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deliciousangelfestival · 19 hours

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The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 5

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , -

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky scowled, shaking his head. "I still can't accept that," he muttered, his voice tight. Even his gut, a usually reliable compass, told him something was off.

He despised the smell of tobacco. Though he occasionally handled tobacco products for gifts, the smell itself never sat well with him.

"It's all speculation at this point," Javier conceded, holding a placating hand. A glint of something akin to excitement flickered in his eyes. "Wait, I think I have an idea! How about you hold her left hand," he suggested, gesturing towards you, "and shake mine with your right?"

You offered your right hand, a wry smile playing on your lips as you explained, "Left one's still a bit out of commission, thanks to the cast."

Bucky hesitated, his fingers lingering in the air momentarily before cautiously reaching out to clasp yours. His grip was firm yet hesitant, as if unsure of what he might find. However, when it came time to shake Javier's hand, Bucky stopped.

A deep breath escaped his lips, his entire posture tensing slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, a flicker of worry crossing his face. Was the strange feeling returning?

"Bucky?" Javier's voice cut through the sudden silence.

No response.

"Bucky," you repeated gently, your voice laced with concern.

His eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as if dispelling a bad dream. Javier was staring intently at his watch, a frown creasing his brow.

You forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Nothing happened," you chirped, hoping to ease the tension around him.

Javier nodded curtly, his brow furrowed. "It's already been three minutes, and you haven't shown any symptoms."

He uncrossed his arms, a silent invitation for you and Bucky to release your handhold. You did so hesitantly, your gaze lingering on Bucky's clenched jaw.

The psychiatrist, leaning back in his chair, steepled his fingers. "Let's scratched the idea of the body odor. The answer, quite simply, is herself."

Your jaw dropped slightly. "Me?" you breathed, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. You couldn't believe what you just heard.

Bucky, however, remained stoic, his eyes fixed on Javier.

Javier continued, his voice low and firm. "There are aspects we can't explain yet, especially with Bucky's case. But when you're with him, his episodes seem to subside when he makes physical contact with another person. Your presence calms him down."

He gestured towards you with an open palm. "You're his tranquilizer."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. You let out another nervous chuckle, a touch more strained this time. But seeing the unwavering conviction in both men's eyes, the truth began to sink in. This wasn't a joke.

Bucky raised a hand to his mouth, his thumb pressed against his pursed lips as he contemplated this revelation. His sky-blue eyes flickered to you, then back to Javier, processing the information at a rapid pace.

Javier leaned forward, his gaze intent. "Does she know about your trauma, Barnes? I believe it's crucial for her to understand the root of this condition."

Bucky clenched his jaw, a vein pulsing angrily in his neck. This was clearly a touchy subject for him. You reached out a placating hand, but quickly pulled it back, sensing his discomfort. "Hey," you said gently, "it's alright, if you don't want to talk about it."

Bucky hesitated, then raised his arms in a gesture of surrender, though his posture remained tense. "No," he forced out, voice rough. "He's right. You deserve to know ." He took a shaky breath, eyes downcast, as if readying himself to jump off a cliff. "When I was twelve..." he began, voice barely a whisper, "...I was kidnapped."

The revelation hit you like a physical blow. You gasped, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch his arm, then flinching back as you remembered his aversion. "Oh my god, Bucky," you breathed, voice thick with concern. "I'm so sorry."

Bucky nodded curtly, shame flickering in his eyes. "I remember parts of it," he continued, voice tight. "Being snatched, darkness... then nothing. How long I was gone, I don't know. My parents said..." his voice hitched, "...they said I was missing for two weeks."

You sat there, speechless, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. There was nothing you could say that could erase that pain.

Finally, Bucky spoke again, his voice dropping to a pained murmur, "Ever since then... I get nervous when anyone touches me. Even my parents. I can't even hug them." The last sentence came out in a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping forward in a posture of profound sadness.

You felt a lump form in your throat. Witnessing Bucky's vulnerability cracked open a dam of protectiveness within you. Reaching out slowly, you hesitated before gently touching his forearm. This wasn't a hug, just a tentative touch, leaving the decision entirely in his court.

🚗🚗🚗🚗

The silence in the car after the session was deafening. Even the usually comforting purr of the engine seemed amplified by the expensive soundproofing, creating a bubble of hushed tension. Bucky finally broke the suffocating quiet, his voice rough.

"Thanks for trusting me, for not seeing me as some kind of freak." He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment, his jaw clenched tight.

You turned to him, your heart heavy with empathy. "There's no judgment, Bucky. I just... I can't imagine what you went through."

He gave a curt nod, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Life throws curveballs, doesn't it? Just like you."

"Me?" you squeaked, surprised. A blush crept up your cheeks as you remembered the impulsive kiss.

Bucky chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yeah, you. I can't help but be curious. Was that kiss... intentional?"

Caught off guard, you stammered, your face burning even brighter. "Well, I... it wasn't exactly planned, okay? I just want to see who this fiancé of hers was. I figured he'd be the same as her."

He barked out a genuine laugh, the sound warming the tense atmosphere. "Really? So, what was your first impression of me, then?"

You met his gaze, a playful glint in your eyes. "Honestly? I thought you were way too good for her. Did she have you under some kind of spell? A voodoo maybe?"

Bucky snorted. "Haha, no spells involved. Truth is, I don't really have time for romance. Just following my parents' wishes, you know?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, bumping him gently with your shoulder. "Bucky, consider this a friendly intervention. We're practically closer now, right? You deserve a better partner than Victoria."

Bucky fell silent, his expression unreadable. After a thoughtful pause, he finally spoke, his voice soft. "I'll think about it."

🍨🍨🍨🍨

Bucky pulled the car to a stop before your grandma's house. As you stepped out, you saw your grandma fast asleep on the couch, the television casting a flickering glow on her peaceful face.

You sighed, a pang of worry tugging at your heart. Needing some air and a distraction, you decided to grab some groceries.

Inside the store, the usual calm hum of elderly shoppers browsing the aisles was punctuated by a sharp echo of clicking heels. It was an unusual sound in this place, where most people favored comfort over fashion.

You stiffened, Genevieve's cloying perfume hitting you a moment before you even saw her. Gritting your teeth, you tightened your grip on the cereal box you were holding.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice laced with icy disdain.

A smirk played on Genevieve's lips, her designer dress swishing around her ankles as she approached. Her usual string of pearls adorned her neck, but they did little to mask the coldness in her eyes. Despite the wealth that clearly surrounded her now, her true nature shone through, untouched by any veneer of success.

"Do you think I actually enjoy grocery shopping?" she drawled, her voice dripping with faux-sweetness. "I came to deliver a warning."

You stuck your pinkie finger in your ear and wiggled it demonstratively in a gesture that spoke volumes about your opinion of her. With a theatrical flourish, you pulled it out and pretended to wipe your hand, clearly saying how much her "warning" mattered.

Genevieve's perfectly painted face contorted in fury. "You never did respect me," she hissed, her voice tight with anger.

"How could I?" you countered, your voice low and dangerous. "You're the one who took my mother from me."

Genevieve recoiled slightly, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing her features briefly. "This again? It wasn't my fault," she insisted, but the defensiveness in her tone betrayed her words.

Your fingers clenched around the cereal box, knuckles turning white. "If I had a time machine," you spat back, your voice dripping with venom, "I'd tell your parents to wear a raincoat the night you were conceived. Your entire existence is a blight on my family."

Genevieve's perfectly manicured hand flew to her pearls, her face contorting into a mask of outrage. "You insolent child!" she shrieked. "Is this how you address your mother?"

You let out a humorless scoff. "Step. You forgot the first words 'step'." you corrected, emphasizing each syllable. "And the word you're looking for is 'respect,' which you seem to have misplaced along with your basic human decency."

Genevieve took a shaky breath, attempting to regain her composure. She smoothed down her designer dress, her eyes glinting with a dangerous glint. "You'll regret this insolence," she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "I wonder what your dear grandmother would think of your behavior."

That was a low blow, and you knew it. It hit your Achilles' heel with a sickening thud. You gritted your teeth, forcing back a surge of anger. "Don't you dare bring her into this," you growled, your voice tight with emotion. "You took my mother from me, and you took Velari away too."

Velari wasn't just a store; it was a legacy. Your grandma, Cassandra, had poured her heart and soul into the tailor shop, a love letter to her craft and a testament to her love for her daughter, Ophelia.

She'd meticulously crafted the most beautiful dresses and outfits for you and your mother, creating a haven of creativity and joy. Because of Genevieve, your grandma couldn't even step near a sewing machine without a pang of grief.

Genevieve feigned concern, her voice dripping with saccharine sympathy. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she cooed, her words as hollow as her heart. "It breaks my heart to think she has to stay cooped up at home all the time. She deserves the best care, in the most luxurious—"

"Shut up!" you roared, cutting her off mid-sentence. The anger you'd been holding back finally erupted, incinerating any remaining shred of patience. You abandoned your cart and stormed past Genevieve, leaving her sputtering in your wake.

Before you march towards the exit, you see a luxury sedan car parked at the parking lot. It must be that old hag car. Then a glint of metal catches your eye in the sporting goods aisle. A baseball bat and a golden golf club gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes.

Meanwhile, inside the store, Genevieve smugly texted Victoria, relishing the thought of a job well done. "Consider it handled," she typed with a smirk.

Stepping out of the store, she was met with unexpected chaos. A crowd had gathered around the parking lot, their faces a mixture of shock.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Genevieve's blood ran cold. Her pristine luxury sedan was no longer so pristine. A gaping hole marred the driver's side window, a testament to your recent handiwork.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, her carefully cultivated facade crumbling. Scrambling for her phone, she called Jonathan. "My car! My car! Your daughter ruined it! Send someone to get me now!"

🍨🍨🍨🍨

Genevieve said your grandma's name, and dread filled your stomach. She never talked about grandma! You raced home, heart pounding, throwing the door open with a bang. Inside, empty. Panic choked you. Grandma's forgetful and wouldn't know her way back.

Suddenly, you remembered! The family tracker app! Grandma's smartwatch! But your phone...gone! Did it fall out while you ran? Stuck at the store? Bucky's car? No way to call him.

Frustration bubbled up. You cursed and ran back outside, the storm matching your worry.

Exhaustion gnawed at your already frayed nerves. The playground, usually a symphony of squeals and laughter, felt eerily quiet. You scanned the equipment again, a knot of dread tightening in your stomach.

Cassandra, your grandmother with dementia, had vanished. Where could she have gone? Had she wandered off, scared and confused? The image of her getting hit by a car sent a fresh jolt of panic through you.

Sinking onto a nearby bench, you let your head fall into your hands. The setting sun cast long shadows, painting the approaching dusk in an unsettling orange glow. 6 pm. It had been hours since you'd last seen Cassandra.

"Y/N?"

A voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. You snapped your head up, eyes landing on Bucky. Relief flooded your face, washing away the worry etched onto your features.

"Bucky? What are you...?" Your voice trailed off, a question hanging heavy in the air.

He held out your phone, his brow creased with concern. "I realized you left it in my car. Are you alright? You look…" his voice trailed off, searching your face for answers.

Clutching the phone to your chest as if in prayer, you let out a shaky sigh. "You don't know how grateful I am that you're here." The tightness in your voice spoke volumes of the terror that had gripped you.

Bucky's concern deepened. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out your worries, your voice trembling. "My grandma… she left the house. She has dementia." You paced as you spoke, hoping the movement would ease the knot of fear in your stomach.

Understanding dawned on Bucky's face. "No wonder you sound so stressed. Let me help you find her." Relief washed over you as you realized you weren't facing this alone.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand. A notification from the "Find My Family" app. You snatched it up, heart pounding. It worked! A wave of elation washed over you as you showed Bucky the screen.

The app indicated your grandmother's location – the ice cream shop down the street. A small smile played on Bucky's lips, mirroring the one slowly spreading across yours.

🍨🍨🍨🍨

A fresh wave of frustration washed over you. Why hadn't you thought of the ice cream shop? Cassandra had mentioned it countless times, a place she and your mother used to frequent before it became so popular. Kicking yourself mentally, you explained the situation to Bucky, your voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

Together, you practically sprinted towards the shop. Relief flooded your system the moment you spotted Cassandra through the window, perched on a stool and happily digging into a bowl of ice cream. A tired smile tugged at the corner of your lips. At least she wasn't scared.

As you entered, Cassandra's eyes lit up. "Ophelia!" she boomed, her voice carrying a hint of childish glee. "What took you so long?"

You let out a sigh of relief, battling with exhaustion. "Just glad you're alright."

The owner, a kind-faced elder with a shock of white hair, approached your table. "Found her wandering outside, a little lost," he explained gently, his voice carrying a knowing warmth. It seemed he understood your grandmother's condition.

"Thank you so much," you stammered, overwhelmed with gratitude. "We owe you a lot."

The owner chuckled, his wrinkles deepening around his eyes. "No worries at all, dear. Just glad I could help."

You reached into your purse and pulled out a generous amount of cash, pressing it into his hand. He might have just saved you from an all-night search. "If it weren't for you, she could have kept walking…" your voice trailed off, the thought sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

Cassandra, oblivious to the drama, swiveled in her seat, her gaze fixed on Bucky. "Ophelia, is he your boyfriend?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"He's a friend," you mumbled.

Bucky's lips curved into a charming smile as he addressed Cassandra. "Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Bucky. For a moment there, I thought you were her sister."

Cassandra let out a delighted giggle, her eyes twinkling. "I really like that," she chirped, taking his hand with a firm grip.

"Alright, let's head home before the rain hits," you said, gently guiding her toward the exit.

Cassandra's brow furrowed slightly. "Ooh, alright," she conceded, a hint of disappointment tinging her voice.

However, as she attempted to stand, her legs wobbled precariously. The long walk had clearly taken its toll. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched her lose her balance.

"Ah!" Cassandra cried out, her voice laced with fear.

"Grandma!" you exclaimed in unison with Bucky. But before you could react, Bucky's reflexes kicked in. He darted forward, his arm instinctively wrapping around Cassandra's waist to steady her.

A grateful smile flickered across Cassandra's face. "Thank you, young man," she murmured, patting his arm with a wrinkled hand.

Relief washed over you as you watched the averted disaster. You hurried to Cassandra's side, offering her your own support.

Bucky was stunned for a second, and cleared his throat, "Uh, wait a moment… I can drive you both home," he offered.

You shot him a look of pure gratitude. The ice cream shop was a fair distance from your house, and with the looming threat of rain, his offer couldn't have come at a better time.

Bucky skillfully navigated the streets, delivering you back home safely. Exhaustion had finally overtaken Cassandra, and she drifted into a peaceful sleep during the ride.

However, carrying her inside seemed like an impossible feat. You looked at her sleeping form, unsure how to proceed. Waking her up seemed the only option, but you hated disturbing her slumber.

Bucky's voice dipped low, a warning rumbling in his chest, "Don't awake her." His brow furrowed as he spoke, his gaze flickering between you and your still-sleeping grandma in the backseat.

You pursed your lips, about to protest with a helpless, "But-" when Bucky surprised you.

He unclipped his seatbelt with a practiced flick, the leather whispering against the metal. His movements were efficient as he pushed open the back door. He crouched beside the car, his strong arms flexing as he braced himself to lift your grandma.

Just as he was about to scoop her up, you gasped, your eyes widening in sudden realization. "Wait…Bucky. You…?" The question trailed off, unfinished, as the enormity of the situation dawned on you.

Bucky straightened abruptly, your grandma cradled securely in his arms. A bewildered frown etched onto his features as he met your wide-eyed stare.

"I don't feel any symptoms," he rumbled, disbelief tingeing his voice. He looked down at your grandma, then back at you, searching for an explanation.

You mirrored his stunned expression. Does that mean your grandma could help Bucky with his disorder as well?

Author Note: Does her grandma have the same effect as our reader???

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totheblood · 16 hours

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can you write about spencer getting flustered around confident!reader please thanks<33

spencer reid x confident!reader | fluff | cursing, banter

spencer was completely enamored.

that was the only word for it, he decided. it was a weird moment to come to this realization, seeing as he spilled his glass of red wine all over your dress and was helping you clean it up frantically, but that's when he realized he was completely and utterly enamored with you.

you were always this way, so unapologetically yourself even when anyone else in the situation would be embarrassed. it's half of the reason spencer had decided to drink tonight. he didn't usually drink but he decided that tonight was the night he'd work up the courage to ask you out, and since he didn't have half as much confidence as you, he found himself relying on the liquid to give him that push.

but he just found his hands shaky as he approached you. he didn't expect you to look so good tonight, not that you aren't usually stunning, but tonight you were adorned in a short white mini dress that puffed at the end, white heels making your legs look longer than they were, and a simple silver chain wrapped around your neck, the one you always wore. you were tightly hugging garcia, almost squeezing the air out of her as you handed her a gift, wrapped in a cheetah print gift wrap that screamed 'garcia'.

spencer spent too long getting ready tonight, choosing to show up in a grey suit, loose button up and tie. spencer would never admit this out loud but he began wearing his ties looser so that when you saw him, you would adjust it. he liked the contact and being close enough to you to smell your perfume, but it didn't make him feel any better for tricking you.

he approached, one hand shoved in his pants pocket, the other one holding his glass of wine. he sauntered over to you, grinning ear to ear with his cheeks tinged pink.

"hey spence," you smiled, turning to him. he liked when you did that, gave him all your attention, your body, mind, and eyes solely focused on him, "you clean up nice."

he practically choked at your comment, words coming out in a jumbled mess but the smile leaving his eyes, "w-well, ye- yeah, you clean up nice... as- as well!" he managed out embarrassingly, but in true you fashion you didn't make him feel bad, you didn't pity him or tease him, you just did a spin in your dress making his throat go dry.

"thank you!" you giggled smoothing down your dress with your hand, "i got this dress on sale and was so relieved when it fit me like a glove," you beamed at him, pulling up the straps, "it was the last one left,"

"well, you look," he blinked for a moment, "stunning," he surprised himself with how effortless that came out and for a moment had stunned you too. you blinked back, a smile creeping back onto your face.

"thanks spence," you replied quieter, but still with all the quiet confidence you carried everywhere. spencer liked being friends with you, but more than that he liked being around you. he always assumed that people who liked themselves would be stuck up, vain almost, but it was never like that with you. you made it a point to make sure everyone in your life saw themselves how you saw them. you'd do small things like give compliments to nearly everyone you met, to bigger things like creating an entire book of your 'favorite things about penelope' when she made an offhand comment that merely suggested she didn't like herself. it was clear you were content with who you are by how you viewed the world. there was no competition, there was no need to put anyone down, just the kindness of your heart.

your compliments usually made spencer fluster, trip over his words (and his feet) but he always assumed you were being nice. you complimented everyone and he fell in line with everyone. but when you stepped towards him, lifting your hands to adjust his tie, he felt himself faltering again. your manicured fingers adjusted his tie just as he planned but you didn't move when you were done. you stared up at him with big doe eyes that made spencer melt immediately.

"you smell really good, spence," you said, no, you whispered and it made him nervous. the way you were looking at him made him think that you wanted this, that you wanted him. in that moment he decided now was a better time than ever to finally ask you out, but the thought alone of you rejecting him made him nervous. it made his hands shake as they got clammy and as he went to speak he forgot his glass of red wine was still in his hands. before he knew it he was spilling red wine all over the pretty dress that was the last one left. the one you just told him had fit you like a glove and that you had been excited to find. it spilled and he felt his chances with you trickle to the floor as everyone looked over.

"shit," he cursed, "i'm so sorry," he looked up at you nervously, putting his now empty glass on the table beside them. he was ready for you to yell, to cry, to shove him, but instead you just laughed, giggling as you wiped at your dress.

"well, there goes two dollars down the drain," you shrugged, looking up at him to see his nervous face, eyes almost glossed over, "oh, spence," you cooed, "it's fine, i'm fine. mistakes happen."

"but you just bought it, and it does fit like a glove and i'm so sorry, i'll buy you a new one," he rambled out walking over to the kitchen to get some paper towels, you hot on his trail as he took the whole roll and starting dabbing at the stains on your dress. you wanted to push him off, tell him it was okay and to not worry, that there was no way he would be getting the stain off. but you liked the contact so you just watched. you knew it gave his hands something to do while he anxiously patted at it and apologized over and over again like an incantation.

"spence," you said, voice sweet and saccharine, "stop, it's okay. it's just a dress and the dress was literally two dollars," you stilled his hands by placing yours over his, he stopped breathing for a moment as he looked at you anxiously.

"i just got so nervous, you were so close-" he started.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry. i know how much you like your personal space, i should have-" you rushed out immediately feeling guilty but he cut you off as well.

"no, i liked it, i like you being close, i just got nervous because-" he stammered out, the confession getting lost in the dual apologies.

"because germs, i know. i'm so sorry, spe-" you were cut off by him squeezing your hand.

"because i like you," he cut you off, his hand now shaking, "and i know that sounds childish but i just want-"

"it doesn't sound childish," you whispered gently, "it sounds sweet,"

"it does?" he asked, voice dripping with worried as he looked in between your eyes.

"yeah," you stood taller, "i like you a lot, spencer. why do you think i'm always fixing your tie?"

"why do you think my tie is always loose?" he quipped back, small smirk forming on his face, causing you to playfully hit him.

"you little player," you giggled, your tone teasing as you beamed up at him, "well, are you gonna ask me out?" you asked, removing your hands from his to cross it across your chest.

"w-well, yeah, i was getting to it," he breathed out nervously, "would you like to get dinner with me sometime?"

"with the guy who just ruined my dress?" you replied, eyebrows raised but instantly feeling bad when you watched the color drain from his face, "spence, that's a joke, of course i want to get dinner with you."

"cool," he breathed out, face returning to its full color and a deep shade of red, "cool, cool, cool,"

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footballfanficwriter · 22 hours

Note

Hiii, I love your writing, can I request a Jude x reader where they do celebrity gogglebox and they watch Jude’s champions league final at Wembley where he proposed to her & she told him she’s pregnant, and they watch everyone’s reaction at Wembley when it’s happening ( his teammates, family & fans)

A/n: I was so excited to write this I just had to get started immediately,cause I hadn't gotten a request in such a long time,thank you so much for this and I hope you enjoy please comment and like at the end I'd really love some feed back as to how my writing is and where I need to improve

Looking Back

Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham and welcome to our Google box interview"

"It's not an interview"

"Then what is it?"

(Color bars)

"Hi I'm Jude(Laughs)

"Why are you laughing?"

"Stop"

(Color Bars)

"Ok we gotta be serious this time"

"Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham"

"And today we're doing a Google box, about our story and how we got to this moment in our lives together and my first of the season"

"Bit of a mouth full innit"

"Whatever, just press play"

He pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and kisses my forehead I lay my head on his chest , then he takes some popcorn from the bowl on my lap

I press play and the first thing that appears is Jude's first day in Madrid when he signed his Real Madrid contract

"This day was a big one you know, new place for us, new language and Culture, just everything"

"Luckily we had so many people that were willing to help and make our adjustment as easy as possible"

"True"

"Actually I remember something from that day"

"What?"

"You nearly tripped and fell"

I give him an eyebrow raise

"Yes you did, I remember you nearly fell and I caught you, I'm surprised they didn't get that on camera"

"No I didn't Jude, you're lying"

"No I'm not, I vividly remember holding your heels after the pictures cause you'd given up on them after you used my shoulder to help you take them off"

"I don't remember that"

"I even told you that morning before we left the hotel that you should get a comfortable shoe then you said no and I put your shoes in the car before we left"

"I still don't remember"

"The gaslighting is crazy"

"Let's continue" I say remembering the moment he's talking about

The video cuts and this time it's Jude's first Real Madrid game

"I remember that game, when we were in America during the preseason games and we played against Milan"

"I remember being in the stands and just being so nervous"

The video cuts and shows Jude waving to someone in the crowd after the game

"Mhhhm I wonder who you're waving too"

"Same" he says

The video cuts again but this time it's Jude's first La Liga game where he scored his first La Liga goal and celebrates in front of the Bilbao fans and all of them showing him the finger

"The amount of hate that came from those fans you'd swear I'd just killed someone"

I laugh at his his comment

"No but on a serious note though that was just iconic"

"And you know what I loved about it?"

"What?" He asks

"It never discouraged you, instead you continued playing at your best"

"Yeah it didn't discourage me but I for sure thought I would be the most hated player of the season and actually right after that moment I remember looking for you in the stands and you had made a heart with your fingers"

"I mean, I needed you to know that even if the whole world hates you I'll still love you"

"And I'll love you more"

The video cuts and it's Jude's first El classico where he scored two goals

"Ah I remember that game, it was my first El classico"

"I remember going home after that game and we were just in disbelief"

"Yeah, I just couldn't believe it, you know and I was so nervous the night before, remember?"

"Yeah I remember, you were pacing around the room and the whole time and I was just there trying to calm you down"

"I was nervous"

"I know you were my love, but the next day you scored 2 goals and won the match so there was no need to be nervous"

The video cuts again and shows Jude's Goal against Girona and his injury, how he was on the floor and the medical team icing his ankle

then the camera panned to me where I looked with a concerned expression on my face and glistening eyes

"I was so worried in that moment" I said looking at the screen

"So was I, I just heard my ankle pop and i knew something was wrong"

"We didn't get home the until the early hours of the morning"

He turned to the camera and said

"She stayed by my side the whole night despite me telling her to go home and rest and the whole time she held my hand while my ankle was being examined and I'm not gonna lie I was grateful that she didn't listen to me because that was very painfull and having her by my side just served as comfort"

"I couldn't leave you there, I would've been restless at home not knowing what was happening" I say smiling up at him

"Well I'm glad you stayed"

"You're welcome"

"Ok next"

The camera cuts to the Ballon d'or ceremony and Jude Winning the Kopa award where he does his speech

"Thank you everyone for all the wonderful support and the messages, two days ago I won my first El classico so this is just a cherry on top, thank you to the fans and the supports and my Family as well I am grateful and I am appreciative,thank you"

"Wow, you really do have a way with words don't you?"

"What can I say, This was my First time going to the Ballon d'or ceremony and just being there with so many other great Footballers and Football legends was so surreal it felt amazing

I remember meeting R9 for the first time and you were by my side holding my hand and the whole time as we're talking to him I was holding onto your hand for dear life"

"I actually thought you were gonna break my hand I'm surprised I still have it"

"I'm sorry"

"It's fine I'm just glad i was there with you" I say

"He kisses my forehead and looks towards the screen again

The screen transitions to Jude's first Champions League game for Madrid

"That game was another for the books, first UCL game and I had scored the only and the winning goal"

"Yeah I was really proud to say the least ,aww look at that that, he's pointing to me" I say

"You wish" he says jokingly

"One day , maybe not today or Tomorrow but one day you'll get a taste of your own medicine" I say

"Oh my gosh shiver me timbers I'm so scared"

"You will be" I say and lean back onto his chest and he kisses my head and I smile

The screen transitions to Jude's Golden boy ceremony

"Incredible moment" he said

"Yeah I just remember watching you with awe and I just thought about everything that happened to get to that moment and get that award"

"Yeah the plane ride to Italy was cool and calm but that's because we knew what to expect and what was going to happen I think it was when we got there that it actually dawned on us that I had just won the award"

"True"

The screen transitions again and this time

It's Jude Celebrating the supa copa de espane

"First trophy of the season and for Real Madrid" he says

"Unfortunately I wasn't there but you called me immediately after you got into the dressing room and the whole time, vini and cama were just interrupting us and asking to talk to me"

"I'm not gonna lie that did annoy me and I couldn't get a word in they kept stealing my phone as if they don't have their own girlfriends"

"I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your wife"

"At the time you were my girlfriend"

"I actually preferred talking to them"

"Of course you did" he says rolling his eyes

The screen transitions to the game where Jude received a red Card and got a two game ban as a punishment

"I don't wanna talk about this game, I might just get into trouble"

"But I won't"

"I don't know...

"Let's all be honest here that ref was unfair and he knows it he blew the whistle while the ball was in the air and in my opinion that red card shouldn't have even been pulled out, it was a natural reaction to what had just happened at the time"

"Ok Mrs. Bellingham, not you defending your Husband"

"I mean my husband is always protecting me so it's only right"

"I'm blessed to have you in my life"

"As am I" I say and smile as I look up at him and he pecks my lips

"Ok next one"

The screen transitions to the match where Jude was a spectator at a Real Madrid game after the red card he got

"I loved that game you know, the love and the support of the fans was one of the things that kept me going, and just let me know that they were behind me and that was really heart warming"

"The Madridistas are very much loved"

"That is not a lie"

"Next"

Now we're watching Jude accepting his Lauresports award

"I was just tired that day, exhausted could even describe it"

"I actually opted to accept the award on your behalf so you could rest and take a break for a little bit,but him being stubborn he refused"

"It wouldn't have been ok, even though I was tired I needed to be there"

"I don't know when you'll realize that you're only human"

"I know I am"

"Mhmmm, whatever you say"

Next we see the La Liga title race parade and Jude lifting the trophy

"That day was amazing" he says, ,"the atmosphere the fans, you"

"I loved the outfit mostly, you looked Handsome more than anything"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, I can't explain it but damn, that day I learned to appreciate what I have" I say

He laughs and I join him in laughing

"You're so weird you know that"

"I'm just telling the truth"

He continues laughing and the screen changes again but this time a picture of Jude stating that he was the player of the season

"The day of the award show, I was getting ready for the champions league Final, so we couldn't attend and to be honest it was worth it because if I had attended I would have gotten what I received that day"

"And what's that?" I ask as I look at him hoping he'll mention our special moment

"Winning the Champions league"

I roll my eyes at him and watch the screen changed as he laughs at his stupid Joke

The screen changes to the Champions league Final against Dortmund

Showing highlights of the game and the team

Then the moment Real Madrid won the Champions league and the Celebrations

The camera then pans to Jude to where he's having his post match interview

"Jude, well done on your win, how long have you dreamed of this moment"

"Ages hey, a long time"

"What does it mean to win the champions league"

"It means the world to me, I've dreamed about this for a long time, it's every footballers dream"

"How do you plan on Celebrating such a moment"

"With my teammates and my Family, I've actually got a very important person here that hopefully I won't only be celebrating a champions league trophy with but much more as well

"Well congratulations Jude"

"Thank you, I need to go do something important, please excuse me"

"Of course"

"Here we go" Jude says as we watch the screen

He walks to the stands and walks to where I'm standing and helps me get down the stairs and leads me to the middle of the pitch

"Where are we going?" Can be mouth read as Jude walks me to the pitch

"Just trust me" he replies

We reach the middle of the pitch when all of a sudden Jude Goes down on one knee and gives and inaudible speech that can't be heard because it was covered by the cheers and screams of the fans watching the interaction happen

"We couldn't even hear eachother in that moment" I say watching the screeen

All they see is me nodding my head and mouthing yes

Jude gets up and slips the engagement ring on and he hugs me tightly, then I swiftly pull away and look him in the eye

And mouth something that can't he heard or mouth read

Jude's eyes go bigger and on shock

"Are you serious?"

Is faintly heard and I nod and the fans continue cheering with Jude hugging me and spinning me around in the middle of the pitch

The video then shows the reactions of Jude's teammates, who rush over to congratulate us. The camera captures the joyous expressions of our family in the stands, and the fans are going wild with excitement.

Jude's teammates run to where we are

"Juuuuuude" they chant

Cama and Tchomeni come and give me hugs

"Back off Cama that's my Future wife right there" Jude says

Cama rolls his eyes and just continues hugging me

"Congratulations"

"Thank you"

Back on the couch, Jude and I look at each other with smiles.

Jude looks to the camera and says

"Now you're probably wondering what she told, that made me react like that, truth is she told me that she was pregnant and that I was going to be a father and honestly, a three in one that night was amazing"

"I don't way that it was the best day of my life, but at the moment it is, but that will probably change when we get married or when we have our baby" he continues

"That moment changed everything," Jude says softly. "Winning the Champions League was amazing, but proposing to you and finding out we were expecting... that was the best moment of my life."

"Mine too," you say, leaning into him. "And now, here we are, sharing our story with everyone."

"Yeah, it's been an incredible journey," Jude agrees. "And I can't wait to see what the future holds for us toether. With us planning a wedding and expecting our first child together it's bound to be a rollercoaster"

"I've been Jude Bellingham and Joined by my Future wife Y/n Bellingham and thank you for watching

#football fanfic #romance #world cup #x reader #fan fiction #football #love #soccer fanfiction #imagine #reader #judebellingham #jude x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude

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siconetribal · 3 days

Text

Put it on My Tab 14

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Working with customers, rude customer, that stressful work life is all the rage these days

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“I can help the next customer in line over here!” Y/N shouted over the din of the teenagers that came flooding in after school. It was a mix of private school uniforms and fashionable public school students flaunting their name brand accessories and latest phones. It really was a marvel to see how carelessly they would just flash their parents’ money as if it was their own hard earned pay. “Next customer in line, please.” She spoke a little louder and watched as a rather quiet but handsome looking teenager walked up. It was obvious that his clothing was well made, tailored to fit him, but it lacked the flashy logos that everyone else was wearing. A public school kid? He looks like he’s a couple years younger than me. A senior perhaps? “Welcome, what would you like for me to get started for you today?” She cordially asked, though once again, there was something about him. Just like the young detective, she felt like she needed to be cautious.

“A large cup black eye with ristretto, light sugar, and a bear claw.”

“Did you want me to exchange the espresso with the ristretto or did you want me to add it with the espresso?” She hesitantly questioned, eyeing him a bit suspiciously. There was no sign of major fatigue aside from the slight bags under his lids. It was not uncommon to see some exhausted seniors who diligently worked to keep their top marks, but there was an edge to him. His gaze was not hazy from exhaustion. On the contrary it was sharp, too sharp.

“Add it to the drink and warm the pastry, please.” He pulled out his wallet and waited for her to ring him up.

A lot more crazy coffee drinkers on this side of Gotham than I originally thought. She hesitated for a moment before pressing the necessary buttons on the screen. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

“The name for the order?”

“Tim.”

“Ok, your total comes out to $11.48, will you be paying cash or card?”

“Cash,” he quickly pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to her. The drawer sprung open with a ring and she handed him the change as she closed it.

“Please have a seat, we’ll call your name when your order is ready.” She gave him another cordial smile, waiting for him to move so the next customer could come up, but the young man called Tim did not budge. An awkward silence stretched between the two of them as he simply silently stared at her. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thanks.” He shook his head and dropped the change in the jar in front of her and left. Citlalli came over from her right, watching Tim as he sat down.

“Everything ok?” She whispered to Y/N who moved over to start his order.

“Yeah, we’ve dealt with much weirder things.” She shrugged it off to help ignore the sense of unease Tim gave her.

“True, but he was just standing there, staring at you.” She frowned, scanning the dining area quickly to see Tim watching them. “And he’s still watching you.”

“He’s probably thinking about what else he might want to order. Customers do it all the time, ordering one thing only to consider adding something else after the fact.” Y/N casually brushed it off. “You’re thinking too much about it, he’s just an overly caffeinated burnt out studious senior wishing for the school year to end already.”

“I guess,” Citlalli bit into her lower lip as concern for the safety of her dear friend doubled with her current streak of luck. “If he gives you any trouble, oi! Look at me, mija!” She grabbed Y/N’s face, squishing her cheeks while making her look at her. “You tell me right away. I'll have his ass kicked out at full speed!” She snapped her fingers after relinquishing Y/N’s face. “You've been through enough between that bill, my dumbass cousin, and the sudden midnight order that broke the window. Let me help where I can.”

“Thanks, Cici, I will, I promise. He's just like any other awkward teen trying to get out of high school that would pay big money for a coffee IV drip and I'm going to treat him as such. If he pulls any funny business, you'll be the first to know.” Y/N gently squeezed one of Citlalli’s shoulders before returning her attention to complete the order and call out to him for pick up.

The next few customers were of the usual variety, a majority of them ordering the sugar loaded ice blended drinks regardless of how cold some of the days have been. It was the technical orders with the highly detailed instructions that irked her.

If they think this is so easy to do, why don't they just go home and make it themselves? If I ever find out who came to with this ridiculous and disgusting sounding flavor combo, I'll throttle ‘em! She shared frustrated looks with her fellow baristas. It was clear that this drink would be burning through some of their supplies quickly.

When the fruity whipped up topping heavy blended drinks were completed, they were placed out for pick up by her coworker while Y/N went back to the register.

Tim quietly watched his person of interest deal with the complex orders and demanding customers. The smile plastered on her face the entire time was an impressive feat. One obnoxious customer was one too many in his opinion, but there was nothing that he could do and he knew any retaliation on her end would lead to disciplinary actions against her. She was responsible, respectful, and resilient; but none of this information got him any closer to solving the mystery that was her.

The customer is always right, like hell they are. He rolled his eyes at the passing thought. She’s smart, but is it enough to grab attention? What did she do with the ‘tip’ Dick gave her? Why did he think to give her that? What am I missing? He knows her, somehow. I need to figure out how. He finished the last of his order and stood up, tossing his trash and quietly leaving the establishment. He would need to observe her for longer and possibly try to gain some insight from the other customers and staff.

The daytime quickly became dark, the days slowly growing shorter as autumn progressed. The number of customers dwindled down as the evening hours struck. There were still a few lingering customers with their laptops, typing away. The loyalty customers occasionally came to the counter for the complimentary refill on regular coffee while the non-rewards customers ordered something different each time. Citlalli had gone home for the evening and soon it was simply Y/N and two other baristas as a few late night customers came in.

“Hello, what would you like to order?” Y/N smiled at the older woman. Much like all the other customers, she was well dressed and carried a designer bag. Her long sharp acrylics were clicking and tapping against every surface she touched as she looked through the large bag for something. Finding whatever it was, she kept her hand inside to hold whatever it was.

“Hi, I would like to order a medium iced mocha macchiato with almond milk and an extra shot of espresso. Have the mocha drizzle divided equally in the bottom and on top of the foam, with light ice. Add 3 pumps of caramel syrup, 2 pumps of toffee nut syrup, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Serve it in a grande cup with a separate cup of ice on the side and a packet of sweetner.” She kindly smiled back after quickly running through the instructions. Any relief Y/N had felt froze up in her veins at the complex order that was thrown at her.

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that a little slower? I want to make sure I have it down correctly.” The older woman pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Thank you for your understanding in wanting to make sure your specific drink is made exactly as you ordered.” Y/N added for good measure. It seemed to do the trick as she nodded and slowly repeated the overly complicated order slower. Y/N read it back to her for verification before ringing out the order. “You can have a seat, we’ll call you when your order is ready, Susan. Thank you, again, for being a loyal customer.” She added, this was something their boss insisted they say to reward members.

“Ah, ah, I’m not done just yet!” Susan pulled out her hidden hand which held one of their decorative cups. “I bought this from your store and last time I was here I couldn’t help bit notice the little shelf over here.” She pointed to her left.

“Ah, yes, that is our discount shelf. Anything on that shelf is 30 to 40% off.”

“Exactly, and this thermos is on that shelf. You can see it on the second shelf towards the left over there.” Y/N leaned over to rhe left a bit to get a better view from the register before nodding her head.

“Looks like it’s there, so yes, it’s on sale now. Did you want to buy another one?” She offered, though she was not entirely sure why Susan brought her thermos. “Oh, did you want your drink made in your cup?”

“No, well yes, but that’s not why I’m bringing this up.”

“No, you didn't want to buy or no, don't use the cup?” Y/N frowned, unsure which answer went to which question.

“No, I do not want to buy another one. Yes, put my drink in here. The reason I am talkimg about this is because I am upset. When I bought this thermos, I paid full price.” Y/N silently stared at Susan for a few seconds, unsure where this was even going as she took the cup and placed it with the ticket for use.

“Yes, because it was full price when you purchased it.’

“Do you see the issue here?”

“No, I do not. What is the issue?”

“Well, why is it on sale now?”

“We’re clearing out the overstock we have of those designs to make room for new designs.” She calmly explained.

“Ok, the problem is that I paid full price for a product that you’re get it rid of anyway.”

“Well, this sale started a week ago. This style thermos was brand new or one of the newer products when you bought it, so it was not on sale. If you bought this cup anytime prior to a week ago, you would have paid full price..”

“Exactly, you see how this is discriminatory, right?”

“Driscriminatory,” she repeated the word and watched Susan nodd her head excitedly. “How?”

“Yes, you can see how this is discriminating against customers, like myself, who bought this before the sale!” She eagerly explained.

“Uh, no, you just happened to buy it before it was put on sale. We don't have control over which tumbler or thermos will sell out or not. This particular design had a few items left, so they are now on sale.”

“Ok, here is the cup and here is my receipt.” Susan continued to push through, ignoring everything that Y/N was explaining to her. “I would greatly appreciate it if you gave me the difference of the discount in cash.” She held out the thermal sheet of paper. Y/N took the slip, checking the date to see if there was something that could be done.

“Firstly, this was charged on a card. If I were to refund the difference, it would go back onto your card. That can't be done though, because you purchased this three months ago. This is proof that you did and are ineligible for a refund of the difference due to the current sale that has been placed three months after your purchase.”

“And why not?!” Susan snapped as she became more and more irate as the conversation went on.

If you listened to a single word I’ve said thus far instead of soewing your tosic stupidity all over the place, maybe you’d already know the answer! “Because you bought it three months before the sale.”

“Young lady, this is completely unfair! If you were going to put it on sale, you should’ve never put it at full price! This is robbery! I am due proper compensation for such poor financial etiquette and discrimination!” Her voice grew shrill as she raised it. All Y/N wanted to do was slap a piece of tape over the brighgly colored lips of the annoying customer and chuck the troublesome cup out the door with her.

“The only thing I am allowed to do is offer you another one at the discounted price. I cannot do anything else.”

“This is the most horrid customer service I have ever had in my life! How can you just stand there and deny a loyal paying customer what they want?! Where is your manager, I demand to speak with them!”

“I am the acting manager at this time.”Lucky me-not! “Even if I weren’t, the manager would have said the very same thing.”

“All you little brats act as a manager when it’s conveninet to you! I swear, this generation is nothing but trouble, full of disrespect, and lying! I want to speak with the owner, Donavan, yes I do know him.” She smugly smirked.

“Mr. D is not in at this moment. He left for the evening two hours ago and will be back tomorrow. You’re welcomed to come back at that time and speak with him.” Y/N flatly answered.

“No, call him now.” she slammed her manicured hand onto the counter, scaring some of the other customers and the other barista. A throbbing pain started to grow at Y/N’s temples as she took a few moments to keep her cool and not risk her job with a harsh response.

“Why don’t you call him? Since you say you know him so well, call him. Let him know that you’re harrassing his employee for doing her job and following his rules implemented in his establishment.” A calm male voice called out from the end of the line. Everyone turned to find the owner, only to see a tall and strong looking biker with a helmet. He stepped forward others made room for him. Pulling off his helmet, Y/N’s jaw fell open from shock at seeing Jason standing there.

He rides a motorcycle?! Of course he does! Wait, that’s not important! He’s going to cause trouble if this crazy lady actually calls Mr. D! Before she could try to de-escelate the situation, Jason turned so his back was to the register as he looked down at the rowdy customer. Y/N watched Susan’s face go from angry red to a blush pink the moment she laid eyes on the handsome young man. Straightening up her posture and adjusting her clothing, she turned to face Jason.

“I know how this might look just walking in, but she has been quite insolent this entire time. I am merely trying to teach her her place.” Her voice was calmer, sweeter, thick like molasses kind of sweet over a honeyed tone.

“Not from what I’ve seen since you walked up here. Did you forget you nearly hit a biker with your car and cursed them out? Hi, that biker was me. Now, get your drink and sit quietly or leave, or you can call the owner and he can check the CC footage to see what happened. You pick,” he calmly repeated. Y/N was not able to see the look in his eyes, but she could tell from the way Susan’s face paled that he was very intimidating. She quickly gathered her things, snatching the receipt as she hurried away to wait for her drink.

“Thanks for the help. I’m sorry you had to step in like that.” The genuine smile of relief she gave him was a direct shot to his heart, and the vigilante was none the wiser why. It injected warmth into his veins and filled his chest with immeasurable pride.

“Don’t mention it, I told you, I save damsels in distress. You just happen to be in distress more often than most.” He smirked and winked at her, earning an eye roll in response. “I’ll have to insist you clock out for the rest of the day though. You look exhausted and after all of that, you deserve a free night at the least.”

“Go on, Y/N. I’ll handle her drink. We told Cici already and she said to just clock out for the shift. She’s on her way now.” A coworker nudged her towards the back. “Don't keep your boyfriend waiting!”

“Yeah, you've covered enough of our shifts, go have fun!” The other joined in, ushering her through the back doors without giving her a chance to explain that they were not together like that. All she could do was sigh in defeat as she headed to the staff room to clock out and grab her things. This was a misunderstanding that could easily be fixed next time.

Returning to the front of the store, she avoided lengthy eye contact with her coworkers who were clearly having too much fun with this turn of events. One kept wiggling their eyebrows while the other was a fit of giggles. “C’mon Wonder Boy, let's go.” She grabbed his arm and led him back out the doors.

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali @antiquecultist

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ninthcircleofprythian · 17 hours

Text

A Pocketful of -- Ragweed?

My contribution to Azris week - I fully intended on just enjoying everyone's talent and being the casual observer. But this idea latched on and wouldn't let go. I know this could technically be slice of life theme but I think it qualifies as contact too. So enjoy this tiny snippet. Special dedication to @chairofchaos for being the best brainstorming buddy and my biggest fangirl.

Warnings - Nothing but fluff, also uneditied in any way, shape or form. We die like men.

The sound of the tea kettle stirred Azriel from his quiet morning reverie. With a quick flip of his wrist he folded the newspaper he had been reading and laid it down, the reading glasses perched on his nose quickly followed. He moved gracefully through the kitchen, tucking his wings as he rounded the island, following the familiar path he did every morning. Every morning the same routine.

Right on schedule, the sound of the front door latch and a flurry of paws echoed down the hallway. Az was quickly greeted with cold noses pressed against his still bare thigh and wagging tails whipping through the air. His shadows swirled themselves in a frenzy between the excited appendages. Bringing one hand down to their level, he gently patted each of the hound’s heads in turn while he poured the two steaming mugs of tea. Every morning the same dance.

Settling the kettle back upon the stove, Azriel’s hand popped a slice of bacon from the plate next to him, breaking it into small pieces.

“Don’t tell,” he whispered, bending down to hound height. The tails of the hounds whipped even faster, knowing what was coming. Every morning the same treats.

“Stop feeding them bacon,” came the snide remark from the hall. Az just laughed.

Appearing in the doorway, Eris glared. “They are highly trained animals and you are spoiling them.”

“Mmm, yes,” Az smiled into the face of the nearest hound who was licking the grease from his fingers. “Highly trained indeed.” It was just last night that they were piled into the bed between them, stealing all the covers. At Eris’ request of course.

“Still not dressed I see,” Eris commented cooly on his mate’s attire. Brief shorts and white undershirt. Every morning the same banter.

“Good morning to you too, my love.” Azriel winded his legs through the mass of hound bodies with ease, reaching his mate for a kiss.

Eris’ hand slid up to meet Azriel’s cheek as their lips met in tender reunion. Even just an hour apart left him longing for this warm brush of skin against his own. Every morning the same touches.

Taking note of Eris’ other hand, Az nodded. “What’s this?” This was a change. Something different.

Pulling the hand from behind his hip, Eris brought out the hidden treasure. A bundle of plants with the occasional flower. “For you,” he handed the bundle over, his face just as neutral as usual.

Azriel grasped it from him gently, staring down at the gift in silence. Some of the sprigs were drooping, others snapped off their mother plant in haste and showed the damage. “Thank you, my love. It’s -,” Az began slowly.

“I know it’s not pretty,” Eris threw out hastily before softening his gaze. “But it’s you. That’s why I picked it.”

Az’s quirked brow in silence was his only reply.

“This one here,” Eris started as he dropped his gaze to the bouquet between them, his finger trailing along the petals of one of the only flowers. “It reminded me of your eyes.” The flower was golden in color, bleeding into light green at the center.

“And this one,” his voice dropped into a smooth register, pointing out a still tightly closed bud. “Smelled like night rain.”

Pointing again to another sprig, this time a length of fern, Eris continued. “This one reminded me of your shadows when it moved in the wind.”

Azriel felt a small shudder race down his spine as he watched those long elegant fingers slipping deftly between each plant. It reminded him of how those same fingers traced along the path of his scars in the quiet of night.

“And here,” he went on. “This one hung from the vine just like that lock of hair that always falls across your forehead.” Eris brought his look back to his mate’s face in confirmation. Sure enough, that lock was hanging low, dragging against Az’s brow. With a gentle push of his fingertips, Eris swept that lock back into place only for it to fall once again. A bright smile lit up his face.

Neither of them were staring at the bouquet any longer but Eris continued. “And this,” his hand brushed against a fiery autumn red leaf. “When it fell in my path it brushed against my cheek ever so gently.”

Azriel could feel himself holding his breath as his mate’s eyes seared into his own as Eris finished, “And if felt just like the touch of your hand.” With his words, Eris drew his hand down the side of Az’s face, knuckles dragging feather light over his cheek.

Along with the breath that rushed from him another shudder claimed Az’s body, this time reaching his wings with a tremble. “It’s beautiful, Eris.”

His smile only brightened further. “I know. That’s what I said.”

Every morning the same and yet Azriel could still be surprised. Leaning down slightly he claimed another kiss, this time less than tender.

As Eris pulled away, the ghost of that bright smile still lingered upon his face. “You’re over steeping the tea, love,” he quipped before turning to grab a vase from the cabinet.

Az could only laugh as he turned back to the stove, grabbing the mugs to return to the table.

Every morning the same and yet his mate still snarky as ever. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Autumn Court divider designed by @tsunami-of-tears can be found here .

@chunkypossum @the-darkestminds (I know this isn't the Azris fic I mentioned but I figured you would want the tag anyway)

#azris week #azris #eris vanserra #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #eris x azriel #azris fluff #acotar fluff #azris fanfiction

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e-dubbc11 · 24 hours

Text

Trivia Night

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader (wife)

Warnings: Some swear words, little violent, nothing major though, sexual reference, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 4.5K-ish

Summary: Trivia night at one of your favorite bars with your favorite people. Billy is late and you have to fill his spot with someone no one else is really fond of, especially Frank and Ginger

A/N: This one has been done for a few days but life got in the way of me putting it out. Finally had some time. Part of the Gingerverse. I’ll put the collection HERE. I haven’t written for them in awhile and I’ve missed it so this was fun. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

With music playing in the background, you sat at the bar with your friends staring at the beer in front of you. Poured perfectly, the high white foam piled high in the glass but not too high and melding into the citrusy white ale underneath.

It was a blend of orange, lemon and lime peel with a hint of spice from Grains of Paradise which was a rare pepper from West-Africa and considered an aphrodisiac.

Your head was full of little factoids and knowledge which is why Ginger thought it would be fun to do a trivia night at one of your favorite bars and it was also another way for Frank and Ginger to continue their “friendly” competition with each other.

The bar held a trivia contest every Thursday night and you were finally able to get everyone together for a fun night out. Of course, Frank and Maria were there, along with Ginger and another friend from work, Jules. You were just waiting for Billy to show up and complete your two teams of three but he was, once again, held up at work.

“Where’s your husband, kid? If he doesn’t get here soon, you’re gonna need another teammate so I can beat Ginger fair and square.” Said Frank.

“Keep talkin’ shit, Frank. We’ll see who answers more questions.” Ginger replied with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t know where he is. He promised he would be here but they’re starting soon.” You said with a worried look on your face.

You were going to have to find an alternate teammate.

The foam from the head of your beer touched the tip of your nose as you took a sip. The bright wheat ale was refreshing as it cooled and coated your throat. The bubbles tickled the inside of your nose as you set the beer back down onto the bar and the coaster underneath your glass was slightly damp from the condensation.

Searching the bar one more time for Billy, your eyes spotted a familiar face. The last time you had seen him was at your birthday party a few years ago before Billy had told you how he really felt about you. He was also the reason Billy almost left that night because you were dancing with him.

It was Lucas.

“Hey stranger!” He said, as he went in for a hug. “How are you?!”

Nervously, you replied, “I’m good, Lucas, really good. How have you been? It’s been a little while. You still working for Billy?”

He nodded. “Yep, actually he was still there when I left a little while ago.”

Glancing at your watch, you replied, “Yeah he’s supposed to be here for trivia time so our team is one player short at the moment.”

He took a sip from his beer bottle and a sly smile stretched across his face as he said, “I can fill in for him until he gets here.”

Both Frank and Ginger were staring at you, they glanced at each other and then turned their gaze back to you, well, back to Lucas. They both had a look of mistrust on their faces, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. You loved how protective they were of you but it’s a public place with an old co-worker, what was going to happen?

As you pulled the barstool up, you said with an innocent smile, “Hey guys! Frank you know Lucas.” You said pointing in between the two of them. And turning to Ginger, you said, “Yeah, remember he was at my birthday party before I left Anvil.”

Still with her eyes narrowed, she replied, “Uh huh, yeah I think I remember. Silver Springs guy, right?”

Lucas nodded.

Ginger pulled him over to the barstools and said, “Alright stud, get comfortable, you’re gonna fill in until Billy gets here. You better be smart too, I’m not losin’ to Frank.”

Frank smirked at her. “We’ll see, Ginger.”

You turned to Lucas and said, “They’re a TAD competitive with each other. It’s comical to watch.”

“Oh I can’t wait.” He replied.

**********

Billy was always in awe of how smart you are. He even went as far as saying you should try out for Jeopardy. A lot of nights after the two of you had dinner, you would turn it on while you were cleaning up in the kitchen.

“The answer is…This element has the highest atomic number that occurs naturally.” Said the host.

You said, “What is Uranium?”

“This Russian author wrote War and Peace.”

Again, you replied with the correct question, “Who is Tolstoy?”

“Located in Jordan, this ancient city is known for its rock-cut architecture.”

“What is Petra?” You said.

“What is Citizen Kane?”

“Who was Winston Churchill?”

“What is a Life of Service?”

“Who is Victor Hugo?”

With his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, Billy stood at the sink washing the pots and pans with a smirk on his face and a towel draped over his shoulder. He’d hand them off for you to dry as you rattled off question after question.

“You’re amazing, my love.” He had told you. “You really should try out, I’m serious.”

“I’m not that smart, Billy. There are so many more people out there smarter than me.” You said.

After drying his hands off on the towel, he pulled you in by your waist, your body was flush with his, and his hands were still warm from the hot water from the faucet. Billy tilted your chin up with his long slender fingers so you were looking into his onyx colored eyes, smiling that perfect smile at you. That smile could get you to do pretty much anything. It was your kryptonite…in a good way.

“Why do you doubt yourself so much, sweet girl?” Asked Billy in a silvery tone.

Glancing down at his arms wrapped tightly around you, you replied with a shrug, “I dunno. I guess I’ve always had that feeling that I’m not good enough. Plus, I’m highly competitive so if I don’t win, I feel like a loser.” You said with a slight smile.

“You and me both, baby.” Said Billy. “Our kids are gonna be in trouble.” He said with a wink.

You laughed as he gently pressed his lips to yours. They tasted like the bittersweet piece of chocolate he had after dinner.

“Will you do something for me, beautiful? Just think about it? I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass and tell you you’re good enough when you’re not. You know that.” Said Billy.

You snaked your arms around his neck and gently raked your nails against his scalp. His raven colored hair glided through your fingers as you kissed him again. Slipping his tongue between your lips, his kisses became hungrier as you angled your head so he could kiss up and down your neck.

“Not fair, handsome. That’s called coercion when you kiss me like that.” You said as warmth spread across your cheeks and chest.

“Does that mean you’ll think about it?” He asked, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him as he stood in front of you smiling like a Cheshire cat. Billy knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ok, you win Billy. I’ll think about it.” You said, biting back a smile.

He replied, “That’s all I ask, my love.”

**********

You were sitting in between Lucas and Ginger. Frank, Maria and Jules looked very ready to answer some questions and before you knew it, the contest had started. Billy had promised he would be here but he was late and the game had started without him. Unsure of the rules, you didn’t even know if he could jump in when he got there.

Billy worked harder than anyone you’ve ever met. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to be the best, fighting to stay on top, and be the best security detail in the city. Sometimes he broke his promises which most of the time you let go but this one hit a little differently.

It was upsetting. You just wanted to have some fun with him and he was missing it but you were determined to have a good time anyway.

You were on fire tonight though. There wasn’t a question you didn’t answer correctly even when it wasn’t your turn.

“How many moons does Neptune have?” Your host asked.

You answered confidently, “Fourteen.”

“What is the fear of flowers called?” They asked.

“Anthophobia.” You replied.

“How many staircases are located in Hogwarts?” Their voice sounded frustrated because they couldn’t stump you.

You answered with a sly smile, “142.”

With his arm touching yours, Lucas leaned in and whispered, “How do you know all of this stuff, y/n?”

“Oh, just stuff I picked up here and there.” You replied.

You thought Lucas was harmless, but Ginger and Frank felt otherwise. In between their score keeping with each other, you swear they were silently communicating about how close Lucas was to you and keeping an extra close eye on him to make sure he didn’t try anything.

“He’s a little too close to you, don’t you think?” Said Ginger, in your ear.

Looking down at her leg and yours, they were practically touching so you replied, “Well the barstools are really close together. What am I supposed to do? Sit in your lap?”

“I’d say he still has a thing for you.” Ginger whispered, almost glaring at Lucas.

You whispered back, “Ok, well I NEVER had a thing for him. Also I’m very much in love with my husband.”

“I know that…just…well just watch his hands. I don’t trust him and neither does Frank.” She said.

You glanced over at Frank. He looked as if he could spit nails. “Yes, I can see that.” You replied. “I’ll be on high alert. Ready to do some Kung-Fu Panda if I need to.”

Ginger started to laugh and sing a verse from Kung Fu Fighting while Frank rolled his eyes and Maria chuckled.

While this was going on, you became hyper aware of how much Lucas was drinking and gradually inching closer to you. He looked like he was feeling pretty good and it was starting to make you a little uncomfortable but you tried to ignore him.

After a little while, it was break time. Time to stretch your legs, run to the bathroom, have a snack…whatever you felt like doing for a few minutes before the second round started. Frank and Ginger were arguing who had answered more questions correctly between the two of them.

There was the team score and then their personal scores that they kept track of. It was hard not to laugh when they would go back and forth and get under each other’s skin. Both of them, however, kept a close eye on you but mostly they were watching Lucas.

Maria caught the two of them eyeing you like a hawk.

“What are you two glaring at over here? Or maybe I should ask, WHO are you two glaring at over here?” She asked.

Without taking his eyes away from you, Frank replied, “We’re watching to see if Lucas makes any moves on y/n. I know he still has a thing for her, I feel it.”

Maria folded her arms across her body and playfully rolled her eyes.

“Baby, I’m sure y/n can take care of herself. Being with Billy all this time, I’m sure she’s learned a thing or two about defending herself if Lucas is stupid enough to try anything.” She said.

Ginger jumped in, “Yeah but it’s not just us, right? She looks a little uncomfortable talking to him.”

In an unsure tone, Maria replied, “I mean, I guess maybe a little bit.”

You finally saw the familiar face you had been waiting for all night to arrive. Scanning the bar, Billy’s dark brown eyes locked with yours and a wide smile stretched across his lips as he rushed toward you. Without realizing what you were doing, you walked away from Lucas and started walking toward Billy.

Excusing himself, he worked his way through the sea of people until you were close enough for him to touch. You crashed against his chest and melted into his embrace. Billy brushed your hair over your shoulder, snaked his arms around you, and held you while he apologized over and over again.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, sweet girl. I’m sorry.” Whispered Billy against the top of your head.

For a brief moment, you had forgotten how angry you were with him that he was late, yet again, and smiled against his chest while listening to the rapid beating of his heart.

“You’re VERY late, Billy. I had to find someone to fill in for you.” You said.

Billy glanced around the bar before he asked, “Who did you get on short notice, my love?”

Just as you were about to answer, Lucas said, “Me…she got me to fill in for you. Finally done at the office, huh Mr. Russo?”

Billy narrowed his eyes and gave Lucas a devilish smile before he answered, “Yeah…I am. Well I’m here now so you can take off.”

A cunning smile stretched across Lucas’s face as he replied, “Actually, I just asked the person in charge and there aren’t any substitutions after the game has started so it looks like you’ll just have to sit and watch, Mr. Russo. Your wife is…” He paused to stare at you. “She’s amazing. You know how smart she is?”

Billy replied with gnashed teeth, “I do, Lucas. Yes, MY wife is incredibly smart.”

“Oh, well I guess you do know then. They’re about to start, y/n. I’ll see you back at our seats.” He said.

Billy glared at Lucas as he walked back to his seat then turned back to talk to you. His body was stiff and the muscles in his shoulders tensed while his knuckles showed white as he clenched his fist.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.” He hissed.

You rolled your eyes a little.

“Baby, you never like the way any man looks at me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah, well I know Frankie and Ginger feel the same way.” Said Billy.

“They texted you, huh?” You asked.

Billy nodded, his lips pressed into a straight line. You could tell he was furious.

“Well maybe you should have done a better job of trying to get here on time, Billy.” You said, turning on your heels and walking back to your seat.

He called out after you, “Sweet girl, I said I was sorry!”

“You’ve been sorry a lot lately, Billy. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” You said.

You knew how Billy could be, how jealous he gets, and how possessive he is of you but he had been disappointing you more often lately because of work. He had been canceling dates, coming home late, and missing dinner. Maybe this was a tough lesson he needed to learn.

Ginger stopped you before you could get back to your seat.

“Awesome, Billy’s here! We can ditch the dummy, he doesn’t know anything anyway.” She said.

You started to shake your head back and forth and replied, “We can’t, Ginger…guy in charge said we can’t swap out. So we’re stuck with him for two more rounds.”

Frank walked up behind you.

“I’m ahead by one, Ginger. They’re gettin’ ready to start round two.” He said.

“They won’t let Billy play because he showed up late.” She said.

“What?! So you’re stuck with him for two more rounds? That’ll teach Bill to be late, yeah?” Said Frank.

Lucas was sitting in his seat, drinking his beer with a smug look on his face. You knew he was trying to make Billy jealous and it didn’t take much to get Billy’s blood to boil. The scorching glare he directed at Lucas could probably be felt by the entire bar as he sipped his bourbon.

But they were starting the second round and you directed your concentration to answering the questions and not toward Billy. In between questions, Lucas would lean in and whisper things to you like “You’re doing great.” And “That one was really hard, how did you even know that?” It was really making your stomach turn but you didn’t want to be rude. You made it through round two and only had to make it through one more round.

“I got five questions right that round, Frank. You forgot to mark that last one down.” Said Ginger.

“No I didn’t, Ginger. It’s that one right there.” Frank said, pointing down at his scrap paper.

“Well, my paper says I have one more.” She said.

“Then you’re cheating.” He said.

Ginger’s jaw dropped open. “I am NOT cheating and I am deeply insulted that you would even think that. I can beat you fair and square.”

Maria interjected, “Baby, I think you did forget one.”

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Frank said, looking at her fondly with a smirk on his face.

Meanwhile, a few feet down from where Frank and Ginger were “discussing” their totals, you were trying to reassure Billy that Lucas wasn’t going to try anything and there was only one more round left before it was over.

“There’s only one more round left and then we can go home, ok?” You said.

Lightly brushing his beard with your thumb, you smiled warmly at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before returning to your seat.

Billy nodded and tried to smile at you but you could tell he was still angry and jealous.

Round three questions were a little more difficult…

“How many noses does a slug have?” They asked.

Deep in thought but distracted at the same time, you blurted out the first number that came to mind.

“Four?” You replied in an unsure tone.

“Four is correct!” They said, excitedly.

“What are baby rabbits called?”

“Kits.”

“Who painted ‘Girl with the Pearl Earring?’”

“Vermeer”

“What 1949 science fiction book by author George Orwell describes a dystopian world in the future?”

“Twenty-Twenty-Fo—oh wait, sorry…I mean, 1984.” You said with a wide grin.

Billy chuckled a little at that one but his smile disappeared when he saw Lucas inch closer to whisper something in your ear.

“And she’s funny too.” He said, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing.

Your body immediately tensed and your face tightened as well. You could actually feel the color leaving your face and Billy could tell something was wrong.

You looked over at him, silently telling him that you didn’t like what was happening. Lucas slowly moved his hand up your thigh while looking over at Billy. Your body temperature started to rise and your heart started to race.

Earlier, you thought maybe Lucas was just being extra friendly because it had been awhile since you had seen him last but now you realized that he must still be upset because you left the night of your birthday party with Billy and not him.

“Take your hand off of me, Lucas.” You said through gnashed teeth.

His touch made your skin crawl.

“Don’t make a scene, pretty girl. We have to finish the game.” He whispered.

Billy got up from his barstool and started to walk over toward you but not before you planted your left leg and kicked Lucas’s barstool out from under him with your right. He was leaning forward when his stool disappeared from under him so his face smashed against the bar and he landed on the floor clutching his nose, yelling out in pain.

Looking down, you noticed blood dripping from in between his fingers while he weaved a string of profanities as he tried to get the bleeding to stop.

When he looked up at you, his face was flushed with rage as you smiled kindly, clutched your imaginary pearls and in a patronizing voice, asked, “Oh my goodness, Lucas! Are you alright? Did you lose your balance?” Then in a low voice only he could hear, you whispered, “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me ever again. We’re never going to happen so get over it. I’m married to your boss, dipshit. Although, after this I’m guessing he won’t be your boss for much longer.” You said with a devilish smile.

Ginger was trying to cover her mouth so no one would see her laughing but she was doing a terrible job. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?!” She asked in a surprised tone.

“My husband taught me.” You said loud enough for Billy to hear.

Billy winked at you, sending delightful shivers up and down your spine. He handed Lucas a bar napkin and growled in his face, “You’re FIRED and don’t you EVER come near my wife again. She knows how to do a lot more than just kick barstools, asshole.”

You heard Maria’s voice behind you, “See Frank, I told you she could take care of herself.”

“Time to go, Lucas. Let’s go.” Said Frank, pulling him to his feet and walking him toward the door and holding him by his shirt.

“I knew he would try somethin’ sooner or later! I hate to say I told ya so buuuuut…” Said Ginger with a wide smile.

Billy took your hand in his and gently brushed your cheek with the other. A look of concern washed over his face as he continued to look you over to make sure you were alright.

“You ok, sweet girl?” He asked.

“I’m fine, baby. I’m fine. You see what I did? Huh?” You asked with raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

He let out a little laugh and pulled you flush to him. Billy inhaled sharply and exhaled forcefully; feeling the tension leave his body, you wrapped your arms tightly around his back and you could feel the smirk play across his lips against the top of your head.

“I did and I gotta say it made me a little hard.” He purred as a tremor of pleasure went straight to your core. “All jokes aside, I’m gonna try to make more time for us and for our friends. I know I’ve been really busy lately. I’m so sorry, baby.”

With your body molded against his, your eyes closed in relief as his long slender fingers danced up and down your back. Nothing felt better than being in Billy’s embrace.

“That would really mean a lot to me, my love. I know how hard you work but you deserve to relax and have fun too.” You said, smiling against his chest.

As his gazed raked over you, Billy’s eyes were like pools of dark chocolate, rich and sweet. They were warm, inviting and begging for your forgiveness. He really was sorry. You felt it in the way he held you, the way he looked at you, and as his lips gently pressed against yours, you felt it in the way he kissed you.

“I’ll learn one of these days, sweet girl.” Said Billy as he kissed your forehead.

You replied with a subtle smile, “We have all the time in the world, handsome.”

Ginger interrupted the kiss between you and Billy.

“Well since you took out our teammate, how are we gonna finish the game now?” She asked. “Our TEAM obviously won because you have a ridiculous amount of information stored in that big brain of yours BUT, I need to finish round three against Frank.”

Ginger looked around at the group, wondering if any of you had an idea of how to finish up trivia night.

“Well, I know my beautiful wife has stacks of trivia cards all over the place at home so we could all go there for a couple more drinks, more trivia, and I can properly introduce myself to Jules…” Said Billy, extending his hand for her to shake. “Hi…I’m Billy. I’m y/n’s dumbass husband and she ended up in a bar fight because I was late.”

Jules laughed and started to blush, extended her hand to shake Billy’s, and said, “You’re right, y/n. He really does have a smile that will melt your insides. I don’t know how you can stay mad at him with a smile like that.”

“He definitely has an unfair advantage, that’s for sure.” You replied. “And I did not get into a bar fight, Billy.”

“Hey, he left the bar with a broken nose because of you, did he not?” Said Billy with a wink.

You bit back a smile as you narrowed your eyes at him and shook your head. It really was hard to stay mad at him…you loved him so much.

“Alright then…to the house of Russo! Let’s finish this, Castle!” Exclaimed Ginger.

“Lead the way, Ginger.” Said Frank, ushering her to go ahead of him.

Billy leaned in close and whispered, “Can we do a lightning round and get everyone to go home quicker? I’m still turned on from watching you bash Lucas’s face against the bar.”

A blur of a smile played across your lips as you replied, “OK number one…gravity did that to Lucas’s face, not me, and two…I’ll see what I can do about the lightning round. I love you, Billy.”

He quickly cupped your cheeks and his lips collided with yours. Sweeping your lower lip, Billy’s tongue parted your lips to twist and knot with yours. The taste of vanilla from the bourbon lingered on his tongue as warmth spread across your chest and his hands ran up and down the curves and hollows of your body.

All was forgiven.

Walking together arm in arm, you and Billy headed for home with your friends, talking about your day, and talking about what he missed from trivia night. You weren’t looking at him but you could feel his eyes on you and smell the remnants of his spicy cologne on his jacket. It was all so familiar and comfortable as his body was a warm cradle for yours while you laughed with each other all the way home.

Billy tried his best to learn from his mistakes and he hated to disappoint you because he knows what that feels like. To wait for someone, hoping they’ll show up and they never do. He never wanted to do that to you.

That fear of abandonment was still strong even after all this time, after all of the “I love you’s,” after the forever promises to each other, it was still there. Billy may never get over it but you would always be there for him in whatever way he needed you to be.

The perfection he strived for in your relationship was unattainable, nobody is perfect but it didn’t stop him from trying, learning what not to do, and it was ok to have these teachable moments like tonight. He took it all in and he would be better next time, you had no doubt about that.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #the gingerverse

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espithewarlock · 22 days

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A few days ago I posted a Kittierre fic on AO3! HUGE thanks to @chaesonghwas, @your-littlesecret, @boxboxbrioche, and @lydia-petze for leaving me GORGEOUS comments on AO3 and for continuing to go insane about it in the CC Server! 😘

Enjoy this little continuation! (Which will not make sense if you have not read the fic linked above!)

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Beep

…

Beep

….

Beep

…

Pierre was woken up by a faint beeping noise coming from further down the bed. The sunlight filtering through the window of Charles’ apartment window was just starting to hit his face and he buried his head in the pillow in annoyance.

He was doubly annoyed to find that his boyfriend was no longer lying next to him so Pierre couldn’t cuddle up and doze for a few more minutes of blissful sleep. Instead, there was a weight next to his left leg and he could feel the combination of the lack of a bedsheet and the air conditioning making the hairs on his leg stand on end.

…

Beep

…

Beep

….

Beep

…

“What are you doing, Cha?” Pierre grumbled into the pillow as the beeping noise continued.

Strangely, he felt the bed violently shake and the man sitting by his leg quickly move off the bed.

“Nothing,” Charles professed, his voice way too nervous to be telling the truth.

That made Pierre crack an eye open and glance over to where Charles was definitely trying to put something away in his bedside drawer without Pierre noticing. It was small, handheld, and Pierre definitely did not recognize it at first glance.

“Cha,” he said in a warning tone. Pierre knew that he didn’t have to elaborate on the demand. He lifted himself up enough to grab Charles’ arm and tug him back into bed.

Thankfully, Charles didn’t fight him and got back into the bed so the two of them could lay on their sides and look at each other. Pierre used the hand he had pinned to prop up his head and his free arm to rest on Charles’ hip. He looked at his boyfriend expectantly while rubbing small circles with his thumb in encouragement.

Charles sighed and blushed a faint, light pink. “It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“Cha,” Pierre said in exasperation. After months of actually dating, now that he was no longer a cat, he didn’t need more than a single exhalation of Charles’ nickname to convey that he never thought that Charles was being stupid.

“I was checking to see if you still had a chip,” Charles mumbled and ducked his head.

That made Pierre pause and furrow his eyebrows. “Huh?” he asked, prompting Charles to elaborate.

“You know,” Charles waved his hand around vaguely, “when I took you to the vet. You got vaccines…and you also got a microchip.”

Pierre’s eyes widened as he remembered what Charles was talking about. When he was stuck as a cat, Charles had taken him to the vet for a series of vaccinations that would allow him to travel with Charles, and the vet had also put a microchip in his leg with Charles’ contact information.

“And you got a scanner to check?” Pierre asked rhetorically. It was actually rather sweet and it piqued his curiosity too.

Charles’ blush turned a darker shade as he nodded his head. Pierre laughed and shuffled closer to his boyfriend to give him a sweet, soft kiss.

“Go get it,” Pierre requested, “I want to know if I still have it too.”

His statement made Charles look at him in surprise, then he twisted around to grab it from his bedside drawer. Pierre obligingly held still as Charles moved it slowly over both of his legs. Once they reached the meat of his upper right thigh, the beep became more of a be-boop and Charles lifted it away from his leg in interest.

When he read what was on the screen, his face turned so red that the tips of his ears changed the same color.

Pierre tried to grab it, but Charles lifted it out of his reach. He smirked, tackled Charles to the bed, and proceeded to pepper him with a mixture of kisses and tickles until Charles was laughing too hard to remember that he was trying to keep something out of Pierre’s hands. He was able to snag the scanning device out of Charles’ grasp and held it up victoriously.

It didn’t look particularly complicated since there was only one button and a fairly small screen no larger than his watch. Pierre held it up to his right thigh, clicked the button, heard the be-boop, and brought it up to his face. (All while kneeling on top of Charles to keep him pinned to the bed.)

“Property of Charles Marc Leclerc,” Pierre read out loud with a smirk, “if found, return to Monaco Veterinary Center. Why, Cha! I never knew you cared so much!”

“I hate you,” Charles mumbled.

“No, you don’t,” Pierre retorted. He threw the device further down the bed and leaned down so he was hovering directly over Charles and could see the embarrassment and amusement in his eyes. Charles was clearly fighting back a smile and Pierre returned it in kind.

“I like it,” Pierre murmured, then proceeded to show his boyfriend exactly what the Property of Charles Marc Leclerc liked to do with his tongue.

— — — — — — — — — —

It became something of a game. More than once, Charles asked if Pierre wanted to get it removed. Every time, Pierre told him absolutely not. He liked the feeling of being, well, not owned but claimed by Charles. The reminder that he belonged to Charles in a private way that nobody else would be able to tell.

So, Pierre did the very logical thing and downloaded an app to his phone that would allow him to change the message that appeared when it was scanned. It was idiot-proof enough to figure out on the first try and he tested his success with the scanning device.

Pierre was almost disappointed that it took Charles a couple of days to notice. Of course, he didn’t have a reason to check the chip, but he hadn’t gotten rid of the device either. That was why Pierre put a sticky note on the back of the device and simply waited for Charles to find it.

He did when they were both getting dressed to head over to Charles’ maman’s place for dinner. They were doing their typical scramble-because-they-are-about-to-be-late dance and Charles pulled the scanner out while he was checking for something in his bedside drawer.

When he lifted the scanner, Pierre tried to hide the smug look that threatened to cross his face when Charles looked befuddled and felt the crinkle of paper under his fingers. Pierre watched him flip the scanner over to read the short message on the sticky note.

Use Me ;)

Charles caught his eye in the mirror and held it up with a questioning look. Pierre shrugged in a casual, innocent way that would definitively tell Charles that he was up to no good.

His boyfriend sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked over to Pierre. “What are you up to, you menace?” Charles asked as he waved the scanner over Pierre’s right thigh until he got the be-boop.

As soon as it made the noise, Pierre grinned. He didn’t need to respond to the rhetorical question.

When you read this, I’m giving you a blowjob. Immediately.

Charles very clearly read the message, his breath caught in his throat, and he whipped his head up to once again meet Pierre’s eyes in the mirror. His face had the strangest mixture of excitement and despair as he noticed Pierre’s killer smile.

“We’re already going to be late,” Charles protested, even as Pierre spun around and pushed Charles to the bed.

“Better come fast then, Cha,” Pierre warned him, sank to his knees, and started working open the button of Charles’ jeans.

He didn’t hear much of a complaint after that.

— — — — — — — — — —

After that, Charles started checking the chip more regularly. Sometimes, he did it when Pierre was asleep, but most of the time he waited until Pierre was awake.

Pierre didn’t change the message every day. Whenever Charles did find the message, Pierre always changed it back to Property of Charles Marc Leclerc just to see the slightly embarrassed yet pleased smile on his face whenever that was the message on the chip.

Other times, Pierre liked to change it up. Sometimes it would be filthy promises which Pierre would gladly fulfill whenever he promised within the message. Sometimes it was just sweet messages like I love you so much mon amour that made Charles melt into his arms with affection. Sometimes, in the mornings before a race, he would put well-wishes. Good luck today Mr. Pole Position!

Regardless, it was fun. It added a little bit of levity to their developing and growing relationship. Pierre didn’t even have to allude to Charles using the scanner since he would fairly reliably check it every single day that they were together.

Almost a year to the day after Pierre returned to his human body, he knew that he was fully committed to the relationship. There were still some days that he questioned what his sexuality was, but his commitment to Charles was never in doubt. Nobody else would be able to fill Pierre’s life like Charles did and he needed to make their connection permanent.

So, he changed the message, stole the scanner so that his surprise wouldn’t be ruined, and brought it with him when they went out on Charles’ yacht. They spent the day in the sun and the water, just the two of them, and had a simple dinner that they fed to each other while they watched the sunset off of the coast of Monaco.

“I’ll be right back, mon amour,” Pierre promised with a quick kiss to Charles’ cheek. He waved him off with a laugh and settled back in his seat.

Pierre quickly retrieved the scanner and slid a small box into the pocket of his swim trunks. He swiftly made his way back to Charles’ left side, pressed their thighs together, and eased the scanner into Charles’ hands.

When Charles looked down, he sighed. “Should I be worried?” Charles asked in resignation, but with his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“It depends,” Pierre said coyly, “do you trust me?”

That made Charles give a show of rolling his eyes, then gamely pressed the button on the scanner next to Pierre’s thigh until he got the be-boop noise.

He looked at Pierre pointedly, then dropped his gaze down to the screen. As soon as he did, Pierre thought he actually stopped breathing for a moment.

I love you, mon amour. Marry me?

Charles’ eyes flashed over to Pierre and he eased his way onto one knee as he pulled out the small box. He opened it carefully to reveal the simple, silver band that would easily blend in with the other rings that Charles liked to wear. The only difference was that this one had an engraving – 10 ♡ 16 – on the inside.

“Well,” Pierre said after a moment, “what do you say, Cha?”

“Yes,” Charles professed and surged forward to kiss him deeply and thoroughly, “yes, of course, yes, yes, yes! I love you, Pierre. So much. Yes, always yes.”

Pierre couldn’t help the delighted laughter that escaped his lips and made sure to not fumble the box or the ring in between all of the kisses that Charles was putting on his lips.

Eventually, he managed to slide the ring onto Charles’ finger and his fiancé looked mesmerized at the simple band. “I love you, mon amour,” Pierre repeated the message from the chip and it was the simple, honest truth.

— — — — — — — — — —

Their wedding day was nothing short of magical. Pierre woke up tangled in Charles’ arms in a hotel suite that was way too far from home with all their families and friends ready to watch the two of them make a lifetime commitment to each other.

The day passed in a blur – getting groomed and ready, making sure someone else had all the last minute details covered, and trying his best to actually show up to the ceremony on time.

All day, Charles was giving him little glances of anticipation (since they didn’t bother with staying separated ahead of the ceremony) and Pierre knew that there was more to the look than eagerness to say their vows to each other.

Pierre had, of course, changed the message on the chip and Charles was waiting on him to give him the scanner to reveal it. But he didn’t.

Seeing Charles across from him at the altar was a vision from his dreams. Charles was dressed in an impeccable tuxedo and looked devastatingly handsome. He had to hold himself back through all the declarations and vows and exchanging much fancier rings with each other, and then he was allowed to kiss his husband.

It was an incredible feeling and Pierre was going to savor it for the rest of his life.

They made it through cocktail hour, dinner, and speeches, then they danced and drank and laughed late into the night. (And, if Pierre pulled Charles into a private bathroom to give him a blowjob, well, nobody commented on how messed up his hair was when they returned.)

When they finally collapsed into bed together at an absurdly early hour of the morning, Charles had a small, red bow wrapped around the scanner waiting for him on the bedside table. Pierre saw him grin, grab the scanner, and hold it up to Pierre’s thigh expectantly.

Pierre waited for the familiar be-boop of the small device and watched as Charles eagerly brought it up to his face, then completely melted into a smile that was pure, unreserved happiness.

He tossed the device to the side and climbed on top of Pierre. All former tiredness was completely gone as Charles leaned down to devour him.

Property of Charles Marc Gasly-Leclerc.

#piarles #10 x 16 #fanf1ction #f1 rpf fic #espi writes stuff!#continuation of the Kittierre fic on AO3!#thank you to everyone who left me comments on this one!#it was so fun to write and I'm glad to post another little bit from it!#(also let it be known that I am actually insane and WILL write continuation scenes if prompted and inspired)#(especially for the people who leave so much love on my fics I love you 🥰)

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rainbow-nijisaki · 9 months

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Spontaneous NEO Joshua sketches

#twewy #ntwewy #yoshiya joshua kiryu #my art #going to be sappy in the tags no one will read #a big thank you to everyone who supports me #some days I think I won't draw and then you all inspire me #so to everyone who's left tags / comments / likes / reblogs #it means a lot to me #thank you very much

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suddencolds · 7 months

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Foreign Home | [1/1]

hello!! I am back after 8 months of not-really-writing with an 8k word fic (which I cut down from 9k words). this is another OC fic w/ Vincent and Yves, who were introduced here!

anyways, this is very character-centric and establishes some things I wanted to establish about them / their world... I hope the little detour into character-development territory is okay.

Summary: Yves has told all of his friends that he's dating Vincent, so it's going to look increasingly suspicious if Vincent never shows up. Good thing Vincent is compellingly good at lying. Anyways, what could go wrong at a housewarming party? (ft. banter, fake dating, cat allergies)

—

Yves spends three weeks turning down invitations.

It’s lucky, he thinks, that he’s been able to stay in contact with so many friends from university—that so many of them have settled here, in New York. It’s less lucky considering his current circumstances:

Out of the people who made it to Margot’s New Year’s party, almost all of them remember Vincent. And—even more inconveniently—many of them seem set on inviting Yves and Vincent places.

Yves thinks up a dozen excuses. No, Vincent can’t join on our coffee outing—he’s got an important, un-reschedulable meeting with a client that Saturday. Sunday? His Sunday’s booked through until 5pm. I know, busy season is the worst to plan around. Or, I think Vincent’s going to be out for a business conference that weekend. The 22nd? I can check with him, but he’s taking a redeye flight the night before—I think he’ll be jet lagged.

The number of excuses he is capable of coming up with is unfortunately finite. Perhaps sorry, I think Vincent has an optometrist’s appointment that afternoon isn’t Yves’s best work, but he has to say something.

Really, it’s just more work to invite Vincent elsewhere—to explain that they’ve played their role as a couple a little too convincingly. That his friends all want to meet Vincent, now.

Back during his days of rowing crew, Yves has given out his fair share of relationship advice to the underclassmen, which has unfortunately—according to Margot—“cultivated an air of mystery about his personal love life.” It was always him and Erika, until it wasn’t. (Ex-matchmaker Yves and his mysterious, highly coveted new boyfriend, Leon says, when Yves complains, which is how Yves decides he will no longer be consulting Leon on the matter.)

“My friends really like you,” Yves says to Vincent, offhandedly, when he runs into him on the way back from lunch.

Vincent blinks at him.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They really like you,” Yves says. “They want to meet you. They think we’re an interesting couple, and they keep pestering me for double dates and inviting you out to a whole bunch of events. I’m running out of excuses as to why you can’t come.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, deadpan, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” Yves says. “I told Nora that you couldn’t make it to dinner because of an eye appointment. Now if I want to keep this up I’ll need to photoshop you with new glasses.”

“I am a little overdue for new glasses,” Vincent says.

“Not the point. Regardless, I need to keep this up until we stage a breakup.”

“A breakup?”

“A fake breakup. To our fake relationship.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

“No,” Yves says. “But I’m preemptively saving you the stress.”

“The stress of playing your boyfriend?” Vincent says. “Last time, that just entailed going to a well-organized New Year’s party. I wouldn’t consider that exceptionally stressful.”

“That’s just the beginning. Don’t tell me you want to be dragged along to every dinner party and every downtown outing and every birthday I go to in the foreseeable future,” Yves says. “On top of working 60 hours a week, you’ll have to say goodbye to your weekends.”

“So that’s why you’re plotting our breakup.”

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’d need to explain to everyone how I dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure those new glasses must’ve been the dealbreaker.”

Yves laughs. Truthfully, Vincent could wear the most terrible, unflattering glasses in the world and still manage to look like someone whom Yves wouldn’t bat an eye at upon spotting at a photoshoot. The fact that his current glasses actually complement him very well, and the fact that he knows how to dress himself is just salt to the wound. “Yes, that’s the entire reason why I dated you in the first place. The glasses.”

“If you wanted to keep our false relationship up for a couple months,” Vincent says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yves—who, until now, has been walking in the opposite direction of the floor on which he works—stops walking. “Pardon?”

“I like your friends,” Vincent says. “And more importantly, I don’t think it proves a point to Erika if you’ve just gotten into a relationship you couldn’t keep. So if you wanted to keep this arrangement for a little longer, I would be fine with it.”

Yves considers this.

He’s asked more than enough of Vincent already. But Vincent is right. He’s sure Erika must have her fair share of doubts about all of this—about Vincent, about their fake relationship, about its longevity. She seemed skeptical, when he’d last seen her, that Yves could’ve moved on so quickly. The worst thing about it is that he can’t blame her for that doubt. The worst thing about it is that he’d spent so much time accounting for his future with Erika that he hadn’t seen her start to slip away, hadn’t noticed the first sign of inadequacy, the first time her gaze lingered on someone else, the first time he ceased to be all that she wanted. He hadn’t steeled himself for a future without her, and now, half the time, it feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

If he wants to commit to this fake relationship, he’ll need more than one outing to show for it.

And, despite all odds, Vincent is offering just that.

“Okay,” Yves says, before he can think about how bad of an idea this is. It is really, really inadvisable. He’s sure if he weighs his options for more than a few seconds, he will come to the conclusion that he should be shutting his mouth. “If you’re sure—and only if you’re actually sure—what are your plans after work next Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing as of now,” Vincent says.

“Great. If you can make it, there’s a potluck. Joel’s hosting. He recently finished moving into a new apartment, so I think it’s something of a housewarming party. He lives a little North, past the stadium, so I think I’ll head there right after work—I can drive you.”

“That works,” Vincent says. “What kind of food does he like?”

“I’m not actually too sure,” Yves says. “I think he’s a fan of spicy food. But honestly, I think he’ll be grateful if you bring anything at all—which you don’t have to, by the way. You’re the esteemed guest, here.”

“I’m sure Joel’s new apartment is technically the esteemed guest,” Vincent says. “But I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “It’s a date. I’ll make it up to you in any way you want, by the way—if there’s ever an instance where you need me to lie for you, I’ll do it.”

“Duly noted,” Vincent says. For what Vincent would ever have to lie about, Yves can’t guess.

More importantly, he has a date for next Tuesday. Something about it is more exciting, even in its dishonesty, than it has any right to be.

—

It’s only a few moments after Yves presses the doorbell that Vincent emerges, holding a couple plates covered meticulously with aluminum foil.

“I haven’t cooked for anyone in awhile,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I hope this doesn’t make a bad impression on your friends.” “Are you kidding? It smells really good,” Yves says, and it does—from the doorway, he can make out the scent of sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger. “They’ll definitely like it.”

Vincent looks off to the side. “We’ll see.” It takes a moment for Yves to properly parse his expression for what it is.

It never occurred to Yves that Vincent might actually be nervous. At work, it’s rare to see Vincent even remotely out of his element—he always volunteers to take on their more difficult clients, and even on the rare occasion that something falls out of his expertise, he picks things up quickly. Yves has seen him give presentations at conferences without a sweat, articulate as ever.

If Vincent had been nervous, those times—over prestigious conferences, over negotiations with major clients, over other difficult points of contention—it hadn’t shown. Either he wasn’t nervous at all, or he was just good at hiding it. But he’s nervous now, Yves realizes, which means—

Vincent wants to make a good impression on his friends. It won’t be his first time meeting Joel, but it’ll be his first time talking to Cherie, Joel’s fiancé, or Giselle, one of Cherie’s friends from work. Mikhail and Nora will be there too. All in all, it’s a decently sized group, but Vincent has talked to larger groups of people before without so much as a shaky voice.

Something about it—about the seriousness with which Vincent regards this whole arrangement—is strangely endearing.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yves says, and means it in more ways than one.

—

Joel’s new apartment, as it turns out, is already decently furnished, even though Joel had sent out the invitation with the disclaimer that everything is a mess, please bear with us.

“When you said everything would be a mess,” Yves says, leaving his shoes in a line at the door, “I thought your apartment would actually be something other than spotlessly clean and well arranged.”

“It’s easy to make things look neat if you move all of the clutter into the closets,” Joel says.

“It’s just a few boxes,” Cherie says. “But it was tricky to figure out how to place things. It’s a lot more spacious than the apartment we had in college.”

“No kidding,” Yves says. “It’s a seriously nice place.” Back in their last two years of university, Joel and Cherie had gotten an apartment just a few buildings down from the apartment which Yves picked out with Mikhail—they had similar floor plans. Yves distinctly remembers the space: creaky floorboards, space heaters lined up against the walls to last them the winter; decent natural lighting, and never enough kitchen space.

Back then, he and Mikhail had had separate rooms, so their apartment became a spot in which Erika became a frequent visitor, and then, at one point, stopped visiting at all.

But that’s not the point. The point is, the apartment Joel and Cherie have picked out is much nicer than the one they’d had in college—for one, it’s more spacious, and the entire building has nice facilities and looks newer—and Cherie’s eye for interior design has only helped their cause.

“I’m glad you were able to come!” Cherie says, turning to Vincent. “Yves is always telling me about how busy you are with work.”

“He’s the one putting out all the fires,” Yves says.

Vincent smiles, extending a hand for her to shake. “Cherie, right? It’s nice to meet you. And you’re—” He turns to Joel, with a slight sniffle. “Joel. I think we met last time.”

Cherie squeezes his hand. Joel laughs and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“He’s good with names,” Yves says. An acquired skill from all the hours of networking, probably.

“That’s a useful skill to have, especially if you’re dating Yves,” Joel says. “I swear he knows everyone.” He goes on to tell a story about how, back in university, Yves almost accidentally got elected as vice president for a business club he’d only shown up to once.

At some point into the conversation, Yves ducks into the kitchen to help with setup. He sets out the dish he’s brought—salmon sliders with mango salsa—and the beef skewers that Vincent made earlier (he’s not sure why Vincent was worried in the first place, because the skewers look very competently made). After that, he busies himself with finding a way to keep everything temporarily covered until they eat.

Something soft and fuzzy winds around his ankles.

He looks down, and the soft and fuzzy thing looks back at him with pointy triangular ears. This is news to Yves.

“You guys have a cat?!” He shouts from the kitchen, vaguely in the direction where Joel and Cherie should still be standing. “Since when?”

“Since a month ago,” Joel shouts back.

“Her name is Gingersnap,” Cherie adds. “Gin for short.”

“Oh,” Yves says, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. His hands are a little calloused from all the snow he’s been shoveling lately, but Gingersnap purrs anyways, evidently unbothered. “What the hell, guys, now I’m never going to be able to leave your apartment. Consider me a permanent resident.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Cherie says.

At some point, Gingersnap gets up, mewing, and heads out of the kitchen, and Yves resumes life as an active contributor to the potluck’s success. When he finishes reheating everything up, setting the table, arranging the dishes, and filling up two pitchers with iced water, he wanders back out into the living room. Vincent is there, alone, except he’s not really alone, because…

Oh.

God.

He’s kneeling down, unmoving, speaking to Gingersnap in a soft, low voice, holding out a hand for her.

She approaches him, a little tentatively, and then nuzzles her orange head into the crook of his hand. Vincent smiles—a soft, private smile. “Hi, Gin,” he says.

There’s the low, lawnmower hum of a purr as Gingersnap rolls onto the ground to let Vincent continue petting her. It’s a heartwarming sight—Vincent, from the office, crouched down to pet a cat that’s smaller than his hand. Yves thinks he might cry.

Then Vincent withdraws his hand, reaches up with an arm to swipe at his eyes. Something jolts through his shoulders, a tremor so slight that Yves wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t already been watching—

“—nGkt-!”

Gingersnap mews at him, perplexed but undeterred. “Sorry,” Vincent says to her, quietly, “I’m not trying— to—” It’s all he can get out before he’s veering away again, this time with both hands tightly steepled over his nose for—

“hhIH’—GKKtt-!”

He sniffles softly, though the sniffle is immediately followed by a small, quiet cough. He reaches up with one hand to rub his nose. Yves watches his expression draw uneven, his eyebrows furrowing.

“hhIH…”

Whatever sneeze he’s fighting seems terribly indecisive—but terribly irritating—for the way he rubs his nose again, his eyes squeezing shut in ticklish anticipation.

“HhIH… hh… HH-hhH-hHIHh—”

He cups a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, and not a moment too early—

“—hIHh’iiIKKTSHh-!”His shoulders jolt forwards with the force of it, though it gives him barely a moment’s reprieve before his breath hitches again, sharply, urgently. “IiI’DSZCHuuhh-!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent turns to blink at him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed and watering. There’s a thin flush over the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t tell me you were allergic to cats,” Yves says, rounding the corner to close the distance between them.

“Slightly allergic,” Vincent admits, turning aside with a liquid sniffle. “It’s ndot - hhIHH-! - a big deal.”

“I didn’t know Joel and Cherie had a cat,” Yves says. “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if they did.”

“It’s fine,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I like her.”

“You might like her, but your body doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“It’s a good thing that I have a consciousness, so I can codtinue petting her.” Vincent sniffles again, lifting one hand to rub his nose with his index finger. Yves does not know how to even begin to tell him what an inadvisable idea that is, but either way, he doesn’t have a chance to before Vincent’s eyes graze shut, and he turns to face away from Gingersnap before he jerks forward, catching a muffled - “Hh’GKK-t!” - into a clenched fist.

“Bless you,” Yves says. “You know, you’re really not going to make the situation any better if you keep on—”

“nNGKT-!!”

“—bless you!”

“hh—hHhih’iiKKsHHhUH!” The last sneeze is noticeably harsher than the others—it sounds loud enough to scrape against his throat, which seems to be further evidenced by the small cough that succeeds it.

“I’ll ask Joel if he has any antihistamines,” Yves says.

“It’s fide,” Vincent says.

“If you insist on spending time with Gingersnap, wouldn’t it be better to spend it without having to sneeze?”

“I would still have to sdeeze,” Vincent says, as if he’s already experienced in the matter—briefly, Yves wonders how many cats he inadvisably plays with on a frequent basis. “Just less.”

“That would be an improvement.”

Vincent looks away. “Antihistamines mbake me tired,” he says, after a little hesitation.

“It’s a good time to be tired,” Yves says. “It’s not like you have any pressing work to get done.”

“I want to make a good ibpression on your friends,” Vincent says, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s ndot going to happen if I fall asleep halfway through dinner.”

“If you did, I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”

“I’ll take something after we finish eating,” Vincent says. “If things haved’t improved by then. ”

“Okay,” Yves relents, and—since it doesn’t seem like Vincent is leaving anytime soon—takes a seat next to him on the rug. It’s a compromise he can accept.

—

Nora gets there next, followed by Mikhail and then Giselle. It’s Yves’s first time formally meeting Giselle, who turns out to be very tall and a little intimidating—she’s come straight from work, so she’s dressed accordingly, and she talks with the sort of quiet authority that Yves knows is usually indicative of years of experience. Right before they sit down for dinner, Vincent ducks out into the bathroom—‘I need to look at least marginally presentable,’ he’d said, seeming like he was in a rush—so Yves saves him a seat at the table.

“Yves,” Giselle says, taking another salmon slider. “You made these entirely from scratch? This is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Yves says. “To be honest, it was a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t sure if the sauce was going to pair well with it.”

“Yves is really good at cooking,” Mikhail says. “That’s half the reason why I roomed with him in college.”

“So what’s the other half?” Cherie says.

“The other half is that he lets me eat his food,” Mikhail says.

Yves laughs. “For a second, I thought you’d have something nice to say about my personality.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikhail says.

“Yves is very good at cooking,” Vincent says, emerging from the hallway. Yves blinks at him. Whatever he’d done in the bathroom has done wonders—he looks remarkably put together. Not a strand of his hair is out of place. His eyes are dry, not red, not teary, not irritated, his collar crisply upright, his voice devoid of congestion. The only telltale sign about his ailment is the slight bit of redness to his nose, but it’s winter—that could easily be chalked up to the cold.

He slips easily into the seat next to Yves, his posture impeccable. Yves does everything in his power not to stare.

“I think he’s responsible for some of the best hot chocolate I’ve had,” Vincent continues. That remark is surprising, too—repurposed from a memory as it is, it seems almost like something that could be genuine.

But Yves remembers how easily Vincent had lied, back on New Year’s—how easily he’d drawn the fictitious threads between them, almost thoughtlessly, as if they had always existed.

I could make better hot chocolate, Yves thinks, before he can stop himself. I could really make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted, if I just had time. It’s an absurd thought, and one that he doesn’t have much grounds for. He had been pressed for time, back then—he hadn’t known when Vincent’s ride was going to be arriving—but even if he’d really, properly tried, even if he’d succeeded in making the best hot chocolate he’s capable of making, there’s no guarantee that Vincent would’ve liked it.

He’s surprised by the pang in his chest, now, the desire to make true something that he knows to be false, to be worthy of the compliments that Vincent’s so easily spoken about.

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” Yves says. “Technically, Mikhail didn’t even know that I knew how to cook when we signed the lease. The real reason why we roomed together is much more interesting.”

It’s a story he’s told before, though Cherie and Giselle haven’t heard it before. It’s easy to fall into it again: Mikhail and Yves met in their first year, over a group project in an intro to finance class. The two other members of their team had been dead weight, and at the time, Yves had thought—incorrectly—that Mikhail was just as bad as the rest of them.

It’s practically a comedy of errors—a series of miscommunications had led them to each finish the project independently. Yves remembers the all-nighters he’d pulled for that, nervous and over-caffeinated, until the day before the presentation, where he found that Mikhail had not—unlike the other members of their group—spent the last few weeks slacking off.

Beside him, Vincent goes still.

When Yves chances a quick look at him, he sees: a slight, almost imperceptible ripple to his expression, before it smooths out again.

He nearly backtracks—his first thought is that perhaps something he’s said is the source of Vincent’s irritation—but then Vincent turns his face away. There’s the slightest disturbance to the line of his shoulders, and then—

“—gkT-!”

The sneeze is barely audible, stifled as it is into a half-closed palm, though the gesture is subtle, too—easily mistaken as Vincent simply looking away, resting his chin on his hand.

“I can’t believe you guys are still friends after all of that,” Nora says.

“Right,” Yves says. “I was so ready to never talk to him again. But obviously, we still had to give the presentation.”

He talks about how, in a half-asleep effort to salvage the project work, he and Mikhail had found some way to relate their findings to each other, to loosely bind the disparate subjects into a coherent thesis. Mikhail talks, too, about how they’d manipulated their presentation to get their combined work to seem sufficiently on topic.

Mikhail is halfway through his story when Yves sees Vincent jolt forward beside him.

He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of a sneeze—expertly stifled, just like the others—into a clenched fist. This one’s a little more forceful, even in its quietness—it leaves Vincent hunched over for just a moment, his shoulders slightly slumped, before he straightens again, covertly lowering his hand.

There’s a slightly hazy, distant look to his features, as if whatever’s been bothering him hasn’t begun to let up yet.

Yves nudges him with his arm. Vincent doesn’t exactly jump at the contact, but he does freeze, his shoulders stiffening.

“Hey,” Yves says, quietly enough that he doesn’t think anyone else should be able to hear. “You okay?”

Vincent nods.

“You sure you don’t want to take anything?”

Another nod.

“I can’t tell you how little either of us proofread that paper,” Mikhail is saying.

“I reread it three months later,” Yves admits. “And he’s right. We really didn’t proofread it.”

But it was a winning proposal, even though they’d both been too tired to realize it then. And still, Mikhail had still managed to hold a grudge against him for two long months. And then Mikhail had run into last-minute problems with his upcoming lease arrangement, and Yves had happened to find a decently priced two-bedroom apartment with no roommate, and he’d reached out half as a joke.

“You know those friends who say they can never room together?” Mikhail is saying. “Like, they hang out all the time, or they’ve been friends for years, or they trust each other with their lives, or whatever. But the second you put their living habits in close proximity, everything goes to shit? I think we were the opposite.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you two never had a good enough relationship to ruin in the first place?” Nora says jokingly.

She has a point. Yves is starting to think that all of the formative relationships in his life have all happened by accident.

—

Vincent and Giselle get along very well, Yves notes, listening to the two of them talk. Halfway through dinner, they get into a heated discussion about the more outward-facing expectations at work, as Joel and Cherie exchange knowing glances. Giselle talks about feeling accountable for the team she manages—for knowing that if they don’t perform, she’ll take the fall for them; for being careful not to disperse the stress from higher ups unevenly, for constantly feeling her way through how much work is reasonable to expect of them. Vincent talks about the stress of apportioning work to others—the knowledge in his own competence and the knowledge gap when it comes to how others will handle things, the desire to take on more work alone to make sure everything is accounted for.

Nora, who’d had an internship at a different firm after each year in college, weighs in too on the management styles she’d been under, to what extent the expectations from leadership affected the dynamic between her coworkers.

It’s interesting, Yves thinks, that they all have their own subset of worries, even when they come across as people who are so certain of themselves.

As the others speak, Vincent stops periodically to rub his nose with the knuckle of his index finger—an action that always seems to keep the irritation at bay, but never seems to mitigate it entirely. For a moment, his expression goes hazy, his eyes watering ever so slightly, but it always lasts only a moment.

When Mikhail cracks a joke that has the entire table laughing, Vincent takes the opportunity to cough quietly into an upheld fist. When Cherie talks about her and Joel’s extremely mathematical efforts to fit everything into the car before moving, Vincent turns aside, raising a napkin to his face with a quiet, well-contained sniffle.

It’s difficult to tell, at first. But his attempts to keep quiet, to succumb to his symptoms as inconspicuously as possible, take their toll on him. Every time he jerks forward with a near-silent stifle, Yves can tell, by Vincent’s expression when he emerges, that it’s just short of relieving. Every sniffle seems to only add on to the mounting congestion, in the long run. It’s a slow, almost imperceptible unraveling.

And yet, when Yves asks about it—when he offers to ask the others for antihistamines, or when he offers to make the drive to a convenience store himself; when he suggests that they go out to get some fresh air—he’s always faced with the same nonanswer, the same dismissive, I’ll be fine. The same persistent, Don’t worry about it.

So Yves doesn’t worry about it, for now—at least, not outwardly.

—

At some point after dinner, they disperse. Yves talks to Joel and Cherie about the apartment, about the pains of moving in, about the other places they’d considered and about why this one had been at the top of the list. Then about the cat— “we had been talking about getting one,” Cherie says. “And then one day Joel was wandering around downtown, and one of the pet shops there was holding an adoption event, and then when I got home there was a cat in the living room.”

“He didn’t call you to come pick out a cat with him?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’” Joel says.

“He texted me before he brought her home,” Cherie says, and scrolls through her phone until she finds a text that says: Would you kill me if I brought home a cat. Just asking for a friend. And hypothetically if we extended this thought experiment it would be an orange cat that’s 2 months old.

“That sounds like a text from someone who’s absolutely decided already,” Yves says. “Ask for forgiveness, huh? So how’s the forgiveness going?”

“I let her name her,” Joel says.

“He’s on litter box duty for the next six months,” Cherie says.

On the other side of the room, Mikhail and Vincent are having a conversation—it could be because Vincent is the person in the room that Mikhail has talked to least, to date, but Yves has a feeling that it’s so that Mikhail can gain embarrassing intel on what Yves has been doing for the past few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vincent turn away, his eyebrows drawing together, raising both his hands to his face to catch a sneeze into steepled hands. Then, not a moment later, his shoulders shudder forward with another.

“Totally off topic,” Yves says, to Joel and Cherie. “Do you guys have any antihistamines?”

“I think we have some Benadryl,” Cherie says. “It should be in the bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror.”

He does find it there, eventually—next to a box of band-aids and a small cylindrical container of cotton swabs. Perhaps he’ll hand it to Vincent, discreetly, when he’s done talking to Mikhail. Vincent had said antihistamines made him tired, but now that dinner is over, it shouldn’t be an issue—Yves suspects people will start heading out soon, and he’ll be the one driving, anyways.

When he steps out into the hallway, Mikhail and Vincent are in the middle of a conversation. It’s a conversation Yves has every intention of interrupting, and no intention of eavesdropping on, until he overhears—

“So,” Mikhail says, “When you first started dating Yves, what was it that you saw in him?”

Yves winces. That’s certainly not an easy question to answer—he and Vincent don’t know each other all that well, and any planning they have done on the basis of their fake relationship has been almost entirely centered around logistics—events, important dates, flagship moments in the relationship, trivia-worthy personal details. Not… this.

But Vincent just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “Honestly, if I told you everything I liked about Yves, you’d want to date him too.”

“That’s a tall claim,” Mikhail says. Yves is positively certain that no permutation of words in the universe could make Mikhail want to date him. “You can’t just say that and not give any examples.”

“I guess Yves is a very considerate person,” Vincent says, with a sniffle. “It actually confused me, at first. When I was growing up, after I moved here from Korea, I was brought up in the sort of environment where there was always an expectation for self-sufficiency. It didn’t matter how young I was, I guess—there were certain things I was expected to know, and certain things I was expected to teach myself.”

Something about his expression looks wistful, if not a little sad. But perhaps this is a trick of the light; perhaps his eyes are just watering from earlier. “My parents trusted me with a lot of things, but it was the kind of trust where they weren’t planning on filling in the gaps for me if I fell short.”

“I know what you mean,” Mikhail says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vincent says. “But I’m not telling you this because it was a burden to me, or anything. Back then, it was all that I had ever known. It was normal to me, then, because it was inevitable.”

“Yves is a very different person than I am,” Vincent says. “At times, when I was growing up, it felt like kindness was always something that had to be calculated.”

He pauses, sniffling again, before he raises his arm to his face with a forceful—

“hIhh’GKT-! Hh… hh-HHih’NGKktshH!”

“Bless you,” Mikhail says reflexively.

“Thadk you,” Vincent says, sniffling. He lowers his arm. “I was always taught that if you lend a hand to someone else, you have to make sure their success is not the thing that robs you of your spot—that sort of thing. But Yves is kind even without thinking about it. He’s kind even when there’s nothing in it for him.”

“So that was what made you develop feelings for him?” Mikhail asks.

“Eventually, yes,” Vincent says. “At first, I thought that we were irreconcilably different.”

“What changed?”

“Yves is an easy person to like, romantically or otherwise,” Vincent says. “It’s a little disarming to be on the receiving end of his type of kindness. And I think that’s ultimately what made me start liking him. He’s just the sort of selfless person you can’t help but admire, if that makes sense. It’s like—when someone does so much for you out of sheer selflessness, at some point, you start wanting to be a part of their happiness too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yves sees a small orange blur—mostly fluff, on four short white legs, with two pointy ears—bound from the kitchen into the living room.

“I get it,” Mikhail says. “That’s an interesting answer. It makes me hopeful that Yves might’ve stumbled into a relationship that will be very good for him.”

That’s a statement he’ll have to revise, Yves thinks wryly, in a few months, whenever it stops being practical for Vincent to keep up this act.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What makes you say that?”

“When he and Erika broke up, he was—” Mikhail pauses, briefly, and Yves is thinking about the many embarrassing—but completely, verifiably true—ways he could finish off that sentence. “—he was pretty upset,” Mikhail says, instead, which Yves decides is suitably merciful.

“Look, what’s between them is between them—I’m not going to claim I know all the ins and outs of their relationship. But given that Yves was living with me for much of the time that he and Erika were dating, I’ve seen them interact more times than I can count.”

“I don’t think Erika is a bad person,” he continues. “She’s very ambitious, which I think was good for Yves back when they first started dating. But I don’t think she recognized those things about him—how much he cares for others, how much he gives people the benefit of the doubt, how much he… well, frankly, how much bullshit he’s willing to endure on his end. I think she took his kindness for granted, a little bit, and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to reciprocate.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m glad he met you,” Mikhail says. Beside him, something small and orange hops onto the couch they’re standing next to. “I can tell that what you said was sincere.”

If even Mikhail thought he was being sincere, perhaps Vincent is a little too good of an actor.

“Obviously, it’s early for me to be saying this, so you can take it with a grain of salt,” Mikhail continues. “But I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.”

The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach.

And—well.

I’m glad he met you. I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.

Yves has really dug himself into this hole, hasn’t he?

Mikhail thinks that Vincent is good for him—Mikhail, one of Yves’s closest friends, someone who is by no means quick to express his approval over whoever Yves is seeing—which means that when they inevitably stage their breakup, Yves is never going to hear the end of it.

Is it cruel to be taking Vincent to all of these events, to be introducing him to all of his friends, when—after the impending breakup—Vincent might never see any of them again? Is it cruel that Mikhail likes Vincent enough to be hopeful that this is going to last?

Yves doesn’t have time to contemplate it more when three things happen.

One—Gingersnap, who is still perched at the very top of the couch, nudges her face against Vincent’s arm and mews softly at him.

Two—Vincent stops what he’s doing to reach out slowly, cautiously, to scratch gently at the fur under her chin. Gingersnap purrs, leaning her head into his hand.

Three—Vincent withdraws his hand, suddenly, as if he’s been burned, twisting away reflexively. He lifts his hand—the same hand he’s been petting Gingersnap with (probably inadvisably) to his face, to cover a resounding—

“hh—hiHH-hHihh’iIZSChHH-uhh! snf-!”

The sneeze sounds ticklish and barely relieving, as if he’s been holding it in all afternoon.

It’s only a few moments later that Vincent’s jerking forward with another ticklish, wrenching, “hh… hhiHH… NgKT-!—hh’hiiIIIK’TSCHhuhH! snf-! hiIh… hIIIH-IITSCHh’yyue!”

“Oh,” Mikhail says, finally comprehending. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Just slightly— hIh… hH- Hiih—hhH’nNGkT-!” Vincent sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry to - hh-! - cut our codversatiod short - hH… I… hhiHh’IiKSHhuh! Excuse mbe… hH… Hhh-! I’mb going to rund to the bathroom… hh… hhiIh… hh-HIih’iiIK’SHhUHhh!”

Yves ducks out into the kitchen before Vincent has a chance to head his way. He busies himself with removing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Somewhere behind him, he hears the bathroom door click shut, hears the slightly muffled sound of a sneeze, then another.

He shuts his eyes.

Vincent had said that it was fine. Should Yves have insisted? It’s Yves’s fault, again, that Vincent is in this situation, but then again, he couldn’t have known—both that Joel and Cherie would have a cat, and that Vincent would like her so much. Either way, Yves can’t help but feel partially responsible.

But would it be strange, now, to offer Vincent something to take for it, to openly acknowledge his affliction? Should he have done something earlier? Or should he wait to acknowledge it after they leave?

Against all doubt, he finds himself outside of the bathroom door.

Yves knocks.

There’s the sound of water running, inside, and then the sound of the faucet being turned to shut. Then there’s a brief pause. Yves is contemplating knocking again when the door opens just a crack.

There, Vincent stands, his eyes a little watery still, his nose just slightly redder than usual, his hair slightly out of place—he’s just washed his face, then.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

“Um,” Yves says, holding out the glass of water and, next to it, the bottle of Benadryl. “Thought you could use these.”

Vincent takes the cup, a little hesitantly, and sets it on the bathroom counter. Then he takes the bottle of allergy medicine, unscrews the cap, and removes two small pink pills.

“Thank you,” he says. Yves thinks he’s about to take a sip when he twists to the side suddenly, his eyes squeezing shut, snapping forward with a loud—

“hIIH’IIKKSHh’hUh!”

The hand he’s holding the cup with trembles a bit with the action, but the water inside doesn’t spill.

“Bless you,” Yves says, taking the cup from him, before—

“hIHH… hh-Hhih’iISCHhh’Uhh!”

“Bless you!”

The only acknowledgment Vincent gives him is to take the cup back from him, sniffling, and down the pills in one quick, decisive sip.

“They’ll take some time to take effect,” Yves says, though he’s sure that Vincent knows that already, for the way he knew to take two, even without reading the label on the bottle. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been awhile since my last edcounter with a cat,” Vincent says, sniffling.

“You forgot how bad it was?”

“It gets better with exposure,” he says. And worse without.

Yves says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d have a cat.”

“Even if you’d known, I ndever told you I was allergic,” Vincent says. “It’s fine.”

“I should’ve thought to check. Seriously, a housewarming party—”

“I told you, snf, I like cats,” Vincent says, clearing his throat. “So it’s fine.”

Yves looks around—at the bathroom, which looks just as pristine as he’d left it earlier, except that the tissue box on the bathroom counter is a little askew. At the slight tiredness to Vincent’s posture, even as he looks off to the side, tilting his glasses up to his forehead to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you want to get out of here?“ Yves says.

“I cad stay,” Vincent says, as if he really is willing to, despite the side effects. “Do you want to stay longer?”

I want you to be comfortable, Yves wants to say.

Instead, he says, “I think I’ve just about caught up with everyone. Besides, we have work tomorrow, and I think Cherie and Joel do too, so I don’t want to stay too late, you know?”

“Okay,” Vincent says.

“I’m happy you came,” Yves says, stepping past Vincent to put the bottle of Benadryl back into its original spot, where he found it. He snags the glass from the counter on his way out.

“Your friends are a fun crowd,” Vincent says, following him out.

Yves laughs. “I think just between you and me, Mikhail has been dying to interrogate you about this relationship.”

“He did idterrogate me,” Vincent says. “How much of it did you overhear?”

“What?”

“When you were standing out in the hallway.”

Oh. Well, perhaps he hadn’t been as discreet about eavesdropping as he’d thought. Yves says, “Okay, you got me. I heard a good amount.”

“I don’t think Mikhail noticed you there, if you’re worried,” Vincent says. “In any case, it doesd’t matter if you overheard. It was just the same story.”

They step out into the hallway. Giselle has left, already, to be home in time for a cross-timezone call with a team that works somewhere halfway across the world. Yves bids everyone else a goodbye (Cherie and Joel thank him for coming, and Cherie hugs him and Vincent both on the way out; Nora asks Vincent to send her a recipe to his beef skewers, to which Vincent admits sheepishly that he stole from a cookbook, to which Nora says “making it successfully is half the work;” Mikhail says, “If you and Vincent get a place too, I want to be invited to your housewarming party.”)

On the way out, Yves grabs both of their coats off from where they’re hanging in a closet next to the front door, and hands Vincent’s coat to him. There’s never much street parking by the apartment, so the car is parked a couple blocks down, and it’s cold enough to be worth bundling up.

“You’re very good at lying,” Yves says, when he’s sure that the door is shut behind them.

Outside, it’s snowing just a little. Snow falls from the sky in thick white flakes. Vincent pulls his hood over his shoulders, sniffling a little—though whether that’s from the cold or from the allergies, Yves can’t be sure. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Definitely a compliment. I just mean, you play the part really well.”

“So instead of being a good boyfriend, I’m a good fake boyfriend,” Vincent says, lifting his sleeve to his face to muffle a cough into it. “Somehow, that seems much less impressive.”

“It’s arguably more impressive,” Yves says. “It definitely requires a different subset of skills.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. When Yves looks over, he sees Vincent raise both hands to his face, steepling them over his nose, his eyes fluttering shut.

“hHh… hHh’iiiIKKSshh’uhh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Ndot— hh… hHh… done — hH-hhIh’nGKKTsHuuh! hHh-hH’IIZSCHHhhuh!”

“Bless you! Cats, huh?”

Vincent hums. It’s snowed all through dinner—the snow under their feet coats the sidewalk, powdery and untouched. Their shoes sink into it while they walk.

“I didn’t know you used to live in Korea,” Yves says.

“It’s not a secret, snf-!,” Vincent says. “But I ndever found an occasion to bring it up.”

Yves can think of a hundred things to say—how it’s strange only learning this information secondhand; it’s strange to play the part of someone who knows Vincent and knows him intimately, and to know so little about him, at the core of it. Isn’t it like that, with coworkers? The only window he has to Vincent’s life is made up of the things Vincent has chosen to share with him—over small talk in the break room, or conversationally over their outings, or during longer drives.

He knows an assortment of trivia, like Vincent’s favorite color (green) or Vincent’s birthday (March 15th) or the number of siblings Vincent has (one), or when he had his first kiss (during his first year in university) or his least favorite chore (vacuuming) or how he spends his weekends (generally at the library downtown, catching up on work or working on his personal projects). But even that was only for the sake of having something to say if his friends asked him—of having a basic understanding of his supposed partner that Vincent could later corroborate.

“Was it very different there?”

“I moved here when I was pretty young,” Vincent says. “But it was very different.”

When Yves looks over, there’s something complicated to Vincent’s expression that gives him pause. “Back then, I was young enough that everything was new to me. So the cultural shift wasn’t as pronounced for me as it was for the rest of the family. I think that’s why they moved back, eventually.”

“Did that happen recently?”

“They moved back just six years after we came here,” he says. “I was in high school at the time, so I stayed with my aunt to continue my education here.”

“Was it difficult living here on your own?”

“Is this useful to you?”

Yves blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Is this information useful to you?” Vincent says, looking over at him. His glasses have fogged up a little in the cold. “Do you think your friends are going to ask about it?”

“It’s—not exactly useful in that sense,” Yves says, backtracking. “I just wanted to know. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s right, he reminds himself—he and Vincent are only doing this for appearances’ sake.

“I got used to it,” Vincent says, finally, which isn’t exactly an answer. “It’s hard to say if—hold on, I— hh-!”

Yves sees him duck off to the side, raising his arm to his face.

“Bless you—!”

“hh-Hhiih’IIZSCHh’uhH!”

The sneeze is muffled slightly into his sleeve. Vincent sniffles, keeping his arm clamped to his face for a moment, in trepidation, before dropping it to his side.

“Apologies, snf-!,” he says, as if he has anything to apologize for. “It’s hard to say if things would’ve been better if I’d gone back with them to Korea. I just know things would’ve been different.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like something that Vincent has thought about for years, something that Yves couldn’t even begin to comprehend—growing up here, alone. Away from his family, in a country foreign to him, with his family all the way on the other side of the Pacific ocean; staying with a stranger. To say that it had to have been difficult would be a vast understatement.

Had he doubted himself, then? Had it been his idea to stay here, in the States? Had his parents told him it was for the best? Had he argued with them on the subject? Had they listened?

“Do you think you’re happy enough now to justify that decision?” Yves asks.

Vincent is quiet for a bit. Around them, the snow continues to fall, silent and slow, listing upwards on every updrift. “Sometimes,” he says.

—

When they get back to the car, Vincent is quiet. The car is frigid, the window panes cold enough to fog up when Yves puts his hand on them—he puts the heaters on to the highest setting. If anything, being out of the cold seems to make Vincent’s nose run even more—a fact which he carefully obscures, resting his face on the palm of his hand with a few muffled sniffles.

“Thanks again for coming,” Yves says. “I know I—and everyone else—already said that to you like a hundred times. But I mean it.”

“It’s ndo problem, snf,” Vincent says. “I’ll be sure to avoid putting you into contact with cats in the future,” Yves says.

“There’s ndo need for that.”

“While we’re at it, is there anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Not much,” Vincent says. “Unless you pland on getting rid of the entire season of spring.”

“That’s secretly why you chose an office job,” Yves says. “So you could avoid all the pollen by staying inside all day.”

“Busy season was - snf-! - idvented solely for that purpose,” Vincent says.

It’s barely a couple minutes into the drive when Vincent stifles a yawn into his fist.

“Are you tired?” Yves asks. “I mean, you did say that thing about antihistamines making you tired.”

“Wide awake,” Vincent says, before—moments later—hiding another yawn behind a cupped hand.

“Evidently,” Yves says, which earns him a quiet laugh.

“Tell me if you ndeed me,” Vincent says, leaning his head lightly on the passenger seat window. As if this is work, or something. As if Yves could have any conceivable reason to need him during the drive home.

“Not at all,” Yves says. “As a matter of fact, it’d probably be a good thing if you close your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look at all this traffic.” It’s a little past rush hour, but traffic is only just starting to clear up, and driving in the city at any hour has never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Vincent opens his eyes. “Do you wadt me to help navigate?”

“I want you to sleep,” Yves says. “I’m an expert at handling traffic.”

It’s as if all this time, Vincent was merely waiting for permission. Yves isn’t certain if he’s asleep, but he certainly looks to be—when Yves sneaks a glance at him, his eyes are shut, his shoulders slack, and his breathing has evened out. It’s an image Yves wants to thoroughly take in—the slow rise of his chest, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks.

Instead, he drives. Instead, he stares hard at the rows and rows of cars before him, at every traffic light, and tries not to think about—

Vincent, at the housewarming party, kneeling down to pet a cat smaller than his hand, despite being well aware of the consequences.

Vincent, calling Yves kind even without thinking about it, talking about him—about his best qualities—with near-artful dishonesty.

Vincent, walking beside him in the snow, talking candidly about growing up here; the unspoken understanding between them about how much he must’ve given up.

That Vincent, the same Vincent from work, asleep in Yves’s passenger seat, while Yves drives him home.

Yves can’t help but think that if he caught feelings for someone like Vincent, Erika would be the least of his problems.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #probably one of the longest oneshots i've posted here #i'm sorry if this is not like #as... snz-driven as usual? it's a little more mellow and i really hope that doesn't make it a boring read #i promise i am in the middle of writing something spicier 😭#my fic #also thank you to everyone who has left comments/come talk to me about fool me twice 🥹 it makes me really happy to know that there are #people out there who like reading these two #yvverse #(<- new tag for them)

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blamemma · 1 year

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every piece of you - max/daniel (15,841 words)

Daniel is so vibrant and loud and joyful, his tail only adds to that, it fits him perfectly. Max has imagined so many iterations of it, but he never thought it could be like this. He thinks that Daniel should get to be like this all the time if he wanted to be.

graphics by @yesloulou x

#dr #mv #maxiel #fic rec #the stuppiddessst little au that i posted last week and then just published the epilogue for just now x #but this was actually fun to write and its nothing remarkable at all but u can check out if u would like #and thank you to everyone who already left such incredibly kind comments it made me smile a lot!!!#but the biggest thank youuuuuu and forehead kiss goes to alexis for a) birthing the idea in my mind but b) making the most #BEAUTIFUL GRAPHICS for me :(( daniel has a mermaid tail top left!!!!! she edited his tattoos onto the b&w one!!! she put max #holding a strawberry gelato!!!!!!!!!! DANIEL HAS A MERMAID TAIL TOP LEFT!!!! this made me v emotional when she sent it to me #so big thanks to her as well #anyway i'm gunna post this and run (go to sleep) do not perceive this or me at all x x

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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 5 months

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🌸 !!CHAPTER SEVEN POSTED!! 🌸

Title: Four Walls

Tags: slow burn, domesticity, friends to lovers, smut, pining post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

#SO excited to share this with you all!!#this chapter and the next are my favourites i've written for this fic so far #(okay the next one especially but this one took hold of my heart in a way i wasn't expecting)#also i know this has very much been living up to its slow burn description but i promise the burn side of the slow burn is...#VERY close on the horizon now 😉#as always feedback makes me so very happy #thank you so much to everyone who left such lovely comments on the last chapter #i am more grateful for your support than i can adequately articulate 💖#milex #milex fic #tlsp #the last shadow puppets #alex turner #miles kane #four walls #lulu posts

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tethered-heartstrings · 1 year

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reasons why I love writing angst

(the fic causing the aforementioned agony)

#HUGE thank you to everyone who has read my fics and left comments #this fic is very special to me and i know it is not everyone's cup of tea #genuinely truly i reread comments on all my fics. this one has just been on my mind a lot recently #if i make someone cry with my angsty fics i did a good job and i am very proud of this work <3333 #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fic #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fic #hannigram fanfic #hannigram fanfiction #the fictional clown

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felizusnavidad · 7 months

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"i don't think i'll ever understand musicals the way you do" is something i've heard from one of my friends a couple of days ago when i told him i'm about to cross the whole country just to see one of those (my favourite one!) live in theatre. and i can't blame him. if you'd have told me a year ago that i would do something like that, i'd probably have laughed in your face. life is so unpredictable. i guess i have changed a lot. and i could write thousands of essays about how musicals helped me get through the shittiest period of my life, but we are not going to talk about this today. today we are talking about in the heights, the first musical i got a chance to experience live in theatre, hopefully not last. so grab a cup of coffee and make yourself comfortable, this is going to be the longest essay you've ever seen, friends.

a little warning: spoilers. a lot of them actually. so if, by any chance, you haven't seen/heard it yet and you are going to, don't read it.

first thing i feel like i need to mention is that they had this mini bar inside the theatre and you could order a lot of different drinks there and one of them was called abuela's coffee. i heard one lady explaining to someone that it's actually coffee with condensed milk. my jaw dropped and i was like CAN I STAY HERE FOREVER, PLEASE? for those who don't understand why, here's a quote from the first song:

USNAVI: abuela, my fridge broke, i got café but no con leche ABUELA CLAUDIA: try my mother's old recipe: one can of condensed milk

so this was my first "OH! THEY GET IT!" moment (a little note here: i had a lot of oh, they get it moments, mostly because i don't have any people around me who understand musicals the way i do... honestly, you'd have to live inside my brain). that was the first time ever when i could actually be in the room where it happens with all those people who get it and care about it as much as i do (mostly actors and people responsible for the whole show tho, but we will get to this later).

let's get to the show. so when i finally went inside and i saw the stage, i already had tears in my eyes (don't judge me please). usnavi's store, abuela's door, daniela and carla's salon, all those puerto rican, cuban and dominican flags (one couple behind me was trying to figure out which one is which and it was funny because i knew and i wanted to scream)... listening and memorizing the whole soundtrack is one thing. being able to experience it all live is something else. all those things around me were so familiar and this was the first time in months (MONTHS! OR EVEN YEARS!) i felt really understood. after all, it was all like a little celebration of lin's story (the one i love with all my heart) and i truly felt like home. so that was another OH! THEY GET IT! moment.

i don't think i'm going to talk about every single song here, that's not the point. i will talk about my favourite moments, but also about things that didn't work very well in my opinion (again: this was a polish version so all the songs were translated into polish. and they did a really great job here, surprisingly. but it wasn't perfect, more about that later).

one thing you need to understand is that i will never be normal about musicals so of course i had to burst into tears at the very first song (i don't even know why, i think i was a little bit too excited). i was actually crying in the most random moments like when i first saw nina or at the end of carnaval del barrio because I KNEW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT (who the hell cries at carnaval del barrio when everyone is having the time of their lives lol, me apparently).

ok, so the first song. the choreography, oh my god. it was everything. the translation was also pretty good here, i need to say this was probably one of my favourite moments. imagine me leaving today giggling like a child when usnavi came on that stage and started rapping, i was in heaven. also, i have to admit, the cast was amazing. i could never imagine anyone better for this role (and again, i am talking about polish actors because everyone knows who's the best usnavi of them all). he was cute and charming and awkward and so adorkable and also really handsome. he was actually perfect in my opinion.

i kinda lost my mind when i saw nina for the first time. first of all: i already knew who was going to play her and let's just say i fell in love with this actress before i even saw her live on that stage. this was important to me, because (as some of you know) nina rosario is my favourite character. and oh my god, she was an absolute perfection. what a voice, sweet jesus. i'm being serious, this girl is so talented, give her every award (i honestly hope i will have a chance to see her again one day, i'm just crazy about her). and breathe was so good! polish version was amazing, i was so scared they would screw it up, but they didn't, so all's good (this song is very important to me, ok?). also, she's a phenomenal actress, i could feel all her emotions for real. and of course i cried, what did you expect?

i don't have that much to say about benny, except that he was really cute and he had amazing chemistry with nina, so once again, the casting was really good. i mean, he is not chris jackson of course, but i have decided i'm not going to compare all those actors because everyone knows at this point how much i love OBC, i was trying to have an open mind. vanessa was also pretty great, amazing voice and her dancing skills, wow, just wow. i could talk about all those actors for days actually, but i'm not going to do that, so i will just quickly mention that i absolutely loved daniela and carla, abuela claudia made me cry, sonny was the funniest character in the whole play and i don't think i will ever recover after piragua guy's performance (i was the only person in the audience who was laughing when he came on that stage, they don't get it, ok? polish people have no sense of humour and that's a fact). actually, there were a lot of funny moments (obviously) and i was the only person who was laughing, god help me.

so let's get to the first thing that was a little disappointing for me. you will not believe it, but it was actually... 96,000 (this is one of my favourite songs and i seriously can't live like this). it's not the translation tho (it was honestly fine), it's the voice overlapping part at the end (again, the best thing ever, just listen to we don't talk about bruno from encanto and non-stop from hamilton and you will understand why it works so well in every lmm's song). the thing is, you could actually only hear vanessa's part and i wanted to die, because EXCUSE ME. i always sing usnavi's part and you could barely hear a word from it. but apart from that, the rest was fine, the choreography was amazing and it's just something i needed to mention because i had thoughts about it.

paciencia y fe! ok besties, i have thoughts, again. abuela claudia was absolutely incredible, also, her relationship with usnavi is something that you can't see in the movie version (they were so sweet i wanted to curl up and die. i knew about it before, i saw slime tutorial with obc on yt, ok? i'm pretty sure lin would be mad at me for watching bootlegs lol. i just wanted to say this). the translation didn't work out at the very end of the song tho, because when in the og version abuela sings about the "winning ticket", everyone knows already she won the lottery. i don't remember polish translation exactly, but it was something with double meaning, depends on how you interpret it, and i'm 100% sure people who didn't know the plot just didn't catch it. the rest of the song was absolutely beautiful tho.

when you're home. i was so afraid of this one, because i am totally crazy about this song (did i ever mention lin wrote this one after one of his first dates with vanessa? no? yes? ok i'll shut up about this now). oh, they did a really great job with it and it's a relief. i have nothing else to say, except that i was crying like a baby, but this song always makes me cry so what did you expect exactly? one of the best moments for sure. again, nina and benny's chemistry was absolutely incredible.

as much as i loved the club, i was actually really disappointed with one part, which is usnavi's famous "jealous i ain't jealous, i can take all these fellas, wHaTeVaaaaa". i've been waiting so long for this! and they messed it up with their stupid cringy translation which i don't even remember at the moment but usnavi was actually mad at benny and he cursed? ANYWAY. the rest of the song was great and the choreography was absolutely phenomenal, oh vanessa! let me get the next one! (i love her so much, she was amazing here). a little note from me: no one was laughing at the "no hablo ingles" part, NO ONE BUT ME!!! THEY DON'T GET IT! WTF! i was so mad (i am aware of the fact that most people probably didn't even know this story before and they just wanted to see a musical, not THE MUSICAL, which is totally fine. but sweet jesus, where is their sense of humour? they left it at home or what?).

and blackout was that part where the voice overlapping effect worked very well, so all's good. actually, one of the best moments for me as well. people were actually so confused when all the lights went down, but that was just so amazing. all the panic! everybody was screaming, crying! WE ARE POWERLESS! THE END OF ACT I!!! oh, i had the time of my life.

i had this weird feeling that they didn't exactly know how to translate most of hundreds of stories so they just made this song shorter than it actually is. which is fine i guess. honestly, it's better than bad translation, so i can forgive them. what i absolutely can't forgive tho is that the audience wasn't laughing at US NAVY. polish people, you have no fucking taste. i said what i said. and then again, usnavi and abuela's relationship was so sweet this song actually made me cry (mostly because i knew what was coming but also, i was just this weird girl who was sitting there in the second row and was crying at the most random moments).

ok, guys, honestly. carnaval del barrio was the best moment from the entire musical. oh, how much i want to experience it again! daniela was absolutely incredible, carla was so sweet, piragua guy stole the whole fucking show for me (seriously guys! he was just so amazing!). also, those little details i have never noticed before? i can't even tell if the same thing happened in the original version (the quality of that bootleg is actually terrible), but benny dancing with american flag somewhere in the background was so fucking funny and i don't think i will ever get over that part where at the end they were all still dancing and celebrating and nina and usnavi just ran away as fast as they could because... because you guys know what just happened. also, this is the moment i started crying.

i was so scared of it. let me tell you one thing, i experienced abuela's death at least fifty times and i still cry every single time. so atención is something i have to mention, because all the emotions and kevin's shaky voice made me burst into tears right away, and this time i wasn't the only one because i saw a lot of people crying when they realized what happened (i also heard a lot of OHs when he said abuela passed away, so yes, most of them didn't know this story and they were surprised). and alabanza was something else. believe me when i tell you i am writing this with tears in my eyes, i have never cried so much in public. this was the moment i was the most scared of and i was absolutely right because holy fuck. i was a mess. all the actors with those candles singing alabanza a doña claudia! (yes, they didn't translate it, all the spanish parts were left like in the original version and i am so grateful for that), it was just so sad and so beautiful. and this time i was actually like oh, they get it now (everyone was speechless and people were crying).

everyone must know at this point how much i adore champagne and i wasn't disappointed (thank god!). once again, usnavi was absolutely adorable here and people were actually laughing this time (also thank god!). how do you get this gold shit off? (my favourite line from the whole musical) was translated really well and the moment when usnavi and vanessa kissed! with all lights on them! this was so emotional and the audience reacted so well! we were all clapping (it was so funny to pretend like i didn't know it was gonna happen haha i was just as excited as all of them and once again i was like OH! THEY GET IT!). 10/10, would recommend.

if you think i wasn't crying during the last song, think again. one thing i absolutely hate about the movie version is that they actually changed the graffiti that made usnavi stay in washington heights, but i'm not gonna talk about that and i'm not gonna talk about vanessa also being there in the movie. in the original version it was a portrait of abuela claudia made by graffiti pete and oh boy, i lost my mind (i knew about it but i still lost my mind because it was absolutely beautiful). i got the feeling it was a little rushed in our polish version, but i can forgive them because it still made me cry. also, at the very end, usnavi did not only finally acknowledge he's home, when the song was over he pretty much told the audience that we are all home right now and may i just say... i felt that. i was home. they made me believe for the first time in my life i was where i belong, and somehow that was everything.

one thing about me is that this is actually all new to me. this was my first musical i saw live in theatre (and also lin's first child, which is exactly how it was supposed to be i think), and believe me when i tell you i've never had this much fun in my entire life, not even at all the concerts of my favourite artists. it was worth every money. it was worth spending 11 hours on the train and 11 more on my way back home, which by the way we should normalize (people are doing crazy things just to see their favourite artists on the stage and it's considered normal, so why can't we consider THIS normal?). anyway, i don't expect anyone around me to understand it the way i do, but i feel like i really found my thing, and it's all because of lin-manuel miranda, our beautiful puerto rican genius. he made me believe musicals can be cool and i truly wish i could thank him for that one day.

and like i said, in the heights is my favourite story with my favourite characters and i listened to it so many times i have memorized all the little details. experiencing it live is something completely different tho and i think it's safe to say this was the best night of my entire life. even tho most of the people in the audience didn't really get it, i finally felt like i was a part of this world created by my favourite genius and for the first time ever i felt understood. so i think i can say that now: i found my island, guys, i'm there, i'm home!

#if you were able to read the whole thing: congrats #also another note from me: i apologize for all those “they get it” “they dont get it”#i swear to god i am not making fun of anyone #you guys just know how much i am into it #and if other people were just there to enjoy it it's totally fine!#not everyone has to be obsessed!#but i am!#so i just wanted to explain it ok?#good.#also i apologize for it being so long but i had so much to say and i still feel like i didn't say everything i wanted #feel free to leave a comment or ask any questions if you want #now if you think i will finally shut up about in the heights on my silly little blog think again #i love it even more now if that's possible #and another explanation: i'm gonna tag this as my countdown because again i want all my ith posts in one place #thank you for your attention #it won't be long now*#why do you write like you're running out of time*#(not gonna tag this as ith cause this is only for my moots cause you guys get it)#(the last time one of my ith posts was seen by people who dont even know what that is i was depressed for days but that's another story)#(iykyk)#(and you know cause you left me tons of sweet messages guys i love you)

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thunderon · 10 months

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i took my last breath

as the plane crashed

i don’t even think i got to let it out

yellowjackets // batter - lady lamb

#yellowjackets #first i would like to say thank you very much to everyone who left kind comments and gave me feedback on my other vid #it meant the world #anyways here’s another one hope it’s good #i tried to incorporate the constructive criticism some folks gave me from the last one so hopefully it shows!#if anyone has any more feedback def let me know #i tried fixing the audio issues from last time so someone lemme know if that worked #also im posting this on mobile so if the quality sucks on desktop. rip.#shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio #lottie matthews #op

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bookwyrminspiration · 7 months

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Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 45: Epilogue (One Year Later)

word count: 10.6k

chapter summary: After freeing Olivia from Phoenix's clutches and (mostly) successfully defeating them and the Neverseen, what have the winged kotlcrew been up to in the past year?

warnings: death (non-violent, not mc)

taglist: @axels-corner @cadence-talle @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @shellyseashell @imaramennoodle @dragonwinnie-kotlc @solreefs @fintan-pyren @jazzanddaydreams @xanadaus @valentinerose529

-> ao3 link here or read below one last time :)

The light had begun to turn a warm honey orange by the time Sophie Foster glitched into the grass fields of New Havenfield. All her friends should be inside by now, ready to enjoy the feast her parents had promised to prepare--partly in celebration of one year free, partly for personal reasons.

And this time they truly were free.

No more secret defeats or enemies crawling to the shadows to regroup. They’d actually done it this time--well, as far as they knew. If there turned out to be another resurgence they had to defeat again…Sophie was going to have some choice words with whoever was in charge of the universe.

Sophie’s wings buzzed lightly at her back as she surveyed the pastures, her vigilance a new habit she’d never break.

Grass shifted ever so slightly beneath the meandering air, and everywhere she looked she saw evidence of life bouncing back.

The gates had been reattached to their fences, new trees planted where they’d been torn that fateful day what felt like a lifetime ago. All the disturbed earth and rubble had been smoothed away, leaving clear paths to the house and pastures.

And there were animals in them.

Not as many as there’d once been, but anything at all was a huge improvement from the complete desolation that’d lasted months. Until, in a burst of inspiration, Sophie had dragged a dragon here.

It’d moved out long before Grady and Edaline had moved back in--it’d taken a while to rebuild the house, after all. Their faces had been grim when she’d first brought them for a brief visit and they’d seen the damage for the first time--the destroyed stairs, crumbling walls, the empty fields that’d once been teeming with life.

But even so, determination had steadily broken through.

Edaline’d even said she’d wanted to replace the stairs for years, but hadn’t had a good enough reason.

Sophie’d wanted to strangle her with a hug right then and there, but had settled for squeezing her hand as they’d continued along.

Sophie was mostly useless when it came to construction, and she had so many other new responsibilities to learn to balance, but she’d tried to check in on the house’s progress as much as she could.

Even though she didn’t have a bedroom there anymore.

It’d stung at first, even though it’d been her idea; and it wasn’t like there wasn’t space for her to visit--she still stayed over all the time.

It’d been bittersweet, a finality to all the rapid changes in her life. One more chapter of it closed.

Because as much as she loved her parents, it didn’t feel the same; something in her itched to keep moving, her mind desperate for the thoughts and colors and sounds it’d grown used to in the forest.

The monsters.

Even before their mission-gone-awry, Sophie’d already known what it was like to be different--and not in the way people liked. So now that she’d--mostly--gotten past her fears, she couldn’t help sympathizing with the things.

That didn’t mean there weren’t occasionally close calls, but they’d become fewer and farther between since Sophie had started working closer with Echo. Ever since the glitching not-cat had trusted her enough to show her the different pockets of monsters and things living in a sort-of-truce, she’d been spending more and more of her time with them, just like she used to wander the pastures at Havenfield.

Her parents weren’t necessarily happy about that--and a few of her friends had some reservations, even as far as they’d all come. But she had to. She couldn’t explain the feeling--plenty of her friends were successfully not spending ridiculous amounts of time around wild, potentially dangerous animals as they all worked to right the world. And yet.

Grass swished as Sophie started up the path towards the house, hoisting her spoils beneath her arm to get a better grip.

She’d known she had incredibly talented friends, but they’d somehow risen above and beyond even that in the past year.

Wylie and Fitz had formed a duo of sorts, Tam occasionally a third member, serving as valiant ambassadors between the surface and the Underground. The elves couldn’t stay down there forever, afterall--the dwarves’ patience could only tolerate so much.

But they also couldn’t jump right back into their old lives, even with the Neverseen and Phoenix gone--at least as gone as they could be. There were still…complications, of course.

Several elven houses had actually survived the apocalypse intact, given how isolated they’d been--and the fact they weren’t animal preserves. That really hadn’t worked in the Ruewen’s favor.

Biana and Maruca were helping coordinate moving those who still had houses back into them--their charming personalities were a huge help when dealing with so many haughty elves, but both of their abilities to detect and understand monsters made them invaluable when scouting out the surrounding areas to determine if they actually were safe to live in again.

Of course there were still thousands of displaced elves--those who had lived in Atlantis, or who hadn’t been so lucky with their homes--who needed a place to live. Last she’d heard of that, Dex had been deep in conversation with some dwarves, goblins, and council members about the logistics behind building temporary housing. Their plan sounded a lot like what she’d known as apartments back when she’d lived with humans.

She was sure people would have a lot to say about the smaller quarters and having to live near each other--but they’d also been doing that for over a year already, and underground at that. They’d be ridiculous not to recognize just how much of an improvement it would be to actually get some sunshine again. She was no physician, but everyone’s vitamin D levels had to be seriously hurting.

She could ask Elwin the next time she saw him. He’d probably tease her, again, about when she’d first come back.

“You know, it’s a miracle this flimsy piece of crystal was enough of a defense to keep this place safe,” Fitz observed, screwing the thing back in place after everyone had filed inside. He had one leg hooked over a new, stronger ladder--Sophie had broken the original--and the shiny new prototype of his knee brace clanked against the metal.

“I think Ro mentioned a couple times that she rigged it up with some bacteria, so anything that tried to get close learned the hard way that that was a bad idea,” Sophie offered as Olivia slipped her hand back into hers--they’d had to let go for the brief climb.

The little girl’s other arm was resolutely wrapped around Bee, holding the black and blue stuffed bumblebee tight to her chest; when she’d seen Sophie’s house last night after the campfire, she’d gasped so loud Sophie’d feared something had broken in, but she’d just rushed to the bed and grabbed the thing from where it’d been left next to Ella.

And Sophie suddenly remembered a note in the back of a diary and the hasty doodle next to it--a doodle Olivia had drawn. Of a little bee.

“Is that yours?” she’d asked, but the way she’d held it tight and trembling was all the answer she needed; maybe it was only a small toy in the grand scheme of things, but with what Olivia had been through? Any comfort was monumental.

She hadn’t set it down since, not even as they got ready to visit the Underground--all of them. And no one had said a thing about it.

Her friends, so far, had mostly been leaving Olivia to her. They weren’t ignoring her, but what were you supposed to do when someone added a very traumatized 8 or 9-ish year old to the group who had spent the last several months of her life witnessing and perpetuating horrific violence and mind games? And who had just witnessed two very influential people in her life die right in front of her--after watching her parents die not even a year before that?

Keefe kept making jokes and Fitz kept smiling encouragingly, and Linh was always so gentle, but some things just needed time.

She didn’t know why Olivia had chosen to stick to her side over everyone else’s, but she was going to do everything she could to be supportive and helpful…whatever that actually meant.

For now, it meant holding her hand as they climbed down the stairs into the Underground full of so many eagerly waiting people Sophie thought her brain might explode trying to list them all, even with her photographic memory.

All the parents who hadn’t seen their monstrous kids since they’d run away desperate to get their hands on them, bodyguards, Black Swan members, and maybe more; Sophie fell to the back of the group with Olivia so that when they finally crested the bottom, they wouldn’t be in the center of the chaos.

Just because she’d said she’d come didn’t mean she was ready for something as emotionally intense as this--especially with strangers. Sophie was barely more than a stranger herself.

“Dex!” Juline cried as she could only assume he reached the bottom, followed by what sounded a lot like him getting tackled.

She could hear Alden sobbing as he held tight to Fitz and Biana, and Tiergan’s soft voice as he spoke with Wylie under his breath--he was trying to keep it between the two of them, but unfortunately for him, all ten of them could hear it.

“Sophie?” Edaline’s voice called, nervous. Sophie still hadn’t shown her face; she and Olivia were a spiral up.

Tam reassured her mom. “Don’t worry, she’s here. She just…needs a minute.”

“Why?” Grady asked, and she smiled as she imagined the furrow in his brow.

Sophie looked down at Olivia. “Are you ready? I promise everyone will be very nice.” Well, Ro might make some stupid jokes, but we can deal with that when we get to it.

“Miss Foster truly has a knack for suspense,” Mr. Forkle said, a voice she hadn’t heard in so long she couldn’t help the way her eyes widened as she glanced toward the edge.

When she looked back at Olivia, something inscrutable had changed in her face. “Okay.”

Sophie took a breath and led the way down the stairs.

“You’d think erasing them would be the hardest part, not giving them back,” Fitz groaned from where he lay sprawled on the ground. There were plenty of chairs he could’ve chosen, but apparently the siren call of the hard earth was irresistible.

Elwin had chosen a chair, and now rubbed at his temples with his eyes firmly shut.

Adjusting to the influx of memories they’d poured back into his head.

Well, they’d already been in his head, just wildly out of place. They’d put everything back properly--and while some of the memories had found their place on their own, several had wandered aimless.

Meaning Sophie and Fitz had had to manually find where they went.

It’d be too soon if she never had to do anything so meticulous ever again.

“That’s the consequence of improper washing technique,” Tiergan told them, but his stern demeanor had been unusually softened since they’d come back--she suspected Wylie and the twins had something to do with that.

Sophie made a noise from where she’d collapsed in another chair, Olivia crossed legged on the floor beside her. “I’ll make sure to consult you next time we run away and need to hide our location from you and the Council.”

“Better idea,” Grady jumped in. “What if you don’t run away at all?”

Even though they were in one of the biggest rooms in the Underground, it still didn’t feel like nearly enough space for the number of people crammed into it.

All of her friends, all of their parents, Mr. Forkle, plus Sandor, Grizel, and Ro, Livvy to check up on Elwin, and Elwin himself. And there was little Olivia in the corner, but she was making herself so small she might as well not have counted.

Everyone had been incredibly nice to her, just as Sophie had promised, but it was still a lot of people.

And there had been a lot of confusion.

“Soph--oh?” Edaline had paused midway to her, head tilting to the side as her mouth dropped open. But she shook herself off as Sophie kept moving forward.

Edaline carefully closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around her.

“Hi, Mom,” she whispered into her ear, wrapping her free arm around her tight in response. She felt Grady’s join a moment later.

“It sounds like you have quite the story to tell us,” her mom said with a meaningful look as she pulled back, hands resting on Sophie’s shoulders.

Olivia’s face went carefully blank and tense, aware they were talking about her.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Grady asked, and Sophie realized it was more than just her parents Olivia was worried about. The whole room had gone silent, waiting in anticipation as they caught sight of her fiery red hair. Of someone new.

“Everyone, this is Olivia,” she said. “Olivia, this is everyone. She was…well, it’s a long story, but let’s just say she needed some better role models.”

Mr. Forkle raised a brow at that. “I do hope you plan to tell it, Miss Foster.” He watched Olivia with curiosity, a far-away look creeping around the edges like he was remembering something long past.

“Hang on, are you saying you think you all are role models?” Ro snorted, shaking her head and making the vivid purple of her pigtails sway.

“Hey, we may not be perfect--well, most of us, since I clearly am--but we’re definitely better than Murad and his creepy half-elf Phoenix people,” Keefe shot back.

Did you have to use every single buzzword possible? Sophie asked him, sighing as questions broke out; overlapping each other and rising in volume, she couldn’t even make out one question from another.

What? he asked, grinning and totally aware of what he was doing. It’s easier this way! Now everything’s out there.

Now I can’t even hear myself think, Tam put in, reaching up to tug on his bangs where he leaned against a wall near Linh, Wylie, and Tiergan, who was pinching the bridge of his nose and contributing to the noise.

“Don’t worry,” Sophie told Olivia, who had drawn back even further. “They do this all the time. It’s normal--and no one’s mad, I promise. And definitely not mad at you,” she said, guessing at where her reaction came from. “They’re just really confused…we kind of ran away from home a while ago, and everything has been chaos ever since. If they’re mad at anyone, it’s as us.” She gestured to herself and her friends. “We do stupid things a lot, and they’re kind of fed up with it.”

“Are you alright?” Edaline asked Olivia, brow crinkled. “I know you don’t know me, but we can fix that. I’m Edaline--Sophie’s mom. And if Sophie likes you, I’m sure I’m going to, too. She has great taste--don’t you agree, Grady?” she elbowed her husband lightly, drawing his attention away from the insistent inquisition her friends were undergoing.

Mostly it was them being asked any number of questions and going “you should ask Sophie about that” and “you’ll understand once Sophie tells the story” and “Sophie will explain.” Great. Really supportive of them.

“Hmm? Well, she does have some good friends, but there is that b--hey!” Edaline had elbowed him harder, and he seemed to actually be paying attention this time. And to realize there was a very overwhelmed little girl right in front of him. “Oh. Oh. Yes--Olivia, was it, kiddo? I like your little bee friend; it looks very soft. How’d you get wrapped up in all this mess?”

Olivia looked wide eyed between Grady and Sophie, and she wasn’t sure where this was heading or what she should do about it when Olivia opened her mouth.

The room had quieted by then, the adults getting nowhere with their questions and resorting to hugging their children again.

They’d overheard Grady’s question, however, and now watched with curious anticipation.

Olivia hesitated for a moment, then said. “You should ask Sophie about that, she’ll explain.”

Keefe cracked up.

“I think they’re going to explode if you make them wait any longer for that story,” Elwin said as he slipped his spectacles on and picked up her wrists. The leftover salve back at the village had helped some, but not enough. “So how about I take care of these while you start talking.”

Sure enough, when Sophie glanced back, it was to a room full of very tense, very expectant faces.

They’d sat patiently through Fitz and Sophie returning Elwin’s memories--and she couldn’t explain just how profoundly the relief had washed over her when she’d first seen him. Standing, full of color, wearing a ridiculous shirt covered in unicorns. Just himself.

She knew Livvy was good, but she hadn’t really believed he was okay until she’d seen the grin that’d split his face and he’d said, “There’s my thief!”, wrapping her up in an enormous hug.

But they’d stalled as long as they could.

Olivia was still curled up beside the chair, intensely aware of the attention she’d drawn as she nibbled on a puffed dessert. Kesler had offered it, promising there was nothing slipped into it to turn her green or anything--though she didn’t really understand the joke.

“Fine--but can you guys promise not to interrupt us with a million questions? We’ll be up all night if we do that.”

“I seem to recall you kids made a similar promise once--and were terrible at it.” Mr. Forkle smiled, silently settling into a nearby chair anyway.

“Hang on--us?” Keefe cut in. “You’re making us help, too?”

“Well obviously. Did you really think that ‘let’s make Sophie do all the talking’ thing was gonna fly?”

“Well…” Dex said, with a pointed look at her wings.

They buzzed under the intention--and from the tickle of Elwin’s fingers as he spread something over her burns. “That’s not what I--maybe I will tell the whole story myself then, if you’re all going to be so ridiculous.”

“I can help,” Linh offered, raising her hand ever so slightly.

“I told you, this is why she’s my favorite of you two,” Sophie directed at Tam, who only rolled his eyes.

“I’m beginning to wonder how we ever accomplished anything,” Tiergan rubbed at his temples.

“Simple. We’re the best!” Biana chimed in, appearing next to Sophie and startling her so hard she shrieked.

“You are,” Della agreed with a smile, but she continued. “Now about that story? Grady and Edaline already shared what you, Linh, and Sophie told them on your earlier visit. But it seems there’s been…some developments?”

Olivia sat very still as several people glanced at her again.

Fortunately for her, Fitz chose that moment to fluff his wings, knocking a glass off the table behind him with a loud clatter--he jumped at the sound as all eyes turned to him, but she could’ve sworn a hint of satisfaction flashed through the mindbubble as Olivia blinked.

“If everyone’s done, I’d be happy to tell you what’s going on--it’s great news,” she saw a few shoulders relax--even though everyone had seemed to pick up on their light, playful moods already. “But if you’d rather mess around…”

Biana appeared at her brother’s side to clamp a hand over his mouth as he opened it to protest, smiling sweetly.

“Alright,” she said as the room fell silent, expectant. “You already know some of the story, but there’s a lot we haven’t shared. Do you remember how Dex found that tag on the mushroom that broke into the Underground forever ago? The one that had a broken chain on it?”

“There has got to be a better way to carry that,” Maruca shook her head, re-securing her locs back as she watched Keefe stumble by.

Sophie followed her line of sight, a snort-like laugh bursting painfully from her nose as she saw what Maruca was talking about.

Keefe had a beanbag chair in his arms, but had apparently decided that the best way to hold it was to pile it atop himself in such a way his head was nearly completely covered, holding desperately tight for purchase as he walked unsteadily onward. She was seriously concerned he’d walk right out of the village and plummet to his death, even with the new railings.

Strung with vine-braided rope and peppered with flower buds waiting to bloom, they were a recent restoration project. There’d been railings when the village had first been built, evidenced by Olivia’s account and the leftover remnants they could sometimes find around the place.

But with time, storms, and tragedy they’d almost all fallen apart. None of her friends had bothered making railings when they’d started restringing some bridges and clearing out rubble, but that was because none of them needed them. If they fell--though it would take an idiot to fall in the first place--they could just fly back up.

That wasn’t true for everyone here anymore, though.

There was Olivia to think of, who had chosen to temporarily stay in the village with them because she couldn’t bear to be underground again--and because her monster wouldn’t be able to come underground with her.

Their parents hadn’t been thrilled at the thought of leaving several impulsive teenagers in charge of a young child, so they hadn’t.

On top of Olivia’s safety, their parents were frequent visitors; Grady and Edaline had already been to the surface before, and apparently so had Della and Mr. Forkle, so they were adamant that they should come over as often as they could to…she wasn’t actually sure.

Just to be there and start making up for the several months they’d been torn apart.

“AAH!” Keefe shouted, cutting her musings short as he nearly lost his balance on one of the rope bridges.

“You have telekinesis!” Fitz admonished from somewhere far in the distance--so far Sophie couldn’t even see where he was. “Use it, you idiot!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER HOW AWESOMELY THIS IS WORKING!” Keefe called back, though it was muffled since half of his face was pressed into the beanbag as he continued his stagger.

“What are you even doing?” Sophie called after him, barely containing her laughter, broom in her hand long forgotten.

“OLIVIA NEEDS SOMEPLACE COMFY TO READ HER NERD BOOKS!” he called back, and she realized that was, in fact, the direction he was heading.

With Olivia in the village--frequently visited by much more qualified role models than the ten of them--she’d chosen her own house.

She’d picked one nearby Sophie’s, though she hadn’t explained why. She couldn’t help suspecting it didn’t actually have anything to do with her; sure, Sophie had been the one to promise to get her out, but they’d all helped with that.

And they’d only spoken briefly when she’d been kidnapped, not long enough for them to form a strong connection. At first Sophie had just been the most familiar face, that was all.

Living in the village for the past month, she’d inevitably gotten to know the rest of Sophie’s friends, too. She’d taken a shining to Linh, both for the Hydrokinetic’s kindness and her dragons. Olivia had also started spending more and more time with Maruca, though she wasn’t sure what drew the two of them together.

Maruca sighed as they watched Keefe go, turning back around to get back to work; they were all having another cleaning day--and this time there wasn’t any horrible news burning the back of Sophie’s throat ready to throw it all to a halt.

They actually had even more help this time.

“Is he trying to fall?” Grady asked, returning from his trip to get more rope from the storage shed. He was helping Maruca with that--and originally Sophie had been part of it, but after a few too many close-calls, they decided she should sweep instead to preserve her fingers.

“AW, I THINK GRADY-O’S ACTUALLY WORRIED ABOUT ME!” Keefe yelled, even louder since he was further away and had a death wish.

Grady ruffled Sophie hair as he stood beside her, shaking his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave him in that creepy abandoned facility?”

None of them were willing to bring anyone else to the facility, since they didn’t know how it would respond to someone non-monstrous, but they’d told them all about it. And Keefe and Dex had been going back multiple times a week after Marella had showed them how to get there. They claimed it was because the Black Swan wanted to know what other valuable intel was hidden there--Dex’s first visit had been brief and under significant stress, after all--but Sophie was certain Keefe would’ve been there just as often even without the excuse. Dex was just covering for him.

Just because their families knew they had wings and some…interesting side effects from their first mission gone wrong didn’t mean they knew the whole story yet.

Even with minimal interruptions and half of the story already told, Sophie had spent practically the whole day recounting the last few months when they’d all gone back. Her friends had, of course, helped; they hadn’t really meant to make her do it all, but there still were some parts of the story only she could tell.

Like how she’d been kidnapped, and what she’d found in different monster’s minds.

There were other parts of the story only others’ could tell, but that didn’t mean they did.

Keefe had chosen not to tell anyone about what the being was to him, and none of the rest of them were quite sure either.

Biana hadn’t talked about the colors she saw with anyone but the ten of them--eleven if Olivia overhearing counted.

Maruca hadn’t mentioned what she’d done to keep them all safe.

Marella hadn’t talked about how she’d met her dragons.

Linh, however, was more than happy to share details about her own.

They’d been relegated to the forest floor when they had visitors--Elwin may have been fine getting jumped by a baby dragon, but they were starting to get bigger, and she didn’t think many others would take it as well as he did.

Even though Grady and Edaline used to work with animals. And even though they were slowly getting Olivia to open up more about her monster, Goldie.

They were taking it much better than she would’ve expected, given what had happened at Havenfield when the apocalypse first started and everything since.

She didn’t know if it was a testament to the strength of their natural courage, or if the need to comfort a traumatized little kid was enough to overpower any reservations they may have had, but she was grateful either way.

“You still with me, kiddo?”

Sophie shook herself off and smiled. “Always.”

Standing before Havenfield’s new door of crystalline wood, she hesitated before raising her hand to knock.

The gesture made her feel ridiculous and hope no one was watching, but she didn’t live here anymore. It didn’t seem right to just barge on in, even if she visited all the time.

Her knuckles were still against the wood when the door swung open and Tam’s face peeked out.

“Took your sweet time getting here.” He stepped back to let her pass, eyes reflecting the waning light. “I should’ve guessed,” he snorted as he saw what she carried.

“Am I the last one?” she asked, though she already knew the answer was yes.

“Sophie? Is that you?” Edaline’s voice called from the dining room, raising it to be heard over the lively chatter from dozens of people all in one space.

Sophie trailed behind Tam as she joined the group. “Sorry I’m late, Mom.” She used her free arm to wrap it around her mother, who had rushed her the moment she’d seen her to press her close; her wings gave a fond buzz.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming at all! What kept you?” Edaline pulled back, brushing a stray strand of hair off Sophie’s forehead; it was constantly sticking out every which way since she’d cut it, but it was infinitely better than all the tangles she’d dealt with from flying. Now she didn’t even have to think about tying it back before taking off, and she’d gotten all that weight off her neck.

“Is that for me?” Olivia asked, appearing beside them and pointing to Sophie’s arms.

“Sophie!” Fitz admonished from across the table where he sat between Keefe and Alden, wings relaxed and draping to the floor. “I thought we agreed stealing was wrong!”

“Stealing is great, actually, Golden Boy,” Marella answered for her, leaning back in her chair at a dangerous tilt that had Wylie frowning next to her.

“You’ve never even stolen anything before!” Tam protested, re-taking his seat between Linh and Maruca.

Sophie turned away from the debate that broke out to refocus on Olivia, who still looked expectantly at her with those wide bright eyes, arms folded over her chest. Her hair had been braided back, though a few curls were escaping and frazzled, matching the dirt stains on the knees of her overalls. She must’ve spent the day running through Havenfields pastures--maybe chasing Goldie.

“Yes, these are for you,” she answered her earlier question, and handed over her spoils.

A DVD of Labyrinth and a chapter book she’d swiped on a quick visit to the Forbidden Cities.

When she wasn’t with Goldie, Olivia liked to spend her down time reading or obsessively rewatching the same human movies over and over again, listening to the languages of her childhood.

Labyrinth had been one of Sophie’s childhood staples, and when she’d seen it she couldn’t help grabbing it to pass the classic on.

“You’re going to run out of space to keep all those at this rate,” Grady teased as he emerged from the adjoined kitchen with platters of pastries in each hand. His apron said “KISS THE COOK”, which Sophie had grabbed for him on a different Forbidden Cities run; it was becoming quite the habit of hers.

“I’ll keep them in your office when that happens,” Olivia decided, darting off with her goods; footsteps pounded up the stairs as she raced to her room to deposit them.

A bittersweet pang coursed through Sophie.

She’d worried about leaving her parents alone when she’d decided she preferred to stay in the village; she couldn’t bear to be so far from Echo and all the creatures, and visits weren’t enough.

Even going back every single day, the distance grew as she stayed at Havenfield to help with the rebuilding efforts. Even though the most she could do was carry things sometimes. Construction really wasn’t her thing.

But they weren’t the same people she’d moved in with who were lost and grieving and needed someone to guide them back to living, and they weren’t the same parents she’d left in the Underground who needed reassurance she was still alive.

Grady’d definitely shed a few tears, but all his arguments had been half-hearted when she’d told them.

And she wasn’t leaving them alone.

There was Olivia now.

Sophie didn’t have a bedroom here anymore, but Olivia did.

There wasn’t a single moment she could pinpoint where Olivia had started melding into the family. No one had meant for it to happen; it’d simply been the result of a series of decisions trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

Grady and Edaline weren’t the only ones who had been kind to Olivia, who had visited the village and brought her gifts and been willing to put in the time to get past the thick shell Murad had put around her.

Not that that could be resolved in just a year--or ever; she’d bear the scars for the rest of her life, but they’d made significant progress in earning her trust.

But even with so many people offering her a peace she’d nearly forgotten, Sophie’s own parents had stood out above the rest.

Olivia trusted Goldie, her giant gold-threaded midnight bear, more than she trusted herself.

And Grady and Edaline had a way with animals.

As soon as they’d earned Goldie’s trust, it was like this arrangement was inevitable.

Of course she’d stay with the elves who literally worked an animal preserve; of course they’d look after an experimental little girl thrust into a new world without any family left to remember her--they already had experience with that, after all.

The only blip in the process had been the rest of the half-elves.

There was no simple solution to what to do about or with them, and they still didn’t have everything worked out.

With the help of information Dex had retrieved from the abandoned facility, the bits of intel recoverable from the burnt husk of the main facility, and the scraps of knowledge Olivia had from experience, they’d started searching for survivors of the facility fire.

And, with time, they’d found some.

There was no way to anticipate how any one person would react.

Some of them vehemently believed in Murad’s cause and had been indoctrinated by his revenge since birth, spewing vitriol against anyone who came near.

Some hadn’t even been a part of the experiments and plots, they’d just lived there because there was nowhere else in the world they could find a population of people like themselves. They’d been born into it and didn’t know anything else.

Some didn’t know what to think when Sophie found them and asked to talk.

And neither did the elves.

Originally the councillors had wanted to keep this knowledge to themselves, but there was no way Sophie was going to let them stay quiet about it; she’d understood why they’d kept quiet about Lady Vespera’s Nightfall--but she wasn’t going to sit by a second time.

They must’ve seen something in her expression that made them realize there was no keeping this quiet, so they’d elected to spread the news gradually themselves, and their world had never been the same.

Especially not after the Council had asked to meet with any half-elves willing.

The burden of arranging that meeting had fallen to Sophie and her friends, since they were the ones actually going out to find former Phoenix members.

It’d taken months, but with their combined efforts they got a dozen of the half-elves they’d found to agree to represent their people before the Council.

That wasn’t to say everyone was happy with the arrangement--the half-elves they’d found had only been the tip of the iceberg, hundreds more having survived, escaped, and reconvened around the globe.

And they were just as divided about the issue as the elven world.

Their main advantage had been surprise, as virtually no-one had been aware of their existence--not even the few elves who’d been alive when the banishing decree had been issued. It was too long ago; their ancient minds hadn’t held onto the memories, especially with the washers deployed throughout the Lost Cities and the rewritten history books replacing the gaps.

But now they’d been discovered, and they were far fewer in number and power than the rest of the Lost Cities.

So despite intense debate, they agreed to the meeting.

A meeting that had grown to include all the intelligent species.

When the meeting had started, there were only six intelligent species.

When it ended, there were seven.

Of course Sophie’s attendance had been requested to represent her friends, given just how wrapped up they were in the whole mess--because describing it as anything less than was just wishful thinking.

There’d been arguments both ways--saying that half-elves should fall under the designation of elves and didn’t need their own classifications (of course with some arguments they should be classified with humans instead). Others that they were too different from both species to be anything but their own category.

Regardless of what everyone else thought of them, the half-elves refused to align themselves with the elves given their history. And with that solemn reminder, the Council voted in favor of their own classification and broke the tie.

It was the least they could do, a first step, though they were a long way from making up for the mistakes of the past. If they ever could be.

The other species had left that meeting concerned that if half-elf/half-humans--who referred to themselves with which word depended on the person--could be considered an intelligent species, what did that mean for humans? Was it the elven-half that made them eligible? Or if the title was something that they could hand out based on a vote, whose to say humans weren’t intelligent after all? The thought had darkened and perplexed many faces, but it wasn’t what had screwed up Sophie’s--she already knew humans deserved to be considered intelligent, she just also knew that battle would be a long one, and wasn’t quite ready to take it on.

She was more worried about Olivia.

If the half-elves were establishing themselves again, would Olivia want to go back to them? She’d lived her entire live with them, after all. Spoken their languages, participated in their traditions; their faces were far more familiar than Sophie and her friends’.

Would they want her back?

Surely they knew about her--she’d been Murad’s favorite project.

But they hadn’t asked about her at all. Not until she’d broached the subject herself, the worry unbearable until she ripped off the bandaid.

They’d gone still.

“She’s alive?”

One of the half-elves from the meeting had pulled her aside, grip tight on her arm and desperately searching her face, brown eyes meeting brown. “Olivia’s alive?”

She’d stammered out some sort of affirmative, too caught off guard by their intensity to do anything else.

“Take me to her, please.”

It had taken a few days for security purposes, but when she’d brought them--Saya, she’d learned--back to New Havenfield, she’d never seen anyone so nervous.

Saya kept pushing back their dark curls, fiddling with the edges in anxiety, so different from the collected calm they’d displayed in the meetings as they waited in the pastures.

And then Grady, Edaline, and Sandor had walked out with Olivia behind them, and the unease on their face turned to bittersweet heartache at her small gasp.

Saya hadn’t said a word as they’d dropped to their knees, arms holding Olivia tight as she crashed into them and gripped them tight.

They switched to a human language Sophie didn’t recognize but still understood, and her eyes burned badly enough she had to look away--so did her parents, even though they couldn’t understand what they said.

But the love in the words was unmistakable.

“You’re alright? They’ve treated you well? When I heard--”

Olivia nodded. “They’ve--they’re nice. Where did you go?”

“I never went anywhere, honey. But when you left, I never thought I’d see you again. I thought something horrible had happened. But you promise you’re okay?”

“It’s better now since…since…” she trailed off, glancing at Sophie. “You’re not going to leave again, right?”

“Never again. I promised your parents I’d look after you, remember? I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to find you. I had no idea where to start looking--but now I’ve found you, and I intend to keep my promise.” Saya tucked a curl behind Olivia’s ear, searching her eyes before pulling her close again.

They steeled themself then, remembering they had an audience, and switched back to the Enlightened Language.

“Sophie tells me you’ve been looking after her. Thank you,” they said, carefully even.

Edaline blinked. “Of course--Saya, right?” Saya nodded. “It’s the least we can do; no one deserves what she’s been through.”

“How do you know Olivia?” Grady asked, tightening his hold on Edaline.

Saya stayed on the ground, eyes on Olivia as they spoke. “Her parents and I were close, though they were far more involved than I was.” They didn’t say with what, but they didn’t need to. Involved with Murad and his experiments. “I promised I’d look after her if anything happened to them--though I didn’t know until recently--” they inclined their head to Sophie “--that she was still alive. I thought she’d died with Murad and Fintan in the fire.”

Olivia flinched at the names--nearly imperceptible, but there; Sophie swore she could hear a growl from a distant pasture.

“What are your intentions now?” Sandor squeaked out, squinting suspiciously at Saya. He’d taken to guarding Olivia instead of Sophie, and seemed glad to have someone to protect again.

Saya’s expression hardened, and they stood, a hand on Olivia’s shoulder; she looked anxiously up between the two of them.

“I intend to keep my promise.”

“How?” Sophie cut in, acutely aware of the rising tension.

“Thank you for looking out for her, but she belongs with her people. How would you like to come home with me?” they asked, looking down at Olivia and softening their tone.

Olivia stayed quiet, frozen--and this time there was no mistaking Goldie’s agitation as the growl sounded again, heavy footsteps approaching.

Sophie tried again. “Where are you staying?”

Saya glanced at her, debating with themself for a moment before answering; they’d worked alongside Sophie long enough not to immediately write her off. Saya had been the first to agree to the meeting, after all. And they’d stayed near Sophie throughout the whole ordeal.

“Murad established a number of unmapped bunkers in the event something went seriously wrong.”

Olivia wrapped her arms around herself tight and Goldie’s thundering form crested around a corner with all its hair on end.

“Underground?” Olivia asked faintly.

“Hey, kiddo, remember the breathing exercises we went over?” Grady said before Saya had a chance to answer. “Slow and steady, that’s it. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut tight as she listened, body lightly swaying with the rhythm.

They stayed quiet as she regulated herself, only broken by Grady and Saya’s gentle encouragement.

Goldie stalked up beside Sophie, fur laying smooth over its body--but eyes fixed intently on Olivia.

Sophie reached a hand out to brush against it; she hoped the soft strokes would travel through whatever mental link the two shared and help calm Olivia down.

When Olivia opened her eyes again, it was to Saya crouched in front of her, seeing her with new eyes.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you, honey? A lot I don’t know about. Yes, the bunkers are underground. Would that be a problem?”

Olivia didn’t answer, but turned anxious eyes towards Goldie, who stared back.

“She doesn’t like being underground,” Sophie explained quietly, wings buzzing. “It reminds her of…everything. Since your facilities were underground.”

Saya stayed quiet for a few moments, brow furrowed. “Well, that’s a problem.”

They looked around then, surveying the pastures and the peaceful animals they’d been slowly accumulating, Goldie at Sophie’s side, her parents and Sandor tensely watching over the exchange, the new house of crystal and wood.

“Do you like it here?” Saya asked, switching away from the Enlightened language; Edaline, Grady, and Sandor’s expressions pinched.

Slowly, Olivia nodded. “Everyone’s very nice, and Goldie likes it here. There’s lots of space for it. And I have my own room--I even have some of the movies we used to watch!” She pushed up a little in a bounce of excitement. “We could--we could watch them together.”

Saya smiled. “I’d love to watch a movie with you. Do you like the people?”

Olivia wasn’t blind to what was happening. “I miss you. It’s…scary, sometimes, meeting so many new people. But Sophie promised me they’d all be nice, and that I didn’t have to meet anyone I don’t want to. And she keeps her promises.” Goldie shifted. “You could…you could stay here with me.”

Sandor’s face screwed up with impatience as Sophie’s eyebrows lifted.

“I wish I could, honey. And before we watch that movie, I have a very important question for you.” They waited for Olivia to nod. “Do you want to stay here? I know I don’t have a place for us aboveground, but just say the word and I’ll figure something out.”

Olivia took a moment, looking around at the new Havenfield just like Saya had, really considering her answer. She met Goldie’s eye, looked and Grady and Edaline, at Sandor, at the fields she’d started to play in and help with. “I like it here.”

“But do you want to stay? I promise I won’t be upset if you do, I just want to know what you think, okay?”

Something loosened in Olivia’s face and she nodded. “I like it here. Are you sure you can’t stay with me?” Her voice was near pleading, holding tight to Saya.

Saya’s face softened, and they pressed a kiss to Olivia’s forehead. “I can’t, honey. But I promise I’ll visit as much as I can. Every single day, even.”

They switched back to the Enlightened language. “You understood all that, I presume?” That part was directed at Sophie, and she nodded.

“Care to fill the rest of us in?” Edaline asked--polite, but strained.

“If Olive doesn’t want to be underground, I don’t have anywhere I can take her right now. And with what she’s been through…I’m not going to force her to leave.” Saya appraised Grady, Edaline, and Sandor as though they’d never seen them before. “She likes you, and she likes it here. If she’s finally found some stability, I won’t take it from her.”

“But you’re not going, right?” Olivia cut in, even though Saya had already promised to visit.

“I told you I’d be here as much as possible, didn’t I?” they said, squeezing her shoulder. They turned back to Grady and Edaline. “And in that case, I believe a proper introduction is in order, since we’ll be seeing a lot of each other--assuming you have no problem with that?” They raised a brow expectantly, almost in a challenge.

A smile broke across Grady’s face. “Of course not--if that’s what Olivia wants, we have no problem with it. Grady, Grady Ruewen,” he said, stepping forward to offer Saya his hand for a firm shake.

Edaline bent over to wrap Olivia in a tight hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. I promise, Saya can stay over as much as they want, okay? Whatever you want. And if one day you want to leave and stay with them instead, that’s okay too. We just hope you’ll visit sometimes.”

Olivia’s answering smile could’ve lit the world on fire.

“Was that all you grabbed?” Saya asked from their seat in the corner; they sat alone. Just because they were at Havenfield even more than Sophie these days didn’t mean they knew or liked everyone the Ruewen’s had invited. Sophie wasn’t sure they’d even met Alden before.

“Almost everything,” Sophie shook her head, reaching into her pocket to pull out a pack of mints and tossing them to Saya, who caught it with ease.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite elf,” they grinned, tearing off the plastic and popping one into their mouth.

Marella made a noise of protest, and Fitz opened his mouth to respond to Marella, but Biana kicked both of them under the table. “We are not having this debate again! Not at the table at least! Go fight it out outside if you need to, you animals.”

Tam had to cover his mouth with his hand to smother his laughter, and he wasn’t the only one.

“If you’re handing out presents, please tell me you got something for the rest of us,” Keefe begged, making puppy-dog eyes at her. Even though he knew the answer. It’d become a small tradition for her to bring Olivia a little something back whenever she visited the Forbidden Cities, and occasionally she grabbed something for Saya, too.

But the three of their’s connection to the Forbidden Cities--raised by humans and half-humans--was something they mostly kept between the three of them.

That wouldn’t stop Keefe from asking for treats and favors, though.

“Unbelievable. You save the world and this is the thanks you get?” Keefe complained with a small smile, because he knew he was about to start even more debate and arguments.

Sure enough, Maruca snorted, “You saved the world? Were the rest of us on vacation or something?”

Sophie tuned them out as Olivia came racing back down the stairs, giving Sophie a quick nod before she skirted around the chairs and mingling bodies to find Saya.

They smiled at her, running a fond hand over her head and fingering the braids Grady had done that morning.

“Saya’s taken the news well,” Edaline murmured next to Sophie, and she realized they’d both been watching them.

“Well, they said they were more ambivalent about Murad and his revenge dreams. Some of the others are probably taking it harder.”

Even after all the months spent working together, re-establishing the elven and half-elven worlds--sitting through meetings, traveling the world, and learning more about construction coordination than she ever thought possible--and even after all the progress they’d made, there was still one detail that bothered her.

A desperate, scared, lonely boy with eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be blue or green standing alone in an evacuating village as his elven mother turned from him, never to return.

The defining moment of Murad’s life, the one that had sparked him to form Phoenix and shaped his vitriol against elves into what it had been.

But why?

Why had she walked away?

Murad had raved about how she’d chosen elves over him, but…she’d looked so devastated in that memory.

Sophie had so many responsibilities to balance, but the image of Murad’s mother’s bracing face burned against her eyelids every time she closed them, and she couldn’t stop asking why why why why why?

So she’d found herself before Councillors Bronte and Oralie, asking if they had any idea where to start looking for a vanishing elf.

Because there wasn’t any record of her in the Registry Files; Sophie’d thought that if she’d renounced her half-elven son and human lover, she’d have rejoined polite elven society and there’d be something to find.

But it was like she’d never existed.

Bronte and Oralie couldn’t say much to help--but they reminded her that elves don’t die, at least not naturally.

The elves from that time were still alive, even if their memories had been altered.

And so on the side, Sophie’d began the long and tedious process of identifying the few Ancients who were ancient enough to remember, of visiting them, getting permission to search for their washed memories--some were more willing than others.

There were those who didn’t want anyone rooting around in their head ever again, even if it meant they never got their old memories back--they’d been fine this long without them, after all, so what did it matter?

There were those nervous and distrustful about the process--especially if she kept her wings out for the meeting, so she’d taken to keeping them under a cape during her visits just to make it easier to talk to them.

And then there were those who were her favorite to work with: the ones eager to have their memories returned, who practically begged the Moonlark to find what had been stolen and set things right. They were few and far between.

All that didn’t even take into account how temperamental Ancients could be with how old and crowded their minds had become, nor how isolated they generally liked to stay. The majority of Ancients old enough to remember never responded to her initial contact.

Suffice to say, she’d had her work cut out for her--though Fitz had been sweet enough to help as much as he possibly could, and given the wide range of reactions to their varying levels of success, she was immensely grateful she didn’t have to suffer it alone.

Especially when, against all odds, they’d actually found something.

She’d been nearly ready to call the search off that day; she’d been here before, the infinite darkness in the outskirts of a mind that meant whatever memories there’d once been had been swallowed and lost.

The few flickers of ancient, ancient memories they’d already found were better than the complete emptiness they found in most minds.

But this particular ancient seemed so eager--desperate--to find something, that she nearly couldn’t bear the thought of telling them there wasn’t anything left.

She’d opened her eyes and looked into their imploringly blue eyes, that she found herself transmitting to Fitz, One more try.

The tug of exhaustion pulled at his mind, but he didn’t complain. Just rallied the little energy he had left to pool between them and squeezed her hand tight.

“One more try,” she repeated out loud for their benefit, and they nodded and closed their eyes, bracing themself in the chair. Their fingers dug so deeply into the wood she worried it’d crack.

With a final shove, they sliced through the fudgy edges of their consciousness as they shouted MURAD again, and Sophie sent a tiny bit of the power stored beneath her ribs in an attempt to get something to happen.

Maybe they aimed in the right place. Maybe it was her stored power. Maybe it just finally clicked into place.

Whatever it was, Fitz whispered, Oh fuck, before his mind immediately recoiled from its own vulgarity as a crackled memory surged forward. It buoyed them out of the recesses of this ancient’s subconscious with a startling instancy as they watched.

Even through the distortion Sophie could make out her face, pretty dark curls to her waist and deep blue elven eyes, dark skin, and a pinched expression overflowing with tears.

She burst into the room, not bothering to knock and sending them jumping to their feet.

“Nai--” they started, but she wasn’t listening.

“They won’t listen. They can’t see reason--they’re too afraid, and I don’t know what else to do,” she whispered, gripping her hair tight and frazzling it as she paced the living room.

“Slow down--what are you talking about?”

Murad’s mother stopped, turning to face them. “The council. Y--said they’d talk to them to appeal the decision, but he couldn’t make it. He messaged me, begging me to take his place. Because someone has to make them see how--how--how stupid this is. They can’t erase them, I’m not letting them take my family from me.”

“You met with the council?”

“If you can even call it that. He told me I had to go immediately, since they were already preparing to wipe their barbaric decision from their memories! Can you believe it?” she whirled to face them. “They know, they know it’s wrong--that’s why they erased it. Because they’re a bunch of cowards who can’t face the fact they’re doing this because they’re afraid--ruining thousands of lives over it.”

They struggled to keep up with her, heart pounding as they watched her pace back and forth and back and forth.

“I showed up and half of them didn’t even know what I was talking about!” she burst out, hands curling into fists. “I left Murad in--” she cut out, tension riddling her body as horror flashed across her face.

They stilled. “With Hati?”

Murad’s mother whirled, punching the wall and sending photos crashing to the floor. “I’m an idiot. How could I--I need to go back. I left him alone because I thought--what was I thinking!”

“You left him alone?” They could only helplessly repeat back what she said, could only try and understand bits and pieces of this whirlwind.

She darted back to the door, still ajar from when she’d burst in; she fumbled a starstone from her pocket and held it up to the light, not even bothering to look.

Instead her eyes were on the ground, but far far away and furious as she held a hand to her mouth and tried to brush away the tears.

They’d never forget the terrified sorrow on her face as the light started to pull her away.

Or the soft, “No,” she breathed as she faded from sight, muscles going limp and eyes wide as she realized all too late her carelessness.

And all they could do was reach towards their sister and watch her disappear.

Sophie opened her eyes to tears streaming down their ancient face, and as she opened her mouth to say something--anything--she tasted salt on her own lips, too.

“I’m so sorry,” Fitz said, hollow and automatic as their hands dropped from their temples.

They’d seemed too stunned to say anything in response for a long minute, and then they turned away.

Their bright blue eyes fogged over, and they hugged their arms close.

“I have always felt,” they began, pressing a palm to their chest over their heart, “that I was missing something. When I still spoke to my old companions, they told me it was the product of an old mind. Things slip through the cracks. It’s only natural. And I tried to believe them, that this space in my life was nothing more than an Ancient mind collapsing on itself. But some part of me never did, and when I heard that the two of you were searching the minds of those willing, I couldn’t resist. I had to know.”

They paused and took a breath. “And now I do.”

Sophie blinked hard. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage. What else could she possibly say?

They continued like she hadn’t spoken. “I remember now…she was so passionate. If anyone could’ve convinced the council to revoke their decision it would’ve been her. That must’ve been why she risked it.” Their eyes fixed on her. “The general population doesn’t know the specifics of what our world went through, and us recluses even less so. But we all heard of the meetings between the species, and that there were half-elves there. Murad…I know it’s unlikely, but did you ever learn anything of him?”

Sophie’s breath caught, and Fitz’s wings ruffled behind them in surprise.

Their brow furrowed, anxiously looking between them and reading their reaction.

“You have?”

She couldn’t get her mouth to work, couldn’t figure out how to tell them that Murad had been responsible for their world falling apart, couldn’t figure out how to soften the blow.

Fitz beat her to it. “We did. He…he didn’t make it out.”

Their minds still held hands from their probe, and she felt his thoughts racing frantically past as he tried to school his expression and give this Ancient any peace he could.

They closed their bright blue eyes, as though they’d been expecting it. “Thank you; now leave me, please.”

They’d complied, numb. Fitz’s hand tight in hers as she drew them through the void and back to the village.

Neither of them moved or even said a word, simply standing there, until Wylie crossed their paths.

One look at them and he was calling a family meeting and gently pushing them into chairs beside the campfire; their fingers were still intertwined.

It’d taken a little bit to gather everyone, as busy as they all were with their different projects these days. Linh’s dragon had finally woken, and she’d been helping re-acclimate it to being awake and taking care of its no-longer-so-little ones. Marella had moved hers out of Havenfield, though Sophie wasn’t up to date on where it was now. It took Tam some time to get away from wherever it was he kept slipping off to--she saw him with Fitz a lot, and heard them say something about “knocking some sense into everyone.”.

But everyone trickled in, one by one, until the ten of them were silent around faux purple, yellow, white, and black flames and the questions became more and more worried.

When they’d mentioned calling Elwin, Sophie and Fitz had sent the memory through the mindbubble and watched it ripple into their heads, whispers falling silent as they watched.

Wylie and Biana, their resident experts on light, confirmed what they’d already suspected.

Murad’s mother, who’s name they hadn’t fully caught, had been too distraught and distracted as she’d held up the starstone.

They couldn’t see the specifics of the light, but Wylie and Biana said there was an impassive hunger to it, visible in the patterns it pulled her body apart in.

Never to reform.

She’d faded.

Murad had been wrong. She hadn’t abandoned him in that village to choose pure-bred elves over her family, her son.

She’d left desperate to keep him, and had died trying to get back to him.

His hurt, his motivation, his entire cause was built on something that wasn’t even true.

Millennium of work in retribution, months of chaos and torment, and this entire time she had chosen him.

Chosen him so entirely that it had torn her apart.

None of them had known what to do with the information, so Sophie’d told Saya the next time they crossed paths at Havenfield; it hadn’t taken long, they both visited as often as they could.

They’d gone quiet, then sought out Olivia to hug her close and apologize because they couldn’t stay.

Amidst Olivia’s disappointment, they silently pulled a starstone from their pocket and faded into the light; Sophie couldn’t help a pang of worry, remembering Murad’s mother being pulled so gracefully, so silently into its eternal light.

Edaline and Grady had come out then, just in time to watch them twinkle away.

They’d looked at Sophie in confusion. Did something happen? We thought they were staying the night.

So Sophie had silently pulled them inside to tell them what she and Fitz had found; something that changed everything and nothing at all.

That had been a little under a week ago, and she hadn’t seen Saya since.

But they’d shown up today, grinning at Olivia and exchanging polite conversation with all the guests they didn’t know.

Edaline and Grady had decided it’d been entirely too long since everyone had gotten together, and they all deserved an evening of fun and relaxation with how hard they were all working. For months Sophie’s days had been so crammed she could barely tell them apart. Between all the meetings the council wanted her sitting in on, helping Echo manage the forests and creatures, her Murad project, the reconstruction efforts, visiting Havenfield, and helping her friends with their equally busy schedules, she wasn’t sure she’d been this busy when the Neverseen and Phoenix had been at large.

And, another reason to celebrate, it’d been almost an entire year since they’d finally won.

But she set all of that from her mind, wings buzzing with excitement in their loose tailored shirts as she slipped into a seat beside Dex, nudging him affectionately with her shoulder.

He grinned back at her from his animated conversation with Elwin about something she didn’t understand, passing her one of the pastries Grady had baked.

As she bit into it, a small Brrr echoed through the room.

When she looked down, she found herself staring directly into Echo’s eyes as it perched in her lap.

She swore she could hear Tam muttering something that sounded a lot like weirdo as she pet it, trying not to sprinkle powdered sugar over it.

Linh flicked water at her brother, giving Echo a longing look from across the table.

Tam grumbled under his breath, and Keefe laughed at him with wings flashing white. They ruffled, bumping into Fitz, who’s own wings shot out and hit Biana.

She shrieked in indignation, laughing as she pushed out of her chair--Maruca reaching out to pull her back down as Wylie shook his head. Sophie saw Dex’s hand slip into his pocket, and she feared what he’d pull out of it--but that wasn’t nearly as wicked as Marella’s expression; she only ever looked like that when she knew something good was about to go down.

“Everything alright over there?” Grady called from where he’d returned to the kitchen, and Sophie couldn’t help grinning as she finished off her pastry, watching her family. Her ridiculous, weirdo family.

“Never been better.”

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #kotlc wings au #quil's quill #shattered upside down #happy one year anniversary to the ending of shattered upside down my kotlc wings au <3 #and i know I said it in the end note but thank you again to everyone who's ever read it. and to everyone's who left comments #and talked to me about it #it was a HUGE labor of love I cannot believe I pulled off #i don't know that i'm done with the world of sud. but. this story has come to its end #and I am going to let them enjoy themselves. they've earned it <3 #going 2. go cry now or something

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