Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH121

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Chapter 121: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XI)

{cw: brief transmisogyny}

On this night, Qi Leren still dreamed, but it was a rare dream that wasn’t a nightmare. No, in a sense, it was a nightmare. The dream was like a movie that was played automatically. It began where he and Dr. Lu had entered the Novice Village, and then Su He appeared. They finished their mission and came to the Village of Dusk, then there was the Witchcraft Sacrifice, and then it jumped to the Castle. In his dream, he experienced the battle where he had defeated the crazy lady in the basement. When he tried to open the drawer with the laptop computer again, his dream came to an abrupt end.

Qi Leren, who had woken up in the middle of the night, was still in a daze. He turned over and went back to sleep. Then he dreamed of Ning Zhou in the Witchcraft Sacrifice. At that time, he still had a woman's appearance. They had intimate contact in the deserted underground cave and explored each other's bodies unscrupulously until…

In his dream, he felt something that shouldn't appear on a woman.

Qi Leren rolled up and sat on the bed in cold sweat. It was already bright out, and his biological clock rarely went on strike. Just as he groped for the watch on the pillow, he saw Ning Zhou sitting on the sofa by the window polishing his double knives.

Qi Leren got a kick and immediately woke up: "Morning... Morning."

Ning Zhou's line of sight paused for a second on his open T-shirt collar, then paused for a second on his sleepy face, nodded lightly, and moved away.

Qi Leren had encountered a little trouble. A normal male would encounter morning trouble beginning in puberty. Now he had two choices: just sit on the bed and wait until it goes away, or go to the bathroom to solve it by himself.

Considering that less than five meters away, there was his (incorrectly gendered) sex dream object, and the other party was wiping the blade with a cold face while his talking eagle stood on the back of the sofa watching him, his brain felt like it was overheating. Qi Leren felt that no matter which one he chose, he was a little ashamed. Now he could only pray that he hadn't made any wrong sounds when he’d been dreaming just now.

Because he was too nervous, he even thought about it. How would Ning Zhou solve this kind of trouble? He vaguely remembered that some religious doctrines not only prohibited premarital sex but even prohibited self-comfort, which was inhumane in multiple ways.

Just as his thoughts were spinning out of control, Ning Zhou suddenly put away his double knives and inserted them back into the sheaths on the outside of his thighs: "I'll get breakfast."

"Oh, good, good." Qi Leren breathed a sigh of relief and watched Ning Zhou leave the room with his black bird.

The trouble was solved. After breakfast, the four people got together again, studied the map of the Holy City Qi Leren had bought from Chen Baiqi, and discussed their actions for the next few days. Finally, they decided to take a general walk around the city now, and then go to investigate the old site of the Holy See.

The Holy City was still the Holy City. It still looked lively after being closed for more than 20 years. However, in some corners signs of the city’s decline could already be seen. Many houses had been abandoned except for those along main roads. It was said that after the demon invasion and the disaster of the new moon, the existing population of the Holy City was less than 10,000.

The streets were full of middle-aged men and women and some white-haired old people, but young men and women were rarely seen, especially children. The four people wandered around to inquire about the Holy City, and then set off to the former site of the Vatican.

"What did the Lord say yesterday? The vicinity of the Vatican was closed by a mysterious force and cannot be entered?" Dr. Lu asked, recalling the information he’d found in the castle yesterday.

Qi Leren responded, "That's what the passer-by said just now. They wanted to seek asylum from the Holy See, but they couldn't get in at all. The Lord's wife is a very devout believer and often prays near the Vatican, but she can't walk into it."

"Let’s go there and see," Su He said.

The former site of Holy City's Vatican was located on a hill on the north side of the city. The white stone buildings built around the mountain were still holy, but felt as if they were in a pool of stagnant water.

"This is a bit like a saint’s sanctuary," Dr. Lu sighed when he stood at the foot of the mountain and looked up.

By what he said, Qi Leren also felt a little similar.

Looking up, the verdant mountain forest was covered with a long ladder composed of white stone steps, extending upwards along the winding mountain road. There were many religious buildings along the way. Green and white constituted the most basic colours of this sanctuary, which shone under the blue sky and white clouds. The church at the top of the mountain seemed to have experienced a war. Half of the buildings had collapsed, but even if only the broken wall remained, it still looked holy and magnificent and fascinating.

In the past, was this the holy land in the eyes of believers?

"Sure enough, it’s closed." Su He stood on the steps and held out his hand, and his palm seemed to touch some strange barrier, ripples spreading from the position of his palm, filled with ominous black.

"The power of the Devil," Ning Zhou said with certainty as he also stepped forward.

"It is the power of the Devil. It seems that they closed the Vatican..." Su He thought for a moment and continued, "The Devil who led the demons to invade the human world for the first time in historical legends should be sealed here."

Dr. Lu's expression was distorted and he asked painfully, "We won't let it out by accident, will we?"

Su He smiled: "It shouldn’t be, because it’s said that the Devils’ inheritance is different from that of human beings. If the old Devil does not die, the new Devil will not be crowned and recognized by the Devils. By now the new Devil has been born. I’m afraid that the old Devil is really dead."

"You mean the three Devils of Power, Slaughter, and Fraud?" Qi Leren remembered that Su He once gave them a basic rundown. "But can three Devil Kings be produced at the same time?"

"This... I don't know." Su He smiled helplessly.

Unable to enter the Vatican, the four people searched near the foot of the mountain and found a cemetery surrounded by flowers and green trees beside a stone stairway.

"The Garden of the Holy Tomb," Qi Leren stood at the entrance of the cemetery and read the inscription.

It was said to be a cemetery, but the Garden of the Holy Tomb was full of flowers, and these beautiful flowers bloomed luxuriantly even now when no one cared for them. If it wasn’t for the few scattered tombstones interspersed among the flowers, people who come here would hardly feel that it was a cemetery.

"I'm starving. Let’s take a rest and investigate the clues in the afternoon." Dr. Lu's stomach had been growling.

"Yes, I'm hungry, too." Qi Leren hadn’t eaten much for breakfast and now he was hungry after running around all morning. Although this was a cemetery, the scenery was good, and four people decided to have a rest here.

Lunch had been prepared by the maid in the Lord's castle. The maid in her forties carefully packed bread and wine in a big basket with jam and bacon, which tasted much better than their own dry food. Spreading out the tablecloth like a basket, the four people sat on the lawn and enjoyed lunch in the sunshine.

After coming to the Nightmare World, Qi Leren hadn't been so relaxed in a long time. He’d left the depressing mechanical city of the Village of Dusk with its sun that never fell. The sunshine and air here and now made him relaxed and happy. Ning Zhou's eagle also liked this environment very much. It got out of its pet bag, grabbed a large piece of bacon, and flew off on its wings. Even its shadow had left.

After being satiated with food and drink, Qi Leren circled the Garden of the Holy Tomb. In the corner of the garden there was a huge tree stump, which should be the remains of a huge tree that had been struck down in a thunderstorm after its interior had decayed. The trunk laying more than a meter away on the ground had fallen down and become a piece of lifeless deadwood on the grass. Even so, the broken trunk with a diameter of two meters was higher than Qi Leren standing in front of it.

The stump left by it had been hollowed out, but it was interesting that green grass had grown out of the hollowed-out wooden stump, making the space in the stump look like a natural open bed.

In this season, the flowers were in full bloom and the surrounding treetops were full of flowers, mostly blue and white. When a gust of wind blew the petals fell down in a swirl, and fell into the hollow stump, covering the grass inside the stump, which looked soft and comfortable.

Qi Leren, who was a little sleepy after eating and drinking, simply stepped on the roots above the ground and climbed into the stump. He was covered with fresh grass and fallen flowers that distributed their fragrance, and sighed contentedly.

The stump of this huge wooden tree that had been broken off became a small bed for his nap, with just enough room for a person to sleep. Lying in it, Qi Leren closed his eyes and let the sun fall on him, making him blush, and his whole body was filled with sunshine and warmth.

In the quiet Garden of the Holy Tomb, Qi Leren could still vaguely hear the voices of Dr. Lu and Su He, but their voices were pushed farther and farther by sleepiness, and he fell asleep.

"Why are there roses carved on this tombstone?" Dr. Lu asked, pointing to a tombstone.

After carefully studying the tombstone, Su He said: "The key should not be roses, but the number. There are just seven roses, which means 'I love you' here. This should be a tombstone for someone’s lover."

Dr. Lu hit his right hand with his left hand: "Yes, I remember you told me and Leren in the Castle task."

The conversation between the two attracted Ning Zhou's attention. He also saw the tombstone with the name and life of a Holy See believer. Her name was Susan, a devout believer who had disappeared on the night of the new moon. Her husband held a funeral for her, praying that her soul could be saved by God. The lifelike rose relief on the tombstone was painted white. 

"White roses are pure love," Ning Zhou said. Maria had loved white roses, so he remembered.

He still remembered that Maria told him about the Garden of the Holy Tomb outside the Holy City’s Vatican. When she was a girl, she had planted many roses here which were colorful, but she loved white best. There was a towering tree in the corner of the Garden of the Holy Tomb where she had hung a swing and played alone in the evening wind. It was an innocent and carefree time.

More than 20 years had passed and the roses planted by Maria had survived tenaciously, growing in the corners of the Garden of the Holy Tomb, and the tree that she had hung from the swing on…

"Hey, where’s Qi Leren?" Dr. Lu asked curiously.

"He seems to have wandered over there." Su He pointed to the corner of the garden.

Ning Zhou strode past and he found Qi Leren in the corner of the garden. He was lying in the hollow stump, sleeping amongst grass and petals, and taking a nap in the warm afternoon sun. A naughty petal rolled down his hair along the wind and ran to his face, getting stuck in his eyelashes. He seemed to feel itchy, and his wrinkled nose scrunched. The breeze saved the petal from his eyelashes. It bounced and landed between his lips. The blue and white petal looked more bright outlined by his red lips. Ning Zhou stared at it for a long time…

"Qi Leren - where did you go?"

Dr. Lu's cry came from a distance and Qi Leren, who was sleeping soundly, woke up with a start, suddenly opened his eyes, and it seemed that something was blocking the sunshine... He lied in the petals and looked up and his eyes fell on a piece of blue, which was bluer than the sky. It was clear and pure, hitting his heart. For a moment he didn't realize it wasn’t the sky, but Ning Zhou standing by the tree. He looked at him quietly, still so cold, as if the gentle blue he saw just now was the illusion that he had not yet woken up from.

"I fell asleep?" Qi Leren opened his mouth, and the petal falling between his lips was eaten by him. He quickly sat up and looked in all directions to find the source of the sound just now.

Dr. Lu trotted to him and exclaimed in amazement: "This bed looks so comfortable, it’s still all natural and pure, you really know where to find a place."

Qi Leren jumped out of the stump and patted the petals and grass clippings on his clothes. "Do you want to lie down for a while?"

Dr. Lu looked at the stump for a while and gave up: "Forget it, let's eat small cakes. I brought them from the Village of Dusk. They’re delicious."

Qi Leren took a reluctant look at the comfortable tree bed and finally followed Dr. Lu to the picnic place. Su He sat on the grass casually,  smiled, and raised the goblet filled with wine to greet them. As they walked along, Qi Leren looked back. Ning Zhou stood by the stump and looked at him silently.

He hadn’t thought he'd look back. A little surprise appeared in his blue eyes, and there was some hidden emotion that was too late to be restrained. He restrained it implicitly, almost to self-abuse, quiet and always too easy to miss. There were too many details in a single moment, so people who couldn’t understand ignore them completely. In the warm sunshine in the afternoon, Qi Leren smiled,raised his hand, and waved to Ning Zhou: "Come with us!"

So he hesitated for just a moment, then walked straight and firmly towards him.

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Table for Two

A/N: Hi! This the first fanfic I’ve written for literally anything! (I’m an on and off writer in general tho) I’m hoping to write a collection of unconnected short stories currently called Smaller Sides to Life, that focuses on small/short moments in time during specific events. I’d be so grateful for any comment or feedback, but honestly I just hope you enjoy it first and foremost! >///<

Pairing: Logicality Words: 2468 Content: Human AU? A lot of descriptions of anxious waiting, so I guess it’s got a lil angst. Happy ending! (Please tell me if I need to mention anything I am very unfamiliar with how this works ;///;) Summary: Logan grows ever more anxious as he waits for his date, who, at this point, he isn’t even sure is coming.

If you wanna read my google doc for this instead you’re free to. (I like Cambria font u///u) I have an Ao3 but I am currently not using it.

Logan was alone, sitting comfortably at a table for two in the back of a halfway decent food establishment, silently watching as the ice cubes in his water shifted and tapped against the glass while they melted with each passing second. Well, “comfortably” was a lie, of course. There was absolutely nothing comforting about being in such a place on his own, with only the dim flickering candles on the table to keep him company. He didn’t really know what the worst part of the whole thing even was. Was it the ever encroaching chatter that surrounded him? The sickeningly sweet music that played in the background? The blank, unflinching cold stone wall in front of him? Or perhaps, it was the still empty seat that sat mockingly at the other side of the table.

Indeed, Logan was unhappy, uncomfortable, and alone.

The nervous tapping of his foot was practically synonymous with the pattering rain against the windows. The typically majestic city view now nothing more than an amorphous glob of glowing lights amidst the water droplets and fog. He couldn’t help but repeatedly switch between checking his watch and frantically clicking his pen, occasionally scribbling down a loose nonsensical thought or two onto his little notepad. The action barely made a difference in soothing his racing mind, but he had to do something to distract himself. He’d do practically anything to ease the agony that was continuously settling in his heart with each passing minute. The absolute dread hanging over him like an impending guillotine.

This was foolish. Logan sighed. Surely he was overreacting. There must’ve been a reason. He thought to himself, but it was no use. Not a single thing he told himself could possibly make the immensely slow sinking weight forming at the pit of his stomach go away. Not. A single. Thing. For someone who typically prided himself on being able to, and rather efficiently mind you, keep his calm in the most stressful of situations, this was quite distressing to say the least.

He’s simply running late. He reasons to himself. It happens. You know that. Well, of course he did. There were practically an infinite amount of possibilities that could’ve delayed the arrival of the person he was waiting for, and most of them were not inherently related to Logan’s personal character. That was the most logical conclusion, anyway. Did that thought comfort him any though? No.

It’s been an hour, Logan. You must be joking if you still think he’s coming. Another thought tore through his mind. Well, he may not have been joking, but he was well aware of how ridiculous it must’ve seemed. Just him, sitting alone at a table for two, growing ever more and more desperate by the second. To hold on to even a sliver of hope must’ve seemed utterly utterly foolish. Every pitying glance by the passing waiter refilling his cup only served to make him feel even more miserable. He wished desperately, in that moment, that he could just disappear; he hoped he could shrink down in size so small that he wouldn’t have to be seen anymore. He wanted to completely collapse in on himself and crumple up like the pathetic scraps of paper he’d been unconsciously tearing out of his notes. He wanted the world to just fade to black, and for him to simply drift away into an endless void, away from everything. Away from this. Maybe then he’d be free from the dreaded weight that sat heavily upon his shoulders. He didn’t think his heart could even beat this fast, but there it was, hammering in his chest like a hyperactive hummingbird. 

He hated it.

He’s not coming, Logan. That thought instantly sank itself into the depths of his soul. He felt a lump begin to form in the back of his throat; it was almost nauseating. He’s not coming because he doesn’t want to see you. Another thought that dug itself into his mind. He felt his teeth harshly grind against each other as his jaws clenched, begging himself to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He didn’t even give you a call. The world suddenly seemed to freeze. A quiet realization sent an absolutely disparaging chill down his spine. You didn’t even get the courtesy of knowing you’ve been rejected. He let out a weak shaky breath before finally lowering his face into his hands, completely defeated. This was beyond pathetic, honestly. How unbecoming of him to be this way. He wasn’t coming. He already fully knew how illogical it was to remain in his seat. Yet, a part of himself still refused to let him throw what remained of that practically shattered hope away. 

And so, the clock kept ticking still...

Logan wasn’t really sure how long it’s been at this point. Everything had begun to slowly meld together in his mind. Beyond the disappointment and despair was just the dull aching pain of rejection in his chest, not to mention the utterly dry and bitter taste in his mouth. He berated himself for being this pathetic about the whole thing, and a coward who couldn’t even muster up enough courage to stand up and go home. It was frustrating, because he knew better than this. It was both impractical and nonsensical to keep waiting. But he felt weak, and his two feet remained firmly stuck to the floor as if they were made of solid, immovable lead. The waiters have collectively decided to leave him alone at this point, which he had considered a small blessing. He didn’t want to bother pretending to smile or claim that everything was ok anymore; the energy was long depleted by now.

Logan let out yet another shaky breath, wrapping his arms around him and hugging himself tight, trying as he might to figuratively and literally “get a grip” on reality. What was he even waiting for? Why had he been so eagerly anticipating sitting at this table just a few hours before leaving work? What was the point? What was he doing? He still had tasks to do! There were still piles upon piles of work that had to be done at his desk but no, he was here. He was here, sitting alone, and doing nothing. Logan glanced down at his watch yet again, but its face was unreadable. His eyes blurry and unclear even as he rubbed the tears away, adjusted his glasses, and squinted. The only message it managed to send was just how much time he was wasting away by remaining where he currently was. Nobody was coming. His grip tightened, nails practically clawing at the sleeves of his suit. Never in his life had he felt so betrayed by something that originally had a perfect and fitting place within his schedule. What had he done wrong? Where did he make a mistake?

The gentle laughter and casual chattering of the surrounding atmosphere were  like needles in his back as he felt himself curl inwards. The sweet and decidedly romantic music that served as the loving backdrop for what was to be a pleasant evening for patrons was now mocking and decadent. It sounded almost like a distant echo, far far away. Something that he was always in the vicinity of, but will never truly be able to enjoy; a happiness he cannot obtain. He was trapped. He was trapped here, in a dim corner of a restaurant, with a lukewarm cup of water, weakly flickering candles, a cold unflinching wall, the pitter patter of rain, the incessant (and mildly imaginary) ticking of his watch, crumpled up scraps of note paper, sickening chatter, unappealing music, a dry bitter taste in his mouth, an unnerving feeling of cold sweat, a dizzying headache, a fast racing heart, a barely registering breath, a lump in his throat, and clearly watering eyes.

All at a half empty table for two.

He hated it.

He ended up sitting there for so long that he felt drained, empty. His eyes now only slightly stung when opened, but he kept them closed while he leaned against one arm against the table. By now he had, at the very least, managed to catch his breath. He felt so tired. Logan took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch yet again. It had only honestly been an hour and a half, not that much time at all in the grand scheme of things. And yet here he was, feeling like he had been stationary for several years. Perhaps it was finally time to go. He shifted his aching body to finally attempt to escape from this prison, but a hurried rush of footsteps instantly made him freeze up yet again.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

“Oh my goodness god, you’re still here!”

Logan jolted at the sound of the sweet, silvery voice that rang out, very obviously filled with concern. He turned towards the person who hastily ran up to him, the cold hands cupped around his face immediately snapping him awake from his previous haze.

“I can’t believe you waited for me for this long!! Have you been here the whole time?? I’m- Oh my god I’m so so sorry Logan I-”

He honestly couldn’t even process what he was seeing, much less feeling. A man stood in front of him now, frantically gesturing and apologizing, and absolutely soaked to the core. Logan could very much feel the gazes of dozens of patrons on them now, but it didn’t matter. All he could do was stare with wide eyes at his date, whose suit was completely muddied and shoes absolutely ruined by the rain. He blinked a few times as he tried to understand what the man was even saying as he kept pausing and stuttering while constantly sweeping his matted and wet light brown hair out of his eyes. Seeing him there, standing in front of him, was enough to make Logan feel his heart slowly begin to beat once again.

“God, Logan, I know you must be mad at me, I’m- How could I possibly ever make this up to you? Oh god, oh dear, I can’t believe I did this to you! I’m just so sor-”

“Patton…” Logan finally managed, taking one of Patton’s cold hands into his and finally stopping his rambling. He took a silent moment to just quietly immerse himself into the other’s sparkling and visibly apologetic blue eyes. A beautiful and comforting sight for his literally sore ones. He felt something start to bubble up inside of him, and it began to slowly rise in his chest. A warm, fluttering feeling that rose, higher and higher, until a soft laugh finally slips from his lips. Patton’s expression instantly lightens at the sound, and Logan could feel the once soul crushing weight that surrounded him finally melt away. He gives Patton’s hand a light squeeze, an absolutely relieved smile now upon his face. “Patton. It’s ok.”

There wasn’t a single moment’s hesitation when Patton sprang forwards to wrap Logan in the tightest hug he could possibly manage. Despite the water that slowly seeped into Logan’s own clothes, and the hug being admittedly cold on account of Patton being completely drenched, he had never felt his heart swell with so much warmth in his entire life. They stayed locked in each other's embrace until Patton remembered his current condition and quickly backed off with yet another series of apologetic bows.

“Dear lord, now look what I’ve done. I went ahead and ruined your clothes too!” He giggled, trying his best to wipe away the water with a napkin to barely any success.

Logan just couldn’t help but smile at the clumsy yet adorable gesture. “Don’t worry about it. It’s clearly not as bad as whatever happened to you.” He pointed out. “Say, whatever did happen to you anyways? You weren’t answering any of my calls and I...I thought you weren’t going to…” He paused for a moment before opting to take a long sip out of his cup instead before shrugging. “You know.” He murmured, his body unintentionally stiffening at the insinuation.

Patton looked crushed at the thought, which he was unfortunately terribly aware of. He embarrassingly rubbed at the back of his neck and lowered his head. “I-I know, and I really am so sorry Logan. I...I didn’t expect you to still be here either. And I couldn’t even tell you! Oh geez… After making you wait so long, you probably honestly should have just-”

“It’s ok, Patton.” Logan reassured with a nod, voice barely a whisper. He gently lifted one of Patton’s hands and brushed his lips against the man’s knuckles. “What’s important is that you’re here. That’s enough.” He felt a small bit of pride as he watched Patton’s face flush at the unexpected gesture.

The man quickly took the hand back with a laugh before settling down in the seat across from Logan. At last, filling the space that completed the whole picture. 

“Still, the fact that I made you wait that long is terribly unreasonable. So just please let me-”

Logan chuckled, gesturing towards a leaf that was still stuck in his date’s hair, to which the other quickly pulled out with a flustered huff. 

“Logan, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“You already have.” He stated, quickly dismissing the concern with a smile. The other clearly had no defense against him doing that, to which Logan was fully aware of. The smile then curled into a satisfied smirk upon his silence. “So, are you going to tell me?”

Patton blinked in response. “O-Oh! Right! You aren’t going to believe this, but-”

And as Patton energetically attempted to recall his unfortunate run-in with the storm while trying to rescue a cat from a tree, forgetting he’s allergic to them, slipping up and falling out of said tree, missing the bus, and losing his phone in the entire process, Logan simply sat comfortably across from him, fully content to listen to his story. It was ridiculous, it was nonsensical, and it was of course, entirely hilarious, but he enjoyed every word that came out of the mouth of the sweet and adorable man that now accompanied him. Patton’s rain stained glasses, half dried and now puffing up hair, and his freckled smile, completely lit up the once dim and lifeless corner of the restaurant they sat in. Nothing could have detracted from that moment in time. Not the rain, not the stares, and certainly not how the time just seemed to fly by, even during the comfortable silence that sat between them while they both enjoyed their meals. Logan wouldn’t have missed any of it for the world.

Here at this table for two.

A Toast, Because I’m Mr. Loverman

@my-blood-is-maple-syrup was the one to suggest this so thank them for my break in the deaths of these characters :D. ANYWAYS happy pride month :3

“I’m headed straight for the floor…” 

Pon felt like the world was spinning. Everything moved too fast, and when did he get outside? The world was a blur, and nothing made sense anyways, so why bother trying to make sense of it now? He could spin and spin and spin and maybe it still wouldn’t be enough, they might demand more spinning from him still. 

Who ‘they’ were, he wasn’t entirely sure, and didn’t know if he could be bothered enough to figure that one out. The world like this was dizzying, clusters of light in the dark glittering like stones on a dark dress, and boy did it remind him of home. Or, what had been his home. He supposed Earth was that now. 

Sometimes, Pon felt like maybe he missed Azurelle, missed his mom the most. If he could go back for just a moment to talk to her, he didn’t know what he’d say besides how much he wished she could join them. 

“The alcohol’s served its tour…”

But, this was a wedding, and therefore was not the place to dwell over sad thoughts and he came to a standstill, the world slowly catching up. Trying to focus on the happy couple happily chatting with guests. Kai and Ezra really compliment each other so well, and Pon’s not at all jealous of either of them. He feels that if that love were to ever come to him, it would happen on its own terms, and until then, he really should just be content with who he has in his life right now. Sometimes, though, he caught himself daydreaming of the day when he found the right person. 

If anyone thought that Ezra looked happy, one look at Kai would challenge that thought. Pon’s best friend looked about ready to burst from happiness, eyes glancing to Ezra where they stayed. Pon kind of wished he had a camera on him, so he could capture the soft smile playing on Kai’s face and the look of adoration lingering in his eyes. 

“And it's headed straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim...”

Pon remembers Ezra coming to him, confiding in him on how much he wanted to propose to Kai. They’d been going steady for three years, and it was obvious to anyone who saw them interact that they were undeniably in love, that they were each others other half. Romantically, of course. Pon would forever be Kai’s platonic other half. 

Pon had to play nonchalant as he did some investigating on Ezra’s behalf, but the thought of how happy Kai would be was almost enough to crack him. Almost, Pon knows how to keep a secret. 

Like every couple, they had fought a couple times, but they never found themselves able to stay mad at one another, and often they’d start apologizing to each other so often that Pon stepped in and graciously accepted their apologies for putting them through this. 

And at some point during the investigation for Ezra, Kai had confided in Pon too, but unlike Ezra, Kai was worried. He remembered the concerned look on his friends face, as he told Pon that Ezra had been withdrawn from Kai for a couple days. It had looked like worrying over Ezra was eating Kai alive. 

Pon knew exactly why Ezra was acting like that, but could understand exactly why Kai was so worried. Both knew that their Earth born friend still had trouble sleeping most nights, and that on the ones he was able to sleep on, often woke up with a racing heart, panic in his throat, and an incessant need to check in on Kai and Pon. He usually didn’t go back to bed after those nights, and was typically withdrawn for quite some time, almost always sitting on the balcony and staring out into the distance. 

“I've got this shake in my legs, shaking the thoughts from my head…”

So when Kai was grabbing them drinks, Pon quickly texted Ezra a message conveying the general information on Kai’s thoughts. Ezra had responded reminding Pon he just needed to know what ring to get, and then he was ready to set the reservation. He had added that he would call Kai; and true to his word, Pon then saw Kai pull his own phone out of his pocket and glance at the caller ID before accepting the call. 

By the time Kai had exited the store, Pon could tell his mood had lifted considerably, a small smile playing on his friends face. 

They wandered aimlessly around the mall, though Pon did eventually manage to direct Kai to a jewelry store by placing his friend in front of the mirrors. Fate did its thing, and sure enough he was walking in, peering over the selection. Pon prodded Kai, asking questions nonchalantly to guage what style Kai was into. 

“But who put these waves in the door, I crack and out I pour…”

It seemed that Kai was into silver more than gold, and a little simpler in design than some of the flashy ones. Pon made sure to snap some pictures of the rings pointed out, sending them to Ezra. That night, Ezra had returned from “somewhere,” and pulled Pon into his room, tossing him a small bag. 

The box was covered with soft crushed black velvet, and pressing a small button released the lid from the base. Under the soft lights of the room, the ring glittered slightly. It was a simple silver and onyx band, blood red rubies accenting the small heart designed on the ring. Gorgeous, that was the only word to describe the propped ring. 

Pon nodded, closing the lid with a quit snap, and tossed it to Ezra, “He’s gonna love that, good job.” Ezra returned the nod, placing the box in the top drawer of his dresser before exiting the room. 

Pon followed, almost missing the way Ezra gently brushed the hair off Kai’s face as his best friend napped on the couch. 

Of course Pon was invited the night of the proposal. It was to some upscale restaurant, something Ezra had saved for. Kai of course had had questions, all of which Ezra just laughed and ensured that he just wanted to splurge for this at least once. He’d insisted that Kai was worth saving the money up for, to which Kai blushed in response and Pon stuck a finger in his mouth to mimc gagging. 

The restaurant was dim, and the food was nice. Pon had surveyed the layout several times just to take in everything. He found that sometimes with restaurants, they tried to imitate dim light effortlessly, but there was always something artificial about them. He turned his attention back to the happy couple, where Kai was laughing about something Ezra said that Pon had missed. However, Pon didn’t miss the look on Ezra’s face, stupidly in love. By the time they’d finished the meal, Pon could tell Ezra was getting restless, fiddling with the box in his pocket. 

He’d glanced at Pon, who nodded before casting his gaze at his best friend, talking about some story or another. Ezra patiently waited for Kai to finish before standing and hitting the edge of his cup with a fork. Those in the vicinity turned to give their attention, and those further back had followed suit. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…” 

“I’m not all that great with words,” He began, eyes shifting from person to person. “But for these past three years, I have found myself falling deeply in love with this man.” The patrons blinked at Pon, who shook his head and jerked a thumb Kai’s way. 

“He knows how to comfort me, and he knows me better than I think anyone ever has. I’d like to say that I know him the same way, but I know I’m not the perfect guy, and if you asked me, I would dare say he deserves better.” Kai frowned, confused. “But, I do know that I love him so much, and I know he loves me just the same way.” Pon watched as Ezra extended a hand to Kai, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. 

Kai looked confused, but the moment Ezra started getting down on one knee, he gasped, hands flying to his mouth. He looked at Pon, who was barely able to contain the grin forcing its way up, and Kai narrowed his eyes at him before turning back to listen as Ezra finally ended his long, tiring speech professing his undying love to Kai with “Will you marry me?” Kai, who was thoroughly crying now, nodded before throwing himself to Ezra. They were both lucky in Pon’s opinion, Ezra was able to stay steady enough so neither of them fell to the restaurant floor as the patrons cheered. There was no telling what germs were there.

“The ways in which you talk to me have me wishin' I were gone, the ways that you say my name, have me runnin' on and on…”

Of course, Pon was there for the wedding planning, that’s why it turned out looking as good as it did. But, that was just his own opinion, Ezra and Kai might have said otherwise. And so now, here they were. It was nighttime, they’d been married by someone who’s qualifications were a little gray, but he was a funky man, so it was alright. 

Currently, the funky dude in question was dominating the dance floor, getting the attention of everyone in the room. Besides Pon, who was still closely watching Kai and Ezra. Had he been honest with himself, he might mention being scared of what comes next. From the very moment Ezra relayed the desire to propose to Kai, Pon had been unable to quit thinking about what was to come. 

He didn’t want it to seem like he wasn’t happy for the duo, because he really was. Pon genuinely though they were each others soulmate, he supposes he was just afraid of being lonely. In truth, he felt like he had a hard time making friends, and being open. Sometimes it was just hard to do. 

“Oh, I'm cramping up, I'm cramping up, but you're cracking up, you're cracking up…”

Was he worried over nothing? He knows they won’t forget him, or at least he thinks they won’t forget him. Speaking of, they looked at each other as a different song played, and Pon watched as they joined together to dance slowly. He watched as they swayed together, and didn’t miss how Kai started blushing in embarrassment, or how Ezra then said something or another that got Kai to focus only on that moment. His ability to do that for Kai was amazing to Pon, and a large reason why he was able to trust Ezra to not hurt his best friend.

Now that he thought of it, the world had stopped spinning when the couple did. That was an intriguing piece of information for Pon to think over. Was there a correlation, or was the connection only in his head? Maybe he’d had too much of whatever it was that he drunk. 

An idea popped into his head at that, and he knew just the perfect thing for it, too. But he would wait until they finished their dance to set his plan in motion. It was a simple one, really. He was going to do his best to embarrass the newlyweds. After all, was it a wedding if people didn’t have something to talk about afterwards?

Exactly, so he patiently waited, winking when he made eye contact with Kai. His friend opted to playfully glare at him and stick his tongue out at Pon. Several guests turned to see what was happening, a few of them laughing when they realized it was just towards Pon. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man; I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…”

But soon enough, the song ended, and Pon gestured at the DJ to stop for a moment, taking a microphone after getting a nod of approval from said DJ. He winks at the gaping couple, nervous but determined. The point wasn’t to sound good and it looked like both Kai and Ezra knew this. 

He turned back around, forgetting that he hadn’t yet told the DJ what song he was looking for. When he got a thumbs up from said person, he spun back around. The song immediately launched into a verse, which, when Pon had initially heard the music, intrigued him. Usually, music began with an instrumentals, so if Pon wanted to sit here and analyze this particularly interesting piece, he absolutely could. 

Flinging an arm out, he purposefully sang off-key, watching as everyone cringed at the awkward sound resulting. 

“I’ve shattered now, I’m spilling out upon this linoleum ground…” 

For his own sake, and the sake of retaining the ability to go on, he was able to block out the thought of everyone looking at him and instead pretended he was goofing around with Kai and Ezra. He’d done it often enough that it was easy to achieve. 

He also forced his thoughts on loneliness out of his mind. This was supposed to be a light-hearted and funny ordeal. There should be no space for that in his head anyways. He switched the hand he was holding the microphone in, shimmying around, preparing for the dramatic ending he had planned. 

“I’m reeling in my brain again before it can get back to you. Oh what am I supposed to do without you?”

He finished the song, bowing when everyone began to clap. “Thank you all, I’ll be here all night.” He got a few chuckles out of that and hopped off the stage after handing the mic back. 

“Pon,” Kai began, “Why would you do that?!” He placed his hands over his face in faux embarrassment. 

“Did you not get it the first time? Must I go sing the song again?” Pon jabbed a thumb in reference to the booth, taking a step backward, towards it. 

Kai shook his head immediately. “No, no, I get it.” Ezra laughed, covering his mouth. 

“You guys are such clowns.” 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man…”

Kai turned and when he made eye contact with Ezra, Pon knew he was about to be subjected to more romantic gestures. Sickening, truly. 

He waited until they started to kiss and made a loud gagging noise, sticking a finger in his throat to emphasize his disgust. “And you guys are nasty dorks.” 

Kai stuck his tongue out at Pon, and Ezra rolled his eyes at his statement. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you someone here. Consider it an apology for being disgusting, oh great Pon.” Kai grabbed a hold of Ezra’s hand and used his other to pretend to scan the room, and Ezra tapped his chin thoughtfully. 

“You won’t find anyone.” And of course at that moment, Ezra’s face brightened and an evil grin took over his face. 

“Over there! Hey, you!!” Across the ballroom, a tall, dark, and handsome (anchovy) man turned, pointing at himself. Ezra nodded, and waved him over. 

Pon ducked and tried to scuttle away, but the Iron Grip of Kai’s hand latched onto his arm. For such a short dude he had incredible strength, and it doesn’t show. Darn Kai. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…”

The guy was sweet, and they wound up talking on the balcony for a couple hours. Unbeknownst to Pon, Kai and Ezra poked their heads out to check in on them, the guy catching their eyes and nodding ever so slightly at them. Several times Ezra had to cover Kai’s mouth with his hand to stifle his now-husband’s giggles. 

Could you please tell me about the first time Nando gets fined (because of Quinn). What does Quinn think about the whole fining thing?

Yes, absolutely, anon— and thank you for asking!!

I’m going to cross-post this to ao3 along with a couple other drabbles that have come as results to asks, but I won’t do it yet because those other ones aren’t done. In the meantime: have this!!

Set about 24 hours after this most recent Quindo fic on ao3.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

//

Technically speaking, tonight is not Quinn’s first Samwell Hockey party.

Because after all, the whole reason he met Sebastián was his actual first party, the Halloween one, which was only a few weeks before now but feels like it was forever ago. He came here on his own accord, based on the invitation Denice extended, completely unknowing of what to expect. And he survived. A real frat party. In fact, he came out practically unscathed.

And even in the time since Halloween, he’s been in the Hockey Haus one other time, on the night of Winter Screw. That time, too, was doable; he emerged with a cute boy’s number, even. So tonight, two weeks to the date after Winter Screw, being in the Hockey Haus is not a new experience. Nor is the party atmosphere.

But it feels different. Tonight, it’s better, more comfortable, less of a social experiment and more just a social event. Because tonight, he’s here as a hockey boy’s boyfriend.

He’s a little giddy, maybe. It’s been about twenty-four hours since they made it official, after Quinn went to his game last night, and tonight he walks into the hockey party feeling like a new man. He’s wearing the freshly stolen Samwell Hockey hoodie of Sebastián’s that he managed to end last night by acquiring, with his one pair of jeans, if you can believe it.

He’s here on invitation, and although he was with Sebastián for several hours after the game last night, it feels like it’s been forever since he saw him. They had an away game today— or, as Sebastián calls it when they play off-campus, a roadie, not to be confused with Rhodey, the team’s nickname for Sebastián’s best friend, Ben (goodness, it must get confusing)— so, anyway, Quinn hasn’t actually seen his brand-new boyfriend all day. The game was only at Brown, so they didn’t have to stay in a hotel, and it landed them back on campus after a 3-0 win, according to Sebastián’s excited text to him earlier.

Sebastián♥️: we won!!!!! 3 to nothing. it was swawesome!!!!!!

Me: Congratulations!!🥰🥳

Sebastián♥️: thank you!! ❤️❤️ i miss you!

Sebastián♥️: come to the haus tonight? we’re throwing a kegster!

Quinn really has no idea why they’re called kegsters, but he shows up at the Haus after he eats dinner anyways.

It’s a hopping place, but maybe that’s just how the Haus always is after dark. Meeting up with Sebastián takes him all of two minutes, because he’s tall and loud and cute as can be, and when he sees him through the crowd, his face lights up, and he cries, “Quinn!” and then kisses him right in front of everybody and nothing in the world matters at all.

It’s been about an hour since he got here, or at least Quinn is pretty sure it’s only been an hour. Sebastián is drinking, but only a little, and the music is loud (Quinn has his volume turned way down), and the hockey guys are all being really nice to him, as he sticks to Sebastián’s side like glue. They dance a little, but Quinn is so awful at dancing when it isn’t choreographed that he laughs his way off the unofficial dance floor in the living room after half of a song.

Mostly, they just talk to other people. From a meeting over lunch at Commons last week, Quinn already knows Sebastián’s two freshman friends on the team, Ben and Remy, and of course he knows Tony, through Denice, as well. But tonight, he meets others— like the captain, the redhead, whose name is not actually Dex but Will, and his boyfriend, Derek; they remember him from the Halloween party. (“I found out they were dating in October,” Sebastián murmurs into his ear, one hand on his back, as they walk away after talking with them for awhile. “They’re really cute together. I basically want to be just like them when I grow up.”

Quinn laughs and goes to kiss his cheek as they walk through the ruckus. “When you grow up?”

Sebastián shrugs, and his smile in the party lights makes Quinn’s stomach turn inside out. “When I’m a senior.”)

Now, Quinn stands by a table, spectating over a rather intense game of cup pong. It’s Sebastián and Ben versus Remy and another player on the team, River, who has spectacular hair. He and Remy are a million times better at sinking their shots than Ben and Sebastián are, and the whole sight is mildly entertaining.

“Fuck!” Ben cries, when one of his attempts bounces off the rim of a cup and onto the floor. “I’m fucking cursed, I swear to God.”

“You have a serious problem,” Remy replies, retrieving the ball from the ground and dusting it off on his shirt. He passes it to River, because it’s his turn, and Quinn watches as his toss arcs perfectly over the table and lands with a plop in the closest cup on their side.

“Shit,” Sebastián laughs, because it’s his turn to drink, but the cup is only filled about a quarter of the way, so he downs it with minimal effort. Quinn laughs at the scene.

“You two are awful at this,” he remarks, looking up at him and Ben, and Ben feigns offense, putting a hand to his heart, while Sebastián laughs at the ceiling.

“You’ve only been dating him for a day and you’re already chirping his pong skills?” Ben shakes his head and lets off a low whistle. “Tough crowd, boys.”

“Here.” Sebastián presses the ball into his hand, and Quinn looks up at him to widen his eyes as he says, “You take a shot.”

“Yeah, show us what you got!” Ben is grinning from ear to ear. “Can’t chirp if you can’t back it up.”

Chirping, Quinn recalls, is hockey speak for teasing. He guesses he did ask for this. As he lifts the lightweight pong ball to the light and studies the cups across the table, he feels dozens of partygoing eyes all on him. The newcomer. The freshman. The boyfriend.

You know what? Screw it. He’s going to try.

“Okay,” he replies, stepping forward to get a better angle, and Ben hollers gleefully into the crowd. He looks over his shoulder to Sebastián for a second, who is smiling like crazy.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” he says.

The pure adrenaline of being called baby alone is enough. Quinn lines up his aim, squints, and sends the ball flying toward Remy and River’s triangle of cups.

It seems to move in slow-motion, but when it does land, with a plunk, it’s in their centermost cup.

The general vicinity around Quinn erupts. “OHHH!” Ben cries, jumping up and down, and Remy starts laughing hysterically at his friends. Quinn receives various high-fives and claps on the shoulder from people he doesn’t even know.

“Yo, he owned you,” River says, pointing to Sebastián and Ben, and then drinks the contents of the cup Quinn sunk it in. River nods to him, adding, “Good shot, frosh.”

Quinn falls backwards, into Sebastián’s waiting arms, and when he looks up at him again, Sebastián is grinning at him with something vaguely impressed in his eyes. He leans down to whisper, “That was kind of hot.”

There’s a flutter somewhere in Quinn’s stomach, and he grins back at him. “I’m afraid that might be the extent of my lucky frat party talents,” he replies. “Not to disappoint you or anything.”

“Oh, trust me, baby,” Sebastián mumbles. “There is nothing disappointing about you.”

The kiss they exchange after that doesn’t last quite as long as Quinn wants it to, but that’s only because they get a moment to themselves before Ben is shouting, “Hey, Nanny! Not to interrupt your gay hours, but it’s your turn.”

Sebastián pulls off of him and laughs, keeping him close to his chest. Quinn is dazed. He tastes like beer and sweat, and he wants… more of this, please.

He finishes the game of pong with Ben, and once it’s done, they make their way over to what could be considered the edge of the dance floor. There’s some random electronic song playing, and it’s musically atrocious but good for moving around to. Quinn hasn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight, nor does he plan on it, but parading around at Sebastián’s side like this is intoxicating all on its own. He’s here, with him, and it’s almost like Sebastián is showing him off, and it is beyond lovely.

“I’m an awful dancer,” Quinn confesses, as Sebastián is trying to get him to move with him to the music.

Inches away with his hands on his waist, Sebastián knits his brows like he doesn’t believe him. “You do theatre!”

“I’m awful at this kind of dancing,” he amends, hooking his hand around his hip. No one has ever touched him quite this much before. He doesn’t want it to stop.

“We don’t have to dance,” Sebastián replies. He looks past him, in the direction of the kitchen. “We could take a breather? Go find Ford and Tony?”

“Mmm…” So close to him in this crowd, Quinn isn’t so keen on the thought of leaving it. He steps a little closer to him and shrugs. “We could do that.” He pauses, tips his face up towards his, and meets his eyes in the low light. “Or we could stay here.”

He kisses him gently, at least at first, but Sebastián seems just as on board with the general idea as he is, because he pulls him very close all of a sudden, holds him tight with his big hands around his back. He still tastes like the party, and Quinn presses up against him, threading one hand through the slightly sweaty curls on his head. Sebastián’s lips are soft, but his kiss is anything but. It’s close, and warm, and so good, and Quinn has a feeling he’s about to leave the ground, but then—

“Nando.” The voice booms through the sound system over the music. Quinn jerks, and Sebastián pulls away to look up toward the noise— his teammate, the Swedish one who does the music, is holding his funny little DJ mic and looking right, directly at the two of them. “I’ve seen enough tonight,” the DJ continues. “Five dollars in the Sin Bin for that shit.”

Dispersed throughout the party, the hockey players heckle at this announcement. “Foooiiiiineeeee,” someone yells, and Quinn recognizes Ben’s cackle over the noise. The DJ gives them both a nod, waving his mic kind of menacingly, and Sebastián looks somewhere between amused and put on the spot.

“It’s a fucking kegster!” he calls, in the DJ’s direction, and puts Quinn down firmly on his feet.

Quinn has no idea what just happened. He winds his arms around his neck, watches the DJ laugh at Sebastián, and then cocks an eyebrow up at him. “Sin Bin?”

“God—” Sebastián shakes his head, squeezing him around the waist. “Okay, so there are fines on the hockey team? For PDA? I didn’t think I was going to get busted, but Louis just called me out.”

“Oh my goodness.” Quinn bites back a laugh. “So every time we kiss in public, you have to pay?”

“I mean.” Sebastián pauses. “I just got five dollars for the whole night, so, like. Not technically.” He looks around, then reaches for Quinn’s hand and pulls him a little ways out of the crowd. When they stop, they’re against the wall near the kitchen, close to the spot in the Haus where they met for the first time. Sebastián winds an arm around his waist, then adds, “But they’ll probably fine me again, given the opportunity.”

“So…” Quinn pauses, rests a hand on his chest. “Where does the money go?”

“Oh, anywhere,” he replies. “Dex mostly uses it to upgrade stuff around the Haus or buy things we need.”

“That’s…” He has never heard of a system like this in his life, but it sounds mildly entertaining. Except when it interferes with kissing his brand-new boyfriend at a party. “I don’t understand sports culture.”

“Sometimes, I don’t, either.” Sebastián kisses his forehead, in a manner that’s significantly softer than he was on the dance floor. “Are you doing okay?”

“Me?” Quinn raises his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? I’m great.”

“Oh.” Sebastián smiles. “Cool. Good. Okay. ‘Cause so am I.”

Tilting into his arm, Quinn looks around the room for a second. The DJ is still dancing around to his own beats, and Ben is nearby, talking to a girl Quinn recognizes vaguely as his Winter Screw date. They’re secluded, but the party is still hopping, and looks like it will be for the foreseeable future.

“Hey,” he says, lowering his voice a little, and rises on his tiptoes. “I have to tell you something.” Sebastián angles his ear towards him, and he cups his hand around it, all secretive, feeling silly and so, so head over heels all at the same time.

“There are no fines for kissing in my room,” he whispers, then pulls back to wink— and the knowing, flustered smile Sebastián returns is maybe the best sight he’s ever seen.

He’ll prove that. Later. But first, he’s going to enjoy the party.

Hi, I am so here for all this ambition content right now. I check this page every day! I remember u guys mentioning about a rl and dasher road trip and I was wondering about that! Thank you!

hello pal!! literally so honored and happy that you’re enjoying ambition and the fact that you check our page every day... ugh you’re too sweet. hopefully the nonsense we do around here is entertaining! very happy to have you in our fandom community <3

so yes, rl + da road trip! i hope it’s okay that i took a bit to answer this, bc i wanted to ruminate on it for a bit before typing it up. so as y’all know we refer to the summer between s1 and 2 as “cruel summer” (thank u tswift), and similarly we have a code name for the summer between s2 and 3 which is “summer of love.” this is admittedly mainly because of rl, but also because a majority of the characters are in such a better headspace this summer than they were last.

boppin the rest under a read more, because i just go on... and on... and on............. (i really love rl & da)

-- Maggie

one facet of this summer is that around... july sometime, dylucasher decide they want to take a trip down to virginia beach (or the beaches in that general vicinity) because they want to check out a beach that isnt grey and cold like the ones close to them in ny, and because a trip before their last year of school together seems like a fun and Classic idea. originally they plan it for just the three of them, but somehow riley comes up and all of them agree -- especially dylan -- that it would be way more fun if she came along too. so they try to convince her to come along, which doesn’t take much convincing, it’s more so about figuring out how she’s going to get around cory because if he knew she wanted to go on a like week long trip with her boyfriend (who he doesn’t really trust) and two other boys he would probably have a heart attack.

you know, it would be like “you can’t go on an overnight trip with three boys!!!” “dad, you know dylan and asher. they’re gay. they’ve been dating for three years. they’re GAY. i do not think i’m at ALL at risk in that scenario???” fsdfSDKGDL

so riley devises a plan / cover story that involves like “going to stay with mom” for a few days, maybe a lie about staying over at isa’s or yindra’s for a couple days in there, you know, she lays out the whole lie and then bribes maya to go along with it and help cover her tracks (rl have very inverse influences on one another -- where riley sort of tames lucas and helps calm him and make him less feral, she develops a bit of a rebellious streak from him or just better identifies the nuances of which rules should be followed vs which were meant to be bent or broken..)

the good thing about this road trip is that it’s what truly cements riley’s friendship with dylan and asher. they’ve been toeing the line of friendship for like two years now (as riley said in cruel summer, she regretted not taking the time and establish a friendship with them in sophomore year before everything fell apart), and it’s kind of like it’s bound to happen. riley and asher takes a little more time to grow and develop just because of the kind of person asher is, but on this road trip dylan and riley just Click. like they were basically made to be best friends, dylan is the first person who kind intrinsically Gets riley and they match each other in terms of enthusiasm / personality / brightness. again, a friendship that’s just been Waiting to happen, and this trip really brings that to the forefront.

(on that note, i once joked that when dylan and riley get really into chatting about something and lucas zones out, they start sounding like the villagers in animal crossing to him. like if he stops paying attention for even a second suddenly dyley sound like this. and i stand by that claim.)

as for the trip itself, its not like i have the whole thing perfectly plotted or anything like that, more just... musings and ideas. oh and a playlist, of course i have a playlist. obviously they’re really good about swapping around drivers and sort of organizing their time since they only have a week, and i think it’s mainly funded by dylan’s youtube vlogger coin. asher helps and riley chips in her fair share, but dylan basically covers lucas because obviously he can’t pay but they all want him there. he makes up for this by driving the most even tho the other three insist its not a big deal.

when it comes to sharing space, the quartet of them are pretty good at it. obviously when they stop for the night they just share beds by couple, but it is interesting to think about how different these two relationships are in terms of like... you know, where they’re at. like its super easy for da to share a bed because they basically do that all the time now, but for rl breaking that boundary would be a kind of unspoken big deal and lucas would be so cautious about it. like they spend most of the summer in riley’s car (can’t hang out at her place with cory there and no one is going to lucas’s) and so theyve probably like fallen asleep together there once or twice and maybe napped ONCE at riley’s place when maya and cory were both gone in the 2.5 months they’ve been together, but it’s still... not the same. so at first lucas would be really nervous about it, but after the first couple of nights he’d relax and realize its really not that big a deal -- esp since riley seems pretty confident and comfortable with it. by the end of the week, lucas wakes up in the middle of the night and riley has cuddled up next to him and he’s like... okay MAYBE sharing a bed with someone makes points. perhaps.

one of the nights on the way down the coast, what truly breaks the ice for dylan and riley is that they break out a SMALL amount of alcohol and both get tipsy (which for them is just like. giddy and giggly and very chatty. they’re both happy drunks without a doubt). lucas and asher don’t indulge bc lucas doesn’t trust himself getting intoxicated and asher is just wary of it in general, but they figure dyley can do it as long as they’re both supervising. so dylan and riley talk A LOT that night and truly form their Kindred Spirit bond and also lucasher end up regretting letting them drink bc for like a half an hour dyley do this thing where they just pretend to share secrets with one another. like they theatrically whisper in one another’s ears and look at lucasher while they’re doing it and then start laughing and they’re literally not saying anything Important (like it’s probably like riley being like “psst... i think lucas is... hee hee... lucas is hot”) and then dylan cracking up and agreeing but bc lucasher don’t know what they’re saying they’re like ha ha very funny........... but y’all aren’t talking about us doe right. wait, what did you say. hold on --

a lot of the trip is also based around being in nature and the outdoors, since they don’t get to do much of that day-to-day in manhattan. considering one of their favorite spots to hang out as a group during senior year is at central park, they’re all definitely fresh air outdoorsy kind of people to a degree. so like, stopping at parks, going on hikes, and of course the beach itself. i made an instagram edit of one of said hikes when i was testing a template i made:

naturally, and i swear this happens at least once on a long road trip whether it is with family or friends or any combo of people, but you hit a point where you get irritable and start to get a little sick of one another. i think in this case that mainly starts between lucas and asher, because although they’re Best Friends i think lucas has a knack for finding ways of irritating him. and also lucas probably gets irritated by dylan’s high energy after too much time with no breaks, so he’s also snappy, and as they’re on the way back up to nyc people are spatting at one another or getting snippy over stupid things so riles is like. here’s an idea! how about we split up for the day when we get to philadelphia. this is an excellent idea and none of them are opposed, so when they arrive in philly, dylan and asher split off to go explore the city + historical sites.

what do riley and lucas do? well, riley takes lucas to meet her grandparents, of course.

at first lucas is like ummmmmmm no because he’s SUPER nervous about meeting her family -- the only family he’s met is cory and we know that’s... unideal, and eric, both of whom have a completely different perception of him bc of school and his behavioral record. he’s yet to meet topanga or auggie yet or anything like that -- but riley assures him that her grandparents are chill and she has no doubt she’ll like them. they’re also meeting lucas with a completely blank slate (i.e. no preconceived notions about him like those who work at aaa), so it’s not hard for lucas to make a good impression since he really is like... a good guy. not to mention no way is he snarky or deadpan in situations where he doesn’t feel comfortable or like he has the right lmao, so he’s on his BEST behavior around amy and alan.

the good thing is that alan himself kind of had a similar background and run on the wild side that lucas does (kind of like jack, altho jack was never as troubled as lucas), and so i think he would kind of... inherently Get him. like he’d strike up a conversation with him and at first lucas would be like omg why is this man speaking to me please i’m invisible pretend i’m not here... but after a bit he’d find it’s surprisingly easy to talk to alan. and they’d talk for like an hour and get on pretty well. meanwhile, amy is talking to riley and is like so... let me guess. cory does not know you’re traveling with your boyfriend???? and riley is like... perhaps. maybe don’t tell him? pretty please? and once amy convenes with alan and is like how is he and alan is all “he’s fine, we can approve,” then they agree not to rat riley out.

riley and lucas also climb up into the matthews tree house and take a look around and they comment on how strange it is that cory and eric once used to like, hang out in there and in that house and were once teenagers (lucas: be careful this is humanizing your father too much for me). and i’d think they’d sit up in the treehouse for a little bit and just talk and riley would talk about how nice it must’ve been to grow up in the suburbs like this, and she’s surprised when lucas agrees and he admits he fucking hates living in manhattan. and that kind of prompts this subtle internal thinking in both of them of like hmm well... maybe in the future when things are different and we can make our own rules maybe we’ll move out of the city and into a quieter life... they don’t say any of that out loud, but they’re both thinking it. and at the tail end of that conversation riley kisses lucas which turns into a Really Good Kiss... but then they’re interrupted by amy calling for them to come down for dinner and its kind of like lmao, they’re both a little bashful but in a casual silly way

FIC: The Rules to Accidental Dating (1)

Pairing: Alex/Kyle

Summary: In which Kyle and Alex accidentally pretend-date their way to love.

Rating: Teen+

This one is for @alexmanes who fills my Dash with the good Kylex content.

CHAPTER 1

One morning, Kyle finds Alex standing at his door in his leather jacket with a frown on his face. Without a preamble, Alex says: "You don't look too hot today, Valenti. You should call sick to work."

"Thanks?" Kyle has been struggling with sleeping, and eating, and general self-care for the past few days. Ever since his encounter with Jesse Manes, which landed the older man in hospital. But he has been trying to follow the rules of general personal hygiene at least and he isn’t aware things are getting that bad.

Although it doesn't help that every day at work, he comes the near the man's room sooner or later. He watches the nurses flock to it. After all, Jesse Manes is the town's hero. Little do they know what a monster he is.

"No, I mean my brothers are visiting him today." Alex says 'him' with so much venom Kyle can practically taste how bitter it is in Alex's mouth. "All of them. You don't want to be there at the same time."

Kyle gulps. Alex is right. He has no interest in spending any time in the vicinity of the other Manes men. He knows all of them casually and they are all too much more their father's sons than Alex is.

And they can probably figure out who put their father in the hospital. Cold sets in Kyle's stomach. He is suddenly very grateful he has no surgeries scheduled for the day and that Alex actually caught him at home.

"Do you want to come in?" he asks. "We can lock the door and pretend your brothers don't want to see our corpses."

"I was going to stay at the cabin."

Kyle shakes his head. "It's too remote."

He watches Alex takes a breath.

"You thought about it, haven't you?" he prompts. "They'll want to rough you up at the very least. And Flint…"

"I can handle them," Alex interrupts.

"All of them?" Kyle knows Alex is good, but he is not that good. No one is. Real life is not an action movie, even if it has aliens in it. Alex on his own would perhaps be able to handle three random men off the street, but not three trained military men. Especially not ones with the advantage of knowing him well. "No. Instead of reenacting Home Alone with your family reunion, how about you stay here? Not even your brothers are dumb enough to invade the home of the local sheriff's son."

Alex hesitates. The desire to turn down the offer despite knowing it's sound logic is apparent in his eyes. "I can't keep running from them."

"Not your whole life," Kyle agrees. "But you can for today." He is already moving away from the doorway to let Alex through.

While he makes the phone call to work, putting on the most convincing fake cough, he watches Alex sit down. Alex doesn't make himself comfortable on the sofa. His shoulders are tense. He still has the jacket on. Though Kyle has to admit the jacket looks great on Alex, better than the usual plain shirts he's seen him wear recently, it's not exactly suitable for a day indoors.

"Take the jacket off," he says as soon as he ends the call. "What do you say, was I convincing? I didn't have to use the fake cough since college. And that'd been to fool a date, not medical staff."

Alex quirks his eyebrows up as he shrugs off the jacket. He moves efficiently and his gaze shifts away from Kyle during the action. "That awful a date?" he asks with a note of disbelief.

"Every once in a while someone in my family decides I'm going to die a bachelor and I end up on a series of blind dates with really nice people who want to be anywhere but on a date with me."

Alex's jaw clenches.

And Kyle remembers. Alex is not as lucky as Kyle is. His family doesn't well-meaningly bother him about his love life. The worst Kyle's relatives have ever done in regards to his romantic choices were a few mean words from his mother towards Liz's family. That and his father letting him date his sister's sister, but that's a thing Kyle has yet to process.

Meanwhile, Alex's father was beating Alex up for his orientation before Alex even knew what was happening with his hormones.

"I'm sorry," Kyle says, suddenly embarrassed. "I know it must sound…"

"Don't worry about it. Can I… Do you have a book I can borrow? I'd hate to get underfoot while you do whatever it is you do on a day off."

Normally, Kyle would spend much of a free day catching up on sleep. But with Alex here, that sounds like a silly idea. "You can't put me on a house arrest and then not entertain me!"

"I didn't put you on a house arrest."

"You came here and told me to stay put. Same thing."

A shadow of smile briefly visits Alex's face. "And you are keeping hostage. By that logic."

"Yes. Now entertain me."

They settle on Netflix and beer. They bicker over whether Kyle needs to watch Star Trek before a marathon of The Good Place wins them over instead. Kyle is only slightly embarrassed that Alex can see his Netflix List and he doesn't even impulsively lie about an ex-girlfriend who really loved romantic comedies.

Alex is stiff for the first few episodes. He sits on one end of the sofa, jacket folded on his lap, his back straight as if he'd frozen and would break if he tried to relax. He's like a wild animal in someone else's territory. Guarded. Waiting for an attack. Kyle thought they were doing better, but being in Kyle's space has reset Alex's buttons. He seems even more distant than when they first started cooperating on taking down government conspiracies.

It pains Kyle to see that this is the effect he has on the other man.

They used to be such good friends. And he thinks they are on their way there again but it might take longer than he thought.

And it's all his damn fault.

There are apologies on the tip of his tongue but he knows Alex wants to hear none of them. He wishes there was something for him to say to make it all better instantly, but no such magic words exit.

He doesn't realize he is staring at Alex and the tense line of his shoulders until Alex says: "You're going to burn a hole in the side of my head."

Kyle jumps up to his feet. "Um. I was just thinking… Do you want me to hang up your jacket?"

Alex gives him an unimpressed look. "It's weird for you to have me here," he observes even as he hands Kyle the garment.

"It's weird for me that you feel weird being here." Kyle sighs. "We… I remember what we were likes as kids." He has a vivid memory of Alex kneeling across from him on the floor of their tree house, the canopy of the tree a background to Alex's brilliant smile. "We were meant to be, I don't know, the sort of friends who… have keys to each other's places and invite themselves to the food in the fridge and have each other on speed dial for 3AM emergencies."

Alex considers him with his eyebrows lifted. "But then I just had to go and be gay, huh?"

"No, then I just had to go and be a jerk."

Alex startles, but afterwards he looks visibly more relaxed.

Maybe one day, Kyle will actually get it across that Alex's homosexuality is really not an issue for him, or an obstacle he has to overcome to be able to be friends with him. That he wants Alex in his life even when they're not ruining some extremist's plans.

It turns into an oddly pleasant day, for the fact that they are in hiding. For several episodes, Kyle barely remembers that aliens exist, that his half sister is back from death, that he put a man in coma, or that Alex's brother likely want to break a few bones in his body before shooting a hole in his head. For a few hours, he is just a guy hanging out with a friend. Sharing beer and later pizza delivered straight to the door.

Then he returns from a bathroom trip and finds Alex awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"I should get going."

"I was going to find you a blanket."

"I've overstayed my welcome as it is."

"The sofa folds out." And Kyle really, really doesn't want Alex to drive into the night. He doesn't want to go looking for him later only to discover his brothers found him first.

Alex's brows knit together. Then he puts his jacket on. "If I'm staying, I need to get my crutches from the car."

And with that, it's settled.

ooo ooo ooo

Kyle is eating cold pizza while Alex showers when the doorbell rings.

He looks through the peep hole cautiously before opening the door. The young woman behind it is a nurse from his hospital, whom he knows well enough to have shared a lunch a couple of times. He doesn't know her well enough for unannounced house calls. She is holding a thermo lunch bag.

"I heard you were sick. So I thought you might want…" she starts with the flustered boldness of someone who's finally found the object of their affection. But then she hesitates. "…soup."

Her expression transforms from sincere eagerness to suspicion. It takes barely a moment for Kyle to understand why.

The shower. His conveniently accessible shower, which Alex is currently occupying. It's loud.

Kyle remembers to cough. "That's very kind of you," he says, trying to put in as much sickness into his voice as he can manage. "I'll bring this back to you?" he adds and takes the bag away from her.

Just as he is about to say goodbye to her, he hears the clatter of shampoo bottles and Alex's cursing.

The nurse blushes, her eyes wide.

"Thank you for the soup," Kyle says before swiftly closing the door.

↳ Next Chapter

My Rockland OC Sasha Holmes.

I was in another small drawing mood and wanted a tiny break from writing another Zeitgeist thought post.  Tried a new position again, but didn’t really feel like drawing full body or coloring it this time.  I also drew her without her headband this time so I can get comfortable with the fact that it’s not something constantly glued to her.  She wears it a lot though because she likes using it to keep her bangs out of her face.  I just put her in a tank top/pyjamas to switch things up too.

I drew this because of my self-made rule, “I can’t talk about Sasha unless I draw something for her too.”  I actually came up with a possible backstory for her, and that’s really what I wanted to spend my time writing about anyway so I don’t forget it.

It’s not really important for anyone else though, and it could very well get scrapped later.  So I’ll just place it below to save space (it’s stupid long for personal reference only).

Why I have Sasha

I’m just reiterating here.  I don’t really insert myself in these stories, and I don’t like disrupting the canon either.  Sasha’s going to be more like an NPC in the Rockland universe that is capable of OBSERVING certain events and characters, but will probably never end up interacting with any of them directly.  That’s probably for the best anyway because let’s be honest...there’s a good chance she’ll die if she ends up meeting the wrong character, haha.

If I do commit with her, I could actually utilize her as another type of post whenever I’m low on ideas or lack the motivation for a full thought post.  Basically, journal entries made by a character in universe.  Sasha would basically be doing...the same kind of thing I actually do with the thought posts.  Now one might say, “Isn’t that kind of lazy?  Like you’re just duplicating your own content?”  And I say, “Kind of, yes.”  

Fun fact about me though, I’m not really a creative writer.  Most of the writing I’ve done has been for more scientific papers.  With those, you’re just getting the facts in.  Now my thought posts are a little more carefree and show a bit of personality in them I think.  Basically, tumblr is intended to be my “lazy time.”  Still, I’ve hardly ever tried to write in first person from a character’s perspective.  Also, while I myself would have a wider grasp of the Rockland universe and its characters, I would be placed in a challenging position with Sasha where I can only have her commentate on events and characters revealed in canon that...basically COULD be fair game as “news” or “rumors” around town.  For example, she’s not going to know about an MC’s personal experience with a character after they’ve been kidnapped (and they don’t escape).  But if there’s some news or rumors around town that people are disappearing, that’s fair game for her to speculate about.

The Misfits actually I think have the most potential for regular civilians to have an idea that they exist.  One story even had the police investigating them, so you know there’s probably some curious individuals that start gossip as a result.  So I will probably end up having Sasha in the general vicinity of wherever most of the Misfits’ activities take place.  

Oh yeah, the Rockland universe is going to have so many characters, groups and likely locations.  Sasha’s only human, and it would be WAY too much of a headache for me to actually have her contemplating more than one aspect of the universe.  Looking into the possibility of angels existing vs. supernatural beings existing (Hand of God) vs. a dangerous/unruly group of killers (Misfits) is just...that’s too much, haha.

I know Zeitgeist is coming out first, but I’m pretty sure the Misfits will be introduced more formally once that game is complete.

Now then, I still want to make the best of Sasha as a brain exercise.  What’s the point of having a character if you can’t develop a personality, history and motivations for them?  Character creation isn’t my forte,  but if I can establish a solid background for her, I think it’ll help have the character stand on their own better.  Even without interacting with any of the other characters.

Possible Backstory for Sasha

This is pretty rough, but here’s what I have so far.  Sasha herself and her life in general was pretty average growing up.  She was taught the usual ideals of: work hard in school, get a job, be nice to others, don’t do drugs, just anything that helps a person be, “a good civilian.”  Don’t worry, it wasn’t a strict military household or anything, just one where the parents wanted their kids to live happy lives, make friends and hopefully be working a job they love when they grow up.  

Now Sasha had one sibling: her older brother.  They were very close and did everything together.  Her brother always seemed “perfect,” to Sasha.  He had a fun personality, he looked out for her, his grades were good, he wasn’t bad at sports, and he was good looking.  Stereotypical golden child, I know.  Just bear with me here for a second.  During these years, Sasha and her brother never opposed anything their parents taught them.

Eventually her brother went off to college away from home.  Sasha was sad, but otherwise fine with this.  She knew they could keep in touch through the phone and internet easily.  So they did, and everything was fine for awhile...but slowly the calls, emails and text conversations would become fewer and fewer.

Eventually a point hit where the communication stopped.  Sasha began to get antsy, but figured when all her attempts at contact failed, she might be bothering him.  Perhaps he was just focusing harder on his studies?

Time passed and suddenly...her brother was back home prior to when he would have been graduating.  Sasha and her parents were very surprised to hear that he had been kicked out.  Of course, they tried to comfort him and assured him that everything would be okay.  He could stay home as long as he wanted until he got back on his feet.  No one’s perfect.

Sasha was actually happy for a few days to have her brother back home, but...he was different.  He wasn’t quite as social as he was before.  In fact, he hardly seemed to want to do anything with his family.  And gentle coaxing from her parents about how things were going during dinner was rebuffed by her brother.

He’d go out frequently, day...and VERY late at night.  Sasha was making sure to keep her own life in order, but she couldn’t help but become curious as to what was going on with her brother.  Sometimes, she’d follow him out secretly.  The people that he was hanging out with now weren’t like his old friends.  There was something unsettling about them.  She became more alarmed when she noticed small red stains on his jacket once when coming home.  The next time he was out, she snuck into his room.  After sometime, she found a plastic bag with some old clothes of his she noticed he’d stopped wearing.  They all had the same red stains on them.  It was blood.

Sasha keeps the discovery a secret from her family, but she starts to watch her brother with eyes like a hawk.  He starts to notice and eventually asks her what’s up one day when they’re alone in the house.  Snapping, she admits to what she found and ask him why he’s acting so strange.  He doesn’t take this well and they get into a massive argument.  After what felt like an eternity, it ends with both feeling physically exhausted from the emotional outburst.  After a few minutes of silence, the brother says he’s needs to head out tonight to finish something up.  Sasha gives him a sad look and asks him quietly, “Come back safe, please.”  He’s a little taken aback by this, but nods and promises he’ll be home in a little while.  He leaves.

Sasha’s brother never returned home that night, or ever again.  [Author’s note:  I have not decided yet, if he’s been flat out murdered, or he’s still alive but just never came back- both change a lot about the story]

This messes up Sasha.  Everyone she knows consoles her and says they’ll be there if she needs them.  On the outside, Sasha keeps up a strong front and continues on with her life.  She knows he’s gone and she doesn’t want other people to worry about her.  Life has to go on anyway.  She wants to keep being a “good civilian” and not fall like...

Sasha was slowly becoming obsessed.  Not simply with what might have happened to her brother like most people thought.  No, instead she became focused on why did her brother change so much?  She started getting curious.  She had a feeling that he was doing some very unlawful...very awful stuff.  She would never have guessed though in her younger years that her brother would even be capable of such things.  She wondered if something bad had happened at school.  Did his confidence get shot?  Did someone influence him?  Was the stuff he started doing now more appealing than being what they had always been taught as children?  That last one in particular settled in a part of her brain uncomfortably.

Obviously, she’d never get the answers now that she wanted from her brother.  She’d have to find another way to get into his head.  Perhaps...figure out people who may be similar to him?

How the heck am I linking this to the Misfits?

Sasha basically sees herself as an average “good civilian,” as I’ve stated before.  The Misfits, she’d view as a group of people that are generally “bad.”  Degenerates you wouldn’t want to associate with or become.  However, after everything that happened with her brother, she’d now view the Misfits with an unhealthy curiosity.  She’d view them with disdain, but is compelled to figure out what makes them tick.  She absolutely refuses to believe her brother was some sort of sociopath or psychopath all along.  She’d never want to place him as the same group of the Misfits, but she thinks that maybe there’s some allure that pulled him into that lifestyle.  She also wonders, “Are these people who were always like this, or became this way overtime?”  Characters of the latter she’d feel would be more useful for understanding her brother.

Now I have two options for why she knows the Misfits exist:

Option 1) She has always lived in the town where the Misfits currently exist, and they’re a recent development after her brother has gone.  Pretty standard.

Option 2) She finds a note with the word crumpled up in one of her brother’s jacket pockets.  It’s not his handwriting, more like a note someone else gave him.  It said the name, “This Misfits” on it as well as “This is where you want to go” and lists a city and state.  That’s it.  This prompts Sasha to MOVE to where the Misfits are.  She doesn’t know anything about them, but wanted to know why her brother was curious.  No, I would NOT be making her brother a Misfit in this case.  More like...it’s possible he was interested in being part of the group.  Possibly.

Please note that this ENTIRE backstory and mindset of Sasha is completely capable of being scrapped.  Why?  I still don’t entirely know what the Misfits are all about.  I need to have at least a decent grasp on the group’s general atmosphere, goals, personality, etc.  Without knowing that, I can’t say this backstory would suffice for Sasha.

If this backstory DOES work, the benefit is that Sasha then clearly has her own issues and a personal goal of closure.  Thus, her not interacting with canon characters at all wouldn’t necessary stunt her as a character.  At least I think so?

Well at the very least, this was kind of fun to write.  It’s a lot, so I had to write it down if I didn’t want to forget it.

If anyone actually decided to read this (this was more for own personal notes), uhhh hope it was fun? XD

Now to continue waiting for the next game.

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 6

Summary: Speedwagon and Jonathan reflect on their time together since their separation in different ways: Speedwagon wondering about Jonathan’s change in behavior and Jonathan trying to work up the nerve to confess his feelings to the oblivious blonde.

Speedwagon yawned and rubbed at his eyes, still a bit groggy from the way his sleeping schedule had been shifted the past few days. He moved to stretch, but found any further movement restricted by the muscular mass that was wrapped comfortably around him. Glancing back over his shoulder to the sleeping giant that was holding him, Speedwagon could not help the fond smile that crossed his face at the sight.

‘For such a large fellow,’ Speedwagon thought as he gazed upon Jonathan’s sleeping face. ‘ ‘e’s awful cute when ‘e’s asleep.’

It was honestly impossible for him not to find Jonathan’s sleeping face adorable. He looked so peaceful, not a care in the world to mar that handsome face with worry lines. Then there was the way his mouth hung open ever so slightly, the tips of his fangs just barely visible under his upper lip. Then there was the part that almost made Speedwagon laugh every time: Jonathan SNORED. Yes, he actually snored when he slept- probably some left over habit from when he was human. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud or anything, but the fact that he still snored despite no longer needing to breathe amused Speedwagon to no end.

Before their separation, as they were referring to the whole incident regarding Speedwagon’s alleged death and Jonathan’s berserker rage, their schedules made it so they were never both asleep at the same time. Besides, Speedwagon had given up the bedroom to Jonathan and often fell asleep on the couch, himself, so they were never that close when they slept before.

Now, though, Jonathan insisted on sleeping with Speedwagon cradled in his cold arms every morning until the sun set in the evening. Speedwagon was a bit embarrassed by it, truthfully, given his feelings towards the larger man, but could not find it in himself to deny Jonathan anything he desired. Besides, Jonathan seemed to need this right now, if the worried and anxious look he got whenever Speedwagon said he was about to go out was anything to go by. Speedwagon could hardly blame the poor man, though, he understood that desperation for contact after going through such a hard loss- he himself had yearned for it when Jonathan came back to him, though he’d forced himself to be content with the passing contact he could get so as not to come off as needy or strange.

Speedwagon certainly wasn’t going to complain about the contact, anyhow. After he got past the initial chill of sleeping next to someone with no body heat that liked to wrap around him like a frozen blanket, it was actually quite nice. He’d always generated an exceptionally high amount of heat himself, after all, so the two balanced each other’s body temperatures perfectly.

On top of it all, being wrapped in Jonathan’s strong embrace every day made him feel..well..special, in all honesty. He knew it was probably just a crazy pipe-dream, but, for those few precious hours they slept together, he could pretend that the two of them were actually lovers entwined in a sweet embrace. He could imagine what it would be like to wake up every day to Jonathan’s smiling face and him planting a gentle kiss to Speedwagon’s lips as he lovingly said-

“Hmh..Morning, Speedwagon..” The groggy voice of the REAL Jonathan Joestar interrupted his daydreams like a splash of cold water.

Speedwagon turned his head to look back at Jonathan with an apologetic smile. “Ah, mornin’, Jojo. Didn’ wake y’ did I?”

Jonathan returned the smile with a sleepy, barely awake one of his own. “Not at all. What time is it, anyway?”

“Let’s see..it’s..” Speedwagon reached out for his pocket watch that was resting on the floor nearby and popped it open to check the time. “Ah, ‘bout 6:00.” He looked back at Jonathan. “Still a bit early for y’, mate. Sure you don’ wanna sleep in a bit more?”

Jonathan shook his head and sat up, bringing Speedwagon up with him gently using his arms which were still wrapped around the blonde’s waist. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you like some breakfast?”

Speedwagon allowed himself to be pulled up into a sitting position and smiled at the other man. “Breakfast sounds like a capital idea, Jojo.” He pat Jonathan’s arms to signal he wanted to be let go. “I’mma go freshen up an’ meet y’ in the kitchen, alright?”

Jonathan seemed hesitant to let him go, as he always seemed to nowadays, but did as was silently asked of him. “Very well, then.”

Speedwagon gave him a quick smile and got up from the bed. Heading out towards the bathroom, Speedwagon stopped along the way to grab one of his suits (one of the ones Jonathan hadn’t pulled off the hangar during the incident) from the hall closet and stepped into the small room to get himself ready for the day- er, well, the night, actually.

As he began his daily grooming rituals- checking for any facial hair to shave, a quick wash, brushing out his hair, etc.- Speedwagon thought about Jonathan’s recent string of odd behavior, recalling a few specific events for reference.

For starters, ever since he came back, Jonathan had been exceptionally clingy…

Speedwagon was used to their sleeping arrangement by now, even if it still flustered him to no end..but..this was new..

“Jonathan..?” He looked over his shoulder at the larger man- said man currently leaning over Speedwagon with his arms crossed around Speedwagon’s chest and his chin propped up on Speedwagon’s shoulder. He was acting like he was reading the newspaper that Speedwagon himself had been reading and was merely doing so over the blonde’s shoulder, but Speedwagon could see through his act- his eyes weren’t actually following any of the words, he was just staring blankly at the page. “Did ya need somethin’, Jojo?”

“Hmh?” Jonathan made a sound of acknowledgement, but did not bother to remove himself from Speedwagon’s vicinity. “Oh, not particularly- I was just curious if there was anything good in the paper today.”

“Ah, I see.” Jonathan was a terrible liar, but Speedwagon didn’t have it in him to call the man out on it. “Did ya wanna read it, then? I’m ‘bout finished.”

“No need. But thank you.” Jonathan just shook his head, the movement inadvertently causing Jonathan’s nose and lips to brush against Speedwagon’s neck. Or..was that perhaps on purpose? No, no, it couldn’t be…

“A-Alright then.” Speedwagon stuttered a bit, praying that Jonathan didn’t notice his rapidly beating heart.

Then there were the times that Jonathan would just stare at him for no apparent reason…

Speedwagon could feel those eyes trained on him. Even from across the room and with his back turned to him, he could feel Jonathan’s eyes staring at him. Part of him wondered if Jonathan was unintentionally doing a weaker version of that eye-beam attack that Dio had used, because he could swear he physically felt the gaze of those eyes creeping over his skin wherever Jonathan looked at him.

‘Maybe it’s ‘cause of my clothes?’ Speedwagon wondered as he ran a brush through his damp locks of long blonde hair. ‘I know they ain’t as nice as the suits, but I hafta wear somethin’ for now.’

He had just finished bathing himself and, no longer having a robe to change into as his only one had been lost with the rest of his luggage during the crash, had changed into a spare pair of pants and a white button-up shirt. After getting changed, he’d walked back out to get a drink while doing his hair and, in doing so, had apparently done something to warrant Jonathan’s intense stare.

(Unfortunately, what Speedwagon failed to notice at the time was that his clothes, due to his own still damp body, were currently clinging to him like a second skin. In addition to that unintentional display, his shirt was getting wetter as he brushed his hair due to the water that was being flicked out of it- making the white garment almost see-through. All of this was treating poor Jonathan to a fantastic, mouth-watering view of Speedwagon’s body that the poor vampire couldn’t help but feast upon with his eyes.)

What unnerved Speedwagon the most was the fact that Jonathan hadn’t even made his presence known- he’d simply stopped in the doorway and begun staring at him without uttering a single word.

(To be fair, Jonathan had been on his way into the kitchen to see what cookware was still salvageable enough to prepare lunch with, but had been caught off guard by the spectacle that was a slightly wet Speedwagon in skin-tight and translucent clothing.)

Deciding to break the awkward silence, Speedwagon turned to say hi to the other occupant of the small room. However, as soon as he started to turn, Jonathan was already gone and Speedwagon heard the replaced door to the bathroom shutting down the hall.

“Huh..guess ‘e wanted a turn in the bath..” Speedwagon mused aloud, jumping to what he thought was the logical conclusion for why Jonathan decided to rush into the bathroom.

Finally, it seemed like Jonathan had something that he wanted to say to Speedwagon, but was unable to…

“Speedwagon..” Jonathan said softly, almost hesitantly as he looked at Speedwagon with something in his eyes that Speedwagon couldn’t quite read. “I..that is..” He bit at his lip, one of his fangs worrying the skin there. For a moment Speedwagon was worried he’d bite through it again (as he had quite a few times already), but he seemed to catch onto his nervous habit this time and stopped himself before the flesh was pierced.

Speedwagon looked up at Jonathan from his seat on the mattress, the taller man standing in the doorway of their shared bedroom. “Wha’ is it, Jojo?” He had just finished changing into his pajamas for the morning and was seated on the bed, preparing to go to sleep. All he was waiting for was Jonathan- he knew the other would be curled around him in no time, he was just waiting so they could get into their now-usual sleeping positions. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

Jonathan looked down, as if he was trying to think of what he wanted to say, but was apparently defeated by his own inarticulateness. With a resigned frown, he closed the replaced door and approached the mattress. “It…It’s nothing…my apologies…” He got into bed behind Speedwagon and slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist, holding Speedwagon almost protectively against his chest and curling around him as per usual. “Pleasant dreams, Speedwagon.”

Speedwagon pulled the blanket up around both of them and relaxed back into Jonathan’s embrace. “You as well, Jojo.” He closed his eyes and slowly allowed his breathing to even out and his heart rate to slow, giving himself the semblance of sleep. It was a trick he’d used often during his street thug days to trick opponents into thinking he was unconscious. Looks like it still had a practical use here…

He didn’t have to pretend for long before he felt one of Jonathan’s large hands leave his waist in favor of delicately running his fingers through the long golden strands of Speedwagon’s hair with a quiet sigh. “Why can I not simply say what I wish?” His voice was quiet, barely audible over Speedwagon’s own breathing, but he was listening closely so as not to miss a word. “Nothing will change if I remain silent. I know this and yet..” He sighed again. “And yet I fear what will become of us if I speak my thoughts out loud.” He buried his face into the back of Speedwagon’s head and muttered to himself, his arm sliding back to its previous location around the man’s waist. “How could you ever care for such a coward…?” He gave one more sigh before going quiet, apparently deciding to chase his own slumber.

That last incident actually happened this morning when they fell asleep, Jonathan’s words still fresh in his mind.

What did Jonathan mean by all of that? What did he have to say that frightened him in such a way? What was he afraid would happen between the two of them?

Speedwagon ran through a list of possible scenarios in his head of what it could be.

Had he decided to move out on his own because he was worried about hurting Speedwagon if he lost control again? Speedwagon certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. He really liked living with Jonathan…

Was he growing tired of living as a vampire or thought himself a danger to others again? If that was the case, Speedwagon would have to remind him of their first conversation on the topic to dispel any incorrect assumptions Jonathan drew about himself…

Maybe he’d decided he was ready to face Erina and George?

That thought...actually gave him reason to pause and consider how he felt on the matter…

On the one hand, he himself had been encouraging Jonathan to go speak with Erina for years now, so he’d be getting what he verbally asked for. It was what Jonathan deserved, after all- a good life with a loving, doting wife and a sweet and adorable son.

On the other hand, though, he would still miss living together with Jonathan. Sure, he was planning to move to America soon, anyway, in order to be closer to Erina and George and to have easier access to his new fortune..but…it just wouldn’t be quite the same. He would still miss having Jonathan waiting at home for him every evening and falling asleep with him nearby in the morning.

Finishing his last few tasks with a sigh, Speedwagon looked at himself in the mirror, forcing a smile onto his face that didn’t quite meet his eyes yet. “C’mon, Robert- stiff upper lip. It’s Jonathan’s life, ‘e deserves to live it ‘owever ‘e sees fit. Just..do whatcha’ve always done: Be there for ‘im.” He gave his reflection a firm nod to cement the words in his mind before putting on his metaphorical mask- the bright smile and upbeat attitude that hid how badly he secretly wanted Jonathan’s affections for himself- and walked out to the kitchen to face whatever would come of the days ahead.

Jonathan bit at his lip for what had to be the hundredth time within the past two days. He was getting better at not piercing the tender flesh with his fangs anymore, but he just couldn’t shake the habit when he got worked up like this.

‘Come on, Jonathan, stop being a coward and just SAY IT.’ He mentally berated himself as he prepared what little he could for breakfast (namely, some tea, left over bread, and some apples). ‘You’ve already made up your mind to do it, so all that’s left is to simply put those thoughts into action!’

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. It seemed that lately he’d only been able to run away and make a fool of himself.

He’d tried several times to initiate physical contact to segue into the subject, but he’d get so lost in the sensation that he’d lose his train of thought, as he had once when Speedwagon was reading and he’d wrapped his arms around him from behind only to be distracted by the softness of those blond locks and his comforting scent…

Then, when he’d tried to just come out and say it, as he had that morning before bed, he would lose his nerve when he had to meet Speedwagon’s earnest, curious gaze…

Worst of all was when he would try to speak but get distracted by the mere act of looking at the other’s handsome figure; an incident in the kitchen involving Speedwagon in damp, semi-translucent clothing came to mind, Jonathan’s face feeling hotter both from the memory of those taut muscles on display as well as the embarrassment and shame he’d felt at having to run into the bathroom to relieve himself of his sudden “discomfort” (god, he hadn’t been struck that badly since he was a teenager!)…

Sighing in mild annoyance at himself, Jonathan finished the modest breakfast and set the plate and mug aside. “I suppose I’ll have to put myself in a situation where I cannot run away.”

“What was that, Jojo?” He heard Speedwagon ask as he stepped into the kitchen. Damn, Jonathan must have been too lost in thought to hear him approaching.

He turned to Speedwagon with a smile, secretly hoping that it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Oh, nothing. I was merely thinking aloud.”

“Ah, alrigh’ then.” Speedwagon took the mug that Jonathan offered him and sipped it. “Thanks.” He hid it well, but Jonathan noticed the subtle tension in Speedwagon’s neck as he swallowed. The lukewarm tea must taste dreadful.

“Sorry.” Jonathan apologized, looking just as guilty as he felt when his eyes glanced at the hole in the wall the stove had been tossed through during his fit of blind rage. “I wish I had a way to warm it up for you.” He groaned at the sight of the mangled stove in the other room and brought a hand to his face to hold his head. “I still can’t believe I did that…”

Speedwagon offered him his usual smile, the one that made Jonathan’s heart swell with warmth and affection. “Nah, it’s fine, mate. Trust me, I’ve ‘ad A LOT worse t’ drink in my time.” He shuddered slightly and stuck his tongue out briefly. “ ‘member one time when I was ‘bout ten- I got so thirsty that I stood out in a rain storm with me tongue out to catch a few drops. Was all fine an’ dandy ‘til a carriage drove by and I got a big ol’ mouthful o’ street swill. Never did that again.” He finished his story with a chuckle, sipping the tea again. “Compared t’ that, this tastes like ‘eaven.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle a little himself at the story. “Well, it’s good to know the few things that I am able to craft will still be far from the bottom of your tase-list.”

The two shared a laugh at that, the air between them light and pleasant again, despite the sad reminder to Jonathan about the hardships that Speedwagon endured on the streets of England growing up. Speedwagon didn’t bring up those days often, but somehow, when he did, he never seemed bitter about what he went through. He always treated those experiences as pleasant memories or learning experiences or a comparison for how things could always be worse than they currently were.

Jonathan supposed those things were part of what shaped Speedwagon into the brave and intelligent man he was now, but it still hurt him to know how much the other had missed out on as a child.

Looking back on his own life, it made Jonathan realize how much he’d taken for granted coming from a rich family: Presents for Christmas and his birthday, many of which he’d only played with once and then forgotten about accidentally. Plenty of delicious food, some of which he was sad to say ended up being thrown away when he couldn’t finish his plates. A warm home and a roof over his head, something he ignored in favor of playing in the rain simply because he viewed it as a luxury rather than a dangerous weather condition that some people were forced to endure. Nice clothes of high quality and comfort, a good portion of which he hardly ever wore in lieu of sticking with a few favorites.

Jonathan had certainly tried not to be an ungrateful brat as many kids of his age and social status were, but it seemed that he still ended up not realizing how good his life back then truly was until he’d lost everything and been forced to take a good, hard look at how difficult it actually was to earn, save, and portion out money in such a way, rather than having a vast amount simply handed to you because of your familial legacy.

There were certainly some times when he still wished he had access to his family’s fortune. But, it was never for himself that he wanted that money back: it was always for Speedwagon’s sake.

Whenever the cupboards started to become bare, he wished he had a few quid so he could simply fill them with all of the other man’s favorite treats and see him smile. Whenever he stitched a busted hem or tear in one of Speedwagon’s suits, he’d think about how nice it would be to take the man clothes shopping and spoil him with a new wardrobe just to see the way his face would light up from the new outfits he’d be able to wear. Whenever he was given a thoughtful present, such as an archaeology book or a new cloak to allow him to venture out at night without being recognized, he’d instantly regret not being able to give Speedwagon a present in return, his mind racing with ideas for what he wished to give such a wonderful man. Whenever he heard Speedwagon stretch and loudly pop several of his joints after sleeping on the couch (or even on the bed, as of late), he’d get the urge to go out and buy some brand new, much more comfortable furniture that could give Speedwagon a comfortable night’s (or day’s) sleep and allow Jonathan to see that content smile on his face as he slept…

Indeed, there were many ways he wished he could spoil the other man as thanks for everything he’d done for Jonathan over the years. Still, even with the few regrets he had about not being able to give Speedwagon everything he desired, he did not miss it all that much. Truly, the feeling of completion he received simply from being by Speedwagon’s side every day, that was worth more to him than any fortune. Besides, it seems that fate was finally dealing Speedwagon a much better hand in life now, perhaps in reward for all the brave man had done to assist Jonathan in saving the world from Dio and the curse of the stone mask.

“Oi, Jonathan?” Speedwagon’s voice drew him back to the here-and-now.

Jonathan blinked, realizing with growing embarrassment that he had unintentionally been gazing at Speedwagon as the man ate his breakfast. “Y-Yes, Speedwagon?” He silently cursed himself for that stutter.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ for a while now.” He finished one of the apple slices Jonathan had prepared for him before continuing his train of thought. “I think..I’m gonna move t’ America.”

Jonathan blinked in surprise at the news. “Really? Any particular reason why, if I may ask?”

Speedwagon shrugged. “Jus’ somethin’ I’d been toyin’ with for a long time. It gets pretty expensive travelin’ back and forth every time I go t’ visit Erina an’ George. Not t’ mention ‘ow long it takes and the, um..risk..associated with it…”

Jonathan frowned a little at the phrasing of that last part, knowing that Speedwagon was not-so-subtly referring to “the incident” when he said that. “I can..certainly see the logic in that decision, yes.”

“Besides,” Speedwagon continued, trying to shift away from that uncomfortable topic. “the timing just feels right now, y’know? I’ve got the money from discoverin’ that oil waitin’ for me back in America, an’ it’s not like I’ve got much t’ leave behind ‘ere in terms o’ possessions an’ what not, so it’d be easy t’ pack up an’ move.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, the logic was certainly sound. “Very true. At that point, the only things you’d be leaving behind would be people.”

Speedwagon chuckled a bit and waved the thought away. “Ha! Hardly. I’m sure if Tatty an’ Kempo ‘ear I’m leavin’ they’ll be on the next boat out after me.” He took a bite out of one of the stale slices of bread, speaking around his mouthful. “And you’d already be comin’ with me, so-” He seemed to realize at the last minute what he was saying and quickly swallowed the bread, looking up at Jonathan with wide eyes and holding his hands up in a worried gesture. “Th-That is, if y’ WANTED t’ come with me! You’re more than welcome t’ stay ‘ere if y’ want, I know it’d be a big change to pack up an’ move like that, but-!”

“Speedwagon.” Jonathan interrupted the panicked man’s rambling with a gentle smile and a hand cupping his jaw, his thumb brushing tenderly along the scar on that handsome face. “I will go wherever you go. I said it before- I will not leave you again.”

He gazed into those wide brown eyes, getting lost in their depths for a while and simply enjoying the fact that he COULD still look into them. Nearly losing him once was terrifying, he would not leave Speedwagon’s side again for as long as they both lived. If that decision meant leaving the country he’d called home for so long, then so be it. Wherever Speedwagon was- that would be his home.

He felt Speedwagon’s pulse jump beneath his fingers suddenly, along with a surge of hot blood moving beneath his skin to gather in his cheeks and along his ears. “J-Jojo? What..um, what are you..?”

“Hm?” Jonathan blinked, suddenly realizing that he’d come much closer to those eyes he’d been gazing into than he’d intended.

Before he had been standing within arm’s reach of Speedwagon, but was still at a comfortable distance, giving the man plenty of space to lean against the kitchen counter (the table was unsalvageable) as he ate his breakfast. Now, though, he was practically looming over the shorter man, their faces mere inches apart and Jonathan’s other hand had somehow slid around Speedwagon’s waist without his knowledge. They were so close right now..if Jonathan just leaned in a bit more, he could easily kiss those warm lips..easily hold Speedwagon close and kiss him for all he was worth..he could-

“Jonathan?” Speedwagon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts once more and Jonathan saw the concerned look mixed with the flush across the other’s cheeks.

Jonathan quickly let go of him and forced himself to pull away- if he stayed any longer, he feared what he might do. “My-My apologies, Speedwagon. I was..unaware of my actions..”

Speedwagon glanced away, nervously running a hand through his hair. “It’s, uh, quite alright, Jonathan. Jus’ didn’ really know wha’ t’ expect from that. Usually y’ only grab me like that when you’re ‘bout t’ feed.” He glanced back up at Jonathan curiously. “Are you, y’know..?”

Jonathan shook his head, feeling more embarrassed now. “No, no, I’m fine, thank you.” He was certainly hungry for something, but it wasn’t blood, he knew that much. “I’m afraid I was distracted by my own thoughts.”

“You’ve been doin’ that a lot lately.” Speedwagon commented with that same concerned look from earlier. “Somethin’ on your mind, Jonathan? Y’ know y’ don’ ‘ave t’ tell me if y’ don’ wanna. I’m jus..worried, ‘s all.”

Jonathan felt more than a little guilty for that. He hated making Speedwagon worry about him, but it seemed to be all he did sometimes. “I know you are, and I’m terribly sorry for it.” He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. “Actually, there is something that has been on my mind for quite some time now..but..I was unsure of how to broach the subject..”

Speedwagon looked up at him with an expression that clearly said “go on” as he nodded. “Wha’ is it, Jonathan?”

Jonathan looked back down into those lovely eyes again and felt his earlier courage beginning to slip away. Damn it all! He could still feel the urge to run from the conversation. Knowing that he even had the option to withdraw from this topic and talk about something else was making him rethink his words. What he needed was a place and a situation he could not run from. A different setting where- oh! That’s it!

“Actually…” Jonathan swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I want to discuss it with you later tonight. In the park. Around..” He thought quickly about how long it would take him to get everything ready with it currently being about 7:00 in the evening. “Let’s say midnight. If it’s not too much trouble, I hope?”

Speedwagon shook his head, still looking confused but agreeing to Jonathan’s terms. “Course not, Jojo. But, why the park?”

“I’m afraid you shall have to wait and see.” Jonathan answered vaguely with a smile. “Now, I have a few things to prepare.” He turned to leave the kitchen, grabbing one of his cloaks from the hall closet. “I shall see you there!” He called as he also retrieved a change of clothes for himself and left through the front door after pulling on his cloak and covering his face.

Jonathan walked briskly through the slowly emptying streets, making a mental list of everything he would need for tonight to go smoothly. There was much to do in a short amount of time, but he felt he HAD to do it. He would likely need to employ the help of Tattoo and Kempo Master to acquire a few things, but they were usually more than willing to provide assistance.

‘I can do this.’ Jonathan thought resolutely as he headed towards his first destination. ‘No, I WILL do this!’

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

-From the Beginning-

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Ideally, a customer request is going to be solved the very first time round.  Segmenting your emails will say that.  Compare how you describe yourself to the way that your customer describes you.

By Bast - Chapter One (Erik x reader)

so I tried my best to make a self-imposed deadline. Hopefully this is good!

** also in order for this to make sense, please read the prologue* 

“For Bast’s sake, why are you guys so loud?!” Amina hissed loudly, all but drowned out by the music booming out of the overhead speakers almost directly above your table. You noticed out of the corner of your eye a couple turning to give you a dirty look and grimaced, raising your glass to your lips. Across from you, your other two girlfriends paused their raucous laughter for a split second before breaking out into more giggles.

“Please madam, can we not laugh?” Kali said, pushing back her long Senegalese twists, fallen to her face in all her excitement.

“What’s funny?” Amina pressed on your behalf. You personally were unbothered, but Amina, now recently being accepted as a late term Dora Milaje, was a lot more serious about keeping the going-ons of the palace under wraps. You, however, were content to let them talk as much as they wanted, and your friends usually did just that.

“Well…” Kali began, rolling her eyes.

“It’s just that after all the years of Ms. Scientific Revolution here yelling ‘ritual is antithetical to progress’, ‘ritual makes us slaves to habit’, or ‘ritual is overvalued in our culture’, now she’s in the temple bowing like she met her god personally.” Asha chimed in, her deep alcohol-induced blush apparent on her face, pale from albinism. She threw back the rest of her cup, and as she met eyes with Kali again, both immediately both burst out laughing.

You sighed, and Amina, seated by your side, frowned at the two but eased back into her seat, crossing her hands over her chest. She watched your expression with a sympathetic look. You raised an eyebrow back at her, wondering what she was so concerned about.

“What?”

“Did something happen?” she asked.

You shook your head no, but internally acknowledged that something truly had stirred inside you over the months since that night. Although your daily routines were the same, you now found yourself staring too long into the faces of strangers, and praying every night to a goddess you were sure for years never existed for an explanation. You even found yourself now enjoying the weekday mornings you spent tending the Herb Garden with your adoptive father, and had started to spend half-hours meditating in the spiritual compound on the weekends.

Working in the garden was initially a chore you loathed growing up, even more so than the one-on-one spirituality and divination classes Papa Zuri had put you through every weekday. You had all but escaped a true apprenticeship thanks to King T’Chaka, who found that you were better suited for the department of science and technology division, as it was before Shuri revamped it. (Later on, you had found out per Asha that part of the reason you were removed from some of the temple duties was because some of the older medicine women had begun to complain about your irreverence and thought you’d eventually set off some catastrophe if the gods got angry.)

Unfortunately for your adoptive father, the side effect of the dual appointment was your insistence on lobbying him for less discretionary use of the Herb. What he insisted was sacred, you insisted was simply mutated and could be mass produced for common use the same way vibranium was.

Now that you were pretty sure you had been visited by Bast, the Heart-Shaped Herb was no longer simply as a symbol of how the monarchy monopolized an organic resource that could be shared with many. You wanted to know what kings truly saw when they ingested it, and if it felt like anything in your own dream, apparition, whatever you called it.

Kali scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That’s what she says every time. Oh, definitely nothing happened, but all of a sudden, she’s respecting our religion.”

Amina gave her a dirty look, and Kali retorted with a cheeky grin, but her eyes revealed a faint nervous glimmer. Amina was at least six feet tall, with a large, muscular frame, and she looked intimidating with her originally full head of back length freeform locs now freshly shaven and ceremonially tattooed along the sides of her skull. Kali’s 5’1 waifish figure didn’t stand a chance if it truly came to blows.

"Are you really going to start taking the priestess work seriously?” Amina asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity, deciding to disregard Kali’s comment, which overheard could have actually had some serious implications. Religion and spirituality were paramount to most, if not all, of the townspeople, especially considering all the blessings Wakanda had presumably received from Bast. You had too often been protected by the fact that your father was the high priest, such that no one actually believed the rumors that his daughter was everything short of sacrilegious.

That, in addition to having immigrated from the outside, was a recipe for disaster.

You shrugged. “It’s probably too late to become a priestess, but I can at least take the time to learn the rituals for real. Who knows, maybe I could do the one for Prince T’Challa’s coronation.” This last part you shared without looking up, instead focusing on the ice cubes swirling in your glass as you shook it. You knew Amina, who was particularly smitten by the prince, would take the comment as a humble brag no matter how it was intended.

It would likely be a long time until the next ritual combat for king would begin, but the preparation could be good learning.

Amina’s eyes widened in surprise at your response, and clapped her hands together in shock.

“See how she disrespects us!” Kali snorted. “Maybe she’ll crown Prince T’Challa.”

She jumped to her feet, and grabbed Asha by the arm, who had long since tuned out the conversation and by the look of it was busy undressing several men in the club with her eyes. “I beg, let’s go dance. My song is playing and these men in here are… how you say, fiiiiiiiine!”

Mad over You by RunTown was now coming through the speakers, and Kali and Asha went whining off into the crowd. Amina tapped your arm, and when she saw you weren’t about to go anywhere, smiled with understanding and ran off with the other two. You would join them in a few; it was the last night Amina would be able to move freely outside the palace anyway. The second they had disappeared into the crowd you locked eyes with a handsome stranger across the room who flashed a flirty half-smile at you. You smiled back politely and lowered your eyes, but as soon as you realized he was making his way over, Nope went your social anxiety and you threw back the last of your drink before making your escape to the restroom.

A haze was slowly starting to form in your mind as you sat in the bathroom stall, waiting out who-knows-what, until you caught the flash of your communication bead from the corner of your eye. It was a message from Shuri. You opened it.

My father is dead.

 ___

In less than a week, all mourning rites had come to a close and Prince T’Challa had become King T’Challa in a triumphant show of power over the Jabari tribe. You were amazed at how intensely your entire country could grieve and turn around to form the explosion of vibrant joy that was Challenge Day. But then again, your Wakanda was magical and blessed, and the whole country knew it.

Today, you were escorted into the throne room by one of the King’s guard and presented before your new crowned king.  Shuddering as the entryway panels shut loudly behind you, you immediately bowed your head deeply to greet him before being walked closer to the throne. Amina, head now fully shaven showing her full induction into the Adored Ones, stood out proudly from the line of guards posted along the walls of the throne room, and shot you an excited look, eyes twinkling. Unfortunately, the general, Okoye, noticed her lose focus and shot her a disparaging look. Amina quickly faced forward with renewed stern expression. She wears that warrior face well, you thought to yourself.

You looked away from the guard and faced T’Challa, who regarded you warmly. The throne appeared to suit him naturally, fit him like a glove. Yet it was no true surprise as by your recollection, he had been regal from the very first day you met him as a child.

“Come on, you have known me for too long to be doing all of those formalities.” He said, chuckling softly, motioning almost embarrassedly for you to stand up properly as he walked closer to you. He seemed to tower above you more than usual, and you wondered if he had grown taller since the last time he had seen you or if his new title had encouraged him to stand a little more confidently.

“That’s probably true, my King. But customs are customs, right?” You responded, smiling.

“Ah, stop with the King nonsense, Nkiru.” His hand rested softly now on your shoulder, and you found your face growing hot in embarrassment. Not here, not in front of Amina, you thought.

“Would you rather I have your guard destroy me for showing disrespect?” you quipped back with a sassy grin, eyeing Okoye whose lips betrayed a small smirk. You made a dramatic show of raising your hands in surrender, but mostly to shrug his hand off you, and he sighed, amused but exasperated.

You weren’t being facetious, this truly was more comfortable for you. The fact of the matter was that for some unknown reason, you had always felt some emotional distance from him. T’Challa was always Shuri’s older brother to you, and regardless of how aware you were that he was handsome, intelligent and sweet, you had been relatively immune to whatever unconscious charm he had on most girls in his vicinity. Sometimes you suspected that T’Challa realized this and would put the charisma on overdrive. Most likely he just enjoyed being the most eligible bachelor in Wakanda.

Too bad for him that most everyone in the capital knew how he felt about Nakia, princess of River tribe, who had come back from a posting as a War Dog to witness his coronation. You had even overheard a few girls in coffeeshops lamenting his relationship and hoping he had a long-lost brother or cousin or anyone else they could set their affections on.

There was a pause, and for a moment you began to worry about the true reason you had been called so formally. Then you remembered a rumor circulating the gardeners regarding T’Challa storming out of the spiritual compound after talking to Zuri a couple days ago. If this had anything to do with that you knew nothing, and hoped to continue being ignorant.

T’Challa suddenly broke the silence, clearing his throat softly.

“I just wanted to formally thank you for taking care of Shuri that night,” he began. “When…,” he paused for a moment, knowing the next words would be painful. “When my father died, I wasn’t able to be there for her and my mother, and I appreciated knowing that you would be there as her friend to console her.” He smiled again, with the slightest twinge of sadness this time.

“It was my pleasure, Kun-, I mean T’Challa,” you replied. He looked almost relieved that you’d stopped calling him king. Satisfied, he placed his hands behind his back and walked whimsically back to his seat. “I will add that I was pleased to see you at the ritual, even partaking in it.” He chuckled, settling back into his throne. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up from the ancestral plane to see you among those watching me.”

You cocked your head to the side in confusion.

“I’m just saying it was nice, that’s all.” He mused. Okoye now walked up beside you, and declared to the king that there would be an impromptu strategic meeting in a few moments. With that, you prepared to bow out quietly. However, just as you began to make your way towards the exit, a parade of elders seemed to spill into the room, almost spinning you a full 360 as their attendants rushed in and lined the walls.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Nakia’s father, the River tribe elder, exclaimed as he entered the room. Flamboyant as he was, his attendants quickly rushed to place a chair beneath him and he eased into it without looking back, crossing his legs as he sat down. “I will have you know that I, too, have plans and cannot be rushed in to talk about any foolish man that wanders onto our territory.”

T’Challa’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing, allowing the growing commotion to build.

The Merchant tribe elder sucked her teeth as she was accompanied into the room by her own attendants, hands behind her back. The Queen Mother and Shuri came in together, muttering quietly under their breath.

As quickly as the rest of the elders entered the room and were seated, their attendants scurried out of the room. Whatever was going on was serious and private, you guessed. A fan of minding your own business, you attempted the same…

Until you heard the voice again, and your heart skipped a beat as a wave of panic crashed over you.

Stay a little longer.

Your legs were frozen in place before the door, but your interior felt like fire and flames and thunder. Something big was about to happen. The grumble and brouhaha of the assembly had quieted into a low hush and you could feel eyes on you as your back as you, the intruder, stood motionless before the doors to the assembly. But no one said a word. And if they did, you paid them no mind.

You soon could hear a multitude of footsteps on the other side of the entryway, mirroring your own fast heartbeat. You held your breath.

The doors slid open, and you saw him, the literal man of your dreams, in the flesh for the first time. As you matched this new stranger’s features to your recollection, time might as well have stood still. You felt the same cool wind without a source from so long ago blow past you, and then a new wash of that eerie calm. Your heartbeat stabilized, your breathing slowed, your muscles relaxed.

The stranger’s arms were shackled behind him, but those handcuffs may as well have been a fashion accessory. He held his head high, walking with a confident swagger into T’Challa’s presence as if he were giving the Border tribesmen a tour of his very own home. His eyes quickly surveyed the room around you, taking it in and then rested on you.

He gave you the same quizzical look you’d seen before. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was replaced by a smirk.

“You cute and all, but uh, you gon move out of the way so I can talk to ya King?” he said, voice low, smooth and flat with disinterest.

Like an incantation, your legs seem to unstick from the center of the room, and you ran out of the throne, overcome with a feeling between offense and minor humiliation, to let him do his damage.

Bast would have to help you out with this one.

@syndrlla97 @iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger

[Prologue][Chapter Two][Chapter Three][Chapter Four][Chapter Five][Chapter Six][Chapter Seven][Chapter Eight]

Connections (reylo drabbles)

Despite that the majority of people on the Millenium Falcon were sleeping, Rey could not. She was spread across the floor, along with the rest of the remaining Resistance fighters. They had gone through so much trouble just within the same day, and the least they could get was a decent amount of sleep. Yet, Rey wasn’t tired at all. She felt restless and curious, and still without many answers. Luke would have told her to get her head out of the clouds, and just the thought of it made her crack a smile. Then, her smile vanished.

Kylo Ren kept on returning to her mind when she was trying so hard to delete him from there. Rey was wary of ever receiving any connection with him, and so desperately wanted to prevent it. She couldn’t let herself be dragged into his own problems again and let her suffer in the process. Her mind wandered to the memory of standing in the elevator together. His face was so calm and looked like a child, inches away from hers. In fact, many or all of the times that they had been alone together within recent days, he looked the opposite of hostile. Then, of course, that had changed. Rey did not know why she was upset by this, but she was more disappointed in him. She could see the glimmer of light within Ben, but he threw it away. He seemed like a different person entirely. Kylo Ren.

Rey flashed her eyes open, sensing something. She did not sit up because she did not want to wake up or disturb the surrounding people in slumber, so she glanced around her vicinity. Looking to her right, she felt her dimly lit, yet warm surroundings shift to grim, metallic coldness, and there he was; sitting in a throne. It was probably Snoke’s.

His lonely eyes were searing into her own, but Rey did not look away. Instead, she chose to stay silent and let her attitude speak for itself. If she could deactivate this bond, she would, but it was more automatic than manual to her dismay.

What? is what she wanted to say.

“I see that you have no mentor left,” he stated almost smugly.

Rey didn’t want to be reminded of this. She turned her head away from him and looked at the ceiling.

Kylo got to his feet and strolled around the area. “You do realize that you can’t get rid of me, right?”

Yes, she admitted to herself--she’d never give him the satisfaction of having him hear it.

Kylo walked over to Rey and knelt beside her. “It could’ve been so much easier, Rey. I don’t know why you-”

He stopped himself before he would lash out. Rey still didn’t face him. Kylo gazed at her bitter expression, and his furrowed brows softened. He took a deep breath and removed one of his gloves. Rey could hear the noise of it, and grew a little anxious, and remembered that her hand was rested right beside her. She should have placed her hand somewhere else, but simply did not want to.

Kylo gently set his hand on Rey’s, and they both felt that spark that was reminiscent of the first time that this had happened. His fingers lightly brushed across her hand that did not move at all. She felt her face redden.

Kylo sighed. “I imagine you want to kill me.”

Rey didn’t know the answer herself.

“You know that you should have never believed in me. I don’t know why you did in the first place.”

Rey thought back to how much she wanted to resolve his inner turmoil, but wanting it wasn’t enough. A hot tear ran down her cheek.

Kylo saw this and partially regretted his words. “I’m s-... I’m surprised you never lost faith in me. I think you might be the last unfortunate person to believe in me. Or might have been.”

Although Rey was still very upset and unwilling to give attention, she appreciated his gesture, no matter how cold he presented it. And especially the warm gesture. It was comforting in some way… seeing all of the possibilities that may occur in the future. Their future. It wasn’t pain or despair or loneliness. It was joy, trust, contentment. Rey ached for it, and she knew that he did, too. Maybe that’s what they had in common.

Through all this time, his bare hand was on Rey’s, and neither of them protested. It intimidated them both. A few moments later, Rey found herself lacing her fingers with Kylo’s, her hand shuddering, but she felt certain of this. It felt right to her. The silence between them was deafening. The only thing they could hear were the slowed breaths of one another.

Kylo’s eyebrows raised and he glanced back at Rey, now staring at him with empathy. It was like a plea. Asking him why things were unfolding the way they were. Kylo slightly wondered the same thing. Before Kylo could confess something that was on his mind for some time, the door to Kylo’s throne room slid open and Hux waltzed in. He was dumbfounded to find the Jedi scavenger and Supreme Leader Ren holding hands, but believed to be daft. He had been force choked and injured in any other way many times by Ren recently, so maybe he was finally getting hallucinations like he had expected.

Both Rey and Kylo were in shock, and Kylo immediately let go of their hold and stood again. Rey disappeared from view. Hux rubbed his eyes, finally believing to have gone crazy.

Kylo put his hands behind his back, trying to hide his exposed hand. “Yes, General?”

Hux was thrown off for a bit by that event, but his train of thought returned after a few seconds, then began talking to Kylo Ren about plans to eliminate the Resistance with no delay.

Rey was now very sure that she wouldn’t sleep that night. It felt too quiet now. It did before, but this was a more lonely quiet, despite there being many people around her at that moment. There was something about Ben that separated him from everyone else that she had met. He wasn’t an enemy, but she didn’t trust him in the slightest. He really was the only person that understood Rey, and could relate to her struggles. And somehow, she understood him.

She closed her eyes again. How would she be able to kill him? She knew that they were always going to be pitted toward each other, but this time, it may be for the worse. Kylo certainly had no trouble hating her. Stop thinking of this, Rey chastised herself. After all, they seemed better as enemies, but that could change. Anything could happen at this point. The only thing that could comfort her was the warmness on her hand that was left behind by his soft touch. Whatever was to happen, Rey knew for a fact that it was to happen between her and Ben.

Son Sourrire d’Or

General Information :

Title : Son Sourrire d’Or

Pairing : America / England ( UsUk )

Rating : SFW-T

Genre : Romance / Comfort

Status : In Progress / Complete

Summary : Swapped / Human AU. When everything’s supposed to heed to winter’s frozen whims- Apparently all it takes, is a sweet drop of love to usher in the warm spring of their feelings.

Author’s Note : This is supposed to be just a small drabble like its successors, but it became long and voila! We have a fanfic! Okay, apparently you can see that this is about Christmas- I have two explanations. One, I completely forgot I stored this in my drafts. I was going to post it during the holidays, but it got out of my mind :’) Second, I just wanted to write some generic, fluffy UsUk; I was in the mood, okay XD. French title? I was feeling like it! Adds to the classiness- ( LOL XD even though Francis doesn’t even concern here ) Anyways, hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

"C'mon now, Alfie! I haven't really seen you smile in such a long time!" 

Long time. Really, what to expect of Arthur, a master of hyperbole. Said long time could've just been.. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks; it goes on and on. 

Inside a quaint fireplace condoned of brick, the absolute crackling of flames was evident. Though generous, as it was intercepting its brightness and warmth, raging on outside was the sultry chill of the winter night that proved itself relentless, snow and sleet and frozen liquid raged outside the glass panes covered in frost and ice. A reminder of the harsh beauty of nature's complexities. Her qualities which often stands in the line of juxtaposition, as if it were something short of a sentient, personified being of bipolar proportions. Today was not even the harshest, as said by the weather forecaster earlier in the morning's news.

Arthur was met with a long pause. The sound of silence filled the room, except for the noises that was evoked outside, due to the merciless climate that enveloped the area in its whim. It's almost deafening, especially to Arthur- who himself, can't really stand quiet that much. "Hey, Alfie, I'd really love it if you'd smile.. even for me? I bet you look really stunning with it!" Said Arthur, exclaiming that last sentence with a higher degree of enthusiasm that he can muster, albeit it was calmer than his usual outbursts. 

Alfred, however, wasn't phased. He was seated in a different position, thus giving his back a full, frontal view of Arthur. An air of stiff nonchalance began to infuse within this atmosphere, within the radii of the both of them. 

And it was enough to dissipate Arthur's once cheerful mood. The silent chill was enough.. This wasn't even part of Arthur's aesthetic, at all. His features lost vigor, his composure began to slow down and his emotions, was at the brink of refrigeration. All of this happened, as he hung his head down in utter disappointment. "Alfred.. I'm not kidding. I really wanna see your smile, even only a little while.. You just seem kinda grumpy all the time, and.. I can't help but feel that you're not happy." This is where Arthur gets a bit sentimental. A wave of saddening guilt and unusual despair washes over him, and it was enough for him to twist his usual bright smile into a gloomy frown, "You're grumpy most of the time.. and we're together most of the time. Does that mean.. that you don't want to be around me? Do I really irritate you like that? Is there something wrong with me..? I-I don't-" As he recited the perilous thoughts that conjured in his mind, he brought his knees closer to his chest, his eyes glinted with the reddish light, due to the tears that were now present in his eyes, waiting to burst forth in freedom. He's usually nonchalant about things, but it seems this specific one managed to pique his interest, and catch his attention in detail. 

What he didn't notice, though, was that Alfred was now facing him, a bit closer in distance than before. The gears inside Alfred's mind began to turn in realization, and he mentally sighed, preparing himself for the endeavor that he was about to take. 

"-If it's my eyebrows, or my loud voice, or my brash attitude.. I- I'm willing to improve something-! Heck, maybe even everything about me! I can try.. And be more like you.. Be a decent person..  Be more quieter.. Be perfe-" Arthur felt a hand grasp his chin, and started to guide it upwards in a slow manner. 

And there, as his eyes fixated on the change of view, he found himself looking at Alfred... An Alfred, who was smiling ever so sweetly back at Arthur. At that moment, he swore he felt his heart flutter with reinvigorating energy inside his rib-cage. He felt his cheeks heat up in a frenzy. He felt the dopamine rushing through his bloodstream in that very moment. Arthur stared into his eyes, as Alfred did so willing reciprocated. The American found himself entranced by the Brit's captivating smile. Stunning was an understatement. Alfred was a really gorgeous man, and his smile was the icing of the cake. He pondered about it so much, not realizing that they started gravitating towards each other, while staring at the other with piercing emotion. 

Until a final tug sealed the distance between them, and their lips crashed, with Arthur felt Alfred's soft lips making contact with his own. The moment felt so magical for them both, like the imaginary pulses- Little jolts of electricity that seemed to travel on both their bodies, using their connected lips as a conductor for it. After a few minutes of this chaste, yet very sensory kiss, Alfred broke away from Arthur, catching his breath with his chest rising and falling. Though it wasn't really because of exhaustion. It was from the surge that they both felt while this intimate gesture lasted. 

Alfred moved his hand from Arthur's chin, and cupped his left cheek tenderly. "No, that's terrible. And idiotic. Please don't.." He spoke in a soft tone, his features all rid of his usual furrowed expression that they have. "I swear, I'm just like this all the time.. None of this concerns you, Arthur. Sure, you might get on my nerves every now and then, but I really overlook them, you see? I love you, Arthur. I could never hate you.." His left thumb moved accordingly, wiping the unfortunate tears that were shed, and slid far too close to its vicinity. Shuffling a bit, he moved his arms a bit, before wiping them with his sleeve. 

After which, he looked at Alfred with a wistful, yet contented smile, "T-Thanks for reassuring me.. Was kinda doubting everything back there- So sorry. And, damn.. You know, you're really gorgeous when you smile." Grinning sheepishly, he didn't wait for the other words to come out. It was all he needed to convey for now.

On cue, he lunged himself right into Alfred, his head landing onto his chest, as he nuzzled against him affectionately, "You can smile whenever you want to, though.." 

"I can only smile for you, love.." This was followed by a gentle kiss on the forehead, and an Arthur that was blushing madly.

Arthur sighed contentedly, his bright smile returning in its original place. Alfred looked at the window panel outside. It reflected of different lines and wavelengths. It was quite beautiful and engaging to the human eye. "..’Love you, Alfred." He melted sweetly into his embrace, as Arthur rested his head in the crook of the other's neck, and intertwined his fingers with Alfred's. In an act of mutual feel, he tightened his arms around him, and snuggled his jaw on top of the other's head, "I love you too, Arthur." 

At least, this year's winter.. won't feel that much cold, anymore. Love is a burning flame that grows stronger with two hearts in the synchronicity of agape.

In other words...

… I love you.

As the last notes of the song die away, whatever resolve Grace has left fades too and her tears start to flow. Everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, the attempts on her life and Harris’s, taking two lives herself, Zoe leaving for Africa, and now losing Darius… all catching up with her.

Harris holds her and lets her cry. He knows he’s lost her, knows she’s in love with Darius, and hates himself for letting it happen, for not believing in her, for not fighting for her. He wants to hate Darius too, but he can’t. The person he’s angry with is himself. He’s not even really angry, he just feels… drained.

Harris looks around at the extraordinary sight of the Salvation. How the hell did Darius do all this, without anyone knowing? How can he hate the man that’s given them their best, and maybe only, chance of survival? Everything you need for years, he’d told them. But, where? They’ll need food, water, somewhere for everyone to sleep, and for how long? 30 days? 100 days? What if the counter measures fail, and launching the Salvation is the only viable alternative? How will they operate it without Darius? Where is the astronaut he spoke of? What about oxygen? Fuel?

Harris’s mind begins to race with questions that need answers, things that need to be resolved, the adrenalin kicking in to fight his fatigue.

Without realising, he relaxes his hold on Grace, who steps back, wiping away her tears.

Read more below the cut or at AO3!

“The uranium,” he murmurs, noticing the canisters on the lower level, “it was for this?” Grace nods.

“So, you knew about this?” he frowns. How many secrets had they kept from one another?

She nods again, trying to pull herself together. “But, not until later,” she clarifies, “I thought it was for the EM drive. Liam and I found out this is where Darius was when NASU was hacked - it’s how I knew he didn’t do it.”

“And why he couldn’t give us an alibi, even when…” Harris closes his eyes, and rubs his hands over his face, sickened at what he’d gone along with, wishing he could absolve himself of responsibility for water boarding Darius and blame it on Claire, but knowing he can’t. “He was protecting this. And you.”

“Yes.” (barely a whisper).

Something else is dawning on Harris, “He knew it would come to this.”

“He… feared it would.”

“Then, why isn’t he here? If he saw this coming?”

Grace opens her mouth to share what Darius told her, but her emotions get the better of her and she turns away, only to find herself face-to-face with Tess, and two young girls.

“Grace!” Tess exclaims, relieved to find someone she knows, but clearly confused and concerned, “Where’s Darius? I haven’t seen him. Except…” she gestures to the screen above them.

“Theresa.” Grace manages, surprised, but only for a moment. Of course Darius wouldn’t leave her behind. “He’s not here.” she manages, her voice breaking.

“What do you mean, not here?” Tess demands, astounded.

Seeing that Grace is in no fit state to respond, Harris steps in to explain “He had to lock the doors manually, from inside Tanz.”

“You mean, he’s not coming with us?!” Theresa’s surprise and alarm is palpable. “Why?”

“That’s just what I was wondering.” he says looking at Grace.

For a moment Theresa stands silently torn between shock and confusion, then her hands fly to her mouth, with a soft cry of “Oh!” suddenly understanding.

“What?” Harris asks, by now wondering who the hell this woman is, and how she knows Darius – and Grace, apparently.

“The Huntington’s…” Theresa whispers, turning to Grace fearfully “…has he started showing symptoms?”

“I, I don’t think so.” Grace stammers. But even as she says it, she remembers Darius clutching his hand as though it was cramping, and she wonders.

Theresa continues quietly, “It’s what killed Claudia, his mother. It came on so gradually that, with us being around her all the time, we didn’t immediately notice, but when Darius came home from England for the holidays, he saw right away that something was wrong. We must have been 16, 17? It seems so long ago.” Tess is lost in her memories for a moment. “Her symptoms developed slowly at first, but things escalated quickly at the end. Lazlo took me to see her at the hospice, a few months before she died, but… by then she didn’t recognise anyone but Darius.” Theresa looks sad, whether for Darius or his mother, is impossible to tell.

Harris surmises that she must be Lazlo’s sister. After an appropriate moment of silence, he holds out his hand in introduction, “Harris Edwards.”

“Yes, I recognise you.” Theresa is suddenly brisk, “The Secretary of Defence. I’m Theresa Petersen… but everyone calls me Tess.”

Tess?! Harris looks sharply at Grace, who gives him the briefest of looks that confirms his suspicions.

“Darius and I grew up together. Before his uncle stole him away.”

The note of bitterness doesn’t escape Harris. Clearly they were more than just childhood friends. Theresa shakes it off quickly. “And these are my two…”

She’s interrupted by the arrival of Karissa. “Where’s Liam?” she demands.

“Just over there …” Harris gestures, but as they turn to where Liam was, only minutes ago, there’s only Jillian, looking tearful and being comforted by one of the 160 team.

“Jillian?” Karissa asks again, urgently, “Where’s Liam?”

“Gone!” she croaks.

“What do you mean gone?” Harris frowns. “Gone where?”

“After Darius. He said there was something he had to tell him and it couldn’t wait.” Jillian begins to sob again, and Grace reaches out to her. She embraces the younger woman tightly, trying not to imagine the worst.

Karissa eyes Grace curiously, but doesn’t remark on it. She’s had suspicions. She turns back to Harris, “Darius gave me this. I was supposed to give it to Liam.” she hands him a Tanz tablet. “It’s the blueprints for the rocket, and for this place.” she gestures around them, apparently in awe.

Harris looks at her oddly. “You didn’t know about this?”

“No. I handled most of his daily business, but not the Mars project. That was Lazlo’s domain.” she acknowledges Tess awkwardly before continuing, “I had no idea they’d gotten so far with it. I guess that explains the missing billion, and why he wouldn’t tell Nicholas about it.”

“It explains a lot.” Harris agrees. He turns on the tablet and Karissa helps him open up the plans for the bunker. “We need to work out where everyone’s going to sleep, how much food and water we have. Develop a roster and so on.” he comments.

“Let me help.” offers Tess. “I’ve gotten pretty good at bringing order to chaos thanks to these two.” she smiles at her girls. The look on her face suggests she needs to keep busy as much as Harris does.

He turns to Grace, not wanting to abandon her, but really needing to do something useful. “Go,” she encourages, “we’ll join you in a while.”

Harris turns to Karissa, “Do you know who’s here?”

She shakes her head. “I have a list of staff who signed in today, but I don’t know if they’re all here. And Jillian sent an automated message to shortlisted candidates in the immediate vicinity, but I don’t know who made it in time.”

“Okay,” Harris starts thinking aloud “Can you take a role call? Get everyone to write down their name, occupation, next of kin. That kind of thing. If there are any couples, families, friends, keep them together.” Karissa nods, and within seconds is waving her clipboard and rounding everyone up.

Harris turns to Tess and the girls. “I’m going to investigate the sleeping quarters. Could you find out which stores have the food and bedding in?” he swipes through the plans, showing Tess where to look. Darius might be good at designing rockets, he thinks, but he’s not very good at organising supplies: none of the rooms marked “stores” actually specify what’s in them. Tess frowns at the tablet and then touches “Store 01”. A list of contents pops up. She touches a few more until she finds the one with the bedding. Harris says nothing but mentally curses Darius for not even letting him have this small victory.

“I’ll tell Karissa to send them down to me to pick up their bedding, then I’ll send them up to you, and you can show them where to sleep.” Tess suggests.

Harris agrees, and heads up the staircase to the next floor, where the dorms are located.

He returns some time later to find Grace and Jillian sitting talking quietly.

“There are beds for 160 people in the dorms. Mostly 8-person bunks, with a few rooms for 2 and 4. Karissa and I have been allocating space. I put Theresa and her kids in one of the 2 bed rooms, the girls were happy to share a bunk.” Harris hesitates, “I don’t think they really understand what’s going on, Theresa told them it was like school camp but for grown-ups. I’ve put you both into another.”

Grace manages a smile, “Thanks. And you?” she asks.

“I found the astronaut Darius mentioned, I’ll share with him. We… uh, we don’t have beds for everyone in the dorms. A few will have to sleep on the rocket.”

Grace looks up sharply. “How many people are there?”

“193.” Jillian answers, automatically. “191.” she corrects. Liam and Darius…

“What happens if…”

“We’ll deal with that problem another day.” says Harris grimly. “It may not come to that.”

“But what if it does?”

“We start with the people on the list.” Jillian says slowly, “Not all of them will have made it in time, but those that have were chosen for a reason. Then there’s Darius’s personal selects – the two of you, me, Liam…”

“Wait,” Harris interrupts, surprised, “Darius selected me?” Somehow he’d assumed Darius meant there was room in the bunker for him, when he’d been explaining about the Salvation to the President, not the rocket itself.

“Yes. Both of you. And Zoe.” Grace and Harris exchange glances. “He had us do genetic and psychological testing for all of you. Ten of us in all, not including him. Theresa Peterson and her kids, Karissa, Catherine Adams. Catherine is over the age limit for the general selection, but she passed all the other tests. We all did, except…”

“Him.” Grace finishes bleakly.

“Who’s Catherine Adams?” Harris asks curiously.

“She’s paid for this.” Grace responds.

“She’s also the one who sold her shares to Nicholas and nearly lost Darius his company.” Karissa spits venomously, approaching Harris. “I’d have told her to go fuck herself.”

They all turn to look at her, surprised at the outburst.

“Were you… and Darius…?” Harris stumbles, voicing what they’re all thinking.

“Oh, God no!”

Harris looks sceptical.

“Really, no!” Karissa says more emphatically, but it doesn’t look like they believe her.

She sighs, she’d prefer to keep her private life to herself, but under the circumstances that’s impossible anyway, “You see that woman over there? The red-head in the lab coat directing people to rooms? That’s my wife, Alex. One of the finest electronic engineers in the country.” she adds, with pride. “She’s been working with Darius since the early days. She recommended me when he was looking for a new executive assistant.”

Karissa grins, remembering, “Apparently the previous one developed a bit of a thing for him and wouldn’t put any female callers through. Unfortunately, one of them was then Governor MacKenzie, and Darius was not amused and decided it was time to fire her. So, I turned out to be the perfect candidate.”

Harris barks with laughter, and even Grace and Jillian can’t help but crack a smile. “Well, it’s good to know there’s at least a couple of women immune to his charm.” he murmurs.

“Make that three.” Jillian interjects.

“I’m sorry,” Karissa continues, “it’s just that if Darius had lost the company, we’d probably both have lost our jobs, so… Catherine can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”

“Is that so?” comes an icy voice behind her. “Perhaps now’s a good time to remind you that if I hadn’t invested in the Mars project, we’d probably all be buried under a pile of rubble. Even you.” Catherine adds pointedly.

“Catherine… nice to see you again.” Grace extends a hand swiftly, trying to smooth the situation over and not think about piles of rubble.

“Ms. Barrows.” Catherine shakes her hand cordially, before turning back to Karissa. “I take it Darius never told you who bailed him out the two times he went bankrupt? Neither of you would even have jobs if it weren’t for me.”

“And him.” Karissa retorts, loyally.

Catherine concedes this point, and the tension begins to dissipate. “He’s always been terrible with money,” she sighs, “but brilliant in every other way. I’ve never regretted my investment.”

“Then why did you sell your shares to Nicholas?” Karissa challenges.

“Well, I obviously wasn’t going to get a quick return on my investment in this, and I needed some money for another project I’ve been working on. I knew Geoff Richards was thinking about selling his shares – he never really supported Darius moving away from communications technology and into the space race – so I figured I’d be able to buy back in when I had the money again.”

Now it’s Karissa’s turn to look sceptical.

“I honestly had no idea Nicholas wanted to oust Darius as CEO, or I’d have never agreed to it. He told me he wanted to strengthen family interests in the company.” Grace can see that Catherine is sincere, but Karissa is still unimpressed.

Harris steps in, “Karissa, you wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes. Paul Kozlowski…” Harris looks at her blankly “The pushy guy, agricultural scientist, no social skills? He wants to know what happens next.”

Harris sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “For now, let’s just get everyone to their rooms and settled in. Make sure they know where the bathrooms are, but until we know how much water we’ve got, no showers, no laundry. Tell him we’ll have a briefing in a couple of hours. Find me when everyone knows where they’re going.” Karissa nods and leaves.

“I’ll show you to your room.” he offers Grace and Jillian. “Do you know where you’re sleeping?” he asks Catherine.

She nods but doesn’t move away. “Ms. Barrows… may I speak to you for a moment, alone?”

Grace has had about as much as she can handle for one day, but pauses. Harris and Jillian continue a short distance away.

“I don’t know how long you’ve known Darius?”

“Not long.” Grace confesses, realising that in fact, she’s only known him a few months.

Catherine nods. “Well, as you know, I’ve known him a long time. And better than most. I’ve seen him stumble, and fall, and fail, over and over. I’ve seen him make awful business decisions, usually with good intentions, but terrible none the less. But,” she looks directly at Grace, “I’ve never seen him give up. He tries, he fails, he tries again. And if something really doesn’t work he tries something new. There’s nothing he loves more than a challenge. It’s never been about the money for him, it’s always been about solving problems, trying to find the impossible solution. That’s why my husband,” she pauses to cross herself, “God rest his soul, and I, continued to back him, despite everything.”

“Your husband?” Grace is unable to hide her surprise, “But, I thought you and Darius…”

“Yes.” Catherine acknowledges, and for a moment her expression is unreadable, “It’s a long story, for some other time. Look, maybe this is none of my business, but I saw you leave earlier and I saw him go after you. If I’m not mistaken, you care for each other – as more than just collaborators. I’ve known him a long time and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looked at you.”

You haven’t met Tess, Grace thinks, swallowing hard, and suddenly feeling like she’s going to cry again. Seeing her distress, Catherine reaches out to steady her.

“Ms. Barrows, Grace…” she says gently, “I don’t know what’s happening up there, but I do know Darius, and if anyone can find a way out of this mess, he can. Please believe that. As long as he’s breathing, he’ll be working on a solution. We don’t need him in here – we need him out there. In 30 days he’ll be stepping out of that elevator with a big grin on his face telling everyone to stop mucking around and get back to work. You mark my words.”

She says it with such utter conviction that Grace knows she’s not just offering up a platitude, she really believes it.

She gives the older woman a grateful smile, as Catherine walks away, realising she might have been too hasty to judge her (and Darius’s relationship with her), suddenly curious to get to know her better.

that’s the way the cookie crumbles [NOTES]

[requested by @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s]

ao3 link

The first time it had happened, Percival Graves had been mildly amused. The other times, not so much.

Credence looked wide eyed and slightly flustered, like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t behind his desk.

oh honey

“Are you feeling well?” He had asked, slightly surprised. The counter hid the contents of the desk from his eyes and he did his best to avoid sneaking a peek.

“Yes.” Credence replied, trying for casual as he brushed a smudge of cream from the corner of his mouth. “How can I help you, Director?”

“I need form 3-E.” He replied, his suspicion growing as Credence hurried in the back room.

It had been odd and he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his head. If not familiar, the two had at least grown comfortable with one other, which was a necessity, considering how often he seemed to hang around Tina Goldstein. He had even thought that… But apparently not, from the way the younger Scamander’s letters brought a badly disguised twinkle to her eye.

there is nothing that brings me more joy in life than Credence and Tina, Office Buddies

He had thought they had grown past that awkwardness. Having Credence Barebone in the Woolworth had been odd, to say the least. It was a strange experience for Percival to carry around the face that had brought so much trouble to someone he hardly even knew. Still, they had tried to make do, to ignore the Erumpent in the room every time they crossed paths. It hadn’t really worked.

He was a bit abashed Credence had been the one to take matters into his own hands. He had been cornered one evening, the corridors emptied out for the day, just the Aurors on night shift remaining, which explained his jumpiness at the knock on the door.

“He was a bit abashed” please read Percival Graves is a big fat coward that doesn’t understand feelings. Also, Credence wait until everybody leaves because that’s not creepy at all.

“Director?” Credence had asked, peeking into his office. “Could I have a moment?”

“Mr. Barebone, come in.” He waved him inside, curiosity peaked. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not a problem. I just wanted to say something.” He gulped. “I’m sorry, sir, I just couldn’t help but notice that you…”

He stopped himself before continuing.

“I just wanted to say, I…” Credence steeled himself. “I don’t know what you know happened, before…”

poor boo is trying so hard

“Mr. Barebone, it’s alright.” He was uncomfortable watching him flounder so, especially knowing he was partially to blame.

eeww feelings

“No. please let me finish.” He was surprised enough at the interruption to wordlessly gesture for Credence to continue. “I may have thought that… well, I understand completely that you were different people and I’d just like you to know that I worked through it and… I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.”

A beat. Credence’s hands twisted together and he saw the blush rising to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barebone.” He cleared his throat. “Truly. This was very mature of you. And in the name of fairness, I would also appreciate it if you tell me if I ever make you feel uncomfortable. Deal?”

“You don’t.” He’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “But alright, it’s a deal.” Credence clasped at the offered hand and gave him a relieved smile.

If anything, the late night confession seemed to have brought them both a degree of peace. Credence was not an unpleasant person, on the contrary. He was the very image of politeness and professionalism, always greeting him with a nod and the awkward smile of someone who is still getting used to wearing one. He was also something of an overachiever, frequently pitching in where there was a lack of a pair of hands, be it the typing pool or making coffee.

graves is developing a crush on that pretty young thing at the office

Usually though, his domain was the cavernous archives in the bowels of MACUSA. Percival couldn’t help but feel slightly claustrophobic surrounded by the oak filing cabinets that seem to stretch into the ceiling above.

yeah, graves does not like underground, dark spaces anymore.

Credence is carrying around a tray with Queenie Goldstein the second time it happens. He crosses them in one of the side corridors and is about to say something when he hears her.

“And Jacob said you’re free to stop by whenever you want.”

“He did?” Credence squeaks, looking away, his ears coloring red.

Percival stops himself from walking into the wall, but only just.

look. i love the image of graves almost walking into a wall so much that this fic was already completed and edited and i had to go back and add this in 

“Director, good morning.” Goldstein greets him with her usual coquettish exuberance. Credence echoes her, appearing relieved at his appearance.

saved by the graves

“Good morning.” He looks at the two for a second, Goldstein’s wide smile undimmed at the scrutiny. “Well, carry on.” He bites out, continuing in the opposite direction.

what the fuck

Who the hell is Jacob?

He keeps his ear out for mentions of this Jacob fella and hears a few scattered remarks, usually from the Goldstein sisters. If Credence is in the vicinity, the most common reaction is a deep blush that Percival grudgingly admits is quite fetching. One time it happens as he’s stepping out for lunch, and walks past Tina Goldstein happily munching on a hotdog and Credence picking at his own pretzel.

graves’ crush on the pretty yound thing at the office is progressing along nicely feat. Credence and Tina, Junk Food Buddies

If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he’s happy for Credence. The young man had shown to be resilient beyond measure, to not only live past what was done to him, but also to thrive now that he’s conquered his own place in their world. There’s a degree of admiration for Credence that Percival won’t bother denying.

like, graves has a crush but he also genuinely appreciates and respects my honey

And this is good for him, truly it is. If Credence has a crush it could mean he’s moving on with his life, and if it’s someone the Goldstein sisters, his erstwhile protectors, seem to approve of, then this Jacob can’t be a bad egg. Really, he is very glad.

hmmmmMMMMMM WHYYYYYY YOU LYYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

The cat comes out of the bag one day a couple of weeks later. He’d been meeting with a contact and was on his way to find a quiet alley to Apparate from when he sees that familiar tall silhouette step down the El stairs on Rivington.

“Afternoon, Mr. Barebone.” He says to Credence’s back and the young man quickly spins around in surprise.

“Director.” He smiles at him, head cocked to the side. Oh, that’s… Well. “What are you doing here?”

oh noes he’s hot.

Percival clears his throat.

“Oh I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He continues, looking genuinely apprehensive.

“Not at all, I was meeting someone. Do you live around here?” He asks as Credence suddenly turns shifty.

“Pretty close. I live on 11th Street.” He’s no expert on No-Maj transportation but he’s almost positive the El has stops closer to 11th Street. And Credence still looks shifty.

i actually searched for and saved a 1924 subway map of ny, this is how intense i am about historical accuracy

“That’s still a bit of a walk at the end of a day’s work. Would you like me to Apparate you there?” Percival offers and Credence visibly pales.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself.” He answers with a tone of finality.

“Very well.” He says, straightening his back, feeling prickly and inexplicably annoyed all of a sudden. “Have a nice-“

you know that feeling when you feel ~weird and awkward~ in front of somebody you like and that causes you to behave like a prickly hedgehog

“Oh, Credence, hello!” He turns around at the cheery voice that sounds behind him to come face to face with a portly No-Maj with a moustache.

“Hello, Mr. Kowalski!” The steel in Credence’s voice disappears completely and Percival can’t help himself from turning a disbelieving eye at him. Kowalski turns to Percival and holds out his hand.

“Jacob Kowalski.” He introduces himself brightly as Percival takes the handshake. “Oh, that’s a strong grip you got there.” Jacob continues, still smiling.

you know when you’re a dick to other people bc YOU have a crush

“Percival Graves.” He bites out, dropping the hand. Credence is looking at him nervously out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you closed for the day, Mr. Kowalski?” Credence interrupts and Kowalski looks truly apologetic.

“I’m ‘fraid so, but I don’t mind opening up again.” The man offers but Credence shakes his head.

“It’s fine, wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Credence looks at him for a second before drawing his eyes away. “I’ll just be going now, goodbye Mr. Kowalski, Director.” He nods at each of them before hurrying away, being quickly swallowed up by the crowd of commuters returning home for the night.

imagine being stuck talking to your crush and your boss’ boss’ boss who you wanted to fuck when he had been impersonated by a magical fascist

Percival takes his leave with a nod before ducking into an alley and Apparating away.

So.

That was the famous Jacob.

He was not what Percival expected.

Truthfully, the Jacob he had conjured up in his mind was some faceless, generically handsome young man to stand next to Credence. Hardly a living, breathing human No-Maj. Oh, that was going to be a problem.

One he had absolutely no interest getting involved in. Especially since neither of the Goldsteins have seen fit to discourage the little affair.

He was going to stay in his lane and not meddle. Mr. Barebone was an adult and his life was none of Percival’s business.

percival graves is gonna stay in his lane bc he does not care. at all. it’s not his business. 

Unfortunately all the progress that had been done seemed to have evaporated in the course of a few minutes. Gone were the friendly nods and small smiles and the greetings of “Good morning, Director” he had become accustomed to without realizing it. Credence was still the very image of professionalism but there was an awkwardness there that he had believed had been buried for good. The return of twisting hands and ducked heads was a deeply unwelcome development.

Equally unfortunate was the random appearance of boxes of Kowalski’s Quality Baked Goods around the office, because apparently he’s surrounded by personnel that have no respect for the Law, whatsoever.

everybody wants to fuck jacob kowalski. seriously, he’s like catnip for wizards.

One day he’s alone in the break room and he angrily tries one pastry that looks unsettlingly like a Niffler. He’s aghast at himself for enjoying it so much.

On another, he just takes to staring angrily at the box on the counter. A throat being cleared awakes him from his staring contest with a cream puff and he turns his glare to the man next to him.

“What is it, Anthony?” He bites out.

“It’s Abernathy, actually, sir.” The man mumbles before looking at him carefully. “Are you feeling alright, sir?”

“I’m fine.” He replies tensely before getting up and barricading himself in his office because he must be losing his damn mind.

This whole situation is ridiculous, he argues with himself. Why is he so bothered by this? He can’t say it’s because of the Law, because he could have, should have, reported the situation if he thought it was in breach. But it’s not illegal for a wizard to buy from a No-Maj, hell most of his fellow wizards buy groceries from No-Majs because they’re cheaper by the pound.

so, this is entering meta territory but....... i imagine there must be a very small wizarding community in america bc rappaport must have worked as a big deterant to immigrants from europe (in contrast, canada, brazil, and argentina must be BOOMING). so, if you’re gonna grow food for such a small number of ppl in magical ways, it’s probably gonna be very expensive if we apply normal market rules

Mr. Barebone isn’t doing anything wrong by buying sweets from a neighborhood bakery. It’s just…

Unsettling.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. Barebone. On the contrary, he had already given ample proof of being an intelligent young man with a good head on his shoulders. Which is why he couldn’t understand the fixation.

What was it? Was it the moustache?

this is also me projecting, i admit

He catches sight of his distorted reflection in the chrome of the fountain pen and grimaces. He really should have taken a longer leave of absence.

A few days later, he returns to his contact on Rivington Street. Apparently, he glares through the whole meeting and leaves a very nervous informant behind as he shuts the door and stalks out. He can’t wait to get out of this damn street. He’s heading for the usual alley when he catches sight of a head of familiar blond curls through a restaurant window.

He slows down and takes a few steps back.

Is that…

Queenie Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski sitting across from one another, gazing into each other’s eyes?

Son of a bitch.

he’s just so offended that these two are going around behind credence’s back

Kowalski is even resting his head on his hand, Goldstein smiling widely at him.

He reminds himself a Graves, especially him, does not make scenes. He has to summon all his good breeding and willpower but he braces his shoulders and walks deliberately to the Apparation point without breaking Rappaport’s Law his own damn self.

He’s fuming as he reappears in an alley on Broadway.

Just who the hell does this Jacob Kowalski thinks he is, some kind of baking Casanova seducing wizards and witches left and right?

i will never write anything better than this line. i know this and accept it.

And then there’s Credence. How is Credence going to react to this? He’s shown himself to be immensely strong but it’s still a dirty betrayal by the both of them. Percival has hexed people for less.

Should he even meddle? He’s never involved himself in the personal lives of MACUSA staff nor has any intentions to, but…

If Credence finds out any other way and it just hurts him more? If Percival could spare him that pain, shouldn’t he at least try? In the name of maintaining a harmonious workplace, he reminds himself, nothing more.

whyyyyyyyyy  youuuuuu lyyyyyyyyingggggg

His feet walk him through MACUSA and take him down to the archives without his consent, he realizes as he blinks at the double doors. Well, might as well.

He steps inside, the same unsettling feeling of being too far underground crawling beneath his skin. He has no idea how Credence does it every day, he’d be tearing his hair out in one hour. His steps echo across the silent room. He looks at his wristwatch and curses under his breath, Credence is still at lunch, most likely.

He turns around and is reaching for the door when it swings open, the man himself stepping quietly inside.

“Director.” The surprise is enough to remove any awkwardness and Percival is struck by how much he missed this. “I’m sorry, I was at lunch, can I help you with something?” He asks, stepping over to his work place, a light coat and hat in hand which are quickly hidden from Percival’s sight.

He should say something, he reminds himself, as Credence cocks his head at his loud silence, a worried look in his eyes. Percival is not going to examine the warmth he feels at being the recipient of that concern.

oh noes he’s cute

“Sir, are you alright? Should I call somebody?” He’s rising out his chair and Percival shakes his head.

“Forgive me, I was distracted.” Credence nods slowly, like he’s some odd specimen. “I need form 23-F, please.” He manages to choke out before blanching in horror at himself. Credence nods, obviously not realizing what he asked for and goes into the back.

“What the fuck?” He whispers once Credence is out of hearing distance. He’s tempted to run out of the archives but he knows that would be even more mortifying.

Credence is frowning when he returns, looking down at the form that covers Indecent Behaviour complaints.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Credence asks quietly as he slips him the form. Percival resists burying his head in his hands and decides once he’s back in his office he’s going to do a deep soul search on why he keeps acting like a complete moron in front of the young man.

because he is a complete moron, next question

The door opens at that moment, hopefully sparing him any further embarrassment. Or so he foolishly thought because it’s Queenie Goldstein in a swirl of pink taffeta, blond curls and a dazzling smile that slips through the door, a familiar beige box in her hand. That is some nerve, he fumes.

“Hello, Credence, Director.” She greets them, completely ignoring the withering look Percival is sending her and Credence’s confused one jumping between the two of them. “I gotcha something.”

“Thank you.” Credence thanks her and Percival really is so furious at the whole thing he just bites out an acid “how nice” under his breath.

eveybody should have a percival graves friend in cause your crush hooks up with somebody else

Queenie smiles widely, waving them both off with a twinkle in her eye and flouncing off.

Percival’s hands clench at the counter before opening his mouth to excuse himself, when Credence interrupts him.

“Sir?”

Percival hums and Credence takes it as indication to continue.

“You told me to tell you if I ever felt uncomfortable around you.” Percival feels his heart sink. “And while I wouldn’t say that you’ve made me uncomfortable and that I am aware also to blame in that.”  Credence waves off his attempt at interruption. “There’s something going on and it started that day.”

Percival nods and steels himself, elbows leaning on the counter.

“That day, I noticed the way you looked at Mr. Kowalski and while it truly isn’t my intention to tell you how to live your life, I feel I should remind you that Rappaport’s Law doesn’t allow… close relationships with No-Majs.” He hopes he sounded official enough as he looks at a quickly reddening Credence.

“Oh. That.” He whispers, head bowed.

“Yes.” He feels like a wretch.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Director, Mr. Kowalski doesn’t care for men, like that.” His tone changes on the last two words, there’s a weight there. “It’s just… He was always very nice to me, but I knew it could never…” He trails off before raising his head and he looks so proud it takes his breath away. “But thank you, for coming to me with this, it means a lot.”

look. i really made it a point of these two being grown ups and dealing with shit in a mature grown up way instead of going through the misunderstandings path. credence goes on with his life, has a crush on a straight, isn’t reciprocated and he deals with it himself. graves has a crush but he’s not a creep about it, he likes credence but he also respects him, and he’s more worried over his feelings at queenie x jacob, than getting an opening in for himself BC THIS IS A NICE STORY WHERE PEOPLE ARE NICE

Percival nods, heart full, feeling impossibly fond of the young man in front of him.

He pushes himself off from his position leaning against the counter, and feels slightly embarrassed at the whole thing.

“Director?”

“Yes, Credence?” His given name slips out and Credence’s eyes widen.

oops

“Your form.” Credence is holding out that thrice damned piece of paper he had completely forgotten about.

“Thank you.” He steps back and reaches for it.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Graves.” Credence smiles at him with a twinkle in his dark eyes and he’s not strong enough to stop himself from reciprocating. “Have a nice day.”

cheeky

Two days later, Credence is on coffee duty. Percival raises his head from his notes at the characteristic four knocks on the door that nobody else seems to use.

“Come in.” Credence steps inside, a tray of mugs in his hands and sends him a small smile as he reaches out for his mug with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” He says and bites his lip, immediately afterwards, clenching his fingers at the rectangular tray.

“What’s wrong?” He wants nothing less than the return of the hesitant Credence.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s quick to assure. “You know that diner on Murray Street? I hear they have very good coffee.”

“Do they?” There’s a buzzing in his ears and it’s not completely unpleasant.

“Yes. Would you like to try it, someday?”

get it boi

“Yes, that would be very nice.” He can’t stop the smile to creeps up on his face, especially when he sees it reflected on Credence’s.

they’re so ridiculous i love them  

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