he had an umbrella in his bag…butstopping under a nearby awning for a moment proved the answer to be adefinitive no. He cursed again, and looked out frantically into the rain thatwas now starting to come down in sheets.

He hadto be on time, there was no way he could dawdle or even wait for a bus inthis. But he had little doubts that the rucksack was far from waterproof, andif he did rain damage to the critical and godforsaken paper he hadworked so hard on…

His eyes landed on a solution in the next moment. Underneaththe awning of the building next to him, the art college student (Keith?) was stompingout a cigarette under his shoe, and preparing to go back into the rain…with ahuge umbrella opened over his head.

Mick moved as fast as all his sports training had evertaught him, darting over to Keith in a blink. “E-excuse me, pardon me! Listen,it…it’s Keith, is it?”

He looked utterly gobsmacked for a moment, and Mick didn’tblame him. “Er…yeah. How the hell d’you know my name?”

“Andrew. Oldham. He knows your friend Ronnie. I…are yougoing in the same direction LSE is?”

Dark, almost dangerous eyes looked him up and down. “…yeah,thereabouts.”

God, he could have been a little more talkative—but hehad better things to worry. “Look, I hate to ask, but I’ve got the one and onlycopy of my bloody term paper probably falling apart in my rucksack right now,and I could use…I could use an umbrella to get to school. Please.”

Keith gave an incredulous snort at that. “Are you winding meup here?”

“No, not at all! I’m fucking serious—”

“And what am I supposed to do, walk all the way in the raininstead? I don’t think so.”

He was tired, so tired and frazzled and overworked, healmost contemplated throwing himself on Keith and wrestling the umbrella fromhis hands before peeling off down the street. The thought—or else hisdesperation—must have been written all over his face, as Keith studied him oncemore.

“…you look like a drowned fucking rat.”

“Jesus…thanks for that.”

The rain had showed no sign at all of letting up, and mostpeople were opting to take shelter in nearby buildings as cabs and cars rumbledpast on the road, headlights glowing in the torrential downpour. Maybe, Mickthought, he could nick a newspaper or something and use it for a feeble amountof cover—and then, to his surprise, there came a ragged sigh behind him.

“Oh, god…I must be going soft. Look—I’m going the same wayfor a bit. If you want we could…share, I guess.”

Mick whirled around, fully prepared to defend himself fromany joke that might be trying to be pulled on him—but Keith looked sincereenough, and he’d moved the umbrella forward a bit. It really was quite large,there was space enough for both of them under it, and a wild, grateful smileunfurled across his face.

“Thank you. Oh mygod…thank you.”

Now under the relative cover of the umbrella, they set offdown the street together, Mick taking care that his rucksack was definitelyreaping the benefit of this new arrangement. There was room, but not much tobrag about, and Mick found himself increasingly all but pressed up againstKeith’s (dry) side as they walked briskly along. But of course, he was wearing aleather jacket, and it smelled like cigarette smoke and surprisingly, somethingwarm like cinnamon. Maybe it was whatever was in his drink. In any case, it wasan almost comforting sort of sensation, and it was everything he could do notto try and huddle even closer up to him.

“So you know Andrew, huh?” Keith asked him as they werewaiting at a crosswalk, and Mick nodded.

“Yeah. We…go back a bit.” If that was one could say aboutsomeone you used to fuck on a semi-regular basis.

“He’s a character. But, uh…guess I can see why he’d be intoyou.”

Mick blinked at that. “What does that mean?”

“Um, well…don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.”

It seemed stupid to argue with someone who he now owed, soMick kept any further thoughts to himself. Stupid Andrew.

One of the familiar buildings that belonged to LSE’s campuswas soon looming just ahead, and of course, just as the rain finally started tolet up. It began to slow down to a fine, still-steady patter, but at least onecould reasonably see where they were going now. Mick’s teeth were stillstarting to chatter, as he’d only put on a thin shirt this morning beforeleaving in a rush. Keith glanced over at him more than a couple times, andfinally came to a halt just outside the building with a sigh.

“I really must begoing soft…but Christ, you really do look tragic.” He shrugged his jacket offand held it out. “Just put it on, all right? You’re making me cold just lookingat you.”

Mick’s mouth fell open a little, almost about to stammer outa protest—but at this point in the day, he was still too frayed to turn anoffer of kindness down, and the jacket was plenty warm. “I really don’t…Ireally don’t know what to say, you know.”

“Say you’ll give it back to me, I want to keep the damnthing.” But Keith’s grin was friendlier, not feral. “You know where to find me,apparently.”

Yes, he certainly did—and Mick was surprisingly grateful forthat for more reasons than one by the time they finally parted ways. He bid Keithgoodbye and thanked him again before ducking into the foyer of the building,shaking his hair almost like a wet dog and still wearing the jacket. Peeringout the rain-slicked windows and out to the pavement revealed a distant figurewalking away with an umbrella held aloft, and he had to give a small smile evenas water continued to drip steadily off him.

Maybe the morning hadn’t been a total wash after all.

#my fic #god...i really am a giant sap tho #but ngl umbrella-sharing is one of my favorite tropes sooo u_u #i'll do my last prompt tomorrow #the glimmer twins #✨✨

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

Shhhh...

This story takes place when I was in elementary school, back in the early 90’s. I was six or seven, I can’t really remember, or rather I try not to remember. I haven’t told anyone of it since then… Because he told me not to.

I was in school on a crisp fall day, and the leaves had just started falling. The grassy green pigments I was used to had now turned into all different shades of yellow, brown, and red. My friends and I used to always dive right into the leaves and we’d play hide and seek ‘till the sun went down. I was super excited that day, because the piles of leaves were massive, like mini autumn mountains. Those were some of my favorite memories from my early childhood. As soon as the clock struck eleven-forty-five, I anxiously awaited my teachers’ approval to unlock the shackles keeping us in that confined classroom. And like the start of a horse race, we ran like bullets to our favorite time of day; recess. Unfortunately, our playground was confined at that point, as a girl named… oh God, what was her name again? Oh yeah, Laurel. She was in my class the year prior, but I never really got to know her because she was always by herself. A lot of kids heard different stories about what happened to her. The night earlier was Halloween, so some kids said she wasn’t missing, but instead was sick from eating too much candy. Others were convinced of her disappearance because of the tight knit information being disclosed from us by the adults. But where’d she go? No one could quite agree on this part. The most popular theory was that she ran away, as she seemed to be a loner anyway.

But none of these urban legends deterred us from playing our favorite game, manhunt. For those of you who don’t know, manhunt is like the next level of hide and seek. There’d be two teams, one would have a given amount of time to find a good place to secure their location, while the other team would count down until the time was right for them to hunt us down. The goal was for the hiders to make it back to home base without getting caught. Everyone chipped in some Halloween candy into the winners’ bowl. That day, I made sure to be a runner; I knew the perfect place to hide.

3…2…1…GO!!!! Before I knew it, I was bolting through the battlefield. I ducked under swings, and flew past teachers as I made my way to the edge of the pigpen I was fenced in. But, this particular fence had a secret; a hole: one big enough for a tiny kid like me to crawl through. No one would even think to look for me out in the woods behind the school, and when the time was right, BAM, I’d be back at home base before anyone would realize they hadn’t found me yet. I already tasted the sweet and sour candy in my watering mouth. I checked my left and right to see if anyone followed me, but I was in the clear. I dirtied up my white shorts as I dug my way out, like one of those army men training in the movies. Making it to the other side, I picked myself up and looked around for the perfect pile of leaves to disguise myself in. And there they were, right under a larger-than-life oak tree, one of the grandest heaps of leaves I had ever seen. I couldn’t help but smile as I quietly made my way into the pile. I was afraid I’d somehow alert the seekers of my where-a-bouts if I crunched too much as I snuggled myself inside the cocoon. And there I lay. Still smiling, I put my hands over my mouth to hold back from giggling. I had the kind of overwhelming joy a kid gets the first time the tooth fairy visits them, or meeting Goofy at Disney World. I was ecstatic. This feeling soon turned to disgust as I started noticing my surroundings. It smelt... atrocious. I could only imagine hundreds of bugs both living and dead inside this home I’d made for myself. I wasn’t too scared of bugs, but for some reason, I felt utterly disgusted being in there. It felt moist and sticky and intoxicatingly gross. My eyes started itching… no burning, as I viciously rubbed at them in a fruitless attempt to make the pain go away. The scent seemed to make it’s way into my lungs and started relentlessly stabbing at them. I couldn’t take it anymore. I squirmed around in the nest trying to find my way out, but I could barely see through my fort, as red became the primary color shielding my vision. I didn’t know whether my eyes were bleeding or if it was just the color of the leaves rubbing against my face, but what I did know is that I wanted out of there, and I wanted it fast. Wiping my eyes against my dirt stained shirt, my vision cleared and I saw another set of eyes staring back at mine. I squealed at first, thinking it was some sort of animal that was going to bite my face off, but than I realized that it was just Laurel.

I whispered to her, “Hey Laurel, what are you doing in here? Everyone thinks you ran away from home.” She kept staring at me, but never gave me a response.

“Are you hiding in here from someone too?” I asked anxiously. “Um… come on, let’s get out of here.”

I reached around for her hand and finally got hold of it. Her hand was small and gentle, yet chilly and, once again, sticky. Too many lollipops, I assured myself. I finally made my way into the refreshing sunlight and took in an enormous breath of air. I was still holding Laurel’s hand, but something didn’t feel quite right. She was a small girl, but she felt almost weightless. I slightly tugged at her arm, only to look back and see that it was just an arm. Before I could even let out a yelp, a large hand wrapped around my mouth. It was rough; I felt as if it was cutting my face with each slight movement. The hand was white as snow, but was covered in filth that stood out due to the almost plastic coloring of the skin. I then heard a soft and relaxing whisper flow past my right ear. It was a man’s voice; a voice that sang like a siren.

“Shhhh… It’s all right.”

My breathing became increasingly heavy and I knew he could tell.

“Your friend and I were having a play date, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret.”

I finally managed to free my mouth from his grasp and let out a shriek of terror. I heard someone in the distance ask what that sound was. I knew they were coming to look, and he knew it too.

“I have to go now,” he told me, “but you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about me. Not your mom, not your dad, not anyone. And if you do,” his final words seemed to linger for what felt like hours, “I’ll know.”

And with that I heard his footsteps walk away crunching though the leaves, making his way to the shelter of the dense woods. But he wasn’t even running. His motions were so innocent. Even when a teacher and a couple of other kids found me, I knew he was still there. Still watching. Eyes wide open. I then became distracted by the blood curdling howl of a scream the teacher let loose. One of the kids even threw up from the sight; the kind of sight no one should ever have to go through the horror of witnessing.

Sirens and yelling from cops and parents flooded the schoolyard. Kids wondered what was going on as there moms and dads desperately picked them up. But the ones that were crying… they knew what happened. A burly police officer with a moustache too big for his lip approached me and tried getting any information he could. But it didn’t matter how much they asked, because all they knew was that Laurel was found hacked and slashed in a pile of leaves outside the school after having disappeared the previous night. And that’s all I knew. That’s all I could tell them. Further questioning throughout the next few weeks wouldn't change anything. There was nothing else for me to say. He made sure of that…

Every night I looked out my window I saw him. His ghost-white skin haunted the darkness itself, as he stood in my driveway. Most of the time he’d just be standing there, staring at my window. If we made eye contact, he would occasionally wave and sometimes put his index finger against his mouth, signaling for me to remain quiet. So every night I’d turn the other way to face the never-ending hallway outside of my room. The one lamp my mom made sure to always keep on out there illuminated his shadow against the wall. If I stared too long, his head would cock sideways like a dog hearing an unfamiliar noise. He was always there watching over me like a demented angel.

My secret admirer led to severe emotional stress that doctors pegged as PTSD from finding Laurel. Agony is the only way to describe the feeling I get when I wake up every morning, just trying to get my gears going to make it through another day. There was neither chemical-twisting medication nor a four-eyed friendly shrink that could cure what I had. I got to an all-time low and hung a noose around my neck. But the pain wouldn’t end… they just cut me down and stuck me here, in this goddamn mental institute, strapped down like a feral fucking animal!

“I know what you’re feeling. Through my many years of social work, I’ve encountered so many lost souls that have been shattered from traumatizing events such as the one you went through.” The soothing psychologist told me.

“I-its… hard to take in, but this man… he’s all in my head… I guess having a staring contest with a dead girl can really spook a kid huh?” I chuckled with the slightest hesitation.

“I think you could use a nice, long rest.” He says with nurture.

“Yeah… I suppose some shut-eye could help.”

With that, Dr. Lotus gets up to shut the door. The sounds of beeping monitors and sassy nurses are slowly drowned out. All I can hear are the clinks and clanks of the doctor rummaging through a cedar cabinet. He calmly turns back to me holding some sort of gas mask.

My body tingled with relief as he strapped the mask on around my head. As my eyes become heavy and I start drifting away, I see him pick up something. It’s a scalpel. No… it’s too sharp to be a scalpel…

“I told you not to tell anyone…”

I squirm in my chair, fighting against my inevitable nap.

"Shhhh..."

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