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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

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But soon enough, he had all four boys through the water-closet and trooped them down to the last bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was freezing cold, having been shut up for the last few years, but that couldn't be helped at the moment, and Tanaka had already spread thick wool blankets on the bed; that would have to do until they could get the fireplaces stocked with coke fuel and burning to warm the rooms up. He'd have to order more coke immediately, as well as contact Abberline at Scotland Yard, and contact the managers of his Funtom Company to either delay or find a new venue for the board meeting he had scheduled for three days away (it would be impossible for them to meet here while the manor was so packed with refugees); one more thing to take care of in the morning, and the list in his head was already entirely too long...

"All right. All of you shake out your blankets, and drape them over yourselves like tents, to hold in the heat," Ciel ordered. And once the four boys had done that, he told them, "Now undress, down to your smallclothes. When you are done, wrap the blankets around yourselves. Leave the clothes on the floor, just this once." Sebastian would probably have fits later, when he found out that clothes had been strewn about so many rooms of the mansion, but Ciel simply couldn't find the energy to care; he just wanted to get this lot in bed as soon as possible, so he could start on the next.

Once all four boys were standing before him with their blankets wrapped about their shoulders, Ciel gave them their last orders: "Keep the blankets with you while you get into bed and under the covers; you two take the middle, you get the left side, and you're on the right side. No wiggling about once you're under the covers; at four to a bed, there's not a lot of room, but there'll be no shoving others out of bed.” Once they were all lying in bed, he told them firmly, “Now stay there until someone comes to fetch you in the morning! Someone will be along soon with some warm milk for a snack, but it's fine if you fall asleep while waiting for them; you’ll be woken up just long enough to get your share."

Once they were all in bed, he closed the door behind him and walked with Lizzie back to the great hall, to start the whole process over again with another group of boys. "I'll do just what you did, with girls in groups of four," Lizzie said quietly and with the most serious expression he had ever seen on her face, "but before I do, let me use the telephone in your study. I want to tell my parents what's happened, and ask them to send over as many servants as we can spare to help your people out while they’re all here. I don't mean to insult you or your staff, Ciel, because Sebastian is truly amazing, but caring for so many children... you're simply going to need more help. I'll also ask Mother to send over all of my and Edward's old clothes for the children to wear; she went through our wardrobes just last week and pulled out several items we'd outgrown, but I don't think they've been given away yet."

"I'm not insulted at all, and thank you for the offer," Ciel said just before he smothered another yawn with his hand. He was so very tired now, having gotten up before dawn for breakfast duty back at the circus, but there were so many more children to deal with first...

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It had been a long time since Bard had ridden a horse bareback, or ridden at night. But with close to a hundred kids suddenly showing up at the manor and in a helluva state, he wasn’t in the mood to slow down for niceties like saddles. Thankfully, there was a full moon lighting up the night, and the bay horse ‘Righty’ (named that by Finny because he was always hitched to the right side of the carriage) seemed to catch his mood and was not only agreeable to being ridden with nothing but a bridle and reins, but broke into a steady canter the second they were clear of the stables. Not nearly fast enough to take Bard’s mind off the sight he’d seen when he’d stepped briefly into the main hall before leaving (Christ, all those poor kids, their faces; no wonder the young master called ‘em half-dead!) but plenty fast for a cross-country ride at midnight.

In less than ten minutes he was hammering on the door to the dairy farmer’s cottage, bellowing, “Open up! Earl Phantomhive’s got an emergency!” It took too damn long for the farmer to get his arse out of bed and answer the door, and Bard was damn tempted to blow it open with the explosives he always kept handy, but he refrained—barely. Instead, the second the door opened he barked in the blinking man’s face, “The earl wants every damn cow you have milked right now, and all the milk brought to the manor as fast as you can get it there!”

“What, right now? But it’s hours before milking time!” the famer protested. “Doesn’t the earl understand how much such a huge schedule change will upset the cattle?”

Bard growled back, “Do you understand that right now the earl doesn’t give a shit for schedules?! Not when we just got damn near a hundred children brought into the manor, all of them rescued from some really nasty characters, and most of them looking starved half to death!”

The farmer stared at him in shock for a second. “Are you jo—”

“No, I’m not joking!” Bard snapped back at him before he could finish. “For Christ’s sake, who would joke about this?!”

The farmer spun around and shouted into the house, “Martha, wake the boys! And Nellie, too!” Less than ten minutes later the farmer, his wife, two strapping teenaged boys and a little ten-year-old girl were all heading out to the dairy barn with lanterns in hand and with their coats thrown on over their nightclothes.

Bard went with them and rolled up his sleeves, figuring that milking couldn’t be that hard. But after he told the farmer honestly that he’d never milked a cow before, the farmer asked him, “Will you give our Nellie a hand, then? The cows will take more kindly to people they know disturbing them at this hour, and Nellie knows all the equipment we use for collecting and carting the milk but she’s not strong enough to lift some of them yet.”

In short order Bard found himself taking instructions from a little girl half his size, and whose attitude flipped every few seconds between bossy and apologetic towards him; good thing he was already used to being ordered around by a kid. He paid close attention, and once he’d sussed out with her help how to wrangle all the equipment they used, he told her, “I can take it from here, if you can pitch in and help your folks with the milking; we've got lots of hungry kids to feed.”

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With nothing else she could do at the moment, Lizzie fretfully twiddled her fingers while she counted eleven rings before someone picked up the telephone at home. "Midford Hall," she heard in a deep male voice, one that sounded decidedly grumpy. "May I ask what is the emergency? Because surely it must be an emergency, to call at this hour..."

"It is an emergency, James," Lizzie fervently told the Midford family butler.

"Lady Lizzie?" James gasped. "What's happened—oh heavens, is Phantomhive Manor being attacked again?!"

"No, it's not that, but Earl Phantomhive needs our help! Go wake up Mama and Papa, James; I need to talk to them!"

"At once, my lady!" Lizzie heard him set the telephone receiver down, and the rapid beat of his footsteps running away.

Perhaps two minutes later, she heard a clicking sound and her Papa's voice saying urgently into what must have been the receiver in his study, "Lizzie, what's happened? Are you hurt? Is Ciel hurt?"

"We're not hurt, Papa, but Ciel needs our help! He just came back from some case he was on for Her Majesty, with dozens of children that he rescued—maybe a hundred of them! I couldn't count them all, there are so many—and there's something so wrong with them; they're so—they're like wooden dolls, their faces are so lifeless! They just sit there, or stand there, and they only—"

As she spoke, she heard a fast clatter of footsteps echoing down the line, and swift rustling and clunking sounds before her mother said urgently into the receiver outside the servants' quarters, "Elizabeth, what's happened? Who's hurt? James said you and Ciel need our help..."

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Having finished carrying all the children inside, Sebastian picked the grimiest-looking child and took him into the downstairs bath while Finnian went to get hot water from the kitchen. Coming back with two buckets of steaming hot water, the gardener told Sebastian, "When Bard left to wake up the farmer, he told me to tell you that he already added honey to the milk he put in a pot on the stove, so it would be ready to serve as soon as it was warmed up. I just felt the pot while I was in the kitchen, and it's nice and warm now; it looks like a whole gallon's worth, too, but I guess we'll need lots more than that. How many more buckets of hot water will we need?"

"You've brought enough for this bath, but we’ll need plenty more hot water throughout the night. Given the deplorable state of these children, we shall need to drain and change the bathwater for each one," Sebastian said grimly as he finished stripping the dirty clothes off the first boy, to reveal the skin underneath; not only was his skin just as filthy as the rags he'd been wearing, but it was riddled with sores, some of which began bleeding anew as the clothing that had been sticking to them was peeled away. "And we will likely need to bandage each of them as well; fetch me the first aid basket from under the sink in the master's bathing room. Then fetch the first aid basket that Bard keeps in the kitchen, and give it to Mey-Rin for her use."

Finny nodded and turned to leave, but Sebastian had more instructions for him; "And then go find Tanaka, and tell him that milk is ready for serving to the children already in bedrooms; I think it best that I remain on bathing duty. I have far more recent and frequent experience with bathing young boys, as part of waiting on the young master." And when no other servants were looking, he could change the water between each bath and dress the youngsters in borrowed clothes far faster than Tanaka could. Given that they had thirteen boys to bathe and clothe tonight, bursts of demonic speed were definitely called for.

"Yessir!" as Finny ran off to fetch the first aid supplies, and relay his instructions to Tanaka.

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After he’d finished putting quilts and heavy blankets on all the beds in the west wing, Tanaka was heading for the downstairs bath to take over bathing the male children when he ran into Finnian, who advised him of Sebastian’s suggestion. Tanaka nodded his agreement with the idea, since in truth Sebastian did have more experience with bathing children than he, and then followed Finnian into the kitchen.

While the young gardener emptied two pots of water into his buckets and refilled them before putting the pots back on the stove, Tanaka took the pot of milk that had been slowly heating (on the stove’s lowest setting; goodness, Bard was actually capable of heating with something other than flamethrowers) poured milk into a row of teapots he’d lined up, and fetched a set of matching teacups from the cupboard. Mm, not the Wedgwood; plain china would do for serving tonight. Guests to the mansion always received the full measure of Phantomhive hospitality regardless of their station in life, but children weakened from exhaustion and deprivation would be prone to dropping and breaking the delicate wares.

His fingers lingered for a moment over a tin of digestive biscuits, before he shook his head. Most of the children would have to be served just warm milk with honey, as the young master had ordered. They did not have nearly enough biscuits on hand, including both plain digestive and the fancier shortbread, to feed all the children. And from what he’d seen of the poor creatures lined up in the grand hallway, it would be wise to save the few they had on hand tonight for those in the most desperate stages of starvation, which would likely be the ones who had reportedly been found locked in cages like animals.

Tanaka knew well the signs of starvation, from when he’d been a mere footman in the Phantomhive employ; he could still remember the gaunt faces and limbs of those desperate Irishmen who had come to London during the years of the Potato Famine, those who were too poor to afford passage for emigrating to America. He also remembered the faces of those that he had helped the young master’s grandfather free, while breaking up that child slavery ring back in 1853. He would look over the rows of children dressed in rags to determine the worst off of the lot, and slip them each a simple digestive biscuit to tide them over while waiting for more of the warm milk that Bard would be bringing soon.

Come the morrow, they would no doubt be very busy in the kitchen indeed, working to feed so many children. Tanaka might even have to forego his tea in favor of preparing other hot beverages for their guests, a thought that made him blanch and shudder in anticipated horror. But the duty of a Phantomhive servant always came before personal comforts; he would bear up under the strain, just as he had done back in 1869 during that dreadful affair with the Red Nuns.

With the milk and tea service set on a trolley and a few items tucked into his pockets, he set out to distribute the sweetened milk they had on hand in the west wing, nodding in passing to the young master as the earl led a group of four children to the water-closet. “I take it Sebastian decided to stay on bathing duty?” the young master asked, and when Tanaka informed him he was correct, he muttered something under his breath before nodding to the teapots while asking, “How much do we have on hand?”

“Roughly three and a half quarts altogether, my lord,” Tanaka said with a bow. “But I am quite sure that Bardroy will be able to procure much more.”

“Right, then; give what we have now to the boys in the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. Two cups each or close enough,” the earl directed, with a glance at the six-ounce teacups Tanaka had set on the trolley. “After that, you can take over for me in putting children to bed.”

“Yes, my lord,” Tanaka said with a bow, and served the lads in the last two bedrooms as he’d been bidden. After all the milk had been served, he returned to the grand hall and took a few moments to inspect the children sitting or lying in rows, giving close inspection to the ones dressed in rags and filth that were lying instead of sitting. As he’d suspected, two of them were considerably worse off than the rest, perilously close to death from starvation. Perhaps because they had been captive longest, or perhaps they had refused to eat from despair, but the reason why scarcely mattered now.

Murmuring reassurances, he carefully propped them upright and hand-fed them each a plain digestive biscuit from the tin he’d tucked into a pocket, softened beforehand and washed down after with water from the hip flask he’d tucked into another pocket. There, that small bit of food should begin the process of restarting their failing digestive systems, and should keep them from passing on for at least the next few hours.

The young master came back for another group of boys just as he finished feeding the second child and laid her back down. The master frowned and furrowed his brow at Tanaka for a moment, before opening his eyes wide in realization. “They were that close?” was all he asked.

“Indeed, young master,” Tanaka said as he rose to his feet and bowed. “But now they should survive long enough to be tended in their turn with the rest. However, we shall have to take considerable care with their diet over the next few days; only one small cupful of milk to start with, followed by another in a few hours only if they can keep the first cup down.”

The young master nodded his gratitude, before turning to frown at Finnian as the lad rushed up to them with empty buckets in hand and his features creased in worry. “Master? I’m very sorry to bother you, but Sebastian’s already busy with bathing the boys, and I think Mey-Rin’s having problems…”

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Ohhh, this was dreadful! The young master was counting on her, and these poor little girls needed her help, but Mey-Rin couldn’t see! The steam from the bathwater kept fogging up her glasses; she kept pausing to wipe them off so she could work, but it only took seconds for the lenses to fog up again. But if she just left them off, then all she saw with her terrible farsightedness was a flesh-colored blur on white instead of a little girl in a bathtub… how could she properly clean these children and bandage them, if she couldn’t see the grime and the sores that needed tending?! Whimpering under her breath, Mey-Rin told herself this was absolutely not the time to burst into tears of worry and frustration; that would only make her vision worse…

“It will be all right, Mey-Rin,” she heard Tanaka say soothingly from off to her right, and then his silver-and-black blur stood next to her, nudging her more towards the head of the tub. “Here, give me the sponge; I can bathe and tend to these young girls, if you will remain as chaperone.”

Mey-Rin gratefully passed the sponge and soap over to Tanaka, and when he made a suggestion and put the shampoo bottle in her hand, she washed the child’s long brown hair while he bathed the rest of her. Washing hair was easy; she was used to doing that on herself and didn’t need eyes for it, just her sense of touch. Oh dear, this girl had dreadful tangles matting up her hair; it would take some time and care to comb them out…

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An hour after they’d started work at the dairy farm, Bard helped the farmer Josiah Vale and his sons load the last of the five-gallon canisters of milk onto their wagon, while the farmer’s wife Martha hitched their donkey to the cart, and their little girl Nellie came running out of the house with extra blankets for the farmer to bundle up in, as they were all still wearing nightclothes.

“Gee up, Jenny! There’s hungry kids waiting for this!” Josiah barked as he slapped the reins, and the donkey grunted as she began pulling the wagon. As Bard hopped back onto Righty to ride alongside, the oldest son Dan worried aloud, “But Da, what if bandits are out tonight? Remember, we heard that the baker’s family got robbed on the road just last week!”

“Any bandits we see tonight, ain’t gonna live to rob anybody else,” Bard grimly promised the teen, whose eyes went wide as Bard briefly showed him one of the guns he was carrying. “Right now that milk’s more precious than gold to the earl and those kids. But thanks for speaking up about the bandits; we hadn’t heard there were any in the area recently. I’ll let the earl know, and we’ll see about doing something about them once the kids are all taken care of and back with their folks; Earl Phantomhive doesn’t stand for any of that on his lands.”

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Finny finished bringing Sebastian and Mey-Rin the hot water for another set of baths, and returned to the kitchen with empty pails just as Bard came in from outside, lugging a big steel container with handles on it. “Here, give a hand hauling the rest in, so the farmer can go home,” Bard grunted.

Finnian dashed out and picked up the other three containers all at once, with two hanging from the fingers of his left hand; the nice dairy farmer who’d brought the milk gaped at him for a moment before blinking, shaking his head a little and getting back into the seat of his cart to go home. Finny didn’t mind the stare (much), he was used to people being surprised by his strength.

After going inside with the milk, Finny told Bard what everyone was doing now as the chef poured some of the milk into two of the water pails, since those were easier for normal people to carry, and stirred in lots of honey. When they went into the great hall, the young master looked up from where he was just gathering another group of four boys and grumbled, "It's about time! How much did you bring?"

"Just under eighteen gallons, your lordship. The farmer said that they can give you just as much and at least six gallons more for the evening milking, and the same again tomorrow morning," Bard added.

"That's enough for two teacupfuls per child tonight, with… ten gallons left—no, eleven, Tanaka already took care of some of the boys—eleven gallons left over serving with breakfast and for cooking tomorrow's meals," the young master muttered while rubbing tiredly at his face. Then he seemed to catch himself and straightened up while ordering, "Here, give these four their supper before bed, two cups each."

Finny and Bard each filled teacups for handing to the silent children, while the master continued, "All the children, both down here and already abed, will get the same amount. Bard, take care of the children still in the hall, and then you'll be hauling water for the baths while Finny makes the rounds of the bedrooms. Also, ask Tanaka to step out here long enough to identify the two children that should receive only half as much, because they've been starved too long and their stomachs will reject too much food, even if it's just milk."

"You want me to give milk to the children in bedrooms?" Finny asked, surprised that the master had that much trust in him. He was always breaking things on the grounds outside, because he didn't know his own strength—and all these poor children looked so fragile, so easy to break!

"You carried them inside the house without breaking any of them, didn't you?" Master demanded. And when Finny said he was right, he nodded while saying firmly, "You can feed them milk without hurting them either. These days you mainly break things when you get too happy or excited and forget yourself. Well, nobody's happy about this turn of events, and there's nothing exciting about serving milk. Now in the west wing, start with the second bedroom from the end on either side; Tanaka already fed the boys in the last bedrooms. Wake them up if they've fallen asleep while waiting, but don't let them get out of bed for supper, either; understand? You'll have to be careful to not let the milk spill, but just this once, they're allowed to dine in bed; it's better than letting them get chilled while standing about in unheated bedrooms."

Finny said he understood, and after helping Bard feed the first four boys and seeing how it should be done, he carried a pail, a dipper and a teacup with him up the stairs. The master trailed behind him with the four boys in tow while muttering under his breath, something about a dairy budget. Finny felt a little sorry for the young master, who looked so very tired now; when he himself was tired, thinking was really hard, but right now the master had to do so much thinking...

Finny was very, very careful as he opened the door and didn't quite tiptoe into each bedroom, roused each group of children with his very gentlest shakes and taps, and helped them sit up in bed long enough to drink the milk he'd brought, filling the teacup twice for each of them. He was really worried about spilling the milk, because it had taken him a long time to learn to eat and drink without making a mess. But all these children must have had teachers just as good as Mr. Sebastian, because none of them spilled even a single drop.

When each bedroom full of children had had their supper of sweetened milk, Finny very carefully tucked them into bed again, using the same words that Mr. Sebastian had told him after giving him his very own bed in the servants' quarters. "Now you go to sleep, and stay under the covers until I come for—I mean, until someone comes for you in the morning."

And then, because these children had probably come from families instead of from laboratories and Finny remembered one of the children's books he'd been given explaining what normal families did at bedtime, he sang a lullaby before leaving each bedroom. Finny knew, because Bard had explained it to him the first time he'd seen the word, that a lullaby was a special song that was sung to help children go to sleep. But he didn't know any of those special songs; nobody had ever sung him a lullaby before. So he improvised, saying in a singsong as he turned the lights back off, "Go to slee-eep, you're all safe now. Go to slee-eep, things will be better now..."

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Sebastian had already bathed, bandaged and dressed nine children in borrowed clothes, and was still washing the hair of the tenth when Bard came into the bathroom where he was working, carrying a nearly emptied pail of milk, a dipper and a plain servant’s teacup. "Supper's served," he announced with an attempt at humor, though the grim expression on his face ruined the effect. "I already gave some to each kid still in the hall. Finny's making the rounds of the kids already in bedrooms."

Sebastian looked at him sharply at the last sentence. "What is Tanaka doing now, if not serving milk?" Soon after they’d begun their contract, when the master had brought Tanaka home from the Royal Hospital, he’d made it clear that Tanaka was on the books as a steward but unofficially retired, and no one except the master himself could order him to do anything. But immediately afterwards, Tanaka had quietly assured Sebastian that when situations were particularly tense or urgent, the former butler would pitch in with no need for orders and give his best effort right along with everyone else.

"He's helping Mey-Rin give baths to the girls that need 'em; told Finny that he's too old to care even if they were prime beauties in perfect health, and right now I don't think the girls are gonna complain either." Bard shrugged. "Finny said he heard Mey-Rin fretting that her glasses keep fogging up on her, and if she takes them off she can't see what she's doing either."

Sebastian gave a small frown and shook his head as he commented mostly to himself, "I should have realized that at the start." Mey-Rin had been hired on his recommendation, and he knew of her eyesight issues better than anyone. For the first time in a very long time, the question was not rhetorical but self-castigating: how could he be the Phantomhive butler, if he didn't anticipate and compensate for the other servants' human shortcomings in a situation like this?

"Hey, nobody can think of everything all the time," Bard said with another shrug, as he set down the pail and used the dipper to fill the teacup with warm milk. Sebastian held the boy he'd been washing upright and steady as Bard carefully brought the cup to his lips, crooning, "Come on, suppertime... this is fresh from the cow, and sweetened with honey; can't get better than that! Good stuff, right? Let's put some meat back on those ribs..."

After the still-nameless boy drank two teacups of warm sweetened milk, Bard set the cup and pail down and rolled up his sleeves. "His lordship put me to hauling water for baths, but that leaves me some time to spare. How about I take over washing kids for you, so you can take over for the young master? You know I've got experience with bandaging too, and it looked to me like he's just about sleepwalking now; don't reckon he had any sleep at all before you came here with the kids."

"No, he had not. Thank you, Bard," Sebastian said as he stood up and dried his hands. As he rolled down his sleeves and put his tailcoat back on, he almost commented on how surprisingly competent the soldier-turned-chef was being tonight, but refrained at the last second. Instead he picked up the pail of warm sweetened milk and took it to the kitchen, to be poured into a more appropriate container for serving the earl.

When he found his young master, who was indeed stumbling with fatigue, the little earl still stubbornly insisted on seeing through his self-appointed task of putting the current group of four boys to bed. But the very moment those four were under the covers and the light in their room put out, he turned to Sebastian and all but fell into his arms. "Bed," was all he mumbled, but that was command enough for them both.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian said, and then carried the young master to his bedroom, aware that he must make quite a sight; it was not unheard of for servants to carry tired children to bed, but one did not normally do so while balancing a loaded tea tray on one's head. Under the circumstances, however, exceptions had to be allowed. Indeed, they passed Finnian coming out of another bedroom with a milk pail and teacup, and all the gardener did was nod a drowsy greeting to them without even blinking at Sebastian's unusual chapeau.

Once in the master's bedroom, he set down first Ciel and then the tea tray, and gave the boy a cupful of warm sweetened milk to drink while he swiftly and skillfully divested him of all his clothes and got him ready for bed. Ciel barely seemed to notice, his eyes fixed either on the teacup or on nothing at all, automatically switching his grip on the cup from one hand to the other as Sebastian gently tugged his jacket and shirt off of him and slipped his nightshirt on.

Sebastian said as he deftly buttoned the nightshirt, snaking his fingers up between the boy and the teacup, "I do apologize for not drawing you a bath before bed, my lord, but under the circumstances..." The young master made only a grunt of acknowledgment in response before draining the last of the warm sweetened milk, handing the now-empty cup back to the butler and turning to gracelessly flop into bed. With an affectionate tsk at his lack of manners, Sebastian tucked him in properly and bowed himself out of the room, aware that the young earl had fallen into dreamless sleep even before the light had been put out.

Next Sebastian tracked down Lady Elizabeth, who was also quite tired from lack of sleep... and at first just as determined to see to the finish the task her fiancé had asked of her, that of putting all the female children to bed. He very gently rebuked her with, "But my lady, to see you doing the duties of a servant, when a servant stands here ready for orders; surely your mother the Marchioness would not approve."

"But it's not proper for a man to put girls to bed," Lizzie said stubbornly, before covering a yawn with her hand.

Sebastian gestured to the current group of four girls who were crawling into bed as he said persuasively, "When the girls in question are keeping themselves well-covered with blankets, my lady, surely that satisfies propriety."

"Welll..." Lizzie almost visibly wavered before finally giving in. "All right; there are only a few more girls left anyway, and two of them still need Mey-Rin to give them baths first."

"Quite so, my lady. Do allow me to escort you to your room and serve you a nightcap of warm sweetened milk."

As he walked her back to her guest bedroom, Lizzie said between yawns, "Sebastian, my parents will send over some of our servants in the morning, to help out for the next few days that all these children are here. And Mama said she'd have some more clothes brought over, too."

"They will all be most welcome," was all Sebastian said in response. After they reached her guest room, he served Lizzie some warm sweetened milk before bidding her good night and returning to the great hall, where more children awaited.

As he trotted down the grand staircase, he met Finnian coming back down with an empty pail and a tired but pleased expression. "All the children have been given warm milk, Mr. Sebastian. And I only spilled one time, and it was just a few drops!"

"Well done then, Finnian," and Sebastian was mildly surprised to find that the praise was actually sincere, and not the near-meaningless flattery he occasionally doled out to the boy and to Mey-Rin to get them to stop weeping or howling about their inadequacies. The task of dispensing warm beverages to dozens of children, when Finnian himself was operating on less than adequate sleep, must have taken prolonged concentration on the boy's part. To complete the task with only one minor spill was far better than Sebastian would have expected of him; really, nearly the entire staff was being far more competent than usual tonight. "Now do resume hauling hot water for baths, while I take care of putting the remaining children to bed."

He put two more groups of boys to bed, and then the last group of four girls after Mey-Rin and Tanaka had finished bathing and dressing them (three of them in clothes borrowed from the young master’s closets, after they had completely exhausted Lady Elizabeth’s travel trunk.) Rather than stand in the bedroom giving directions, he undressed them himself and re-wrapped them in blankets at his top speed, which was considerably faster than any of the children could have managed. Lady Elizabeth would have protested if she'd known, but as Bard had pointed out, the girls were really not in any state to complain about his methods, particularly since it got them under the covers faster.

The last girl he put to bed didn't need to be undressed, since all she had on her was Lady Elizabeth's spare nightgown; a blue flannel affair with many colorful butterflies printed on the fabric. But since it suited his butler aesthetics to spend an equal amount of time with each child, he produced a small hairbrush from a pocket and spent a few seconds brushing the child's hair before tucking her in with the others already in bed.

The girl gave him a weak but clearly grateful smile, and whispered "Thank you." When she spoke, Sebastian abruptly recognized her; this was the same girl who had said "Please" to the young master a few hours ago, back in Baron Kelvin's mansion.

He smiled back at her, approving of her good manners; he neither needed nor asked for expressions of gratitude for doing his duties for the young master (which was just as well, because the earl hardly ever said them), but he did appreciate them when they were given sincerely. "You are quite welcome. Now sleep, child; you're safe here." After she'd obediently closed her eyes, he put out the light and returned downstairs.

Returning to the baths, he took over for Bard so the chef could go to sleep, and sent Finny tottering off to bed as well once he'd brought the hot water for the final bath. After the last group of three boys had all been bathed, bandaged and dressed in clothes borrowed from the master's closet, he led them all through the bedtime routine and tucked them in. Checking his pocket watch, he frowned at the time it displayed; well past four o'clock in the morning. But now that everyone was asleep, he could stop acting quite so human and be more efficient.

The master had given him permission to use his full abilities 'just this one time', and Sebastian chose to interpret 'this one time' to refer to this entire, unprecedented and still ongoing situation. Lady Elizabeth had informed him that members of the Marquis Midford's serving staff were coming on the morrow, and while he would admit that more people would be needed to properly tend so many children, he would not have the Marchioness Midford or anyone else thinking that more servants were needed to tend to the estate itself; the Phantomhive reputation was at stake.

First, stocking the pantry and larder. He went downstairs to the kitchen and storerooms, and swept a hand over the shelves as he summoned and bent aether to his supernatural will. In short order every shelf was laden to the groaning point with sacks of flour and other baking essentials, jars of honey and preserved fruits and vegetables, and dozens of cured hams and smoked fishes. Then he restocked the root cellar in seconds with plenty of potatoes, onions, turnips and the like, and after a moment's thought he conjured four bulging sacks full of lemons, limes and oranges from the Americas; good for treating scurvy, which he'd seen signs of in nearly all the boys he'd bathed.

As a final touch, he left two haunches of venison and an entire side of beef hanging in the chilled air of the meat-smoking shed. Sebastian made a note to advise his young master of the full restocking, to give the earl time to come up with a plausible lie if anyone should ask how they’d acquired so much on such short notice. Perhaps the master could say that they’d raided the baron’s mansion for supplies as well as children, before burning it to ashes.

Now, the fuel for heating. He stocked the coal cellar to the brim with high-quality coke, before stepping into a shadow—and stepping out again in the east wing's furthest guest room. Traveling through shadows eliminated the possibility of children being awakened by the creaking of little-used doors opening and closing.

In that first guest room as in all the other rooms occupied by the recently freed children, he silently created a suitable supply of coke in each fireplace, set it ablaze with a gesture, and put the steadily burning results behind a metal screen that would both block the light from sleeping eyes and prevent stray embers from setting the floor or throw rugs alight. And before leaving each room he took an instant to neatly fold all the clothing that had been discarded for sleep, and set each tidy little pile at the foot of the bed.

Now, the general tidying up. After dropping the corpse back through the broken window in the hallway by Lady Elizabeth’s guest room, Tanaka had tacked a thick wool blanket over the shattered glass; now Sebastian converted the blanket into new glass for the window, and made the bloodstains on the hall floor vanish. Then he rebuilt the damaged grand staircase, replaced the statues Finny had tossed as ammunition (except for the bust of Aristotle; the master had mentioned before that he didn’t like the looks of that one), and swept the floor clear of even the smallest speck of rubble.

That took care of the interior; time to deal with the house exterior and grounds, with maximum efficiency. Dropping his corporeal form entirely, the demon swept over the outside of the mansion in seconds, searching out every bullet hole and cracked surface remaining from Mey-Rin and Finnian’s battles and seamlessly filling them in.

After finishing the mansion's exterior, he fetched back the bodies of the three performers that had been killed, and he instantly shredded them into bloody fertilizer, which was mixed into the root soil for the new trees he set in place of the ones that Finnian had knocked down. Only Finnian would be apt to notice the replacements, but Sebastian had schooled that one well, and knew he would say nothing to anyone. As an afterthought, he put the leftover fertilizer into the flowerbeds for the master's prized white and Sterling roses; they would surely benefit from the bloodmeal as well.

And one more errand: flitting across the countryside and into the heart of London, Sebastian retrieved the master's violin from the townhouse. Once the children were awake, he was sure they'd be far too busy at the manor for carriage rides to the city for quite some time, but the young master would need his violin to keep up his lessons. As an afterthought, he picked up the box of marbles as well; he was rather sure that the master would agree that they now had a far more destitute group of children on hand to give the marbles to.

After returning to the manor and to corporeal form, Sebastian took a moment to haul the large hay wagon he'd created around to the back of the barn on the off chance that it would be needed again for transportation while the children were here, though they would need every coach horse in the stable to pull it when filled to capacity. He checked his pocket watch again as he returned inside, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. Not quite 5:00 a.m.; he still had time for one last task before going to the kitchen to start the day’s baking.

Trotting down to the wine cellar with lantern in hand, he checked in on the three circus performers he'd stashed down there until the young master had time to decide what would ultimately be done with them. Still tied up and gagged, they'd gone so far as to wriggle towards each other, and Dagger and Beast were currently lying in awkward back-to-back positions, trying to undo each other's bonds. He tsked at their lack of imagination before he advised them, "If you'd thought to work to loosen on each others' gags first, one of you could have then used your teeth to begin chewing through the ropes. Not that you likely would have succeeded with that either before I arrived to put a stop to it. But you'll be free of those bonds soon enough, now that I finally have a little time to provide you with more suitableaccommodations. If you'll excuse me," as he stepped past them and around a corner of the cellar to where the racks of champagne were resting, well out of sight of the trio.

He created and then dragged out of that corner, one or two sections at a time, the walls of an iron cage that was just the same size as the cages that he'd pulled twenty-two children out of a few hours ago. It was but the work of moments to bolt everything together, and then he ripped the bonds and gags off the prisoners even while tossing them into the cage one-two-three. Lunging as best he could on just one leg, Dagger tried to scramble out but just got the cage door slammed in his face as Sebastian locked them in. "Bastard! Treating us like animals, after we took you and Smile in as friends!" the boy shouted while grabbing at his now bloodied nose.

"On the contrary, it is not my intention to treat you as animals. You are being treated just as the children that we rescued tonight were treated by your patron," Sebastian informed him pleasantly. "I did say suitable accommodations, did I not? It seems quite suitable, for you to be treated in the same fashion as the children you kidnapped." He would have to inquire from the master later as to how they should be fed as well as how often. Given the signs of scurvy and general malnutrition he’d already seen in the children, he suspected the usual diet consisted of one meal of gruel per day, but how should it be administered? He rather doubted decent china dishware and silverware were involved.

The cage was far too small for any of the three to stand up in; they ended up sitting on the cold metal floor, lined up in a row and glaring out at him as he tidied up their torn bonds and the hand tools he'd created and used for bolting the cage together. Beast growled, "You could at least give us back our prosthetics!"

"Ah, yes, the prosthetic limbs that the late Doctor provided for you," Sebastian said as he walked over to the heap of prosthetics he'd left by the base of the stairs.

"The late... ye killed him?!" Joker cried out in outrage, lunging forward to grip one of the bars of the cage with his remaining hand. "Ye soulless bastard, how could ye?! Th'doctor was a good man! He had nothin' t'do wi' the kidnappings; he wouldna' harm a fly!"

That got Sebastian to turn and blink at him in surprise. "You really didn't know? He duped the lot of you?" He chuckled as he held up Beast's leg, admiring the handiwork by the lantern's light. "Liars who've been lied to; my, that is amusing!"

"What're ye talking about?!" Joker demanded.

"Why, I'm talking about the use that 'good man' made of the children you brought to the baron's mansion. The 'special ceramic' that your artificial limbs are made out of? Were you really entirely unaware of what made them so special?" as he tapped the limb with a gloved finger. On a whim, he inhaled deeply, to see how much of a scent of the original person or persons remained. Ah, yes; when it had been attached to Beast, her scent had overwhelmed everything else, but now he could ever-so-faintly detect traces of the bones used in its composition. A male child had gone into this limb's making... no, make that two different children.

He told the three performers what their doctor had said and done right in front of his and his master's eyes back at Baron Kelvin's manor, savoring the looks of growing horror on their faces. He'd grown to enjoy playing the perfect butler, but he could not deny that it was also enjoyable to be a source of horror now and then; quite refreshing, really.

"N-no! It's all a lie! You're lying!" Dagger screamed, his face gone completely white.

"I don't tell lies," Sebastian informed him rather frostily. In point of fact, he couldn't tell lies, as that was one of the restrictions his master had set when they'd formed the contract. And dealing with that restriction, one of the more challenging aspects of this contract, was part of what made it the most interesting contract he'd ever had. He admitted to the prisoners, "I will occasionally prevaricate, mislead or misdirect. But every word that comes out of my mouth is indeed true!"

He tossed the prosthetic limbs into the cage at their feet with a genial, "Here, by all means, re-equip yourselves with the remains of some of the children you once kidnapped." But the performers shied away from the limbs as if they were poisonous serpents, instead of scrambling to put them on. Sebastian left them there as he turned to head back up the stairs, consulting his pocket watch again. Hmm, he'd best get started baking the day's bread; they would need quite a few loaves to feed so many...

"Wait!" Joker cried out suddenly. "We've more to tell ye; more that ye an' Smile need to know about!"

Sebastian turned to him with a dash of impatience. "Such as...? I can spare you exactly one more minute, so whatever information you have, say it quickly."

"There be more children involved than ye know about; th' children at Renbon Workhouse! Th'baron owns th' workhouse, he's patron of all the children there, our lil' brothers 'n' sisters! 'Tis why we did as Father wanted, kidnapping other children for him; he tol' us if we didn't, he'd cut the workhouse off an' let them all starve t'death!" All three prisoners stared up at him imploringly as Joker begged, "Ye can hang us, aye, we deserve it an' we know it, but they's innocent children too; don't let them starve!"

"I shall inform the master when there is time for him to deal with them, after we have properly dealt with the children we have just rescued," Sebastian informed them, before proceeding up the stairs to the kitchen. He estimated that they would need at least sixteen loaves of bread for the morrow—ah, no, Lady Elizabeth said that the Midfords would be sending staff over to assist in caring for the children; make that eighteen loaves of bread, to feed the adults as well... He'd best bake a full twenty loaves, to be on the safe side.

Once the first batch of bread was baking in the oven, Sebastian loaded the stove with pots of water for preparing porridge. But he paused just before lighting the burners, when his supernaturally sharp hearing caught a sound from outside; someone approaching the manor, riding a horse at a fast canter. And the sun wasn't even up yet; who could it be at this hour?

Next: The Cavalry, Or...?

#black butler fanfiction

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damnlance · 3 years

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Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it��s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

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#spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #TMSIDK

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licuadora-nasir · 3 years

Note

Hello ! Do you write for queer reader ? If so, may you please write a Lance x Male reader, where they were long time best friends before (TO) Lance loves reader but as the last dragon he thinks it’s his duty to continue the legacy so never aknowledges his feelings wich leads him to be quite depressed, until Erika-I-stick-my-nose-everywhere find out somehow and build a plan with others to confront both about it ?

Thank you !

Hey there! Thank u for your ask, I loved the prompt! And I'm sorry for the delay, my relative is still hospitalized but he's better😊.

Also, of course I write queer, I'm part of the community and even though Eldarya doesn't have queer options regarding the MC I think it's interesting to treat other possibilities.

This one's structure was a bit different from the one I normally use. My amazing beta @rina-nanashiro and I have come to the conclusion that would be better to use the first person singular and the omniscient narrator to correctly portrait each character thoughts.

For this one, let's say that the plot is settled not long before Lance becomes the chief of the obsidian guard and Erika arrived 4 years earlier.

Also, whether the MC is human, faerie or faelian is up to you. I didn't dwell on any physical descriptions or mention his race.

To conclude, my ask box is closing soon. So if¡ anyone wants to request something, you have a couple of days to think about it.

Lance and a male MC have problems confessing their feelings and Erika meddles in under the cut

I carefully settled the dumbbells in the fresh grass, brushing away the light film of sweat, which covered my forehead, with the back of my hand.

Almost every day was a sunny one in the City of Eel. I have been told once that the shield surrounding the Head Quarters repelled rain and other natural phenomena, and I was delighted to enjoy the warm sunbeams, though as the day drew on, training in hot weather wasn't very pleasant.

A group of females crossed the gardens and threw a glance toward my bare, glimmering chest, sweat sliding down my pectorals and abs. One of them blushed while the other winked at me. The flustered one dragged her friend away while she couldn't help her giggling.

I was used to the attention. Such things would usually happen whether I was training shirtless and why not saying it, showing off a bit.

But those females’ attention... wasn't the one I was longing for.

As if my thinking was some kind of magnet, the object of my thoughts suddenly appeared in the Central Pavilion. I gulped and clumsily tried to fix my hair, using the fingers to comb the lost strands while Lance was engrossed in a conversation with Erika, laughing by his side.

"Hey, you" The girl gave me a sincere smile while Lance grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at my sweaty face not before smiling too. Jerk.

"Thank you, Lance.” I rolled my eyes seeking to restraint the smile of my own.

"Why are you training at this hour? It's too hot," asked Erika.

"The correct question would be why you are training and showing off at this hour." The dragon winked at me not before running his eyes over my bare chest.

I gulped for a second time and focused on the dumbbells on the ground, ignoring the warmth that settled in my chest and threatened to go down to my inner thigh. Yeah, it was indeed hot there.

"Well, it may be too hot for you both, but I enjoy the warmth." And while Erika simply didn't favour it, Lance was naturally more comfortable in cooler places. Disadvantages of being an ice dragon, I supposed. When the man opened up to the guardian and revealed his true nature, I was speechless.

It was a well-kept secret that not many knew and that such a closed-up person as Lance decided to give me that reliance meant the world for me. He didn't only trust me but wanted to show himself as he was. As the powerful and endangered being that he was. Keeping that secret all their lives made the twins wary of everyone, afraid of their reactions. But what I saw didn't frighten me. It made me want to know Lance more and unravel the person that hid behind that dense layer of steel and smugness.

"Oh come on, just admit it! You want to get tanned since summer is close!" Well, maybe that was another reason why I was training at this hour, but there was no way Erika was get away with it, so I hurled my towel, full of sweat, into my friend's face which made her grimace in disgust and Lance chortle.

"By the way, where's Valkyon? I need someone to back me up since apparently, you two have decided to bully me today." Valkyon had told Erika about his new nature as well. Before starting to hang out with the brothers, I didn't know much about the woman apart from her faelian condition, but we quickly befriended each other after spending time with the twins and meeting in several missions.

"He's been assigned to organize the armour's stock, so don't expect to hear from him in the next two hours," replied the brother.

Suddenly, a female elf popped next to us, most likely an acquaintance of the dragon. Her pink stare found Lance's, and she smiled sweetly at him as she spoke up

"The Obsidian Chief would like to meet with you. He's looking forward to discussing your promotion if you don't have any relevant matters at hand right now.”

"Yes, of course, just give me a moment." Lance turned to face me. "I came by to ask you if you're available after lunch. I've found some cool techniques in one of the books I'm reading and I thought you might be interested in learning them."

My chest tightened at the words, and after taking a deep breath I answered.

"Of course, I would love to." Lance parted from us undertaking to meet us at lunch with the rest. Normally, we would have lunch with Valkyon, Ezarel and Nevra, and sometimes Miiko, Yhkar and even Kero would join.

I sighed thinking about my last training with the Obsidian-Chief-to-be.

Lance was situated behind me, a firm hand holding my hip while the other grabbed my arm in a defensive position.

"You are doing it wrong. If anyone sees you with a posture like that one they'll mistake you for a novice lost on the battlefield. Let me teach you how to do it.”

I was painfully aware of my friend's figure pressed against my back. The warmth was sinking into my body, and I tried to think about pure things instead of embarrassing himself, but it was so difficult to focus on something else when his breath skimmed my ear and my butt was pressed against his-

"Hey."

"HEY."

"SNAP OUT OF IT, SCATTERBRAINED!" Erika brought me back from my memories with a hard slap to my head.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, VIOLENT MAD WOMAN?!" Geez, Erika could be really aggressive at times.

"I want to know what's going on with you" The young woman was directly looking at me with a clear stare. The kind of stare that made her violet eyes shine brighter. "And before you answer 'I don't know what you're talking about Erika, I'm perfectly fine' please, don't take me for a fool."

"I don't think you're a fool."

"I know something is going on with Lance. Every time he turns his back, you stare at him with that painful-but-loving look on your face and you sigh like he has taken your breath with him."

"I think you're a busybody."

"Come on, talk to me." I attempted to go away, but she grabbed my wrist. "I'm your friend. You know you can trust me."

"There's nothing to talk about. And nothing is going on with Lance either."

"Is it because you're both males? You know no one would-"

"It's not that!" I broke free from her grasp and finally addressed her. "I don't give a fuck if someone came insulting me or spitting shit on me or whatever. It just... It's Lance, we aren't talking about anyone." The problem wasn’t just that we were both males. It was far more complicated than that.

"And that means...?"

"It means he's a dragon. It means that apart from Valkyon, his race is extinct. He's born in a different league, and he shouldn't be with a male. He shouldn't be with me." I lost count of the times I wished Lance had been born as a female, or me, for that matter.

"You don't even know what he wants."

"I know what he deserves."

(But Erika didn't agree with him. Lance deserved someone that cared about him and not some random female that could give him offspring. And the guardian loved him. Deeply. She knew the second he met him he had a crush on Lance, and she could bet the dragon noticed as well. Come on, even Valkyon was aware of the guardian's feelings for his brother.

The one who didn't seem to realize Lance attempts to hit on him was the guardian. He was so dyed-in-the-wool that he didn't even consider the possibility that Lance could be interested in him as well. But she couldn't blame him: Lance himself was a mess of feelings.

The guardian wasn't wrong: Lance truly thought it was his duty to continue the legacy of his race, but he was conflicted between what he thought he had to do and what he desired, what meant taking one step towards his friend just to take two back. They were more and more miserable as each day passed and Erika couldn't stand seeing her loved ones like that.

What if they couldn't have offspring? Should they sacrifice their happiness just because they couldn't have kids? They love each other. They cared about each other. That should be enough.

But there was no use trying to convince them otherwise, so she did what she knew best: stick her nose into someone else's problems.

She conceived a plan to confront them: In three days, she would go on a mission. But at the last minute, she would remember that she had to deliver an urgent letter to Lance that he had to read immediately and she could ask the guardian to deliver it.

That way, when Lance opened the letter in front of the guardian, instead of coming across with an important document, he would find a text that said something of the sort "Actually, this whole thing was an excuse. I wanted to confess my feelings for you even if I didn't know how."

Yes, he would definitely kill her, but she wasn't going to sit in silence and watch how his possibilities of going out with Lance were decreasing each day, right? There were a lot of girls going after the twins, therefore if the guardian didn't hurry... Another one would do it.)

One morning, after I had accompanied Erika to the boat to wish her good luck in her mission and say goodbye, she let out an astonished gasp. "Oh no! I can't believe I forgot! Please, can you take this to Lance? It's something urgent, so tell him to open it the moment you give it to him!"

"I... Yes of course, do you know where he might be?"

After being told that at this hour he would probably be on the edge of the forest, I wasted no time and hurried up. Erika was a competent girl, but it wasn't a surprise that she sometimes forgot things like that. She could be hardworking and a mess with legs, but that made her more adorable.

I spotted the two brothers taking a stroll and conversating about something probably irrelevant since Valkyon seemed to be mocking his big brother. They were inseparable. Wherever Lance or Valkyon went, the other would tag along. It was truly heartwarming seeing how much they cared for and loved each other.

"Lance! Erika forgot to give you this." Both dragons instantaneously turned their heads to look at me, eyes clear and ready to listen to whatever I had to say. It was kind of funny to watch how seriously they take their roles. "She said that it was important and you should open it immediately."

When Lance opened the envelope, Valkyon took a step closer to his brother but after reading the first words, he squeezed his twin's shoulder and departed not saying a word.

When we were finally alone, Lance looked up to face me and muttered. "You finally came to talk about your feelings for me?"

Those eyes were clear as ice, and even though there was no trace of mockery, a heavyweight settled in my stomach. My...feelings for him? What the hell he was talking about?

I didn’t even say anything. I just gave the envelope that I had been tasked with and that was been all. At the sight of my confused mien, the dragon tended me to the letter.

I slowly took it, not leaving his eyes for a moment, and when he read I... My hands ripped it apart and tossed it somewhere in the woods without caring where it landed and hissed. "This was that busybody's doing!”

‘I wanted to discuss my feelings with you,’ she wrote.

I couldn't believe Erika had done that. It wasn't her affair and she had no right to meddle in someone else's business. How would she feel if I did that to her?

“Just... Look I'm sorry I can no-" The blood under my face was boiling, my whole body was boiling in shame and panic. I couldn't face him right now, I had to get the hell out of there.

I didn’t make it far before Lance gave me a firm grip on my wrist and said "Please, let's talk. This was my fault. I should have talked to you earlier, explain myself to you before anyone stuck their nose into this."

"What are we going to talk about, Lance?" I confronted him praying this new growing determination would not abandon me. "Do you want to talk about how you can't be with a male? How we are not meant to each other?"

"You know that's not true."

"Isn’t it?" I frowned and let a sad chuckle slip my lips. What a bastard. "You can't be with me, Lance. You deserve and want someone who can give you a family, that will bring you children, and I can't do that."

The dragon didn't so much talk. He couldn't say the proper words because I wasn't mistaken.

"There you have it." My voice cracked at the first word and I could have sworn something broke inside him as well seeing the gaze he gave me. "You may want me, but I'm not enough for you." Tears ran freely down my face like raindrops of a cold, cloudy day in winter. "Find a good mate, Lance. You have many admirers, so I don't think you'll have much trouble."

Lance couldn't stand it. He had never been a coward and that wouldn't be the first day he would start being one. He gently brought his hands to each side of his friend's arms and held him there. Firm but gently, he gripped him making sure he wouldn't go anywhere until he finished what the guardian deserved to hear.

"Look at me, please." Those eyes that were always full of love were hurt and sorrowful. He took a deep breath and let out his thoughts.

"I do not want you, I love you. You can not imagine how much I care about you and what your presence in my life means to me." His hands were slightly shaking. "You are right. I think that as a dragon, I must continue our legacy, but I have been unfair to you. I couldn't make up my mind, and I have hurt you."

The guardian started sobbing and one of the dragon's hands met his face to wipe his tears.

"You know, I've talked about this with Valkyon several times and I've realised my brother is right. I dese- We deserve to be happy. Together. Whether I can or cannot have offspring doesn't matter, it shouldn't be a duty and I shouldn't force that on you."

The guardian sobbed harder and embraced his beloved, feeling his hand on the head, the other arm gently stroking his back. Lance couldn't restrain a few silent tears of his own at the sight of the male whom he loved him as much as was loved by.

They will make it work, Lance could assure.

Do you have any requests? Feel free to stop by my ask box! But first, please read this.

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tiffdawg · 3 years

Text

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

“Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses

Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal @roxypeanut @unstoppableforcce @technicallykawaiisoul @mrsparknuts @weirdowithnobeardo @seeking-a-great--perhaps @assultsofthought @arrowswithwifi @larakasser @romewritingshop @none-of-your-bullshit @the-bird-suit @magneticbucky @bbygrgu @luminarahan @buckstaposition @grapemama @emzd34 @itsilvermorny

Javier: @wander-lustbabe

Tag lists are always open.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña x you #fic: curriculum vitae

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ohdeersthings · 3 years

Text

Love Festival

Kirishima Eijiro x F!OC

Summary: Being Fatgums adopted daughter can be challenging, especially when it comes to meeting his new interns while also having to keep watch over Eri.

Quirk: Ram

Quirk fact: Bring able to run, jump and react like a Ram, the user is able to also headbutt and cause great damage with their strength and horns. They also can digest anything like a Ram. Also has a fluffy wool tail, and a wool band around both wrists. Her legs from the waist down are ram legs, so she looks more like a Mythical Fawn.

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh hey Eraser Head! What's going on?" Fatgum answered his phone while sitting at his desk in his office at Fatgum Agency. "Fatgum, Midoriya and Togata have requested for Eri to be present at our School Festival, seeing as how Eri has bonded with Aki, do you think she'd be willing to join her on that day?" Aizawa questioned, standing outside Eri's hospital room where the young girl was currently having her lunch.

Fatgum pondered for a moment,"Well I don't see why she couldn't. I guess she could use a break too, between her assignments and being with Eri at the hospital, I'm sure she'd love it!" "Alright, I'll be sure to let the class know so they don't freak out. Speaking of, only Amajiki and the others in the Big Three have met Aki right? She was away on another assignment when Work Studies happened," Aizawa knew his students would probably freak out when seeing Eri's caregiver and friend, who was the same age as them but on a whole other level.

"You're correct, so Kirishima hasn't met her. It'll be fine though, I have full confidence that everything will be fine," Fatgum smiled into the phone, nonchalant about anything going on. "Alright, we'll discuss details later then," with that the two hung up.

~~~

"Oh hey Togata!" Midoriya called out to Togata, waving him over from where Togata was hiding behind the bush. Togata narrowed his eyes, realizing he'd been found out before he can surprise them.

The dance team looked on in surprise as Togata stuck his bottom out from the bush, Eri standing beside him looking surprised as well, "Hey guys! I brought a PEACH for ya,"

"Eri!" Midoroya called out as he, Uraraka and Tsuyu ran up to greet them. "That dress looks so cute," Tsuyu commented, "You are precious!" Uraraka gushing in fondness. The girls couldn't help the big smiles on their faces.

"Midoriya, I finally got permission from the Principle," Togata climbed out of the bush and began brushing off his pants as Aizawa spoke, "in order for her to not get stressed, we're allowing her to roam around today before the Festival, also there's someone you all need to meet as well,"

The other dance team members came forward to introduce themselves to the young girl. "Well hello there, you must be Eri, I'm Iida, nice to meet you," "Wassup I'm Mineta, man you're gonna be a looker when you're older huh~" Mineta smirked, but the young girl hid behind Togata, "I want Aki,"

The name had taken them by surprise, "Aki? Whose that?" Midoriya questioned, confusion written on the Work Study kids faces. "Oh right, you haven't met her yet. Aki is Eri's caregiver, well when she's not on Assignments for Fatgum," Togata explained, "Eri can be a little shy around new people, but her and Aki get along very well,"

"Its perfectly alright to be shy," Iida commented, softening his voice to not scare Eri further. "Let's start the tour! Aki should be here soon, so I wanna show her as much of the school as I can so she can see what we do here, you wanna come along too Midoriya?" Togata extended the offer, knowing that since Aki isn't here, Eri might be calm with Midoriya around too. "You bet!" "Hey Dance Team! New idea!" Kirishima's voice broke out, before realizing Eri was there.

"Oh hey Eri! Wait, we've never been officially introduced," Kirishima crouched down to meet Eri's gaze when another voice broke out.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, someone decided to rob a gas station on the way over and I couldn't just leave the situation," it was a soft, silky voice that came from behind Aizawa. The students all turned their attention to see a young dark skinned girl about their age.

Her hair was a dark auburn red that came to below her shoulder blades, soft waves accentuating her purple eyes that seemed to have a swirl of white in them but were framed with thin gold wired glasses. Freckles dawned her nose and cheeks that were flushed with red, giving her an innocent look. What caught their attention the most was the Ram horns that protuded from her head, her legs being Ran legs with red fur like her hair but black hooves. Her outfit consisted of a off the shoulder wool dress she seemed to be wearing that came to stop at her upper thighs, a bell was wrapped around her neck and jingled everytime she moved, of course it also brought attention to her chest that was framed by the wool.

Some of the boys blushed, and Kirishima found himself entranced by her. "Aki!" Eri exclaimed, walking over to the girl who crouched down to her height, "I missed you!" Eri reached her arms out to her, Aki smiling and welcoming the girl into her arms, "I missed you too," giving Eri a nuzzle as the girls closed their eyes and embraced eachother.

"So you're Aki! It's a pleasure to meet you!" Midoroiya smiled, the class seemingly broken from the momentary shock. "The pleasure is all mine! Thank you for what you did for Eri, I would've been on the assignment too if Papa hadn't sent me on a different one," Aki greeted, before realizing she needed to properly introduce herself.

Standing up, Eri still in her arms as she bowed, "I'm sorry! My name is Toyomitsu Aki, it's so nice to meet you all, please call me Aki!" Straightening up, Eri wrapped her arms around Aki as rested her head on Aki's shoulder.

"Wait, Toyomitsu? Why does that sound familiar?" Kirishima wondered aloud, rubbing his head as if it would bring the answer to him. "WAIT I KNOW YOU!" Midoriya yelled out, eyes growing wide as he pointed toward Aki,"YOU'RE RAM-RAM, THE YOUNGEST PERSON TO EVER BECOME A HERO, YOU'RE ALSO FATGUMS DAUGHTER!" Now the students outside all yelled in shock, "WHAT!?"

"Oops, guess the cats out of the bag," Togata laughed, Aizawa just shaking his head in embarrassment from his students. "WAIT, you're really Fatgum's daughter!? Why didn't I know this!" Kirishima cried out, his head a mess knowing the girl he found cute was actually his Mentors daughter.

"Yeah, Papa adopted me when I was a baby, I hope this doesn't affect us becoming friends?" Aki smiled nervously, her small tail twitching in anticipation. "No way! That's so cool, let's take a break everyone, it's tea time!" Mina chimed in, hoping to calm everyone down from the excitement, "There will be more time to explain later, get on with the tour, we don't have time to waste," Aizawa called out, Togata and Aki nodding as Midoriya went to go change his clothes really quick.

"So if you're Fatgums daughter, you must know Amajiki right?" Kirishima questioned, trying to push through his nerves in front of the pretty Ram girl. He was determined to get to know his Mentors daughter. "Definitely! Tama-Kun is so nice, I love going on assignments with him, especially when he shares his food with me like Papa," Aki gushed, her red cheeks getting even darker with excitement, a closed eye smile making Kirishimas cheeks match hers in color. "My name is Kirishima Eijiro, my hero name is Red Riot, I'm actually a new intern at your father's agency for my Work Study," He introduced himself, holding out a hand in greeting.

Aki's jaw dropped and sparkles seemed to erupt from no where, "NO WAY! Papa has told me all about Red Riot, your name is a play off of Crimson Riot right!? I love that, he's such an amazing Hero!" Aki rambled, Kirishima feeling himself fall even harder.

Togata chuckled and took Eri from Aki, who was so engrossed in her conversation she didn't even seem to notice the weight lifted from her arms. Eri looked between the two red heads and noticed that Aki looks so happy, like when she finds a good object to chew on, then again anything was good to chew on for Aki.

"Totally manly right! Hey, are you gonna be here for our School Festival? It'll be totally killer, we're putting on a performance!" "Of course, I'll be chapperoning Eri that day so we won't miss it," The two had seemed to have fallen into their own little world, the other students just watching in amazement.

"I don't think I've seen Kirishima this excited before," Tsuyu commented, Uraraka and Mina nodding in agreement. "Oh jeez, he's got it bad," Ojiro laughed, Mineta seething from the mouth that he didn't get to touch the pretty animal girl. "He's got what?" Shoji asked, looking to Ojiro for answers, although Hagakure answered instead, "Kirishima is totally falling for Aki! What better romance is that!? An employee and the Bosses daughter? It's so forbidden but romantic!" Hagakure couldn't contain her excitement and started to swoon, Mina grabbing her shoulders as she tries to balance her friend.

"Hey Aki! Let's get this show on the road!" Togata called out, waving his arm to grab her attention. "Oh, coming MiMi-Kun! I guess I should go, we'll talk again soon, right?" Aki questioned, taking Kirishimas hands into her own, a bright smile on her face as her eyes seemed to sparkle. Kirishima felt his face warm up, but nodded, a nervous smile on his face from how close she was,"Definitely, we can meet up sometime at the agency maybe,"

"See ya later," she giggled, walking over and taking Eri's hand into her own. Kirishima could only watch with his heart beating out of his chest as the beautiful girl left, when he felt a hand on his back slap him forward, "OH MY GOSH KIRISHIMA, YOU'RE SO LUCKY, YOU SLY THING YOU!" Mina exclaimed, repeatedly hitting him in her excitement. "Way to go dude," Ojiro laughed, the rest of the students all smiling and calling out their support for him. "Come guys this is so not manly," he whined, embarrassed having realized they watched him and Aki. Yet he smiled and couldn't help but think 'Maybe this Festival will be good,'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking around the school seemed to excite Eri and Aki, both wondering how all the different classes worked and what each class would put on for the School Festival.

Meeting up with Amajiki and Hado excited Aki to the point of her having steam come out of her nose in puffs, "Tama-Kun!Nene-chan!" She called out to them, Nejire flying over in greeting as they began to discuss the beauty pagent in detail and how Nejire was going to win this year.

"Hey! Maybe you should join Aki! I bet you'd be a shoe in for runner up!!" Hado squealed, wanting the girl who was like a little sister to join in on the fun. "Oh I'd live to Nene-chan but I'm not a student here," Aki smiled, though Midoriya thought her smile seemed a little forced, "plus I wouldn't wanna ruin your chances by competing, I'll be sure to cheer you on though!" Aki grinned, giving Hado two thumbs up who returned it. Eri looking between the two and then to her hands, mimicking them but smaller, though everyone swooned.

After visiting the Support Class last, they went to Lunch Rush's in the cafeteria to give Eri somthing to eat to finalize the tour. "Well that's all of U.A!" "What did you think of our School Eri?" Midoriya questioned, Eri though looked unsure, "I..I don't know," both boys looked at eachother nervously, but Aki smiled at her which gave Eri enough courage to continue, "But I can see how hard everyone is working, so I do wanna see how it turns out," Aki gave her a grin, proud of Eri for trying to speak out more and explain her thoughts and feelings.

At the end of the day, they returned Midoriya to Heights Alliance and said goodbye. "We'll be back on the day of the festival," Togata explained, pumping his arm in excitement, "So make sure it's killer,"

As they went to leave, Aki spoke up, "I will catch up with you in a moment MiMi-Kun, I wanna ask Midoriya somthing really quick," Togata nodded and escorted Eri out.

"What is it Aki? Is everything okay?" Aki stared at him for a second, before her eyes sharpened and it made him jump back, "What is your deal with Eri? What are you hoping to gain?" "W-what?" Midoriya was taken back, 'How can such a sweet and cute girl get terrifying to quickly!?'

"You seem very focused on making her happy. Why? I don't want anyone near Eri who was bad intentions," "It's not like that! When we found Eri that first time, I was so upset we couldn't do anything. I beat myself up everytime I think about it, I wanna be a hero that saves people with a smile. But Eri hasn't smiled once, so I wanna help her smile. I wanna help her become a child again, especially after what she went through," Midoriya was firm with his answer, now staring Aki back in the eyes, hoping to show her the true meaning of his intentions.

Aki suddenly smiled, sparkles surrounding her like with Kirishima earlier, "Okie dokie. I hope your goals come true," Midoriya sweat dropped, 'How bipolar can she be?' Aki then bit her lip nervously, arms behind her back as she shuffled, "I do have one more question, more of a favor though,"

This caught him by surprise, "Sure, what is it?" Holding out a folded up paper, she asked, "Can you give this to Kiri-kun for me?" "Huh!? KIRISHIMA!?" "Y-Yes, I know this sounds silly but.. he's very cute," Aki admitted, her face turning red and her tail stub swished back and forth.

"U-uh sure, I can give this to him. Wouldn't you wanna give it to him in person though," "I-I don't know..I don't wanna over step," "Nonsense, come on,"

With that Midoriya led her inside, the rest of the class unwinding in the main sitting area, though they looked in surprise with the girl in tow with Midoriya. "Hello again!" Mina greeted, "Guys this is Toyomitsu Aki, she's Eri's caregiver," Midoriya introduced the girl, her bowing to the class with a smile.

"Hello everyone, so pleased to meet you," her smile made them all flushed, 'SO CUTE'. "So what are you doing here? Is everything okay?" Jirou questioned, "I-I was hoping to speak to u-uh..Kirishima-kun," Aki was embarrassed, now noticing how many people were staring at her intensely.

"Did someone call me? Oh hey Aki! What's up?" Kirishima questioned, having just walked out of the kitchen, but smiled big when he saw the beautiful girl from this morning.

"H-hi! I just wanted to u-uh, give this to you," stumbling over her words, she tried to act relaxed but was dying on the inside and outside. "O-Oh, thanks," Kirishima blushed, taking the folded up note from her out stretched hand, when their fingers touched however they both jumped apart and their faces burned red.

Of course, Mineta took this time to try and sneak up behind the girl. Reaching his hand out to flip the bottom of her dress, mumbling on how it was so short, it'd be a crime to not go through with it. Thankfully, Kirishima took notice and pulled her to him, hardening his hand as he punched him away, "KNOCK IT OFF," He growled, holding Aki close in his left arm.

Aki shivered, noticing how his muscles squeezed her like she'd dissappear if he let her go. Tapping his chest, he realized he was holding her and jumped back, "I'm so sorry! He can just never keep his hands to himself and it'd be so unmanly if me to not step in," Kirishima freaked out, waving his hands and trying to plead his case. He froze though when Aki walked up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "It's alright, thanks for being my Hero," she winked, suddenly finding some courage in his embarrassment. "I'll see you at the festival like we talked about earlier, right?" Aki asked, let her hands rest on his chest, "U-Uh YYEaH Suree," his voice cracked, his whole mind running in auto pilot. "Awesome, I'll see you then," she turned on her hoof and began walking toward the exit, she looked over to the class in a whole and waved goodnight before exiting Heights Alliance.

A loud thud made everyone turn toward where Kirishima was, noticing he'd fallen over, his eyes swirling and a giant grin in his red face. "Aki's so cute," he chucked, Kaminari and Sero whooping for him while Iida lectured about proper PDA in the presence of others. All Kirishina knew is that the festival couldn't come soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the day of the festival, Aki and Eri sat in the back if a taxi has Togata sat up front and was going over the schedule for the day. "We'll catch 1-As performance, then race over to 1-B for their play, then it'll be lunch and the pagent, does that sound alright?" He turned to face the horned girls in the back, Eri's outfit was a cute red and white dress while Aki wore her usual wool dress only this time it was red to compliment her hair.

"Sounds great, we can probably catch 1-A setting up before they perform," "oo~you just wanna catch Kirishima before he performs, maybe to wish him luck~" Togata teased, Aki gritting her teeth and raising her hood, kicking him in the back if the head leaving a hoof print, "Hehe, nevermind," Togata smiled, Eri looking up at Aki, "Do you like Kirishima?" "U-uh well, I admire him so to say," Aki tripped over her words as Togata laughed at her misfortune.

Once they'd arrived at the school, Aki mentioned she was going to see Nejire before 1-A to wish her luck before she got ready.

"Nene-chan, are you in here?" Aki knocked, hearing a lot of voices from inside the dressing room. Opening the door, Aki was met with Hado, Yuyu, and a few other students. "Oh sorry, I just wanted to come wish you luck," Aki smiled, holding her hands together in front of her.

"Ram-Ram!?" The other students exclaimed, shocked that a young hero would show up here. "Oh hello! Wonderful to meet you," she bowed, greeting them as they momentarily freaked out before bowing back.

"Hey hey! What're you doing here Aki? Where's Eri? Or Togata?" "They went to go see 1-A real quick, I was about to go see them, just wanted to see you first," Aki sheepishly explained, Testutestu suddenly appeared in front of the girls face making her lean back in surprise.

"Wait a second are you that girl Kirishima is always talking about!? The pretty red haired Ram girl that is Fatgums daughter!" Aki flushed hearing the red haired boys name.

"Well it's nice to know he thinks of me," she said happily, before looking at the clock, "I've gotta go, I hope everything goes good for you girls!" She cheered, waving as she walked out leaving the others stunned, "Why does Kirishima always get the good opportunities," Testutestu cried out, falling to his knees depressed that a beautiful girl like that was already taken by Kirishima.

~~~

"Hey! I'm not too late am I?" Aki called out, running up to the 1-A group. "Oh Ram-Ram! Welcome," Yamomo greeted, fiddling with her keyboard to make sure it was on the right setting. "We've still got about twenty minutes until we go on, Midoriya should've been back by now, he went to go get rope earlier," Kirishima mentioned, cheeks going a light pink at facing Aki again.

"Well I'm sure it'll be amazing, are you doing special affects?" Aki questioned, leaning close into Kirishimas personal space, "Y-Yeah, I hope you'll enjoy them," he smiled, running a hand through his hair. "HEY SHITTY HAIR, LETS GO WE AINT GOT ALL DAY!" Bakugou yelled out then realized Kirishima was talking to a girl.

"Hey Sheep Ass! What're you doing in here?! Don't be trying to pull anything dammit," Bakugou seethed, his teeth gritting together in annoyance of a new person.

"I was just wishing you guys luck," Aki began to ring her hands nervously, "Well we don't need luck! We'll kick ass either way dammit!" Bakugou exclaimed, getting in her face. Aki decided he needed to calm down and quit yelling.

Ramming her head into his stomach, Bakugou lurched forward coughing as he fell to the ground holding his stomach,"Damn Ram Bitch. What the fuck was that for," he gasped, rolling around on the floor in pain. "I didn't appreciate you being in my face," she calmly spoke, turning to Kirishima again who looked at her in awe at her strength.

"I'll leave you to it, you'll do amazing," her lips pressed to his cheek again, although this time they grazed the corner of his mouth slightly. Giggling she turned and left the room.

Silence ticked by for a second before Kirishima belted out, "GUYS THIS HAS TO BE AMAZING, TOP NOTCH MANLY," He hardened up without knowing, the others in the class around him sweat dropping at the sudden mood change.

~~~

As the curtains opened and a deafening explosion happened, Aki smiled as Jirou started her song, the dancers and musicians knocking it out of the ball park all at once.

The beat had Aki dancing in place, Togata laughing at her as Eri watched in surprise of Midoroiya dancing, well at least until he went off stage for some reason. "He left," "He'll be back, let's keep watching," Togata assured her, the music still blaring into their ears.

The song kept continuing to grow in progress when all of a sudden a lot of special effects went off, Uraraka swinging out to the crowd and lifting some audience members off the ground, one of them being Aki who laughed and brought Eri with her who couldn't hold it in any longer, throwing her arms out and laughing, a giant smile on her face. Aki and Togata had tears in their eyes as they smiled, knowing this young girl had finally broken free from her shackles of a pervious life. Aki hugged her tight before spinning in a circle with her, both girls laughing together in glee as Togata cheered them on. The song came to an end as the audience screamed and cheered, Aki and Eri now holding onto Togata as the three of them embraced in a hug. Eri had finally smiled and it made the two older ones warm with happiness.

As the gym filled out, the three met up with Midoriya on his way back in, Togata congratulating him on a job well done. "It was so crazy! First there was a loud sound and it was scary, but then everyone started jumping, even Aki was dancing and then Deku you went away for a little bit. But then there was a spinning guy and it started to get cold and I saw a lot of birds and people went "Wow" and you know what I said? Wow too!" Eri rambled on, her arms being thrown everywhere in excitement as Togata and Aki copied her from her side. "It was so much fun! Especially when Aki flew in the air with me and we danced," Eri stopped when she noticed Midioriya getting tears in his eyes, "I'm so glad you had fun Eri," this caused Eri to smile wide at him, Aki not able to hold it in anymore and swooped her up, spinning in circles as both girls laughed together. The boys looking on with their own smiles.

Heading outside, they met up with some of the boys that were melting the ice. "Ah dang this ice is too big, hey Bakugou can you-" "Kick Force!" A voice cut off Kaminari as a blur of red jumped in the air and came down on the giant block of ice, breaking it into little pieces. "Whoa!" Peoole passing by stopped and stared, Aki standing up and fixing her glasses. "Is this okay?" She asked, tilting her head with a smile.

"Hey its Ram-Ram!" "I didn't know she'd be here!" "She's so cute!" Voices came from behind her, causing her to turn over her shoulder and smile at the students and give a wave causing them all to flush red from the adorableness.

"Hey Aki! How'd you like the show?" Kirishima asked, hands on his hips, but he quickly put them put to catch Aki who jumped at him, landing in his arms as hers went around his neck that was turning red, "It was so amazing! The lighting, the music, the dancing, it was so beautiful! The affects were so awesome too! It was a rush of adrenaline for sure," Aki couldn't help but gush over the performance, Kirishima grinning and twirled her around, cheeks still flushed, "THAT'S GREAT! I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it! I did happen to catch you dancing a few moves too," he winked, catching her off guard but she laughed and nodded, finally getting set back in the ground.

Togata watched for a second before smirking, "You know we still have about two hours or so before the pagent, why don't you show Aki the rest of the festival Kirishima!" Aki and Kirishima turned bright red, but both agreed to it as the rest of the class came out to begin their own sight seeing if the festival too. Kirishima grabbed Aki's hand and began to drag her out of sight, she looked back over her shoulder to see Togata and Eri waving to her, both smiling as she disappeared from sight.

Both red heads walked around, looking at all the different food vendors and games, before coming upon the High Striker game, where you bring the hammer down to ring the bell and win a prize. They went to walk past it before Aki noticed fluffy Ram and Shark plushies. Kirishima looked to her and then the prizes before waking up to the student running it. "Hey dude! What do you have to do to win those two?" Pointing to the plushies Aki was eyeing. "You've gotta ring the high bell, you only get one try though," the student informed, gesturing to the tallest one they had which looked to be about fifty feet high. Kirishima grabbed the hammer, Aki stopping him momentarily, "You don't have to do that Kiri-Kun" she informed, but he shook his head, "It wouldn't be very manly of me to not win a pretty girl the plushies she wants, so just sit back and watch," he grinned at her before turning his attention to the game in front of him. He hardened his body as he swung the hammer up and brought it down full force, the little rod shooting straight up and knocking into the bell, denting it but ringing it nonetheless.

Aki cheered in amazement as Kirishima was handed the two plushies, the student behind the counter complaining to himself about needing a new bell now. Aki was handed both but then looked to Kirishima and handed him back the Ram one. "Seems only fair you get one too, right," she giggled, Kirishima smiling and nodding, taking Aki's free hand into his again as they continued down the path. Both could agree that this was probably the best day ever.

~~~

Standing at the gate to see the three off, Aki and Kirishima stared at each other for a minute before smiling softly to one another. "I'm glad you could join us, maybe you can come back another time?" Kirishima asked, hopeful he'd get to see her again, preferably outside of Work Studies and School. "Mmm, I don't know. I have my assignments and taking care of Eri too," Aki admitted, her purple eyes staring into his Ruby red eyes that were full of hope.

"Actually, I guess it's alright to tell you that you'll be seeing everyone alot more. We're planning on moving Eri into the dorms here, to keep a better eye on her and her progress with her quirk. Of course, her care taker is gonna have to be with her," Aizawas voice cut in, making both teens turn toward him in shock before turning back to each other.

Kirishima whooped and picked up Aki, spinning her around as they both laughed, setting her back in the ground, he blurted out, "Would you like to go out sometime?!" He realized what he said and burned red, but kept his eyes trained on her shocked face but she soon smiled shyly and nodded, "I'd love to, maybe you can show me a nice Cafe around here?" She asked, Kirishima nodding as he took out his phone to get her number so they can plan it for the day she comes back.

Aizawa and Togata watched the two as Midoriya and Eri said goodbye a little ways to the side, "I'm gonna regret this aren't I," Aizawa sighed, feeling the need to go to bed after such a long day, "Awe come on Eraser Head, it's cute," Aizawa merely shook his head, turning to walk off, "Some School Festival this turned out be," Togata only laughed and called out, "I'm pretty sure you mean Love Festival!"

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Hiiiii. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts! I know some people don't like OCs that much but I thought I'd give it a try.

😛😘❤

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha kirishima #kirishima x oc #kirishima eijiro x oc #mha eijirou #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #Kirishima #kirishima mha #kirishima fluff #kirishima ejirou #kirishima eijiro fanart

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

It starts as it will end: in darkness.

Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

“You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

“I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

“Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

Is it?

“You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

“I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

“This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

“No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

“What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

“Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

“A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

“Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

“He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

“Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

“Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

“Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

“The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

“The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

“And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

“Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

“Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

“No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

“How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

“Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

“Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

“Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

“You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

“Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

“What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

“There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

“You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

“I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

“And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

“Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

“Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

“Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

“Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

“Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

“Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

“They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

“Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

“I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

“Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

“You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

“Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

“Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

“Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

“And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

“They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

“Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

“I’m what?”

“Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

“You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

“That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

“Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

“So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

“I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

masterlist - part one - part two ½

“Oh, I could fucking snap that pretty little neck of yours.”

Elide smirked and crossed her arms, “Keep it in your pants, Salvaterre. We’re still at work, baby.”

From the other side of her office, Lorcan sent her a glare that could freeze Hellas’ fiery realm. He crossed the room in two large strides. His long, glossy hair was in disarray. Elide practically choked on her desire to smooth it back for him. She glanced around, quickly averting her eyes from Rowan’s pointed look. His fiancée beside him wore a delighted expression, almost as if she wished she was snacking on something right about now. “Lochan, c’mon. Listen to me. If we settle now, it’ll only allow big tech corporations to completely demolish software start-ups. You know I’m right.”

“If we push, we could end up with nothing and bankrupt our client! If we settle, that leaves Nox and Luca with enough money to further their technology.” She stood up and braced her hands against the glass surface of her desk. “Lorcan, I know that you want to set precedent–”

“It’s not about setting precedent, princess,” he snapped. “I don’t give a fucking shit if people know my name or not. I’m doing the right thing here and it’s insulting that you don’t see that.” Lorcan dropped the papers on her desk. He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair before twisting his locks into a messy bun. “You’re fucking impossible, Elide.”

Elide’s spine straightened, “ I’m impossible? This is my case and since the second I asked you for help, you’ve been–”

“You’re fucking it up, Elide! You’re scared of losing and leaving those kids with nothing so you’re playing it safe and–”

“I am not playing it safe , Lorcan. I’m playing it smart. This is what we learned in school. It’s how we’re supposed to do it.”

He scoffed, his words cutting, “Yeah, according to a second-year class. I never had you pegged as a coward, Elide. You’re scared and you’re hiding behind a gods-damned book . You know, I really used to think you were cut out for this, but I’m not so sure anymore.” Tears burned her throat. Elide flicked her watery eyes to the wall of windows and focused on the glittering city lights. Lorcan inhaled sharply, as if realising what he’d just said. “Princess, shit, I’m–”

“You’re not sorry, don’t you dare lie to me,” Elide whispered. She looked up at him, “You want the case that bad, Lorcan? Fine. It’s yours. Enjoy it, you bastard.” She shoved the case file box to him so hard that it slid off the smooth surface and on pure reflex, Lorcan caught it. Elide didn’t look at anyone while she strode out of her office.

She took the elevator up to the roof and walked across the gravel-covered roof to the railing. Elide leaned against it and then, because she couldn’t help herself anymore, she let a sob fall from her lips. Elide buried her face in her hands.

She cried softly until she heard the heavy metal door drag against the gravel as it was pushed open. Elide raised her head and hastily wiped her eyes, “If you’re here to grovel, I don’t want to hear it, Salvaterre.”

“He’s not. Aelin’s chewing him out right now.”

Elide turned, sighing softly. “What are you doing out here, Rowan? I want to be alone.” A gust of cold wind blew over her. Elide hugged her arms around herself and tucked her chin into her chest to conserve heat.

Rowan walked closer and draped her heavy wool coat over her shaking shoulders. “I thought you might be cold. Might want some company, too.” He opened his arms and Elide leaned into him. “Yeah,” he said as he folded her into his warm chest and rested his chin on her head. “I know, Ellie.”

“Every time,” she sniffled, pathetically, “every time I think we- we’re getting somewhere, we fight and- and lose whatever progress we’ve made. He isn’t even mine and I keep losing him.”

“I know,” Rowan said, his brogue strong and comforting. Unbeknownst to Elide, his face was set in a deep frown, all directed at the man who sat floors below them, being berated by a woman he towered over by at least a foot.

After a few minutes, Elide stepped back. She accepted the tissue Rowan procured and wiped her mascara tracks away. “I guess I should go back and… figure this out. Are you and Ae staying?”

“No, we’ve got dinner with my parents.”

Elide nodded and looped her arm through his elbow, “Let’s go, then.” Rowan wisely didn’t try to dissuade her and escorted her back down. Aelin was waiting by the elevators, her coat and scarf on. She carried her gloves and bag in hand and stepped up to hug Elide good-bye and fuss over her hair. “Ae,” Elide said, “I’m fine, really. Go, have dinner with Ro’s parents. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Alright. But if you need me, I can ditch those losers and come over.” Rowan cleared his throat and arched an unimpressed brow. Aelin sent him a loved-up grin and kissed Elide’s cheeks, “Bye, honey.”

“Good-bye, Elide,” Rowan said.

“Night, you two. Say hi to your parents for me.”

“Of course,” Rowan nodded his head and guided his fiancée into the waiting elevator.

Elide turned on her heels and slowly walked back through the empty office to hers. She looked through the glass wall and saw Lorcan. He was sitting on the low, modern leather couch and bent forward with his forearms against his thighs.

When she walked in, Lorcan shot to his feet, his eyes wide. “El, please, listen to me. I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t- I was- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. None of it is true, you have to believe me. You- you’re an amazing lawyer, Lochan. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know, Lorcan. Really, I know. It’s not the first time one of us has said something we didn’t mean.”

Relief flooded his face, “Ok, um, yeah. That’s good.” He flashed her a rakish grin. Elide felt her own smile grow at the sight of his. She wasn’t too stubborn to deny that Lorcan was attractive and quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, but when he smiled… she could only describe him as beautiful. “And, listen, I know you think we should settle, but–”

“Lor,” Elide laughed, “let’s order dinner before we get back to it, ok? I’m starving.”

Lorcan loosened his tie and lifted his eyebrows, “You aren’t trying to wine and dine me just so I’ll agree with you, right?” Elide just hummed noncommittally and walked to her desk. She leaned back against the edge as she picked up her phone and dialed the number to their favourite restaurant. He laughed and sat down, “Right, like that would ever happen.” He paused, waiting for her response. “Right, Elide?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, never.” Never. Never. Never.

She hated that the thought of them never being together made her heart crack. After she put in their classic order, she sat down next to him and they read briefs in a comfortable silence.

An hour later, their dinner arrived. Lorcan sat down on the carpeted floor and rested his back against her couch. Elide kicked her heels off and sat down against the matching armchair, perpendicular to Lorcan.

They spread out their papers around them, interspersed with boxes of Chinese takeout. Elide rested her feet in his lap, her brow furrowed as her eyes flicked back and forth across the page. Lorcan didn’t say a word and laid his hand on her ankle. His thumb soothed circles over her skin, “What is it?”

“I think we should push.”

“Lochan–”

“You’re backing down, really?” There was a fluttering sound as she dropped the package. “Stop doing that. I told you I was fine and you’re right. If we settle, it’ll only allow other corporations to go after and attack small developers.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

She narrowed her eyes in warning. “If we settle–”

“No, no, not that,” he said, smiling at her, “the thing before that. I’m what? ”

Elide rolled her eyes and flicked his nose with her index finger, “You’re right . I should’ve listened to you earlier.”

Picking up a box of sesame noodles, Lorcan passed Elide her vegetarian dumplings. “What are you thinking?”

Elide took the box and picked up her chopsticks to pinch one. She lifted the dumpling, but didn’t eat it. “About what?” They both knew he wasn’t talking about the case.

Lorcan dropped his head back against the couch cushion, “Anything.”

“I’m thinking that… this is nice. Being with you. I like it.” He looked at her and Elide frowned defensively, “What, I like your company. We don’t always have to fight.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I like it too.” Her pale cheeks pinked and they shared a gentle grin.

Elide poked his thigh with her toe, her heart pounding, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

His eyes were so dark, Elide swore she could get lost in them and willingly, too. Lorcan rubbed his hand up and down her shin, “I’m thinking maybe I don’t… hate you. Maybe I’ve never hated you.”

She could barely hear herself think, blood rushing through her ears. Slowly, Elide rose onto her knees and straddled his lap. Lorcan didn’t say a word, merely steadying her hips as she shifted. “Well, maybe I’m tired of pretending we wouldn’t be great together.”

Lorcan lifted a hand to cradle the back of her head and pull her close. They both leaned in and the tips of their noses bumped together. Her hands were surprisingly steady as she gripped his collar and tugged him that much closer. Their lips were a hair’s breadth apart when he whispered, “Let’s stop pretending then, hmm?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: tee hee

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @empire-of-wildfire@ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream let me know if u want to be added/removed from the tag list !!

#ntf part two #nine to five #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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aphrodites-law · 4 years

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A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

#clarke x lexa #clexa #clexa fic #f: a bit of clarity #w

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shadowsfascination · 3 years

Text

Shadamy swordland AU - part 4

The air was knocked out of Amy’s lungs by his statement and her skin paled, drawing long shadows over her usually cheerful face. Her head began to ache and she rubbed her forehead as if to rub to swirl of emotions inside her away. Shadow on the other hand crossed his arms and legs, a hint of sorrow playing his ruby eyes.

Amy hunched her back and leaned on her hands, eyed Shadow and drew a breath. She intended to speak, but found no words. Instead she watched the light of the flickering candle cast constantly changing shadows on him, the warm tones of its’ flame contrasting with the now chilly atmosphere between them.

Unaware of it Shadow gritted his teeth in distress. At a total loss for words or the slightest idea how to behave in this situation, he chewed his lip and mildly pinched his arms. He couldn’t talk anymore. It was somehow beyond his control and he despised powerless it made him feel. His body froze and the longer the silence lasted, the further the words drifted away from him. Meanwhile his mind became a cacophony of tangled, blurry thoughts.

I have to snap out of this!

Shadow took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tracing the source of the messed up chaos energy in his body and changing it into a state of tranquillity again.

“Amy.”

The sudden renewed confidence in him broke not only the silence, but the seal between them as well. She couldn’t somehow deny his gaze and locked eyes with him, her eyes full of questions and expectations. He took her hands to cover them in his own. They were warmer than she’d expected.

“I cannot explain any of this to you.”

Amy frowned at him in annoyance and backed off to escape his hold, her eyes starting to blaze. A series of angry growls escaped her lips and she clenched fists. Her knuckles made a cracking sound from it. “Please, oh please tell me you’re joking!”

He blinked twice, innocence and incomprehension written all over his face.

“I’m not. It would be a poor jest.” “You can’t just drop this bomb on me, fall quiet and then not explain any of it!”

She was prepared for a whole lot of it, but this? – she thought to herself. As soon as the thought landed in the conscious part of her mind she labelled herself a fool, questioning what she did expect from him. She knew Shadow… Why did she keep getting so thrown off by his untactile behaviour?

Blood rushed through her veins at high speed, causing a rustle in her ears. There it was again: the unwanted announcement of her bad temper. He’d soon have to deal with it if he didn’t make haste with properly explaining this… mess! At this rate, she still had control over her temper, but that could change in the blink of an eye. “You’re not saying anything yourself either. Although, knowing you, I hardly believe you don’t have any questions. I’m not throwing that in your face, am I?” “Well, can you blame me?!” “A little, yeah. You carry your heart on your tongue. You always know what to say.” “I don’t right now!” “I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to spare my feelings and I don’t care for it.”

“Oh no, Shadow. You’re NOT shifting YOUR responsibility to explain who you actually are to me.” “I’m not.” The pink female whirled around and caught his attention with her fierce turquoise orbs. The warm, yellowish tones of the dancing flame were fighting for precedence with the luminary aqua in her eyes. He could see her hands gesturing, signalling him her upset internal state in the blurry background of his view.

“Then talk.”

“I can’t.” “Blast, Shadow! I can’t believe how incredibly rude you are to me! I’m your girlfriend! You’re keeping so many important things from me…I wonder how you in 300 darn years still achieve to be totally oblivious about how to act polite and chivalrous around a woman!”

“You should know me better than to mistake me for a soft, gooey fool who drops every aspect of his personality when with a woman. I might be a knight, but surely I’m not going to be your imaginary heroic boyfriend. Or always treat you like a queen when you’re being a huge pain in the ass, Amy. If that’s what you want, than better rethink your choices…”

Another of her romantic bubbles burst by another blunt statement, one he made her aware of she had it in the first place. Amy shifted her headstrong gaze to the red, green and blue-checked woolen blankets on the bed. Ignoring him, she distracted herself to follow the lines from the wrinkles on them with her fingers. The raw texture of the wool prickled through her gloves. It was a unpleasant feeling and she wondered how he was able to sleep under them.

“… Besides: I’m sharing my deepest secrets with you! Do you think that’s easy for me? What more could you possibly want?” “I want you to explain who on Mobius you are!” she shouted. “I want you to explain how it’s even possible to be that old? I wanna know what you are. A ghost? Some divine creature? And what about your strange, dark powers and the stone?! Did you have kids in the past? What does this all make you?!” Both their ears fell back, the awkward silence became deafening on them. Amy’s eyes reddened from the upcoming tears and anger. She bit her lip and bravely fought against the waterworks. A few salty tears quietly dripped down her cheeks though. Amy battled the strong tendency to cry once more. She felt so hideous whenever she cried- and she did see herself cry before. She felt she looked awful and so she did her uttermost best to hide it- in comparison to when she was a young girl. “What’s it make us? Just tell me.. something! ANYTHING will do!”

Her loud, hoarse voice cracked and she sniffed. Shadow’s hand squeezed and crinkled the blanket with force. He cursed under his breath.

“I KNOW, OKAY?! I know ANY words will do, but there are no words! NONE! They’re stuck! I don’t mean to be rude or inconsiderate of your feelings. Plagues! If anything, that’s what’s making me freeze up. I have no idea at all how to handle this!”

An upcoming sense of guilt sent a series of shivers down her spine. Her stupid pride and temper pushed him too far. A lump in her throat now accompanied the already present stress-related stomach aches.

“I don’t either… It’s scaring me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Shadow, I don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back. And don’t tell me I’m not, because I know I am. Sorry about that. Just spill. I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“It’s not just that. I can’t verbalize all this.”

He concentrated on the chaos energy in his body once more, shards of them whirling around like a hive of bees. They seemed impossible to catch. His focus shifted to his irregular, high paced breathing and he breathed out some of the stress in his body. The shards immediately lowered their impossible-to-follow rhythm and he was finally able to catch some of them.

I never lose my confidence.

With a certain determination Shadow grasped her gloved hands. They were tensely folded into fists. Their touch revealed the quivers they were both trying to control. Shadow suddenly scooped her onto his lap and then rose to carry her bridal style, all much to Amy’s confusion.

“However, I can show you.”

His signature self-sufficient smile now curved his lips.

“Come on, I’ll carry you. I know how much you love this romance-stuff and I am a knight after all.” He blew out the candle, letting the darkness swallow them entirely before calling out the ‘Chaos control’. With this single chant he overcame the barrier of space and time. The darkness around them swiftly faded into a serene surrounding, filled with flowy, intertwining ruby, royal blue, shiny silver and regal gold ribbons of light.

They weightlessly soared through the pacifying, outstretching void. A sea of glowing orbs laid ahead of them and with confidence. Shadow commanded some of them to come closer, each carrying a memory. He let some fragments play out before her eyes to see for herself what happened in his past, for he was unable to tell her.

It was all there, right before Amy’s eyes: the mystery of what he was, his unknown origin and lonesome existence by surviving everyone he’d ever cared for in the past. He had roamed around the planet for years and years in order to keep his immortality a secret.

There was also a set of painful memories in which he was fighting, on the run or hiding for the many different faces of danger. They were a tad blurry and she couldn’t quite capture the meaning of it. The memory of the unknown hero neared and she witnessed his amazing powers, bravery and strength. It replaced her unsettling state of being with much softer feelings, easing her temper away. Amy smiled when concluded to herself that neither his physics or personality had seemed to change. The Shadow she knew now was as stubborn, blunt, socially awkward, dedicated, loyal and brave as in his past. Without having to verbalize he answered everything she wanted to know and more. Amy’s sweet, caring nature calmed her temper and she empathized with Shadow. She felt for the challenges his long life had brought upon him and pulled him into a deep, consoling hug.

“Shadow, I’m sorry I pushed you. I misjudged and jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

The scenery of his bedroom slowly faded in again and Shadow gently put her down. He lit the candle again. A shameful blush coloured his cheeks and played his eyes. His ears drooped backwards. Shadow felt like he was stripped to the bone. “I know everyone thinks I excel in many things, but communicating my inner state isn’t one of them. It heaves me down whenever I… feel strongly about something. Actions speak louder than a thousand words to me.”

“Thank you for being honest with me, for showing me all this. I imagine it must’ve been hard on you. You seemed so lonesome all these years.”

Hiding his face in his hands, he stared without focal point in his gaze. Shadow broke down internally, forcefully biting the insides of his lips to prevent him from crying like an infant.

“You’ve seen it for yourself now. You’ve seen me fight…My past…It’s the most private thing that I carry with me.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden all by yourself.” “You’re the very first to learn about it.”

“I already assumed I was, given your struggle to share it with me. I’m glad you told me.”

Amy smiled, trying to lighten up the mood again. “It’s awful and humiliating to share. I even killed in the past. I can’t help but feel like a monster sometimes. It haunts me.”

“You’re a knight. There’s times where you’re left no other choice than to eliminate your enemies. If anything, you’re a hero, Shadow.”

“I’m not! You weren’t there! Y-you d-d-don’t…You don’t know…”

He whimpered almost inaudibly while his shaking body sank into her embrace. Amy petted his back and caressed his quills while he hid his face in her chest. She cupped his tear-stained muzzle and made him look her in the eye. When his red, bloodshot eyes met her aqua ones they showed the strong-minded, yet hopelessly emotional Amy Rose Shadow had fallen for.

“There’s still so much that I don’t understand, but my emotional compass tells me you’re reliable and trustworthy. I’d like to believe you must’ve had your reasons… Tell me whenever you’re ready.”

She let herself fall back on the bed and pulled Shadow onto her, snuggling up to him under the prickly woolen blankets. On any other night the knight would’ve protested and let his self-discipline never allow her to stay over, but they were exhausted. Shadow and Amy couldn’t battle their minds anymore and forgot about the possible consequences they’d have to deal with in the morning. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. None of it. Even though their minds were loaded with troubles, which usually would’ve kept them awake, it somehow did not tonight.

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< Previous chapter: read here

> Next chapter: ...

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I struggled with this chapter. I’ll try to make the next one more uplifting (: Sometimes it seems to me that neither of these two dorks know a single thing about relationships, yet they have so much love to give to one another.

I’d appreciate if you share your thoughts and send me a message if you find any annoying typo’s or grammar mishaps.

@shadamyheadcanons, here you go!

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ahatintimestorybook · 3 years

Text

A Royal Problem Epilogue

Here it is! The last chapter!!!

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the years passed, Subcon started to slowly thrive as a living village again. Houses were back up, and some people or birds have been living in the newly developed town. The snow leading to the manor has melted and flowers and grass have started to grow. However, due to their past with the manor, Snatcher and Vanessa decided it was best not to live in the manor. Instead living in a new home, which was Snatcher’s tree now made to be more livelier and bigger for the two of them to live.

As for the manor, it turned into the home for Mu. Hat Kid decided to park her ship next to the manor and turned it into her own house, but she did travel with it when her planet needed her. Though as the years went on, Hat Kid started to come to Subcon less and less; she had missions to do, a boyfriend, who she soon married, and started to have a family of her own.

It has now been 15 years and Snatcher and Vanessa went over to the manor to see Mu before she left on her own journey. “Hello.” Snatcher spoke up. Mu paused in packing and smiled to see Snatcher and Vanessa outside her door.

Mu looked different the past 15 years, her hair was shorter, she still kept her mustache and wore a red dress with gold and purple patterns on it.

“Hey.” Mu replied.

Snatcher and Vanessa came in, and the two were wearing the capes Mu gave them during their visit to Mafia Town. “Could we come in?” Snatcher asked. Mu nodded and the two ghosts came in to see a backpack filled with important stuff for her journey. “You seemed prepared.” He chuckled.

Mu chuckled back. “Yeah.” She replied. The mustached lady looked down as she rubbed her arm.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asked.

The mustached lady looked up at the ghost, giving them a tearful smile before giving them a hug. “Thank you! For everything.” She tearfully said.

Snatcher and Vanessa were surprised and hugged the young lady back. “Mu, you and Hat did so much for us.” Vanessa started. “We should be thanking you for helping us rebuild Subcon.”

“And, for taking care of us during the whole Time Piece thing.” Snatcher added.

Mu chuckled as she let go of the ghost, and wiped the tears from her face. “Gosh,” She sniffled. “I shouldn’t be crying over this.” Snatcher and Vanessa chuckled over it. Once Mu wiped the tears off her face she smiled and grabbed her bag ready to go on her journey.

“You're not going to leave without saying goodbye to me. Aren’t ya Mu?” A voice asked. Mu, Vanessa and Snatcher looked up and saw it was Hat Kid, well, Hat Adult standing outside of the room.

Hat Adult wore a purple wool blazer with gold buttons and replaced her cape with a yellow scarf. She wore a more fancy purple hat rather than her purple top hat she always wore, and like Mu’s her hair was much shorter and tied into a ponytail.

Mu giggled and ran to her best friend giving her a hug. “You know I wasn’t.” Mu replied. The two girls shared a laugh as the two hugged each other for a while.

“What about us, Auntie Mu?” A young girl, Hat Adult’s daughter asked.

Mu let go of the hug and saw two young kids next to Hat Kid. The girl looked to be 5 years old and had long black hair, styled almost like Hat Adult’s when she was a child. Had Hat Adult’s bright blue eyes and wore a purple blouse with a dark purple skirt, neon yellow socks and black boots.

The other child was a 3-year old boy, who surprisingly looked like Snatcher when he was a Prince, only his hair was the same color as Hat Adult’s, had his mother’s blue eyes, and wore a red T-shirt with a star on it, brown shorts, and brown boots like his mother wore when she was a child.

During those 15 years, Hat Adult found love and got married and had two children. Her daughter was named Nessie, and her son was named Luka.

Mu giggled and hugged the two kids tight, which made them giggle. “You know I wouldn’t forget you two, kiddos.” She told them. Mu let go of the two kiddos and grabbed her bag ready to go on her trip. “Take good care of your mom, Snatcher and Vanessa, okay?”

“Promise!” Nessie replied with a beaming smile. Mu smiled and ruffled the young girl’s head. “Hey!” She laughed.

Mu smirked, before chuckling herself. She then kneeled down to Luka, who looked nervous, and gave him a warm smile. “You’ll come back. Wight?” Luka asked, scared he wouldn’t see his favorite auntie again.

Mu ruffled his head gently. “I promise I will. In fact I’ll get you guys gifts when I’ll be back.” She promised. Hat Adult’s two kid’s eyes widen in amazement knowing they’ll be getting gifts soon.

Hat Adult looked at her best friend. “Just don’t go overboard like you did for Nessie’s birthday.” She begged.

“I won’t.” Mu told her, though the wink she gave to the kids was enough to tell them she’ll be giving them a ton of gifts, but not too much. The kids giggled, as Hat Adult rolled her eyes knowing Mu hasn’t changed even as an adult. Mu gave a soft chuckle before grabbing her bag and, giving one more look at her friends before leaving the manor to go on her trip.

Once she was gone, the Adult was able to sigh and look at her ghostly BFF’s. “I hope she doesn’t put herself into trouble like before.”

Snatcher and Vanessa laughed, agreeing with her. “Relax, kiddo.” Snatcher replied, still calling Hat that nickname even though she’s no longer a kid. “She’s grown up just enough that she’ll never fall back on her old habits.”

Hat Adult gave another sigh and smiled knowing Snatcher was right. Soon Hat Adult heard a beep coming from her phone. She answered, “hello?” She then smiled hearing who it was on the other end. “Hi Bow!” No one could hear what Bow was telling Hat on the other end of the phone, but seeing Hat’s disappointed expression knew that it wasn’t good. “Right now? Okay.” Then she hung up and was silent for a bit.

Snatcher and Vanessa looked at one another before looking at Hat Adult. Before they could ask what’s wrong. Hat Adult spoke up. “It looks like I’ll be traveling myself.”

“What?!” Nessie shouted. “Why?” She asked, sounding disappointed at her mother.

“My best friend Bow, another aunt of yours, has gotten into some trouble on the planet herself with her student.” She explained. Hat Adult then chuckled, “it’s a bit of deja vu if you ask me.”

Snatcher chuckled seeing that a friend of Hat got themselves into the same situation as her as a kid. “Well, good luck kiddo.” He told her.

“Thanks.” Hat Adult replied. She then saw her daughter, mad and disappointed that her mother was leaving on a trip. “Oh Nessie, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.” She promised, but Nessie wasn’t having any of it. Then with her signature smug on her face, she told her daughter something that would cheer her daughter up. “You know, Snatcher and Vanessa will take care of you and your brother.”

Nessie, Vanessa and Snatcher’s eyes widened when Hat Adult said those words. “Really!?” Nessie asked, a smile appearing on her face.

“Really?” Vanessa and Snatcher repeated, knowing Hat Adult was dropping this on them out of the blue.

Hat Adult nodded. “Really.” She told her. “Plus I won’t be long like Mu, it will be just a few weeks.”

“If your mother decides not to put herself in danger again.” Snatcher whispered to Hat Adult’s kids, which made them giggle.

“Snatcher! I know mommy went on many adventures, and that was brave and kicked a-” Nessie was cut off when Snatcher covered her mouth not wanting her to say a bad word in front of her mother. Hat Adult replied with a glare towards Snatcher knowing it was him or Mu who taught her daughter to speak that fowl language. Snatcher gave a nervous chuckle, which earned him an eye roll from Vanessa and Hat Adult.

Hat Adult then felt her son hug her leg tightly and heard him let out a sniffle. “Mommy, could I come with you?” Luka asked, his eyes being big as saucers as tears flowed like waterfalls.

Hat Adult sighed as she picked up her son, “Sorry Luka, remember when you and your sister are 9-years old you can go on journeys with me.” She told him. Luka sniffled and started to cry as he hugged his mother tight. Hat Adult soothed her son as she rubbed his back, hoping to calm him down. Luka cried, and showed no signs of stopping.

Vanessa went over to the two and got close to Luka. The young boy paused his crying as he watched Vanessa use her ice powers and made Luka a small snow figure just for him. Wiping away the tears from his eyes he held onto the small ice figure, which calmed him down.

“I promise I’d make you an ice figure like I made for Nessie.” Vanessa told him. Luka slowly started to smile, and looked at his mother. Hat Adult nodded and slowly put her son down.

Nessie put a hand on her little brother’s shoulder, and Hat Adult faced Nessie again. “Take care of your little brother, okay?”

“I will.” Nessie replied. Hat Adult smiled and hugged her daughter.

“Promise me you two can keep them safe?” Hat Adult begged as she looked up at Snatcher and Vanessa.

Snatcher gave a soft smile, and put his hands on Hat Adult’s shoulders. “Kiddo, you took care of us,” He started, “and we took care of you and Mu. We can handle taking care of your kids.”

Hat Adult smiled and hugged Snatcher and Vanessa tight. “Thank you.” She replied. “I know in your care, they’ll be okay.” Snatcher and Vanessa let go of Hat Adult as she stepped away from her kids and friends. “Well, see ya! And good luck!”

With that, Hat Adult teleported to her ship and went off.

Thank you guys so much for this journey of A Royal Problem!!

If you guys are going to stick around for the alternate endings, that’s great!! I’ll be seeing you again soon once I get it up. If you guys aren’t that’s fine too, I’m just glad you guys enjoyed ARP!!!

I’ll be now shifting focus to Eclipse, Ebb and Flow, and Cat-Tastrophe for the time being. However, I got tons of ideas for more AHIT fanfics coming your way! One being a bit “magical” and the other an “new adventure”! So stay tuned for that!

Hope everyone has a wonderful day ^^

#ahit au #a hat in time #A royal problem au #a royal problem #snatcher #ahit the prince #queen vanessa #hat adult #mustache girl #mustache lady #hat kid #AHIT OC #Nessie #nessie

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Note

Ok, it’s cold out and I’m getting snow. So I wanted to know how papa III and Copia would be like doing fun snow activities with their s/o? Like going sledding, ice skating, snow ball fights, etc and then cocoa at the end of the day???

Well hello, marionette-ghoulette! Thanks for bearing with me!

I know it’s spooky season right now, but we’ll just say that this a head start on winter fun! I already have a full list of sledding HCs, so you can check them out there!

Content under the cut for length!

Papa III: I’ve already headcanoned that Papa was an excellent ice skater in his youth, so expect to be woken up to his luminous visage as he tugs you out of bed, pairs of ice skates slung over his shoulders. Like a kid on his birthday morning, he’s excited that it’s finally cold enough to go skating on the lake on Abbey grounds. As you groggily eat some oatmeal with cinnamon for fortification, Papa is bouncing about and showing you all the designer outerwear he got you to keep warm, but not overheated.

Once on the lake, you’re like a baby fawn—mincing along on the ice and trying not to let your legs splay apart too far. Papa does a few rounds—backwards—then tries a few jumps whose landings he just manages to stick. (You’ll admit to hoping unkindly he’ll land on his ass at least once.)

You finally get your “ice legs,” and have at least been able to skate in a straight line while he lapped you time and time again … but after a while, your muscles are screaming “uncle.” He’s still got the muscle memory (and the bubble butt), but running around and thrusting on stage ≠ the same tone he needs to keep up with skating around for hours like he used to. Slyly using your discomfort as an excuse, he ushers you off the ice.

Still breathless, blood pumping, except for Papa to “accidentally” fall down into the snow, taking you with him. As he presses you into the powder, you squeal at the cold damp beginning to seep into your outerwear, but he just gives you a line about the ice-cold being a balm to your throbbing glutes. You’re of a mind to indulge his lascivious advances, but the instant snow creeps down your pants, you’re pushing him off you and telling him to use that snow to ease his throbbing …

Even as you try to build a snowman, Papa’s still more interested in getting into your snow suit and absolutely no help at all! You do end up constructing a snowman, despite his pawing—but it’s ill-proportioned and lopsided. When you pout at him, Papa does feel a little bad and tries to fix it for you. And the creation is … better, but the two of you watch as one of the stick arms droops, then falls.

He’s contrite, but you just laugh and kiss him. You tell him that now he has to make it up to you. Eyes shining, he pulls you back toward the Abbey (you both were beginning to feel the chill now that you weren’t moving about as much, anyway), and ushers you into his bathroom suite.

After adding some Epsom salts and getting the temperature just right, Papa helps you into his tub and turns on the jets—a perfect remedy for your increasingly sore leg muscles—but he doesn’t join you right away. He disappears for at least 10min—during which you add more hot water and try not to doze off—but when he comes back, it’s with a tray and steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

The beverage is a welcome one, but when you bring the mug up to your mouth, you see that the mix is still grainy and floating a bit above the water. Papa looks so proud, though, that you take a few (lukewarm) sips and tell him it’s yummy. You smile at the thought of teaching him how to make the proper kind—it’s going to be a long winter and you can’t wait for more snow dates.

Copia: He likes to be warm—you’re more likely to find him snuggled up by the fire with an ancient tome than frolicking in a fresh snowfall. He’s easily convinced, however—especially if it’s by you or one of his feral children Ghouls. The silly man will attempt to go out in just his overcoat and a wool scarf and then complain about the chill; you’re going to have to make sure to dress him appropriately … and be prepared for him to grumble about the constricting layers the whole time.

Once you get outside, you’ll be clambering to make snow angels, but Copia is dubious—a damp bottom should only be because of one thing (him). He watches bemused as you lay down and start moving your limbs to displace the power. He tries to remain distanced from this whole snow endeavor—that is until Swiss creams him in the face with a bodacious snowball. His dislike of cold snow is trumped only by his need to be The Best, and after everyone holds their breath to see if he’ll flip out, Copia dives down to pack snow together to prove he’s king of the snow hill.

An all-out snowball fight ensues with tenuous alliances, shifting loyalties, and utter betrayal. Don’t expect being Copia’s lover to stop anyone (including him) from shoving snow down your shirt during this battle royale. You learn that he’ll absolutely play dirty after he seems to tug you in for a kiss … only to smash a snowball into you before whooping at your shriek and pirouetting away. (It’s ok: you sneak attack him and stuff a nice, icy snowball down the back of his pants, chortling when he squeals the instant it melts down to his balls.)

By the end, you’re both glowing from the exertion with ruddy cheeks from the cold air. Copia is looking at you with bright eyes and tries to initiate a makeout sesh under a snow-covered Evergreen—that’s rudely interrupted by Dewdrop tugging on the branch above you, covering both of you in a drifts of snow. You’re both indignant, Copia ready to bury the Gremlin up to his neck, until Aether gathers him up and dumps him in the freezing stream.

You and Copia choose to take that moment to make your getaway from the squad of troublemakers—admittedly you’re beginning to feel the creep of the chill in your snow-damp clothes, and some hot chocolate in front of his fire sounds like an amazing idea. Copia still tries to steal a kiss or two—to warm his lips up, he says—on the slog back.

Back in his quarters, Copia has fluffy robes for you to change into, even though you’re actually feeling overheated now that you’ve gone from the brisk winter air into the heat of the Abbey. When you see that he’s not in his study, you do a search only to find him in his kitchenette making hot chocolate from milk, baker’s bars, and a little sprinkle of cayenne, “just for kick.”

As you curl up on his sofa next to him, you finally feel the activities of the day in your marrow: all the running around and wading through snow, coupled with a warm belly in front of a fire is making your limbs and head feel heavy; you doze off to the sound of Copia reading, the crackle of the fire, and the feel of him stroking your hair.

#marionette-ghoulette #asks #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #papa iv #reader #fluff

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no6secretsanta · 3 years

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Hap-paca Holidays Hachiko-101!

Happy holidays @hachiko-101, this is your No.6 Secret Santa, @origami10 ! I realized that writing fluff isn’t my strong point, but hopefully all the fluff on the alpacas makes up for it! I hope you enjoy the art and the fic :D

The Fluffiest Gift

“Nezumi?” said Shion.

“Hm?” Nezumi looked up from reading the newspaper.

“What if we started an alpaca farm?”

The light in Nezumi’s eyes faded, and Shion could almost see his soul ascending from the amount of stupidity he was forced to put up with.

“No, hear me out! Alpaca wool is known for being soft and high quality. You can only shear them once a year, but they don’t take up much land or food, and their manure is supposed to be amazing for helping plants grow. They’re good guards for other livestock, plus they’re easy to be around for children, and we could keep them without you having to change your work schedule. All we’d need for them is a little space, I’m sure we’d have enough here.” He was doing that puppy-dog thing where his face lit up, and Nezumi had to freeze the edges of his heart to keep it from melting.

“And there’s just the slight matter of, where the heck do you think we’re going to find alpacas? Tch.” Nezumi looked back to his newspaper.

“Well....” Shion, too, looked back down, but couldn’t quite keep his focus on the book he was reading. He muttered quietly to himself. “Somewhere. They live in this climate, so there must be some somewhere.”

———

“Nezumi, do you have a hammer?” Shion had burst out of the door as Nezumi returned home from running errands. Nezumi had intended not to make any sound, but this airhead somehow knew right when to ambush him. He noticed the pile of branches and loops of twine off to the side of the path, and said,

“Why...?”

“No reason.”

“Shion, there is no way these branches are going to be strong enough to make a fence that will keep in an alpaca.”

Shion shuffled to the side in an apparent attempt to belatedly keep Nezumi from seeing his fencing materials. “Who said anything about alpacas?”

“Tch.” Nezumi brushed past, heading towards the house. “You did, last week.” He opened the door and paused, then beckoned for Shion to follow. “I’ll show you where the hammer is, but don’t put those puny sticks in the ground. And don’t you dare think of scouring the dump until I can come with you.”

———

Three days later, there was a respectable-looking corral just outside the door, complete with waxed-rope fencing strung between rusty but sturdy metal struts. They had even been able to find some jagged and dirty pieces of corrugated aluminum, which cleaned up well enough to make a small roofed shed in the corner. Nezumi had tested the wind to make sure the opening faced away to help keep out the weather.

“I still don’t know what you think you’re going to keep here.” Nezumi deadpanned.

———

Surprisingly, it was only a week and a half later, when the ground was beginning to thaw, that Nezumi looked down on their home and saw Shion leading an alpaca down the path. Rikiga was right behind him leading a second alpaca, and he held both leads as Shion rolled open the makeshift gate before leading the fuzzy animals, one black and one white, into the corral.

Nezumi quickly ran over to the pen, his slightly ragged breath clouding the chilly air. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the animals in front of him. Up close, they were smaller than he had expected, neither of them reaching past Shion’s shoulder. It was hard not to feel warmed by their long lashes and smiling mouths. Nezumi started to ask the obvious question, but Shion answered before he could get any sound out.

“Mr. Rikiga knew someone, who knew someone else, who brought them here from another city.”

“In exchange for what?!”

“Half a dozen bottles of whiskey from my collection, and season tickets to your shows for the middlemen,” said Rikiga. “You can manage that, right?”

Nezumi gritted his teeth, but couldn’t help but be impressed at the trade, and Shion’s commitment to making it happen.

He approached the long-necked creatures cautiously and was able to lay a hand on the darker one, but it quickly turned and trotted to the opposite corner of its new home.

“They’re like you.” Shion laughed. “It takes them some time to get used to being around someone.”

———

It wasn’t much longer before Cloud and Velvet, as Shion had named the two alpacas against Nezumi’s repeated insistence otherwise, would follow them around the edges of the corral as they came and went to the house, or did chores in the yard. When he wasn’t spending time caring for the alpacas, Shion would hardly stop uttering aloud every fact about animal husbandry he encountered as he dug through Nezumi’s many books. Even Nezumi was spending enough time with them to get a feel for how to approach the two animals and get a friendly welcome. He held their leads as Shion ushered the neighbor kids into the corral for the first time, holding onto them and reassuring them as Shion explained to the children how to act around the animals. Nezumi stroked the soft fur, and imagined the sweaters and mittens it would make the next time it was shorn and spun into yarn.

———

Shion fluffed some alpaca wool from the basket sitting next to him on the bed. All things considered, Shion’s training for the ecology course and the alpaca’s affinity for Nezumi had served them well during the shearing process. “Good thing we only have to do that once a year.” Nezumi flopped down next to him, exhausted from keeping Velvet and Cloud calm as Shion trimmed their wool for the approaching warmer weather.

“I hope I don’t mess this up,” Shion mused. He looked at the drop spindle he had carved to turn the wool into yarn he could try to knit, just like the homemade sweater he had received long ago. “I’d feel bad for Cloud and Velvet if this went to waste.”

“I’m sure they’d forgive you. One look at those adorable faces and big doe eyes and somehow everything seems right with this crappy world.”

“Nezumi! Did you just call them ‘adorable’?!”

Nezumi looked up. “Yeah, yeah, what of it? But no one and nothing is as adorable as you.” A grin slowly spread across his face, and he wrapped one arm around Shion in an embrace, which Shion returned.

———

Shion carried a tray with two steaming hot cocoas in from the kitchen and set it down near where Nezumi was sitting on the couch. “Here you are.” Nezumi accepted the mug, but raised one eyebrow. “Shion, it’s spring. It’s not cold anymore.”

Shion tucked his feet under him and settled into the couch with his own mug. “It’s a special day! We can have hot chocolate to celebrate even if it’s warm.” He reached over the side of the couch to grab a package wrapped up in brown paper. “For you. Since you don’t know when your birthday is.”

Nezumi set down his mug, and carefully pulled the string to open the package. He pulled out one fuzzy white lump, then another, and finally a long, wide span of white fluff.

“They’re mittens and a scarf! Try them on!” Shion set down his own mug and reached over the side of the couch again to grab matching blobs of fluff in the same dark shade as Velvet. By the time he got them on, Nezumi had managed to put on his mittens, but Shion couldn’t wait any longer, and wrapped the scarf around his neck to complete the look. “Grab your hot chocolate and let’s go show Velvet and Cloud!” Shion could hardly refrain from dragging Nezumi out the door.

“This is ridiculous,” Nezumi laughed.

The two of them stood side by side next to the corral, drinking their hot cocoas while Cloud and Velvet tried to nose at the unfamiliar beverages. New buds were sprouting on the plants all around them, waiting to open into flowers. “It’ll be too warm to keep wearing these now,” Shion motioned to the mittens and scarves, “but they should serve us well next winter.” Nezumi nodded and smiled. He leaned into Shion, and ruffled his hair. “I’m lucky I’ll get to spend it with you.” -The End!-

#no6 #no. 6 #no.6 #no 6 #no6secretsanta #fanfiction #nezumi #shion #origami10 #hachiko101 #hachiko-101 #hachiko 101

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Good Omens - “Saving Face” (Rated PG13)

Summary: A gang of bullies use Warlock to trap Adam on Halloween night, herding him towards a big, old, haunted house where no one goes ... and few who enter are ever seen alive again. (3904 words)

Notes: This is one of two stories I wrote for A Big Spooky Fan Zine. Be sure to check the rest of the collection for some amazing spooky works from other wonderful fandom creators :)

Read on AO3.

“Warlock … man,” Adam implores, backing away, hands raised in surrender “... come on. You don’t have to do this.”

Warlock grins at Adam’s trembling voice, his eyes wide with fear reflecting Warlock’s triumphant grin.

“Yeah,” he says, taking measured steps forward, eating up this moment. “I do.”

A pack of five boys in costume creeps up behind Warlock like the jackals they are. They’re not standing with him. They’re there to ensure their plan goes off without a hitch. This initiation into their gang will not only provide them with a minion in Warlock, whose father’s money and connections make the boy more valuable to them than Midas. But it will knock precious prince Adam Young off his popularity pedestal - a position he’s held on to for far too long.

Adam looks from Warlock to his cronies closing in on him, taking their time since they know he’s at their mercy. Talking will not help him, and he can’t fight his way out. Six against one? The odds are not on his side. So he does the only thing he can do.

He runs.

He turns tail and bolts, feet inside his battered trainers pounding the pavement, lungs burning from the strain he’s putting them through. But he has no illusions that he’s getting away, even when he gains a considerable lead. He knows how this gang operates. They’re herding him to one specific place: The Parsons House - an abandoned house at the end of this deserted lane; a monstrous, crooked, ramshackle nightmare overlooking the largest cemetery in their village. It’s the oldest house in this corner of the countryside. A worn, wooden sign attached to a single post that no longer stands upright proclaims it to be so.

No one ever goes there, regardless of the fact that its last known owner, Emily Parsons, lived for over eighty-three years inside, all alone, until the day she died of old age. But it’s been said that her frail body can be seen hanging from a noose in the upper attic window, leading to speculation by local townsfolk that the story of her dying peacefully in her sleep may be nothing but a tall tale.

This gang of boys (sans Warlock) have done this before - chased some poor, frightened soul that they hate to the house and forced them inside …

Kids that never came back to school, who were never heard from again.

In an act that could be described as simultaneously brave and stupid, Adam heads for the house, leaps over its rickety fence, and runs straight for the stairs.

All six boys crow when they see him skid to a stop at the base of the porch.

He’s right where they want him.

Whether he goes in himself or they grab him by his arms and legs and toss him in, he’s going in that house.

“Go on then!” one of the boys yells. “Get yer bony arse in there!”

The boys cackle, lending further to the impression that they are hunchbacked, sharp-toothed predators.

“And what if I don’t?” Adam calls over his shoulder, not fully facing them. Keeping his back turned to this lot is just as foolhardy as seeking safety inside this house, but he can’t turn his back on the house either. It has an essence - something he can feel deep inside his body, into the marrow of his bones.

“I don’t see you have much of a choice,” a different boy yells. “One way or the other, yer going in there. It just depends on whether you’re walking in or crawling in on two broken legs!”

Adam looks at the boys, stopped by the fence, with a slight smirk and a furrowed brow.

“How on earth am I supposed to crawl anywhere on two broken legs?” he asks.

“I …” The boy who made the original comment chokes on the rest of his sentence, realizing then how much that threat doesn’t make any sense. “I don’t know! You’re just gonna!”

“Adam … buddy …” Warlock grips the pointed tops of the fence posts and leans over “… my friends here are going to make sure you get into that house one way or the other. So you might as well get it over with.”

Adam answers Warlock’s comment with a hard swallow. He doesn’t honestly believe those boys are going to grab him up and toss him into the house. They’re too scared to even come past the fence, standing just beyond the splintered pickets, dressed in an array of stereotypical monster costumes – a werewolf, a vampire, a mummy, Frankenstein’s monster, and a ghost – each one blocking Adam’s escape.

Warlock is the only one among them not wearing a costume, opting for slate gray trousers, a white button-down, and the thick, navy wool coat he wears for school. With the exception of being only twelve, he looks, for all intents and purposes, like he’s going on a job interview.

Just an everyday average Joe.

That’s because, he’d explained, serial killers blend in, look like everyone else.

In reality, Adam has the upper hand. He should run inside and hide.

It’s a good plan.

A reasonable plan.

A solid plan.

So why doesn’t he make his feet go?

He searches for a weapon since it seems that fighting might become an option.

The house shifts on its foundation when a particularly forceful breeze passes through it. Adam eyes the graying wood slats falling from the siding, dusty windows clattering while shutters swing off their hinges, smacking dully against one another.

A rock flies in out of nowhere and strikes Adam on the shoulder. He stumbles forward onto the first creaky step. He glares at the house, as if of all the people there meaning to do him harm, it’s the house that decided to throw the first punch.

But it wasn’t the house.

He knows it wasn’t.

And the stakes in this game of cat-and-mouse have just gone up a notch.

“Go on already!” the boy dressed as a mummy yells, tossing a second rock straight up and catching it as it comes down like he’s warming up for baseball practice. “We haven’t got all night! We still have egging to do!”

“Well, why don’t you go do that and come back? I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Adam ducks in time to miss the rock whiz by his head, coming close enough to nick his left ear.

“No more jokes, Adam!” werewolf boy growls. “You either go inside and take your chances, or we pound you into the dirt!”

Adam looks at the faces around him – mean, unfriendly, shrouded by masks and makeup, which makes these boys feel braver.

It also makes them more dangerous.

But they’re far from anonymous. Adam knows who the boys are underneath their masks. The vampire is Vince: the leader of the gang and the eldest, having retaken two grades twice. The werewolf is his younger brother, David. The mummy is Troy, their best friend from birth. Frankenstein’s monster is Leroy, and the ghost, in his thin white sheet, hiding him from absolutely no one, is Devin.

Yes, Adam knows them. He knows an awful lot about them, really. They’ve lived in the same village together their entire lives. They’ve been to each others’ houses at one point or another, hunted for eggs in the courtyard of the church every Easter till they were ten. But he doesn’t appeal to them. Because somewhere down the line, they changed. Rumors about them run rampant all over town. Outlandish rumors.

Still, Adam is far from impressed.

But Warlock … Adam had had high hopes for him. But Vince and his merry band of delinquents got their hooks into him.

Now, it might be too late for both of them.

Adam looks at the four short stairs leading to the porch. He knows the devils that wait for him if he doesn’t go up those stairs. He might as well try his luck contending with the unknown.

As a former Antichrist, a murderous spirit might be easier to reckon with.

He climbs unsteadily to the second step, ticking it off in his head.

Three more to go.

Somewhere above him, a shutter slams, causing him to skip step three and fall face-first onto step number four.

In the space of a second, he went from starting to nearly done.

He lifts a foot and plants it on the stair beneath him, raising himself up slowly as the plank bends in the middle. He brings his other leg up to the fourth step.

One more, and he’ll be standing on the porch.

Another breeze blows. The front door swings open, making all the kids present jump. Adam finds himself at a crossroads.

Whether he likes it or not, there’s only one way out of this.

He can’t make it past. He has to go through.

Adam flies into the house, the front door slamming shut the second he’s inside, as if receiving him.

Or swallowing him.

Then … everything grinds to a halt.

The wind ceases to blow.

The shutters hang limply, no longer bang.

The house stops its listing.

And from the pits of the boys’ stomachs to the tips of their toes, the earth stops spinning.

“What … what just happened?” David asks in a hoarse whisper.

“I think he went in there,” Leroy says.

“Went in, or was pushed?” Troy asks.

“Who would have pushed him? We’re all out here! Not a one of us has moved!”

“Maybe it wasn’t us,” Devin offers.

“Who was it then? Who was it!?” Troy asks, becoming unhinged. “Tell me!”

The sound of Adam screaming silences their arguing.

“Help! Help me! Vince! Troy! Devin! Warlock! Help me!”

“A … Adam?” Leroy says. “Is that …?”

“Yeah,” David answers quietly. “Yeah, that’s …”

“David! Leroy! Please!”

The boys have heard kids scream in this house before. And they’ve enjoyed it. It’s part of what they live for, why they do this every Halloween. But something about the way Adam is screaming is different. He isn’t just begging for help.

He’s calling out to them, each one by name.

Not only is it unsettling to hear Adam’s fearful voice calling for them, the thought of this house knowing their names sends chills up each of their spines.

Except for Warlock, who looks bored out of his mind.

Silence falls over the house again. A silence that drags on by the skin of its teeth and goes on for far too long.

Right when three of the boys summon up the courage to organize a search party, they hear another scream, this one worse than the last.

Adam again, but his screams have changed.

He’s beyond asking for help, gone from panicked, to bloodcurdling, to strangled, as if someone is pouring cupfuls of sand into his mouth. Above the sound of Adam choking for air comes a hollow, evil laugh, rising in volume and pitch, echoing around the walls and shaking the whole house.

“Vince!” it mimics, chuckling in between. “Troy! Devin! Warlock! David! Leroy!”

The boys stand up straight when they hear it, stepping back as the sound grabs at their insides and squeezes tight.

“We … we should go check on him … maybe?” Devin suggests.

“Yeah,” Leroy agrees. “Why don’t you go ahead and check on him, Vince?”

Vince glares at the boys flanking him side-to-side. “Nu-uh! I’m not opening that door for shite!”

“This was your brilliant idea!” Devin argues. “You’re the one who wanted to bring him here, despite the fact that we could end up dead! Or worse!”

“What’s worse than dead?” Vince asks.

“My mum could find out! I could be grounded till I’m married!”

Vince’s eyebrows snap in the middle. “B-but … you’re gay!”

“Marriage equality exists, Vince!” Devin crosses his arms. “Don’t be an arse, all right?”

“Point is,” Troy intervenes, “this was your plan from the start, so you should go check on him! Man!” He kicks at the pebbles beneath his feet. “I just want for one year to get some tricks or treats! I’m so tired of this shite!”

“Same here!” Leroy chimes in.

The five boys bicker back and forth. Warlock watches, gaze bouncing between them like he’s at a football match - a dull football match, one destined to end in a stalemate. He rolls his eyes.

He’s definitely done with this.

“Oh, I’ll do it!” Warlock says, blowing through the lopsided gate and trudging up the steps. “Ya bunch of pansies …”

“Yeah,” Vince says, visibly relieved. “Yeah, Warlock should go. It’s his initiation.”

“Oh, shut the eff up!” Troy says, unamused.

Warlock stomps up the stairs without a care, daring whatever is in the house that grabbed Adam to grab him as well. “Adam!” he yells, hand cupped to the side of his mouth to ensure he can be heard. “Adam! Where the hell are you?”

When Adam doesn’t answer, Warlock does the unthinkable.

He knocks on the front door.

The gang takes another step back.

“A-dam!” Warlock calls in a teasing, sing-song voice. “Come out here, ya coward! You trynna pull one over on us? Well, it won’t work. I’m gonna count to five, and then Vince is gonna come in and beat the crap out of you!”

“What!?” Vince yelps, his next step backward twice the size of the rest. “Oh, heck no! No no no no no no no!”

Warlock stops knocking. He puts an ear to the door. The boys watch, completely engrossed but prepared to run if anything else should happen.

If anything should eat him, then come for them next.

“Well?” Leroy calls up after a minute. “Do you hear anything?”

“I hear … something,” Warlock moves his ear from the center of the door to the seam. “It sounds like a …”

“Like a what? Like a what?” Troy screams, one creaky floorboard away from losing it entirely.

“I don’t know,” Warlock says, “but it sounds kind of like a … a …”

“A …?”

“... a … burp.”

The boys stare at one another, expressions wasted underneath their disguises.

“A burp?” David says. “Warlock, man! I’m gonna …”

The door breaks off its hinges and flies over their heads. The five boys duck down to avoid being beamed. When the coast is clear, and the cacophony of the door cartwheeling down the street dies down, they stand back up and look to the spot where Warlock had been standing, hoping to get an answer …

… but he’s not there anymore.

Not a scrap of him.

The gaping doorway stands open like a giant mouth breathing in the twilight air.

And Vince can’t stand it anymore.

“Warlock! Adam!” he bellows, then waits for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he leaps over the fence and storms up to the house. “WARLOCK! ADAM! Come on out, all right? This isn’t funny anymore!”

Vince isn’t necessarily concerned with whether or not Warlock or Adam is alive or dead. He’s much more concerned with his sanity. He’s been to this house dozens of times, and nothing even close to this has ever happened. They have to be making this up. They had to have gotten together before tonight and planned on pranking him, probably hoping to see him mess himself.

Well, that’s not gonna happen!

He makes his way to the doorway with none of his gang behind him. He leans in, looks left and right.

“Warlock?” he calls out. “Adam? Where are you guys?”

He turns back to his crew, all of whom have migrated further down the walkway, preparing to run for their lives.

“They’re not … they’re not in there,” Vince says.

“You’re going to have to go inside then.”

“No way! Fuck that!”

“Vince …!”

“Don’t Vince me! They went into that house on their own! Ain’t no one to blame for that!”

“Adam went in because we threatened him!” Leroy points out.

“He wouldn’t have even come here if Warlock hadn’t invited him,” Vince counters.

“We helped! That makes us accessories!” Devin argues.

“Accessories?” Vince snickers. “What? Are you a solicitor now?”

“Just get in there, Vince!” Leroy says. “Or are you chicken?”

“I’m not chicken! I’m smart! I’m not gonna go in there and die because of fucking peer pressure, and not a one of you can make me!”

A tortured howl shakes the loose boards on the house, pulling the boys’ attention. But it doesn’t sound like Adam this time.

It sounds like Warlock.

“H-holy shit! Holy shit! Vince!” David yells, pointing at the house.

Pointing at Adam, standing in the doorway, two feet in front of Vince, his shirt front drenched in blood. None of the boys can tell if that blood belongs to him or not. Not even Vince, looking him dead in the eye.

But he doesn’t look too much worse for wear.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Vince cries, stumbling backward, missing the stairs altogether and falling straight off the porch onto his tailbone. He lands with a resounding thud, sprays of liquid hot pain shooting up his back.

“What … what happened to you, A---Adam?” Leroy asks.

“I was given a choice,” Adam growls in a new voice as he steps out onto the porch. An inhuman voice. “To submit … or die. And I chose …” He lifts his arms and his body follows, rising into the air above the boys’ heads as Adam grins down at them “… to conquer.”

“Wh-where is Warlock?” David asks.

Adam laughs. “You mean him?” With a sweep of his arm, the limp body of a young boy flies out one of the windows, landing on the ground inside the fence. The five boys scream, staring into the open and unseeing eyes of Warlock Dowling, his face ashen, his mouth opened wide, locked in a horrified scream so that the only conclusion they can come to is that he was literally scared to death.

“L-let’s get out of here!” Leroy yells.

“Oh …” Adam chuckles “… you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here … with us!”

“U-us?” Troy whimpers. “Who’s us?”

A fist busts through the floorboards of the porch, then an arm clad in rags and the shredded remains of what was once a flannel shirt. Another hand emerges, clawing through the wood to hoist up the rest - the head and torso of a corpse tearing themselves from the earth to do Adam’s bidding. Adam’s eyes - blistering red orbs glowing in their sockets - stare down at his tormentors, so frightened for their lives, they can barely scream. Vince scuttles backward to avoid the eruption. A hand explodes through the dirt beside him, grabbing hold of his ankle, and Vince launches to his feet. He manages a shrill wail as he flips over the gate and sprints off down the street, his four compatriots hot on his heels, one urinating noticeably.

Not until the boys are out of sight does Adam begin to laugh in earnest, his body lowering to the ground, carried gingerly by angelic power. He looks down as the glamour fades – the stain withdrawing, his eyes returning from the spell that made them transform. He pulls at the hem of his shirt, watching as the last remaining blood disappears from the fabric.

Warlock climbs up off the filthy ground. He was never really hurt, helped out the window and through the air by demonic intervention. “That was fun.”

“Better than what we did last year,” Wensleydale groans, clambering out of his hole in the porch.

“Hey!” Brian yelps, pulling off his sweaty mask and sucking in a breath of fresh air. “Last year’s costume contest was epic!”

“That’s because you won it!” says Pepper, pulling off her own oppressive mask.

“Yeah. And that was because your mum was one of the judges!”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t have the best costume!”

“Don’t you children think that was a little much?” Aziraphale asks, walking out on to the porch from where he and Crowley had been hiding in the living room, peeking out through a downstairs window. He’d disapproved of this scheme from the start, back when the Them found out what those bullies were concocting for Halloween night, how they had strong-armed Warlock into helping them. “Wouldn’t it have been better to approach their parents about their brutish behavior?”

“Nah,” Crowley says, slipping an arm around his husband’s waist. “Woulda done no good. Most of the time, the parents are no better than the kids. Who d’ya think the blighters get it from?”

“Isn’t this all going to be moot when they find out that Adam hasn’t been possessed by the devil, and Warlock did not, in fact, get devoured by bloodthirsty zombies?” Aziraphale asks, grimacing at the absurdity.

“No,” Adam assures him, “because no one is going to find out until school on Monday after they’ve already called everyone they know and told them about it. I can’t imagine the amount of trouble they’re going to get into!”

“Yeah!” Wensleydale agrees. “Look at all of the rules they’re breaking! Bullying, assault, trespassing. With any luck, they’ll get grounded for life!”

“Or at least three months.” Aziraphale shoots his husband a significant look that takes Crowley a moment to catch.

“Oh! Yeah, right.” Crowley snaps his fingers, performing the truly demonic miracle of making sure five bastards get their comeuppance.

“Besides, something good is coming out of all this,” Pepper reminds them. “Mrs. Parsons’s grandniece will have a brand new house after we help get this wreck fixed up. It was nice of her to let us borrow it for the night. We must have sounded bonkers when we asked.”

“Not at all. She understood,” Aziraphale assures them. “She was glad that after years of people using her great aunt’s house to scare people that someone asked permission for a change.”

“I think things turned out exactly the way they were meant to,” Pepper says.

“Yup!” Brian concurs. “Let the punishment fit the crime, I always say.”

“When do you say that?” Wensleydale asks, beating dirt and cobwebs out of his ear.

“All the time,” Brian argues.

“I’ve known you my entire life, and I’ve never once heard you say that!”

“Then you haven’t been listening hard enough!”

“Pepper? Have you ever heard him say that?”

“Don’t know. I tend to ignore every third word that comes out of his mouth.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“You were right, Warlock. Go big or go home,” Adam says over the argument ensuing.

“Yeah.” Warlock smiles at his new friends. They were never angry at him for the part he almost played in conspiring against their leader. They offered to help him out with no arguments given. It was Pepper's idea to pretend to turn into the undead. Brian got their costumes together. Wensleydale found out about Mrs. Parsons's grandniece and suggested they give her a call. Then they spent most of Halloween night hiding out in this creepy old house when they could have been roaming the neighborhood begging for candy.

But the best thing they did was let him join their group even though he probably didn't deserve it.

“We went big." Warlock smirks, watching the five boys clamor down the street and, unbeknownst to them, to a two-hour lecture and three months in solitary confinement. “Let’s go home.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 11

<= Chapter 10

Summary : Snatcher meets someone new. Warning for this chapter : depressive thoughts. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/64721650

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NEW CHAPTER, HELLO THERE

Sorry for not posting in a while and thank you so much for your patience ! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ! Thank you so much for all your nice comments, likes and reblogs, you're the reason I'm still writing today, you're all so great !!

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 11 - “Let’s chat for a bit, okay?”

Snatcher covered himself with a colourful towel and opened the other door of the shower, revealing the room he had been in before: the machine room, apparently. It was a wonder how this ship still functioned despite all the fires and holes there were in the engines… That thought made the man extremely nervous. Who wouldn’t be, when they were in space, in a seemingly damaged spaceship run by children? Of course, it made him anxious! He could feel his heartbeat increase and he had to take deep breathes in order to calm himself down.

Now wasn’t the time to panic. Everything would be just fine. And hey, who knew, maybe he’d become a ghost again if he somehow died at some point? He scoffed at the idea: yeah, no, he knew that wouldn’t work. His knowledge on the supernatural and on magic in general were enough to give him a pretty good idea of what would or wouldn’t work.

Well, especially what wouldn’t work.

Once he felt calm enough, he focused once more on the current situation. Right next to the door lied a bag of clothes, all very diverse. This probably was what the hatted brat told him about earlier. With some hesitation, the former ghost bent over it and sunk his hands inside to inspect it. Unsurprisingly, those were all male clothes, very different from what he used to wear before he died. It made sense, in a way, considering a few centuries had passed since then, but that didn’t mean he could adapt that fast to this fact. It was a lot to take in, after all.

It took him a while to find something fitting him. Most clothes were either too small or too big for him. Some looked familiar to him, huge blue costumes especially, and he remembered he had seen these on those mafia goons that sometimes entered his forest. Well, no need to try them on, as they were visibly too big for him. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the bag that he found a few clothes that could fit him: one was something he remembered was called ‘t-shirt’, although he didn’t understand where that name came from. Another piece of clothing was a green jacket made out of wool, which would certainly keep his body warm. He found an underwear to his size, though it looked like nothing he used to wear back when he was alive. The last clothes were blue pants that felt really weird to the touch and strange-looking brown shoes with laces.

What the heck was all of that.

With a very confused face, the former ghost did his best to put those clothes on despite his lack of balance. He couldn’t help but have the feeling they wouldn’t be comfortable to wear and oh Gods, was he right to think so. The ‘t-shirt’ was the less worst of all, having a strange shape yet a nice texture, so it wasn’t entirely bad. However, the jacket was itching him on his arms, the underwear felt extremely wrong on his skin, both because of its form and texture… But the worst thing was the pants. Oh, Gods, he absolutely loathed them. The feeling of the fabric on his skin felt so unnatural, and while it seemed a bit elasticated, the man felt like it was too tight around his legs. And what about that thing he had to use to close those pants! What even was that thing?! Who invented that?

With his hair still wet from the shower, Snatcher glanced at his own body, all confusion on his face replaced by exasperation and an obvious lack of understanding. How clothes like these could be worn casually? It made no sense to him.

A sudden noise coming from his stomach cut his thoughts short, forcing his mind to come back to reality. Right, the kids had mentioned someone who would cook for them, even if he didn’t remember their name. However, despite his blatant hunger, the former shade didn’t really look forward to eating anything, mostly because he knew this was going to be a bad experience. He hadn’t tried doing so yet but, considering how every action as a human, even the littlest ones, were so hard and painful to do again… It was obvious that whatever would happen, it wouldn’t be enjoyable.

Snatcher let out a frustrated sigh as another gurgle echoed in the room. Well, it wasn’t like his body was giving him any other choice, so he decided to accept whatever fate destiny had in store for him. He knew it was going to be bad, so it was better to just close his eyes and let fate do its magic. And so, with great reluctance, the former spirit walked away from the shower, taking the bag of clothes with him so he could give them back to whoever they belonged to.

He climbed the metal ladder leading to the upper part of the room, with some difficulties due to his need of adaptation, and approached the door, which opened swiftly once he was close enough to it. That still made him ill-at-ease, if he had to be completely honest, but at least he didn’t jump from surprise anymore, so that was still some progress. He entered the hallway, using the walls to help him to walk in the slope of the floor. No matter how it looked from an exterior eye, Snatcher was definitely getting better at that walking thing. If the movements still felt strange, it was becoming more natural for him, and his legs hurt less from the efforts.

He soon reached the other door, which opened just like the first one. The man arrived in the main hub and glanced around, looking for the kids and whoever they brought onto the ship. However, he was a bit surprised to see that no one was in the room, except for the little vacuum cleaner, still doing its job happily. It greeted Snatcher with a high-pitched sound, bumping into his foot as a way to say hello. He couldn’t help but cringe at the action, still saying nothing as he waited for the little robot to get away from him. Gods, this made him uncomfortable, and yet he felt so ridiculous for that. He could perfectly imagine the kids making fun of him, and he promised himself not to ever mention that in front of them, no matter the circumstances.

Just as he was about to explore the ship to find the little brats, several distant voices caught his attention towards the kitchen. One of them sounded unfamiliar and he guessed it most certainly belonged to the person the girls had mentioned before. Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, the former shade braced himself and walked to the green wooden ladder. Just like the one from before, Snatcher gritted his teeth as he climbed, the action being quite trying for someone who had come back to life. Gods, the things he’d do just to float again… With great efforts, he still managed to get back on the top of the platform, his forehead sweating from how hard it was and how warm the jacket was for him during such an exhausting effort. He quickly dried it up on his arm, having nothing else to use other than that. Once he calmed his breathing, he pushed the kitchen door open… And a strong smell hit his nostrils, a delicious one that made his mouth water and his stomach gurgle louder. His hand dropped the bag of clothes on the floor from the shock. Oh Gods, whatever was cooking, it smelled amazing. His eyes instantly fell on three silhouettes in front of the gas stove or whatever was the futuristic or alien equivalent.

He didn’t even know at this point.

There was a frying pan on the stove, with something cooking in it that the man couldn’t quite see from where he stood. All he knew was that it had a yellowish or orangish hue and that it smelled really good from his body’s point of view.

The three persons turned in his direction, two of them being the little girls he knew quite well and the other one… Being a cat in a chef’s uniform. What the heck.

-“Hey Snatcher!” was the first thing that came out from the hatted brat, soon imitated by her younger friend, waving at him: “Nice clothes,” she said with a thumb up. The bow-wearing kid added her own question:

-“I heard you had some trouble with the shower commands. Did you figure it out or…?”

Snatcher sighed and nodded, a frown on his face:

-“Yeah, I did. I would have appreciated an explanation about them, though,” he reproached, frustrated, making the kids wince at the remark. Well, he was right, so not his problem. His eyes then glanced back to the stranger, who was smiling at him, waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation:

-“Oh, hello !” greeted said cat with a feminine and gentle voice, as she approached him, dusting her paws on her clothes. The kids watched them from afar, next to the stove, surely because they originally were helping the other to cook. The hatted brat was watching the food, probably making sure it wouldn’t burn or something… Well, not that Snatcher trusted her on that regard, especially since she seemed to be poking at the food with a fork as if to see if it was still alive or not. The other little girl just slapped her hand away lightly, as if she were telling her it was impolite or something, whispering something Snatcher couldn’t hear from there.

What kind of alien food were the kids eating usually if they had to check if it was dead…? He suddenly became very nervous about the meal he was going to have. Well, in the end, he didn’t really want to know anyway.

Maybe he’d get lucky, since the cat was most certainly a native of the planet, just like he was. And since she was the one in charge of the cooking…

-“The girls and I were just talking about you,” added the stranger, giving the man a bright smile.

-“Oh, is that so…?” replied the former shade, glaring at the kids for talking about him while he was away. Whoever taught them politeness, they didn’t do a good job at it. What were they even talking about? The kids faked not noticing him, making Snatcher even more irritated. If only he still had his powers… Apparently, the cat seemed to notice his change of attitude and raised her hands in an apologizing gesture :

-“Oh, don’t worry, it wasn’t anything serious!” she explained, a little bit embarrassed: “They mostly told me what happened so I could be in the know,” she paused and extended her paw for him to take: “I’m Cooking Cat, but you can call me Cookie if you want.”

The man hesitantly took her paw, shaking it lightly:

-“The Snatcher,” he introduced himself, quickly pulling his hand back. The feeling of fur on his hand was extremely strange, new, and a bit overwhelming. He wasn’t ready for that kind of touch yet, he supposed. Cooking Cat didn’t seem bothered by that, as if she had been expecting it. Well, it made sense, if the brats told her about his bad experiences back in a human body.

She stepped away, making her way back to the stove as she replied:

-“I heard some stories about you,” she said, though she didn’t look scared. He couldn’t really blame her, though: who would be afraid of him the way he looked like now?

-“Terrifying ones, I hope,” he answered, his tone mixed with sarcasm and pride, a very terrible mix. The cat took the frying pan back from the kids, and quickly instructed them to fetch a large plate, which they quickly did. The former ghost came closer and finally got to see what was cooking: a few grilled cheese sandwiches. The sight and smell made his mouth water again. Gods, he hated being hungry and what that feeling did to him and his body.

-“Yes, for the most part. I must admit I didn’t think you were real until the girls told me about you and asked me to come here,” she confessed, looking a bit embarrassed as she did so: “I mostly heard about you from urban legends and scary tales for kids.”

-“Yeah, scary, right…” scoffed the hat-wearing brat, probably in order to tease him. He shot her a warning glare, which effect was only to make her and her friend giggle more. Those brats.

-“Anyway,” the cat spoke again, decided to change the topic for something lighter. She pointed to him with a smile: “I’m glad the clothes fit you well. I borrowed them from friends, you can keep them until you’re able to buy yours.”

That sentence suddenly made Snatcher realize that he had no money to buy clothes with. Or anything else, really. His thoughts must have been pretty easy to read from his expression as Cooking Cat lifted her paws again:

-“Don’t worry, you’re not in a rush, keep them as long as you need to,” she told him with a reassuring tone.

-“Yeah!” added the bow-wearing kid with a sympathetic smile -ugh- : “We’ll help you to find more clothes! And, not to brag, but I’m pretty good at picking clothes.”

-“She is,” upheld her older friend, “Whereas I’m the pon catcher,” she teased and then laughed, only to receive a light hit from the other with her elbow, giggling as well:

-“Hattie!”

The former shade couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. Gods, this was much too sappy for him. Next to him, Cooking Cat was looking at them fondly, like a mother figure watching her kids teasing each other. She eventually turned back to the stove, turning it off and lifting the frying pan in the air until she found a plate to drop the sandwiches on it.

-“Food’s ready!” announced the cat, smiling brightly. She put the frying pan in the sink and opened the tap to cool it down. She then handed the plate to the kids for them to pick a sandwich from. Without too much surprise, said kids were more than happy to finally eat something. Snatcher, in comparison? Not so much. The smell was perhaps appetizing, but the very idea of putting something material in his mouth after centuries of eating souls, immaterial remains of what used to be alive at some point… This was extremely different and he didn’t want to find out how exactly. However, his thoughts of disgust and nervousness were cut short as he was handed the plate as well. Eyes were on him instantly, waiting for him to take a sandwich too. The man couldn’t help but feel even more nervous, being stared that way made him quite uneasy. The cat was showing patience as she held her arm in the air, holding the plate still, as if she somehow knew what went through his mind. The hatted brat was about to say something, her face clearly mischievous, but her younger friend slapped her hand over the other’s mouth, preventing her to say anything. That action alone silenced the older girl, though she frowned at the bow-wearing kid, visibly unhappy with the latter’s reaction.

After what felt years to him, Snatcher eventually extended a hesitant hand to the plate, grabbing a sandwich. A scowl was plastered on his face, showing how anxious the whole situation made him. He could feel his mouth watering even more, saliva pilling up inside and making him even more uncomfortable. As if to encourage him, the bow-wearing kid took a bite of her own sandwich, soon imitated by her older friend, both stopping looking at him to focus on their food instead. Somehow, knowing he wasn’t the centre of the attention anymore made Snatcher feel a bit better. His posture relaxed and his expression softened, as he eyed his food with a wary look.

He was just so ridiculous, being afraid to eat a sandwich, out of any possible food in the universe. A pat on his arm suddenly brought the former ghost back to reality with a slight jump, his eyes looking for the reason of the contact. It was Cooking Cat.

-“You don’t have to eat, you know,” she offered with compassion, “We can put it in the fridge for later, when you feel ready for that.”

The abrupt sign of concern hit Snatcher’s pride right in the face. An angry blush appeared on his cheeks and he furrowed his brow. He loathed being pitied, especially for such a trivial matter. It was just food, what was he, a kid?! With a scoff, the man rolled his eyes: yeah, right! As if the powerful ghost of Subcon Forest couldn’t do something that simple!

Irritation soon replaced his apprehensiveness and he quickly brought the sandwich to his mouth, pushing all the nervous thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t need those right now. Without thinking anymore, he opened his mouth and took a bite.

It was at this particular instant that Snatcher realized he had definitely underestimated how much this would affect him. As soon as the food entered his mouth and touched his tongue, the former spirit was hit by a wave of sensations he hadn’t felt in years. The taste of food, the warmness of it on his tongue and on his inner cheeks, the texture of each ingredient, how everything together formed all new tastes-

It was absolutely overwhelming.

It was hard to explain how weird and strong all those new sensations were to Snatcher. He couldn’t help but freeze as his mind was unable to do anything else but focus on everything he was feeling at the moment. The taste was indescribable, in a way the man couldn’t describe as positive or negative. It was just there, flooding his brain with many, many signals he hadn’t expected to feel and didn’t understand yet. The texture was… Not something he enjoyed. The presence of something material in his mouth was strange and unnatural to him. Snatcher’s mouth remained motionless, not moving nor chewing because he was too shocked to actually think of doing so. His stomach gurgled louder and… It hurt, as if someone were twisting his guts in the most painful way.

Was this how hunger felt like? Like his guts were twisted again and again and again? Gods, how he loathed that feeling.

Snatcher’s thoughts were once more cut short as the hatted brat called out to him, this time not held back by her younger friend:

-“Uh, Snatcher…?” she started, hesitantly, raising one of her eyebrows as she continued: “You know you have to chew and swallow… Right?”

The words didn’t register right away in the former spirit’s mind. When they did, however, Snatcher felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Hell, learning to control a body after centuries was awful. Frowning even more, he started to move his jaw, though a bit awkwardly at first. The feeling of his teeth crushing food was so foreign, so… Weird, and almost disgusting, if he started to think about it too much. The sound of chewing echoed in his head, and he felt the need to close his eyes. It was loud, loud, too loud, much too loud. He didn’t know when he had to stop chewing. Did the food need to be a complete food mash? He had no idea, and his embarrassment just intensified as the seconds passed. He knew he was being watched, he knew that, and it all made everything worse.

After a while, when he felt the food was just a mashed mix of ingredients… He tried to swallow, the same way he managed to when it came to saliva. Strangely… It didn’t go the wrong way. Instead, the former shade felt the food coming down in his throat, rubbing each wall inside in the most uncomfortable possible way. The man cringed and shivered from the sensation, eyes shut hard and his body tensed more than he ever imagined.

There. He had chewed and swallowed the first bite. Woah. How amazing, truly. Now there were a dozen more to go, now this was just great.

Claps suddenly echoed in the room, making Snatcher jump. He quickly reopened his eyes, only to find the two kids cheering upon him by clapping their hands. The sound was ringing in his head each time their palms met, making him cringe again and again. The little girls were smiling, looking at him with wide eyes, full of… Admiration? Pride? Happiness? No, this couldn’t be that. This just couldn’t be. They weren’t cheering for him, how could they?

Snatcher was being mocked. He knew that, he was ridiculous, he couldn’t even eat properly, he was even more pathetic than a human, he couldn’t believe it- No one would ever cheer on someone for something that simple, something anyone could do easily but him.

The former ghost gritted his teeth strongly, so much that it hurt. Inside his chest, he felt like something was squeezing his organs, even squeezing at something that wasn’t really there in the first place. His hands were shaking, no, his whole body was. His face was becoming hotter and hotter, red like a tomato from how furious and ashamed he felt at the moment.

This was stupid, so stupid, why was this happening to him, why, why, why-

With a strangled cry, Snatcher threw the rest of the food on the floor violently. All the ingredients scattered on the black and white tiles with a repugnant sound, and silence fell in the room, the kids stopping their cheering instantly. Shock was on everyone’s face but Snatcher’s, his own frowning to the point where it just hurt.

He didn’t want this, never in his life and afterlife did he wish for such a terrible humiliation.

Ignoring the loud and high-pitched reproaches of the hatted brat, the man turned away, fleeing the room quickly despite how unstable he still was on his legs. He didn’t even see the kids and cat’s face well before he snapped, but he could perfectly imagine it. The hat-wearing girl was angry, revolted by his behaviour, by how he wasted food that was made for him, disappointed in him-

The younger kid certainly had that awfully annoying worried expression plastered on her face, pitying him, like they all were-

As for the cat, Snatcher was certain she either felt outraged like the older brat or upset like the younger one.

The man left the room as fast as he could, feeling his legs trembling more and more. It wasn’t like he could leave -he was in space after all, stuck in a spaceship-, but he just wanted to be alone, alone, alone for the love of Gods! The man’s breath was heavy and he could hear voices calling out to him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. A loud and deafening ringing noise was playing in his mind, hitting the walls of his skull at each heartbeat. He wanted to flee, wanted to go away so much-

He went down the mezzanine, his fists clenched, his nails almost piercing the skin. He was just at the middle of the large hub room when his left foot walked on the shoelace of his other foot, shoelaces he hadn’t tied up before. Instantly, it was like he had received a bucket of freezing water on his head as he realized that his body was falling, falling onwards, and he couldn’t stop it. He lost his balance, his arms instinctively tensed before him to protect him from the impact. Just before hitting the floor, he shut his eyes hard… And something wet leaked from them.

Oh. He was crying. Now, this was just pathetic-

The shock of the impact shut his thoughts up, silencing them immediately. A breathless cry left his lips as the air of his lungs were forced out of his body. Pain spread in his whole body, making him curl up from the ache, from the humiliation, from how bad he felt.

He didn’t want to be a human. Especially not who he used to be.

Far away in the room, the little cleaning robot seemed to watch with concern, beeping in a lower tone than usual. It looked like it understood that it was best not to approach Snatcher in his current state of mind.

The kitchen door opened swiftly, revealing the trio watching him from the top of the mezzanine. Just like he had expected… The hatted brat was angry and the other kid looked just as sad as he had thought. As for Cooking Cat… Her expression was unreadable. Was she worried? Disappointed? He didn’t know.

-“What the peck, Snatcher?!” yelled the older girl, gripping at the railing of the mezzanine as she bent over it: “Why did you-”

The former ghost had expected to hear yells and reproaches -who wouldn’t in his situation, after all?-, but… The hatted kid was silenced by Cooking Cat, the latter putting her paws on the children’s shoulders. Her grip on them seemed to be stronger than it should normally be, as if she were trying to catch their attention, which apparently worked, as silence fell into the room. The little girls looked at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, though the anger was still very much visible on the hatted brat’s face.

-“Why don’t you two prepare a bed for your friend while he and I talk for a bit?” she offered them, with a tone that was nice but still wasn’t just a suggestion, or maybe a strong one.

Both of the kids looked at each other before glancing at Snatcher, who was still lying on the floor, more than humiliated. Why did the cat want to talk to him? He didn’t need comfort, he just wanted things to go back as they were! Why couldn’t it be simple?! Why did it have to be so hard and so unbearable? He didn’t ask for any of this!

Surprisingly, the children listened to Cooking Cat and nodded, probably because they understood how serious the other was. They remained hesitant for a few moments as if they were having second thoughts about all of this, but they eventually left the room, entering the hallway leading to their bedroom, whispering to each other.

Snatcher loathed this, he hated what was happening to him, this wasn’t fair! He gritted his teeth, hearing the cat approaching him one step after the other. What did she want to talk about? They didn’t even know each other, what would be the point?! She wouldn’t be able to help him, only the kids were, and they weren’t able to do so quickly! All he had to do now was to wait, while he could only hope for Vanessa not to go crazy and freeze the entire forest again! But sure, he could play the perfect little human! After all, this could only be a fun experience!!

He hadn’t realized he had been holding his head until now, his nails scraping his scalp painfully. He felt a paw on his shoulder, rubbing it slowly and gently. It made him jump once more, his eyes shutting hard: he could barely handle his emotions and now he had to handle the sensation of a paw rubbing his shoulder?! But as he was about to complain, Cooking Cat spoke first, with a calm and soothing voice that silenced him completely:

-“Let’s chat for a bit, okay?” she offered, her tone full of compassion and understanding.

Snatcher didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be comforted! Comfort was for kids, for helpless people, and he was neither of those things! And yet… Yet…

The man nodded silently, tears suddenly leaking out of his eyes and gross sobs leaving his mouth, echoing all around them in the room.

Snatcher just wanted to feel good for once.

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So uh will you believe me when I say this chapter was supposed to be completely fluff and all... But it just went downhill as I wrote it and I couldn't stop it. It just happened. Well, in a way, I imagine Snatcher having good and bad times, it's not a linear experience, having to like himself and his old self. So yeah... But next chapter is going to be calmer and Snatcher will have the opportunity to talk about things a bit.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and my drawings ! See you on the next chapter !

(Also I'm posting this four days before my birthday, look at me giving you a gift when it's my birthday soon idjqhdihqdu. ANYWAY. Hope y'all have a great day !!)

=> Chapter 12

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