#wow bell you really pulled a soap huh

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Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IX

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Word Count: 6500+

[Chapter VIII] [Chapter X]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, mention of drugs, straight up agony

Notes: Writing action is so hard. 

January 21, 1984

The Pines Mall, New Jersey

Two hours.

That was the slim interval between Stitch's departure from the safehouse to Zenya and Adler's arrival to the mess left behind.

He missed you by two hours.

Thus, with each minute that passed, your chances of survivability lowered.

With these kinds of thoughts wracking around in Adler's brain, the plane ride to New Jersey was becoming more tense than it should have. He couldn't even rest during the flight, and instead just crossed his arms and looked out the window into darkness. 

Not only was the lives of innocent people on his shoulders, but you were also part of the mix and taken hostage. If he were to ease up now, there was the chance of a slip up. Adler needed to concentrate, but without you there, it felt like a piece was missing— a big chunk gone from the whole. 

He had but a few hours to assemble a team. A part of him didn't want to participate in the mission to the Pines Mall, but he was the one leading the squadron, so there was no other option available. 

Thus, Adler dreaded at the thought of finding out what Stitch had in store for him. Simultaneously, though, he was itching for the encounter to release his pent up stress and project the anger. The last interaction he had with his nemesis was taking out his left eye, and the last thing he heard about him was that Kravchenko sent him to prison. But, as it turns out, you broke him out, and let the monster loose. 

Did he blame you? No, not entirely, since he himself had a part to play in the end. Everything about you stemmed from him. Like Hudson said back then, if he only killed Perseus in Vietnam, they didn't have to deal with Greenlight. And if he just killed Stitch, you wouldn't be in this situation.

But if those events didn't happen, he would have never met you. It was bothersome to consider that the world worked in such a way. 

A meeting was held right as he and Zenya got off the plane, and he had made the call ahead of time to assemble a small team consisting of himself, Zenya, Wyatt “Bulldozer” Jones, and Woods. Mason and Lazar were quick to volunteer the moment he broke the news to them earlier, but he couldn't let them on. Because Hudson wouldn't allow it.

"Bell's not a traitor." 

It was taking Adler’s entire willpower not to blow off at him. And yet at the simple suggestion that you went rogue, he went ballistic. How ironic it was to hear someone else tell him the same excuse he told Lazar, Mason, Sims, and Woods after returning alone from the cliff. Even as stupid as it sounded, a lie that fell so easily off of one’s tongue can become a truth to many.

"I know that, Adler. Trust me, I’m not too keen on it either,” Hudson proclaims. “I don’t know what’s going on through Black’s mind. He wasn’t too eager to find out that the asset was taken off radar.”

"The asset you asked Bell to meet was a Perseus agent. How did that fly under the radar? Bell did what should have been done a long time ago."

Adler was seething, trying his utmost best to not storm out of the room. 

"The orders are to execute any hostiles. And, unfortunately, that includes Bell. The mission comes first, I hope you remember that. Lives of thousands of civilians are at stake, and I don't need your personal agenda—"

"You made an exception for Mason. They shouldn't be any different."

"Mason is one of our own."

"And Bell isn't? You were at DEFCON 2, and even then you put your trust in Mason. Or are we just playing favorites now?"

Hudson pressed his lips in a thin line, unable to come up with an explanation or excuse. This scenario was too uncanny, almost like a replica of what they went through years ago. In Hudson’s place was Adler, as you were to Mason. As much as he hated to admit it, he had actually taken a liking to you. But, having to balance out the decisions made between him, Adler, and Black was crucial, and this was the best option to tackle the situation at play.

“Bell provided us the information we needed to even have this mission in the first place,” Adler continued to interpose, “We at least owe them the benefit of the doubt.” 

“Look, Adler. I had enough trouble as is just trying to convince the higher ups to let you lead the team. This isn’t my call, or your call to make. It’s Black’s,” was all Hudson could respond with. “If you mess this up, then everything is done for.”

“We’ll see about that.”

As if on cue, Lazar, Woods, and Sims pile into the room. “So, what’s the game plan?” Woods inquires, his usual attitude shifting into a more pensive state.

“Priority is the gas and Stitch and his men. It’s up to us to find Bell after that’s taken care of.” 

"That's not what I said, Adler," Hudson dictates. All eyes avert to him. "If Bell's considered hostile, then treat them as one." 

"This is my team, Hudson, I tell them what I want them to hear. Worry about briefing your own squad." Hudson gives him a hard look before parting. Adler redirects his attention to Sims. "Did you get what I asked?"

His friend nods, plopping down a folder. "Right here." Skimming through the contents, he pulls out an intricate blueprint of the Pines mall, handing it over. "The surveillance cameras were sabotaged just a couple hours before you came back from Berlin, but I managed to restore a couple of them."

Still photos from said film were thrown into the mix of papers, Adler running his fingers down the edges. They had limited lighting, but judging from the context, it was Stitch's henchmen placing canisters around the mall.

No evidence of you.

"Is that all?"

"Just one more. Aerial pics. The canisters seemed to be focused at the middle of the place."

Woods joins in, asking the question Adler had been dying to ask: "Any signs of Bell?"

"One of the security guards reported that a couple of large semi-trucks were seen unloading at the back," Lazar chimes, "There's no camera in the storage area, but I'm guessing that's—"

"Don't worry about Bell. We can find them once we deactivate the bomb."

Lazar trails off as a disgruntled look appears on his face. It was the coldness in Adler's voice that stunned him the most. Considering that you and Adler managed to re-establish a relationship over the past few months was surprising on it's own, and to hear him just brush you off and infer that you were a liability was… shocking. "But—"

"If the bomb goes off, we're done for. And if we're all dead then what's the fucking point?" Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette. "Eliminate all threats first, then once that's over we can look for [L/N]. That's the best outcome we can achieve."

“So you’re just telling me to ignore the fact that Hudson labeled Bell as an enemy?” Woods 

"Black did, not Hudson," Adler corrects. As much as they weren’t seeing eye to eye, there was no reason to hold grudges. They were both in a tight spot, so he had to give some credit to him for sticking through it all. The guy managed to get him to lead the team, and that was all he could have asked for. "Don't heed any attention to it. Bell's going to be fine, so just focus on the mission. That's all I'm going to say on that matter, got it?"

He's met with nods and hushed agreement.

In contrast to his words, Adler felt his gut churn as he listened to himself.  It was perfectly within reason to model the mission in such a way, and doing so would ensure the safest route of getting you, and everyone else, alive. He could only place blind trust in you to hold strong on your own while they finish their business. It hurt him enough trying to put the partition in the relationship to avoid clouding his judgement, but he needed everything to work out. For the sake of you and the general public.

With the few hours remaining, he couldn't sleep comfortably leading up to the operation. Adler spent most of the time checking up on equipment, making sure everything was working properly and that nothing was missing. From the attachments down to the amount of bullets in a magazine, he checked it all. How could he rest, knowing the fact that you were out there at the mercy of the enemy?

And he blamed himself for it. He should have brought you along. You were stuck in West Berlin for the majority of the time ever since they found you, and he couldn’t even give you the small opportunity to return to the states. How you were excited to go to Washington, only for him to break the news. The sheer look of disappointment on your face physically hurt. And because of his neglect, you were gone.

“I'm trusting you on this one Adler,” Lazar had told him. “We all are. Probably not the best thing to have on your shoulders, but it's for Bell's sake. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the positive words, it was easy to detect the nervousness and worry wrapped between them. Everyone who came to know you could only suck up their emotional baggage and lock it up as the time to deploy neared.

So when the helicopter landed on the side of the mall, Adler tried his hardest to set his feelings aside. It was all part of this line of work; there was bound to be sacrifices. Losing teammates and friends was a price to pay. He's been doing this for years, and he should be used to it.

He takes a deep inhale before exhaling silently and exiting the vehicle. 

The mission is priority.

Adler, Zenya, and Woods lined up against the wall, letting Bulldozer approach the doors with a sledgehammer. They were covered on the other side with metal platings, screwed in tightly with bolts. 

“Oh, before we begin,” Woods speaks. All eyes turn towards him, and he makes sure to look at each of them. “I don't care about what Hudson or Black said. If I find any of our fucking bullets inside Bell, I’ll personally hunt you down and end you.” 

He receives a disapproving glare from Adler, who shakes his head to himself. He wanted to side with Woods on this one and switch priorities, but it would only cause conflict and additional worries. And he didn’t need that.

He gives Bulldozer the greenlight. “Do it.”

Bulldozer’s efforts left deep dents in the metal platings as they fell. The interior of the premises was dark, leaving only their flashlights and the neon light strips to illuminate the small area around them. A distance away, a periodic beeping repeated itself. There were no Soviets or anyone to greet them upon their entry, leaving them to push further inside. 

Families of cables were thrown about like vines, slithering across the floor and crawling upward on the walls. There was no purpose in trying to sort through it, as it all ran towards the same direction.

“Watch your step,” Zenya advises.

They followed the river of wires and rounded the corner of the arcade, passing by the bright and cheerful stores that were untouched by the supposed chaos the mall harbored. With the thick tension in the air, their footsteps echoed, calling out and resonating in their own ears.

“Any movement?”

“Not yet.”

At the center of the mall should have been a large fountain running on its own cycle. Instead they were met with the sight of exposed blue and white tiles, damp with whatever little remains of water. Placed right on top of it was the centerpiece— a collection of blue barrels, rigged with explosives. Compared to the photos they’ve seen earlier, there were way more than originally presented.

"What the hell?"

Focusing the flashlights on them reveal it to be the rumored Nova Six gas. Adler's nose wrinkled at the faint smell that filled his nose. It was the same one that was present back in Rebirth Island during the raid.

"The bastard's manufacturing Nova Six again."

Before he could investigate further, an enthusiastic chime comes from the elevator a few feet away. Upon arriving, the doors pull open automatically, letting the bright lights flood out into the darkness. Adler squints at the contrast as the white illuminates the silhouette of the person inside.

Within a blink, enemies emerge seemingly out of thin air, revealing themselves behind corners and on top of the balconies. A few bright red dots appear on Adler and the team's clothing as all weapons become trained onto their figures.

"Shit…”

Adler's watches the shadow that emerges from the elevator. Stitch was almost unrecognizable from the last time he saw him, but with recent photographs and that identifying scar, there was no doubt that he was the guy that he captured from Rebirth Island. 

"Adler," his nemesis greets with a deep timbre.

Adler pulls his arms upwards, redirecting his focus directly at Stitch, gripping the gun handle with the force of a god as the stock digs into his shoulder. “Where are they?!” He ignores Zenya's plea to simmer down, heart pounding against his chest as he faces uncertainty.

Everything was supposed to go smoothly. Take out the hostiles, disengage the bomb, kill or capture Stitch, then find you. Yet there was already a grave miscalculation— There were way more enemies than they estimated. He already knew the second that elevator dinged that the plan was going to be scrapped. All that meticulous planning gone to shit.

"You'll be joining your beloved soon enough once I'm done with you," Stitch replies coldly. There was no time to react as he flags down his troops with a hand signal, closing his fist into the air as all hell breaks loose.

"Fuck, get down!" Woods instructs as he lets a smoke grenade drop to their feet.

The area became hot with gunfire, bullets ricocheting all over the place. Fumes of grey clouds flowed out from the ground, encasing the team as they dived for cover nearby. His earpiece began to fill with information from the rest of the team.

"What's the next step, Adler?" Zenya demands.

What the fuck could they do? Any subtle movement they made was met with a torrent of bullets. His eyes stung as the smoke continued to pour out, trying his best to make out the outlines of the rest of the team nearby. "Jones! Notify the Bravo team to move already!" 

"—ETA about ten minutes!"

"What's the hold up?"

"Police barriers are preventing them from getting in."

"Well, tell them we're fuckin’ outgunned!" He needed to make a decision. Adler presses his lips in a thin line, recalling the layout of the mall. "Team, get to the arcade! We'll just have to hold them off until Hudson and the bomb squad arrives!"

All of them attempt to forge a path to the neon faculty. Woods and Bulldozer hid behind planter islands, providing suppressing fire as more and more enemy troops seemed to flood the entire area. As one body dropped another would soon take its place, much to their frustration. The once polished floor, sparkling clean, was now riddled with holes and covered in soot.

Stitch was nowhere to be found, abruptly disappearing the moment smoke filled the area. 

Woods lets out a moan as a bullet grazes his shoulder. "Ugh, damn it! They're not letting up any fucking time soon! You'll guys have to go on ahead!"

Adler gives out a huff, looking in the opposite direction. "Zenya, on me!"

She returns a confirming nod.

"...Go!"

They both jump out from their spots, heading towards the fluorescent lights.

"RPG!"

The projectile shoots their way. All four of them scatter, jumping away from their hiding spots and diving for the closest cover. Adler forges ahead despite the danger, letting his legs carry him to the arcade.

Woods groans as he lands in an uncomfortable position, but pushes himself back up and pulls inward, a bullet narrowly missing his arm. The place he was crouched at moments before was now a gaping hole. 

"Well, fuck," he grumbles under his breath. There wasn't even a chance to recover, a grenade lands near him.

He jolts up from his spot, running into the closest store and diving behind the counter. The shrapnel belts against the surface around him. "Give me a fucking break…" He peeks around the corner, taking one enemy out as they attempt to reposition closer to him.

Woods takes a brief second to gaze around the store he was in. Majority of the interior was brown, various electronic items and trinkets placed on the shelves and glass display cases. A stray round punctures a hole into one of them, a couple of shards landing on him. His eyes land on a lone door, just right at the corner.

Bulldozer's inconvenienced voice rings in his ear: "Woods! Need some help over here!"

"Hold on!"

He kicks the door open with brute force, and is met with a lone soldier jumping out from behind a collection of boxes. He whips them in the face, knocking them away before putting a couple of shots into their chest. They collide with the ground, a sickening crack coming from underneath them. "Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?" 

"...Frank?"

Woods snaps his head towards the owner of the voice, just right inside the inventory space. There, he was met with a stomach churning sight.

You narrowed your eyes at him, only to ease up within the next instant as you flinch at the sting that came with the contortion of facial muscles. Woods' figure was hard to distinguish, just a blob of muted color, leaving the struggle of refocusing the image to your right eye.

"Holy fuck…" He rushes to your side at breakneck speed, undoing the straps that prevented you from collapsing onto the floor. Woods holds out a aiding arm and catches you as you stumble onto your feet. "What'd he do to you?"

"It's just a flesh wound." You take a few breaths, trying to recuperate your stamina. You didn't know how long you were out, but it was the sound of bullets colliding with the walls that struck you back awake, a wave of nausea hitting you. The gunfire didn't cease on your awakening, and Woods' radio continued to buzz with a multitude of chatter. "What's going on?"

"Tell you later, I just need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that?"

You nod. Woods' voice was full of worry and concern, but given the situation, there was no time to loiter around and lie down to wait for a certified medic. There was no rest for anyone, and peace was only granted where there was no onslaught of danger. Your attention is brought to the cart of red-stained instruments, Stitch's knife placed on top. With your good hand you grasp it and slip it into your belt.

Woods kicks the gun on the floor towards your direction, gesturing at it. "Go get the rifle. We're leaving."

"I… I can't."

Woods was about to inquire the reason for your objections, only to note that your left arm was limp at your side. He sends you a sympathetic look and hands you his sidearm instead, loading it up and preparing it for you. As you readied and stabilized your balance, he quickly wraps a roll of bandages tightly around the left side of your face, and you give him a feeble smile of thanks.

"Something tells me you've done this before."

"An old friend of mine— Weaver."

As he mentions the word friend, you think back to the post it note. "Wait. Mason... How's Mason?!"

Woods hurries out the room with you trailing along behind him. Every move felt sluggish, and you were just waiting for the adrenaline kick to come in. "Mason's not here, he's back home, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Enough chit chat, Bell, there's no time. Save your energy and just concentrate on keeping conscious." He introduces you to the warzone just outside the Eighteen clothing outlet, the sound of turmoil and peril ringing in your ears. "Zenya! Sitrep!"  

He pauses, listening to whatever is being relayed back.

“Well get to the fucking arcade already! Adler should be there—"

Bullets cascade in your direction, and Woods pushes down on your shoulder to get you under cover and courteously takes them out in your stead. He reloads his gun, giving out a frustrated groan, and you felt a little guilty, knowing that you were going to become a hindrance. You withheld an apology, knowing that he would just condemn your words.

Once done, Woods nudges you, pointing his chin towards the Galaxy-themed walls just right across from the shop. "Both legs are still working, right?"

You bow your head as confirmation. "Adler's at that arcade?"

"We're sitting ducks until Hudson's forces join us, so we can't stay in one place for too long." Woods adjusts his posture. "On my mark."

Taking a peek over the counter, you plot out a path, already coming to a rash decision. “You got my back, right?”

"Wh—"

He didn't even get a chance to countdown or answer as you break into a sprint with a small burst of energy that arose. Pain shot up your leg as your foot first made hard contact with the floor, but it quickly ceased to a burn as you focused on one thing, and one thing only. 

"Bell, wait!" 

--------

Adler manages his way to the arcade as a couple of soldiers try to prevent his efforts. Inside, he fights off the both of them, sending an array of rounds into their chest. Another tries to sneak up behind him, but he whips around and delivers a jab to their throat, managing to wrangle the rifle away from their hands and ending them with one to the head.

"Bell, wait!" Woods' voice screeched through the earpiece. 

"Bell?" Adler repeats. A wave of relief washed over him momentarily, lowering his stance. He reaches up to his ear, about to confirm if he heard correctly, but wasn't given the opportunity to as Stitch sneaks up behind him and puts him into a choke hold.

His feet left the ground for a split second as Stitch tugged at him, arm tensing up and pulling tighter. Adler could feel his breath leaving him as he clawed at the arm around his neck, trying to pry it away. The rest of the squad were elsewhere, taking cover from gunfire while also taking out the enemy. 

Spots danced in Adler's vision as his strength started to fade away. His throat was on the verge of being crushed, face changing into a bluish hue.

Right when he was about to give out, he heard the sound of a bullet ripping through flesh, and for a moment Adler thought he was the one that got shot. However, Stitch seemed to grimace at something, giving out a pained and irritated growl as the hold loosened.

Stitch's eyes narrowed towards the direction of the attack. A distance away, just right underneath the open entrance of the game room, a figure stood. Lighting was scarce, but he could make out your form from neon lights as you leaned against the wall with a pistol in hand aimed at them.

"You-"

Stitch wasn't given the opportunity to finish his sentence. Out of bullets, you dropped the gun and charged towards the both of them, tackling him off of Adler. The guy was a unit, but you managed to use your weight to pull it off. Adler collapsed, coughing violently and massaging his neck as you brought Stitch to the floor. He struggled to call out to you as you gave out a warcry.

"Someone just doesn't know how to listen, do they?"

Bringing out the Stitch's knife from your belt, you plunged it downward over his chest, but he holds out a hand, allowing the blade to pierce through it instead. He lets out a pained growl, but uses his other hand to grab a hold of your arm and push against you. Your expression was scrunched up in agony and animosity as your cut hands gripped the handle, opening them even further.

"I ought to put you down like the damn dog you are," Stitch beseeches. 

"If I were to die, it wouldn't be through the likes of you."

The tip pierced through his vest. Just a bit more, you told yourself, putting every effort into it. You could see the cloth peeling away as the metal pierced the area. His grip on you was insanely tight as he tried to fight against you, you couldn't feel both your arms anymore. Left arm useless, you used it as a weight to further press against the hilt. Blood rushed to your head, and your ears were ringing. You only focused on the only objective in front of you— Kill Vikhor Kuzmin. 

A surge of strength arises with him, and you could feel him regaining some stamina over you. You were already weakened and struggling to keep awake, adrenaline the only thing letting you move freely. Passing out wasn't an option, so you had to do something.

Even so, it wasn’t enough.

Stitch began to fight back, overwhelming you with strength you couldn't muster. He turns your hand towards yourself, the blade pointing at your front. Yet you glared daggers, refusing to back down. You tighten your jaw in the effort to resist, ignoring the burning sensation in the entire upper left side of your body. It was as if someone had laid a fresh bed of lava underneath.

"Bell!" Adler yells. He reaches out to a fallen rifle close by, aiming right down the iron sights and pulling the trigger.

He was met with the sound of continuous clicking as nothing came out from the end. There wasn't even time to think or breathe. Adler throws it to the side in frustration and pushes himself up, only for his vision to become tilted. His ear was ringing thanks to a busted eardrum from the RPG from earlier, and he struggled to maintain proper balance. 

"Hudson's crew just arrived! The heli is right outside!" Bulldozer announces in his ear.

“Agh!” 

Adler raises his head, only to see Stitch had sunk the knife into your stomach.

"You ought to choose your words carefully," Stitch leers, towering over your body.

"Bell!" 

His voice cracked, and something inside Adler snaps. He zooms forward, giving it his all as he plows through, knocking Stitch off of you. The wind gets knocked out of him as they both fall onto the floor. A fist collides with Stitch’s mask, Adler following up with his knee full force into the stomach. He grasps at the ends of the black hoodie, pulling it towards him as he delivers a brutal headbutt.

Basic close combat training Adler learned through the years was thrown out the window. Rules couldn’t hold him back in this encounter, the only way to win would be to fight dirty. It was a boxing match without a referee. And considering what Stitch had just done, there was no point in following basic etiquette.

You could hear Adler’s cries of distress and efforts with each blow he received. Stitch somehow gets the upper hand, delivering a good jab, throwing him into a daze. Your consciousness was slipping away, pain surging from every part of your body if you even dared to move. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t do anything. 

Their blurred figures fought mere feet away from you, and you could only play the dying casualty as Adler began to get pummeled, Stitch’s driving bringing his knee to his stomach and causing him to double over and gag. A well-timed hook connects to the right side of his jaw, sending him downward.

Adler!

You cursed yourself, balling your hands into fists. Digging your nails into the carpet, you try to roll onto your side in an effort to crawl, only to be met with excruciating pain. You gave out a whine at the sensation.

Why am I so damn weak?! 

Darkness swarmed your vision. Adler was on the ground now, rendered useless. His pathetic attempts to get an advantage, whether it be through grabbing of the clothes or wrists, was easily thwarted as Stitch straddled on top of him and beat the living daylights out of him. 

Both of you were going to die here, in some random New Jersey mall, both to the hands of a man you once worked alongside with. His vendetta against the both consisted of nothing but vengeance, and he was about to succeed.

You couldn't do shit. Drugged up, left eye slashed and your left arm broken, this was the worst state to be in. And now had an internal bleeding thanks to the metal serrated ends clawing into your insides. You blink slowly, about to let darkness take the remains of your sight. It was useless. Every effort was spent preventing Stitch from further harming Adler, but even then you couldn't prevail.

This is it. 

Giving up wasn't easy, and you thought there would never be a day where you actually threw in the towel. Yet, with everything you have just experienced, and what was happening now, you were definitely dealt the short end of the stick. Perseus was going to win, and one of the biggest thorns that continued to prod at them was about to be wiped off the grid. The Nova Six gas was going to be released to the general public.

No. 

Not yet.

You still had something to do. Just one thing left.

If someone were to make it out alive from this mess, it had to be Adler.

After all, you had a job to do.

Brows knit and vision filled with red, you grasped the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach. You grinded your molars together, taking a sharp intake of breath as you proceeded to pull it out. 

Pain erupted without hesitation, and it took everything within your mental capacity to keep awake. It was a horrid feeling, and you whimpered with every miniscule movement. You could feel the metal lifting out, and blood began to splurt, staining your shirt. It hurt. Everything did. Death seemed like a great option.

Your mind was warning you, demanding you to stop. You wanted to, but you refused to yield. 

If you were going to die, then so be it. You'll even take Death's damn hand if it means that Stitch would be coming along with you. 

You held back a cry as the knife came free. It glistened underneath the neon lights of the arcade, stained with your own fresh blood. You took short, little breaths in an attempt to lessen the pain, only to no avail.

With a trembling hand, you flip the blade around, holding it from the tip. It was warm. You couldn't even see your own skin underneath the mass of blood that caked your fingers. Just how much did you lose for the sake of this man? 

Not that it mattered. If Adler trusted his life to you, then you'll do whatever it takes to make sure he lived to see another day. 

Pulling your arm back, your fingertips pressed against the metal as you readied yourself.

Mustering all remaining strength, you swing full force, chucking the weapon towards the duo's direction. 

It cut through the air without a second thought, going into a nice arch.

You could see Stitch look up during the final moments as the knife struck him, embedding itself right in the middle of his forehead.

He didn't make a noise as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the Russian fall onto his back, not even groaning as he collapsed.

It's over.

You let out a difficult exhale after holding your breath for so long, and set your head back down, staring up at the ceiling. Your arms fall to the side, eagle spread.

The lights of the arcade machines flickered and bounced around without a care in the world. Beeping and 16-bit noises played along in an attempt to veil the sounds of warfare just outside the doorway. There was a soothing vaporwave-like rhythm, luring you into a sense of numbness and peace.

The purplish blue was a nice shade, and it made you drowsy. A wave of tranquility washed over you as you watched the light show, and with each blink you took, your eyelids felt heavier and heavier. Sleep was calling out to you.

How many near-death experiences did you have? Trabzon Airport, Cuba, Solovetsky, the cliffside… The list went on.

Adler heaved violently nearby, using the back of his hand to wipe away the crimson that ran down his nose. The effort was useless, as more of it continued to streak downward over his lips and chin. It had taken a moment for him to register that Stitch ceased all movement, lying uselessly with arms splayed out. Horror-struck, his expression held itself frozen as his own knife stuck out from his forehead.

Bell.

Adler’s arms shook as he held himself up into a crawling position. He saw you lying there with a pool of red that was about to expand underneath you. He pushes himself to you with his elbows, holding out a hand to you. “[L/N]!” his voice quivers.

He was calling you. 

Turning your head, you see Adler struggle to make his way over to you. You manage a shaky smile as he enters your view.

“Is that you, Russ?” you gurgle weakly, squinting trying to focus. The metallic taste in your mouth only seemed to strengthen, lathering your taste buds.

“Don’t talk!” His eyes darted from place to place trying to figure out where he should prioritize first aid, but his thoughts were racing and he couldn't concentrate, head rolling from the thorough beating Stitch had given him. "Shit, I–"

“Ah, it is." You gave him a soft smile. Albeit your altered vision, Adler's face managed to detail itself. The hat he had on previously lied on the floor a couple paces away, his hair instead ruffled and a mess. "I couldn’t recognize you. Stitch really did a number on you… And me."

The mere sight of you made Adler's stomach drop. A mix of black and red resided where your left eye should have been, covered with soiled bandages that felt like it didn't do much to help. You had several bruises as well, cuts decorating your skin. Old scars that you had were now covered with new wounds. Your shirt had dark stains on it as it clung to your body. 

Adler's hands went towards your stomach, applying pressure and you winced underneath him. “You’re going to be okay Bell."

You try to laugh at his attempt to comfort you, only to choke up some blood. "C'mon, be truthful. How do I look?"

He couldn't respond, and with one hand he reached behind, shoving his hands forcibly underneath the covers of his satchel, trying to look for any medical supplies.

"I told Vikhor that… if he even touched you.. I'd kill him." Your eyes lingered on his. "C'mon don't make that face. Aren't you proud of me?"

He looked pitiful. Adler was biting the insides of his cheeks, just trying to keep himself together amongst this hell hole he was thrown into. But he couldn't hide it. He wasn't fucking proud— he was broken. Whether it was the mere image of your mutilated body, or the thought that you practically sacrificed yourself for him, he knew that he was the reason you did the shit you just did.

Adler didn't ask you to do it. So why, why, why, did you commit to such a selfless act? That valor he admired now became the reason for your recklessness and gave you reason to act so blindly. Why were you so fucking loyal? A month without your presence nearby and the first thing he sees upon contact was you bleeding out in front of him. It was like God, or whatever higher being up there, was testing his integrity of how much shit he can take before breaking.

The instant he felt his fingers rub against something inside his pack, he pulled the object out. 

A flare.

No. No. Nonono—

Where was his medkit?

You placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of his eye. The gesture stings as he feels your finger brush against his puffed and bruised skin. He sees you shake your head slightly at the effort of his search for treatment, and his own heart just drops. 

Stop.

Don't look at me like that. Why are you shaking your head?

"You need to leave me."

Don't say that! he yells internally. Adler feels his chest constrict at the thought he conjured up.

He gives out a shaky breath as he places his own hand over yours, ignoring the blood smearing against his scar. "Bell, I'm not going to leave you," he says slowly, trying to control his emotions. "We're getting out together."

"'Crying doesn't suit you',” you reiterate to him, but at that point you couldn't even interpret his own face out. Your eyes were half lidded, beginning to lose its shine as they trailed away from his face to focus on something above him. Terrified, Adler cups your cheek and makes you look back at him.

"Stay with me, [L/N]."

"I think… I need a rain check on that date of ours."

This wasn't happening.

Fuck, fuck!

“Of course. I'll take you wherever you want. Just… Just stay awake until we get to the hospital?” Adler clammers, clutching your hand tighter. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. I'll try."

"You can sleep when we get th—"

"Mhm..."

No.

"Bell?"

Your eyes were closed, and despite everything you must have gone through, you gave off a serene expression, the corners of your mouth upturned slightly. 

Adler feels your hand become heavy, losing its strength. He wasn't ready for this.

"Bell?" his voice cracks. "No, you can't— You can't fucking die on me Bell!"

He expected you to flinch at his tone, like you used to, but didn't budge. His heart dropped, desperation clawing at him. If there was one thing he feared the most, it was this. 

What the fuck am I doing?

"Come on, c'mon…"

Adler swears profusely as he unbuckles his equipment in a rush, letting the orange scarf around his neck free. He rips it off and bundles it, pressing the mass against your stomach. You didn't even grimace. The bright orange turned dark as it absorbed whatever substance it could.

"Ossou!" Adler screams into his earpiece. "Where's the fucking medic?!"

They had to get you out. Away from the mall, into the hospital. They'll treat you there. You can get a blood transfusion. Fucking take his own blood if they had to— just ANYTHING to keep you alive.

There was still time...

Right?

#wow bell you really pulled a soap huh #i would have written the knife going to stitch's eye but then there's too much eye shit as is so that was just pushing it #call of duty x reader #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #bo:cw #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #anyways this chapter took so fucking long to finish cause uhh yeah so much crap happened #text

[veeples-archive]

a shift to softness

One night Mason notices the gradual shift in Faustus’s apartment.

His first experience in the apartment had been less intrusive than he’d thought it be, barring the way he nearly ripped out his hair from being cooped in a tiny ass living space with the other three members of Unit Bravo. Faustus already kept his apartment fairly dim with only the looming floor lamp and a couple of smaller side table lamps to cast golden light on the dark walls. The worst offense though was the smell.

Not a bad smell, not one from unwashed laundry or dishes. Just an intense one from the number of candles he’d light as soon as he came home. Jacket hung, keys deposited, candles lit.

They’re all gone now. In their place simple unscented tea lights, flickering in new metal containers. Mason flicks one. It rings dully against the sound of the shower running.

Huh.

Mason winds his way towards Faustus’s bedroom. The candles were a small replacement and one he probably made after the number of times Mason complained about the stench of them. Maybe it was nothing. Yet when he pulls open a drawer--

(Faustus’s drawer, the one he kept for himself. Another is designated for Mason and holds a collection of carefully folded shirts, jeans, and underwear. Faustus had offered he could keep some things at his place after a nasty incident involving rank standing water and mud left him without clothes for an hour or two while Faustus washed his dirtied ones.)

-- and yanks out the first shirt he sees to press it to his nose, he smells little discernible scent. The faint odor of plain soap and chemicals. A trace of the cedar block kept in the drawer. None of the harsh added fragrances other commercial detergents have to assault his nose.

All he can do is stand there and stare at the shirt while his mind mulls over this change. Not once had he formally asked for Faustus to swap out his candles or to change his damn laundry detergent to something that would soften the blare of stimulation Mason faced every day. It was his home, after all, the one little section of reprieve he really had left these days. If he wanted to light a hundred mossy teakwood bullshit candles he damn well could.

Mason doesn’t notice the sound of the water shutting off or the footsteps that approach him. A soft knock at the door frame finally breaks him out of his daze to make him look at Faustus.

Faustus arches a brow at him, his eyes darting to the shirt still in his hands back to his face. Concern draws his mouth into a tight line until he finishes his inspection of Mason, his mouth settling back into an easy smirk.

“The Jingle My Bells sweater is an interesting choice for me to wear to bed,” Faustus says as he crosses the room, hands finding the grove of his hips once he’s close enough. “But I think I prefer my pajama pants instead.”

The thought of Faustus taking these little cares for him, small things he hadn’t even noticed until now (and how long had it been since he’d felt his senses overwhelmed in his apartment? When did Faustus decide this was something he wanted to do?), warms something heavy in his chest. It rises and blooms, gentle fingers tickling along his ribs, and finally sinks to his stomach in a flood of fondness.

What a softie, Mason can’t help but think as he tugs Faustus in a bit closer, sweater discarded on the floor. He kisses him then, with both passion and with intimate tenderness. A fire that burns in him without scorching or consuming him - a blazing hearth, strong and steady, encompassing yet comforting. As much of a contradiction as Faustus himself with his sharp edges and hard shell encasing that secret gentle center that guides him more than he’d ever probably admit.

When they part, Faustus’s smirk is gone, replaced by an openly giddy smile.

“I, wow--” he laughs. “Something nice on your mind, loverboy?”

“Just you,” Mason noses at his jaw, his own smile hidden against Fasutus’s skin. “Like always.”

#vee's writing #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #specialist agent mason #faustus valentine #fauson #i'm still on hiatus but uhhhh BUT UHHHHHH I'M SOFT #unedited bc we die like men

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Centerfold [Pt.2]

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

(Read Part one here)

Beca Mitchell’s phone was a box of constant communication. She had her emails redirected so that she could feel every single time she needed to address something at the office, even if she was there and the soft pinging culminated in the very screen she stared at. She had a multitude of contacts and would video chat with the team in Italy, and sometimes L.A.

So, what she knew deep down, was that it was impossible for her not to look at her phone all day. Physically she had to check the notifications to keep her world running. Emily intercepted most of them, keeping her deep stare on her own screen before glancing up at her boss every couple of minutes. They were both on edge and Beca didn’t much appreciate the tension that sparked between them.

She held her breathe each time a new ping sounded off until eventually that lull of anxiety was hushed to a dull ache in the pit of her chest. She went through her morning meets and a new presentation to her team about how their coding for a new watch wasn’t up to parr- they had a few days to fix it before it dropped, and the CEO made sure she knew that.

When the notification from Chloe did finally come through, Beca almost didn’t’ notice. She registered the pink of the logo that slowly shifted to a deep purple. But the name? Oh, the name she hadn’t clocked for a few seconds after that. And even then, Chloe Beale? Her Chloe, actually responded.

Beca lilted the computer screen and frantically looked up at Emily, who was already at her door. She didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she situated the office and closed the blinds and very coolly, but not so coolly, pressed her back against the wood and breathed.

“Dude,” Beca said.

“I know,” Emily said “Did you read it?”

She hadn’t read it. She hadn’t even thought to read it because her mind got stuck behind the massive roadblock that was Chloe Beale and her stupid pun username. She opened the application and hesitated over the message icon. She was supposed to be playing it hard to get like she didn’t’ care if she even got a response. But she did care and apparently so did her assistant because she was right behind her, blindly gawking like her halo fell into her eyes and blinded her from right and wrong.

“If I click this she’ll see that I read it and then there’s no going back.”

“You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“You told me to keep her guessing,”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d even get a response.” Emily shrugged sheepishly “Figured you would forget about it in a few days and… open it.”

Beca frowned but hovered the mouse over the message. She wanted to close her eyes but felt like she was watching a car accident, complete with the red and blue flashing lights and the metallic crunch of metal. Either way, she couldn't avert her stare. She didn’t want to.

Chloe: Hey stranger. I must admit that I was never expecting to hear from you again, big shot manager. I’ve kept my tabs on you… New York is my home, so if you’re serious about coffee, so am I.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chloe Fucking Beale had said yes. Her childhood love had agreed to coffee that neither of them could probably stomach. Chloe Fucking Beale who was a playboy model with more than a million Instagram followers, and Chloe Fucking Beale who she was pretty sure she still loved.

There had been other people, men, and women that she had thought she fell for. She folded into soft touches and stronger commands. She was happy for months at a time and on one rare occasion a full year with a man who ran his own tours of the city. But none of those relationships had ever been like the one she had with Chloe.

Beca pulled in a long breath that filled her lungs with stale coffee and copy paper. She tilted her lid and looked to Emily because she was the expert. And Beca was frozen. That same cold excitement filled her and it also rocked her ever-loving shit. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.

Emily looked at the darkened screen, then at her boss, then back at the screen before lunging forward and typing back a reply. Perfect. Are you free this Saturday?

It turns out that Chloe was free that Saturday and if she wasn’t, she didn’t’ say a word and quietly cleared her schedule. The day was quickly approaching and Beca really wanted to know why the New York Branch put her in charge of everything when she could barely figure out what to wear to a simple cup of coffee.

This felt more like a simple cup of coffee.

Emily eventually got tired of the barrage of pictures she was getting and took a cab to Beca’s apartment an hour before the actual date. They settled on black jeans and a blue button-down that Emily pulled closer to her chest for extra measure because according to her “You look good in anything and Chloe won’t be able to make eye contact with you.”

Then she was on a subway that smelled like stale snow and hot morning breath. They picked a small shop downtown that not many people knew about. It was a feat in the city to find a place that wasn’t packed like a sardine can and Beca trusted Chloe’s judgment tenfold.

Beca got there first, and her palms were sweating despite the cool atmosphere that swept through the little shop each time the door opened. It was a meta cross between a thrifted bookstore and a café. People sat and ate and read and the scent of what Beca imagined old magic to be, mingled well with coffee grinds and fresh pastries.

She ordered a simple black americano and settled by the front window, the glass fogged from a warm contrast with the cold of the busy street and curved lettering faced the patrons. There was a simple logo and one barista behind the counter. She chose a random book and pretended to read, but only skimmed the same paragraph over and over again.

Her main focus was on the door and the bell that chimed each time it was opened. One of those times, after a businessman and a hipster kid hugging his laptop close to his chest, it was Chloe. Soft and vibrant compared to the rest of the dim academic setting.

Her hair was pulled behind her ears and a pair of golden framed glasses rested on her nose. She had aged like wine and the wind that blew in behind her carried the sweet scent of southern peaches through the front door. She wore a white sweater with a plaid peacoat and high wasted jeans, and Beca knew she was staring.

Everyone was, they couldn’t’ help it. She overtook the room with a warm and sparked presence. If anyone recognized her they didn’t’ say a thing, out of saving their own face or because the girl in the centerfold of the latest playboy was wildly different than the one standing in front of her. This… this was her Chloe.

She didn’t’ know if she could hug Chloe, if touching was okay, but as she stood to greet her, she was pulled into the warmth of the woman. She was wrapped in overwhelming touch and emotion and she buried her nose into Chloe’s hair as they held onto each other, not quite willing to let go of the familiarity before realizing that it was inappropriate not to.

“Wow,” Chloe ran her hands down Beca’s arms, stopping at her elbows “You haven’t aged a day, have you?”

“It’s the lighting in here, I think it’s one step up from basement overhead.”

Chloe laughed and it was a magical sound. The only thing more intoxicating was her smile, which never seemed to leave her lips as she ordered her own drink, something loaded with sugar and caramel, and leaned forward across the table to get a better look at her date.

Beca sipped her coffee and quirked an eyebrow “What?”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years, I think it’s perfectly acceptable for me to study you.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” She tested “What have you been up to all these years?”

Chloe leaned back in her seat and cupped her mug. It was a russet red and steam rose from the pale liquid that soaked inside. There was a sickeningly sweet odor to it and part of Beca regretted ordering nothing but a black coffee. It seemed like a disservice to the atmosphere of the shop.

“Oh, a bunch of stuff here and there. I used to be based out of LA, I did a lot of acting there. Little stuff like soap operas and a couple of commercials. It wasn’t for me, though so I moved here to pursue modeling and it’s been going well. Really well.”

Beca didn’t’ want to mention the playboy magazine or the curve of Chloe’s legs and the way her skin shown under the bright summer sun. She never returned it to Jason because he never asked for it back. It was an unspoken solidarity between the two.

“That’s amazing,” Beca smiled, feeling excitement in her chest “Anything I would recognize?”

Chloe hummed into her drink “Mm, maybe a few things. It depends on how you feel about Playboy. I never thought you were much of a reader.”

Beca looked down dejectedly at the old spined book to her right. It was true, she hadn’t read the Catcher in the Rye and she barely got through the introduction paragraph because of the nerves and the heartbeat that beat so strongly against the inside of her wrist right now.

“I’m not usually. But I do enjoy looking at the pictures.” Beca flicked her stare back towards the woman across from her “Though, that’s not the reason I reached out to you.”

“Truth is, I’ve always wanted to message you, but you looked like you were doing so well. Like you were so happy. I didn’t want to throw you off or seem like I was chasing something that we used to have.” She said, “So I waited.”

It was Beca’s turn to laugh, “I felt the same exact way. We’re both pretty stupid, then huh? Waiting like this for something we knew… for something we knew we wanted.”

Chloe smiled wider and clinked her mug against Beca’s yellow one, not spilling any of the mostly full drink. “To being stupid. And getting to know each other all over again.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They sat and talked until they were the only two in the coffee shop and Beca even dared to kiss Chloe when they got to the subway platform.  She tasted like caramel and sunshine if such a thing was even possible.

But it was because she had found Chloe. Centerfold Chloe. High school Chloe, and most importantly, her Chloe.

#Beca Mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic rec #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fandom #pitch perfect fanfiction #Bechloe Fanfic #Bechloe fanfiction #Request #au

[x-reader-theater]

Doubt {8}

Relationship: Lucifer Morningstar x Non-Binary!Reader

Summary: Earth. Home. The people around you, your family, the man you love, the city you now live in. What could be better?

Warnings: Cursing, Graphic Body Horror, Lucifer being a Bastard

Word Count: 2043 words

A/N:  Wow. Thank you all for coming on such an amazing journey with me this past week. It's been incredible and I think you for joining me, coming along with me for the ride. This has been a special project of mine and I couldn't have done it without the help of my editor, @mystic-writes​. Please reblog the series and I can't wait to show you all more of my work in the future. Thank you <3 Also, someone recently put together a playlist for this story, which you can use here. I didn't want to share it until the rest of the fic was out, but it has all the songs from this fic there if you want to listen to it as a playlist. (And yes, they got an early look at the chapter's songs so they could put the new songs on there). I will be updating the first chapters with this playlist so anyone who's just now reading it can use it to listen while they read. 

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here, but please still reblog and share.

[Prev.] <= [First] 

Chapter 8: The Rise

[Now Playing: Break my Heart by Dua Lipa]

You stand on the second floor of Lux, overlooking the rest of the club, a drink in your hand. You glance over to your right and see a woman looking at you, smirking, and you smile back. She moves her way over to you, the air shifting around her and a chill goes down your arms. The simple white t-shirt you're wearing with your blue jeans aren't exactly the warmest clothes, but in Lux, it's hard to be cold with all the bodies packed so tightly, and as the woman leans up against you, you feel warmth radiating from her. 

"What are you doing in a place like this?" She asks, her voice low and sultry. 

You smile when you feel a body press up behind yours and a familiar voice say, "Sorry. They're not available."

The woman nods tersely and walks away, and you turn around, kissing Lucifer. He pushes you against the railing, and you smile into the kiss. 

"We shouldn't do this here…" you whisper with a smile and Lucifer groans.

"But I want to show that you're mine," he says. 

You smile and glance around at the people who are looking at you. "I don't think that's a problem, Lucifer."

He smiles and kisses you again, before pulling away and grabbing your hand. He drags you to the elevator, pushing everyone else out of his way, before hitting the button to go up, and the doors close behind you. Lucifer pushes you up against the elevator wall, moving his lips down your neck, and you groan with a smile, running your fingers through his hair and pulling. 

"You're enjoying… that aren't you?" He asks between kisses and you lean into him more. 

"It's a new feature I'm excited to explore," you say with a smirk, and Lucifer pulls away from your neck to look at you for a moment, before kissing you. 

The bell rings and the doors open on Lucifer's penthouse. He pulls away and drags you into the large room, where you see Maze, her ligamented face smiling back at you. 

You raise your eyebrows when she quirks a wry smile your way, and you catch what she tosses at you. 

"Here," she says as you watch the silver, glinting handcuffs. "You'll need these." 

You grin and pull Lucifer into his bedroom, your wings already extended. 

[Now Playing: Never Knew Love Like This Before by Stephanie Mills]

"I think I'm actually really good," you say in Linda's office, sitting across from her. 

"Oh, well I'm happy to hear that," she says, leaning back. "Why do you think you're feeling so good right now?"

You shrug. "I'm in a… relationship, well, as much of a relationship as you can have with Lucifer. I have friends, Chloe and I are… talking, and that's a start, and I got answers," you list, and Linda is smiling at you. Actually, genuinely smiling at you. 

"I'm so happy for you, [Y/N]. You sound like you've really found yourself," she says, and you nod. "Now, that doesn't mean I want you to stop seeing me…" she says, putting a hand out, and you nod. 

"I know," you tell her simply, and she leans back, a surprised and impressed look on her face. 

"Oh! Oh, okay. Good," she says, nodding, and you smile. 

"Thank you, Linda. Without you, I don't think I could have done half as well as I have," you say, and Linda smiles. 

"You're welcome. Now, tell me more about this relationship with Lucifer?" Linda asks and you laugh. 

"Well, I told him I loved him a few nights ago…" 

[Now Playing: Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin]

You walk into Lux, making your way to the bar where you know Maze is. You're surprised, however, to see Lucifer and Chloe there as well. 

"Ah! Angel!" Lucifer exclaims, waving you over. You smile and sit next to them at the bar. "How are you?" 

You smile and nod. "I'm… good. I'm really, good," you respond. 

Lucifer grins and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile, but look around him at Chloe, who's sipping her alcohol, trying not to look like she's watching the two of you. She's failing miserably at it. 

"How are you, Chloe?" You ask, and she looks up at you. 

"Huh? Oh! I'm-I'm good. Sorry, I'm a little distracted. There's a lot going on with work right now," she says, taking another sip. 

You smile. "No worries. I understand that." 

She smiles at you, and Lucifer says, "Yes, there's quite a bit to catch you up on." 

You smile and accept the drink Maze offers you, repaying her with a nod, which she returns. 

And you sit and listen to everything Chloe and Lucifer did in the past week. 

[Now Playing: Laughing With by Regina Spektor]

You look around as you walk down the street, watching people pass you by, on their phones, their hands on their purses and backpacks, talking to one another, or walking alone. You smile at the church where you met Father Lawrence for the first, and last time. Lucifer told you what happened. 

You see a woman sitting on the steps, her head in her hands and her knees pulled up to her chest. You see her shoulders shaking. She's crying. 

You walk up to her, sitting down next to her, and she looks up suddenly, wiping underneath her eyes. "What do you want?" She asks, snapping at you. 

"Why are you crying?" You ask, and she glares at you. 

"Why do you want to know?" She asks, frustrated. 

You put your hands up and say, "I'm just curious. I mean, a woman crying in front of a church all alone. Not exactly a common occurrence." 

She looks at you, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, before she sighs and looks away. "It's dumb," she says, wiping her eyes again. 

You shake your head and smile. "I'm sure it's not."

She scoffs, but bites her lip, looking down at her hands. "In the middle of our sermon, I asked if heaven was really that good," she says, and your eyebrows shoot up. She looks up at you and scoffs, saying as she starts to stand up, "I knew you'd think it's stupid." 

"No!" You exclaim quickly, and she stops. "I don't think it's stupid. It just surprised me. Because I have those exact same doubts."

Now it's her turn for her eyebrows to shoot up, and she slowly starts sitting down again. "Really?" 

You nod. "Yup. I mean, what's so great about staying in one place for the rest of eternity? At least here on earth, there's things to do! Most stuff is banned in heaven. No music, except for gospel, no touching, no sex," you say and her cheeks darken. 

"You sound like you know what it's like up there," she says, and you just stare at her. She laughs you off, waving her hand, like she's trying to dispel the thought. 

You smile at her and place a hand on her shoulder. "I want you to stick with these doubts. Ask questions. And whatever you do, never doubt yourself," you say to her seriously. "No matter what people try and tell you, trust yourself." She nods, in shock slightly, and you smile, standing up. "It was nice meeting you…" 

"Evie!" She says, and you smile. 

"It was nice meeting you Evie. You take care now," you say, and you walk away from her, smiling to yourself. Proud of yourself. 

[Now Playing: Angel Down by Lady Gaga]

You walk into the penthouse, peeling your hoodie off, and placing it on the coat rack next to the elevator. You smile at the familiar sight of the place you call home, the fully stocked bar, the living room with the very comfortable couches, the archway that leads into the bedroom. But you don't go towards any of them. Instead, you walk toward the balcony overlooking Los Angeles. The City of Angels. You laugh at that. An Angel, a Devil, and a Fallen Angel all walk into a city and wreak havoc, fall in love, and soar on feathered wings. What a bad joke. 

But you can't help but laugh. Because, what a joke your life has been so far. At least it's funny, filled with irony and ridiculous situations. 

You lean on the glass railing, the cool night air blowing across your face makes you smile. It's been hot these past few days. Never lower than 95 degrees. The cool air feels nice. 

You extend your wings from your back, spreading them out to catch the wind, feeling the cool air blow through your feathers. 

You think back to that first day you arrived, when your feathers molted off you violently and with a lot of screaming. You think of the bones, of your once beautiful white wings, of the scraping and clacking they made, and of what they've become, the white fading to black, doubt personified. 

You think about Lucifer, his reluctance to help you, to take you in, before ultimately giving up and having fun with it. And you did have a lot of fun with Lucifer, as well as Maze. They taught you a lot. 

You smile, happiness flooding your chest as you think of Linda, your hesitation when you first met her, and then your last session, where you thanked her for pushing you the way she did. 

You think of Chloe, of the jealousy you felt towards her like she did about you, the two of you fighting over something you didn't need to fight over. You may not be friends, but at least she's talking to you now. And that's a start. 

You remember Father Laurence, and your conversation that led him to Lucifer. You remember Detective Dan Espinoza, and planting those seeds of doubt in his head, which you and Lucifer laughed about later. You remember the woman and man who left you at the bar, all because Lucifer was there. You remember your parents, who Lucifer helped you stand up to. It all leads back to Lucifer, him being there when you needed him most, whether that be for a good laugh or a favour, for sex, or even just a good hug after a long day. He's always there for you. 

And you love him so much for that. 

You feel hands on your back, and you jump, but relax when you hear who it is. "Shh… it's only me, Angel," Lucifer says softly, running his hands around the base of your wings before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest to your back. "What are you thinking about?" 

You smile and fold your wings in as you turn around to face Lucifer, before extending them again. "You. Me. How I was when I first arrived," you say, and Lucifer smiles. 

"Yes, that was a… frustrating time, but I think I handled it quite well," he says and you roll your eyes. 

"I think I recall you calling me 'practically a child'," you say and he scoffs. 

"Excuse you, I distinctly remember calling you hot as well," he says and you laugh, leaning forward so your head is on his chest. 

"It feels like so long ago," you say, looking up into his brown eyes. "And yet, it feels like no time has passed at all."

He smiles and kisses you lightly. "That's a perk of immortality, angel," he says, and you kiss him again. 

He presses you up against the railing, but his kisses don't feel feverish, they're not lustful. Because while his body is pinning yours against the glass, he's kissing you slowly, deliberately, as if he's afraid he's going to lose you if he stops. You pull away, taking a deep breath in, and you smile at Lucifer, running your fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck, around his shoulder, before your thumb rests against his lips. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, and you smile. 

"You saved a fallen angel, Lucifer," you whisper. "What do you want to do with them?" 

He smiles and says plainly, "Everything."

[The End]

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #fox lucifer #lucifer tv #lucifer x reader #lucifer x gn reader #lucifer x gender neutral reader #lucifer x nb reader #lucifer x non-binary reader #lucifer morningstar x gender neutral reader #lucifer morningstar x non-binary reader #lucifer morningstar x male reader #my work #My writing

[mageicalwishes]

A Smashing Summer - Chapter 2

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 2/?

Words: 4,269

Simon

“Who is it?” Baz calls, pulling the door ajar. 

“Uh …  Me?” I answer, my voice creeping with uncertainty. “You told me to be here at eight sharp. So … here I am?”

“If I told you to be here at eight sharp, then you’re three minutes late. But, I highly doubt that I did - I don’t know anybody called 'Me', and I don’t invite strangers over.”

“Come on, Baz,” I whine. “Don’t be a prat! You  know  who it is. It’s me …  Simon!”

He stalls, and for a moment I think his shenanigans are over - But then, he’s pushing the door closed, the latch clicking into place loudly. “Nope, sorry,” he sings, pushing open the letterbox so I can hear him properly. “Doesn’t ring any bells,” 

Peeved, I hammer my fist against the door.

“Baz! Come on! It’s me!  Simon. Simon Snow!” 

I pause, awaiting another snide response. But, all I’m met with is silence. I’m pretty sure he’s still there, though. I don’t think that he’d actually leave me like that. I mean ... I know that I egged his house, but dragging me all the way out here,  just  to slam the door in my face, would be a bit harsh. Baz may be slightly prickly, but he’s not actually  mean   (Well … I don’t think so, anyway). 

“Seriously, Baz! You know me! It’s Simon Snow,” I continue. “You know … The egg guy?”

The door swings open suddenly, revealing him to me - Leaning against the door, a wicked grin spread across his face. 

“Oh, of course! You should have just said so! ... How  is my favourite juvenile delinquent doing?” 

“Twat,” I grumble, unimpressed. “I’m not a juvenile delinquent.”

He laughs, bright and effusive. 

“I know, I know. I’m just winding you up - Don’t worry,” he smiles, stepping aside to allow me in. “Come on in. Father is at work, so you don’t have to worry about him jumping you.”

If the outside of Baz’s house was intimidating, the inside is positively terrifying - All dark wood, and gilded, antique furniture. It’s a bit gaudy, to be honest - More of a show of wealth than a home. But, it’s still far nicer than anything I’ve ever had, so I can’t really criticise. 

“Stop gawping, Snow,” He scolds. “You look ridiculous.” 

“Sorry,” I drone, my voice heavy with sarcasm. “I'm just not used to creepy, Gothic mansions. You know …  Most people avoid the 'Dracula’s lair ' aesthetic. It’s terribly outdated.”

“Shut up, you dolt,” he snickers, the tip of his nose scrunching up slightly. “It’s not even Gothic. It’s Victorian.” 

“Whatever! Just … Is there a tap I can use? I should probably get on with it. I brought a bucket … And some soap. I just need some water.” 

He smirks, raising an elegant brow in question. 

He has nice eyebrows - Dark, and sharply arched. Not a hair out of place. He must wax them, or something - Because there’s no way they could be that perfect naturally. 

“You’re not very observant are you, Snow?” He asks, amused. 

“Huh? What are you on about?” 

“The door,” He drawls - Acting as though that clarifies his meaning perfectly (Which it definitely doesn't). “The one you knocked, like, five minutes ago?” 

Lost, I stare at him blankly, throwing my hands out in question - Helplessly confused. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes upwards, exaggeratedly.

“Seriously? You didn’t notice the lack of Egg?” 

Oh.

“What?” I bark, outraged. “Who cleaned it off?” 

He shrugs, nonchalantly. “I did. Obviously.” 

“What?” I repeat, my voice absurdly small. “I told you I’d do it. Did you not believe me? I told you, you could trust me - I wouldn’t lie.” 

I don’t really know why I’m protesting. I mean, it’s not like I really wanted to spend my Saturday scrubbing away dried Egg. He’s done me a favour really - Although, it certainly doesn’t feel that way. 

“No, it’s not that. I knew you’d come back,” he reassures, his tone sincere. “But, Father wasn’t exactly chuffed about waiting until today - Apparently dried eggs are incredibly difficult to remove. So … I cleaned it up last night. There’s no need for you to have a meltdown, though. It wasn’t a problem.” 

“But … I was supposed to make it up to you,” I murmur, picking at the sleeve of my hoodie. 

“I know. It’s okay, though. Seriously. I’m really not that bothered.”

I tug a hand through my curls in frustration (I should probably stop doing that, to be honest. Penny says I’ll end up bald otherwise. But … Old habits are hard to break).

“When?” 

“When, what?” He asks, clearly confused. 

“When did you clean it up? Like - What time?” 

He huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe … Nine-ish? Why does that matter?” 

“If you did it at nine - Why didn’t you just tell me when we were texting, then?” 

  ————————————————————————————

Baz

Oh. Shit. How the hell am I supposed to reasonably explain that? 

‘Oh, sorry. My life is just so irreparably dull that you’re the most exciting thing to happen to me all Summer. So, I just really wanted to see you again - Even without the valid excuse of making you clean up the mess you made‘  - Yeah, because that’s not at all creepy. 

I shrug, coolly - Building up a facade of indifference. “It must’ve slipped my mind.” 

“Oh,” he mumbles. “That makes sense.” 

“Yeah,” I breathe, unsure of what else to say. 

Could I invite him to stay? Or would that be too much? I mean, he didn’t come here to ‘hang out’ -  He came here under the pretence of scrubbing the bloody egg off of our front door. He'd probably just be freaked out if I did. 

Nervously, I trace the pad of my thumb against my ring (I hardly take it off, nowadays. It was my mother’s, once. A simple, silver band. Elegant - Just like she used to be). 

Luckily for me, before I have to face the humiliation of speaking, Snow is stammering out another sentence. 

“Well … We could, you know. I mean, hang out or something? I did say I’d make it up to you. So ... We could go to the cinema, or something? I have money in my bag.” 

“Sure. I suppose I don’t really have anything better to do.” I quip, suppressing a smile. 

“Wicked,” he says, beaming up at me, his blue eyes shining. 

“I have to get changed first though.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong with that?” He questions, gesturing towards my chest. 

“These are my tennis whites, Snow,” I deadpan. “I’m not going into town dressed like this. I’m not an animal.”

He guffaws loudly, clutching onto his stomach. “But … It’s just a polo and shorts! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There definitely is.”

“You’re so weird,” he laughs, poking my arm lightly. 

“Sure. I’m the weird one,” I mock. “Just follow me, okay? I’ll get changed in the en-suite. And, you can just wait in my room. It won’t take long.” 

————————————————————————————

Simon

Baz’s room is certainly striking.

It’s as gaudily overdone as the entrance hall - With the same dark walls, and unnecessarily ornate furniture (I mean, he’s got a proper, curtained four-poster bed, for Christ’s sakes!). But, his room has way more personality - Every flat surface littered with papers and well-worn books, and an assortment of silver photo frames lining the top of his dresser.

“Hey, Baz?” I call, sliding my hands over the silk of his bed sheets, absentmindedly. “Can you hear me?”

“Obviously,” He rumbles. “I’m only on the other side of a door.” 

“Oh right, yeah. Cool … Can I ask you something?” 

“I suppose so,” he sighs (Although, I’m pretty sure he’s not actually annoyed). “But, I reserve the right to refuse to answer, if it’s a stupid question.”

“It’s not stupid! I was only going to ask how old you are?” 

“Wow. You’re right - That’s not stupid ... However, it is exceedingly boring.” He jeers. 

“Don’t be a dick!” I growl. “Just answer the question”

“Seventeen. I’m in Lower Sixth."

“Oh nice, same.”

“Yes- I know. You said yesterday.”

“Oh yeah ... When’s your birthday?” 

“Seriously? Why? Are you going to buy me a present?” 

“Yes, seriously!” I cry, lobbing a pillow at the door.

He yelps, surprised. And, I can’t help the splutter of laughter that erupts out of me. 

“Jesus Christ! There's no need to throw a tantrum. It’s in February. The twenty-fourth, if you want to be exact about it.”

“Fair enough. You’re older than me, then. Mine’s the twenty-first of June.”

“Oh well,” he purrs. “I’ll be sure to send you a card next year.”

“Oh wow. That’s very generous of you,” I sneer, pulling my backpack open, and grabbing my packet of scones. “Imma put a scone on your bedside cabinet, okay? It’s for you to try later on." 

He doesn’t answer, so I just assume he’s alright with it.

“Baz!” I whine, flopping down against his bed. “I thought you said you were just getting changed. How long does it take to change your bloody top!”

He tuts loudly, clearly underwhelmed by my level of patience.

“Just wait, you Git. I’ll be out in a minute. You know what they say, Snow … You can’t rush perfection.” 

 He definitely takes longer than a minute, but soon enough the bathroom lock clicks, and he’s stepping back into the room.

I sit up quickly, desperately trying to scrape the scone crumbs off of his bedding. And then, I freeze - Utterly dumbfounded by the sight of him. Oh no. 

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen proper clothing before?” He taunts, the smirk audible in his voice. 

I stare at him, wordlessly - Slack-jawed and wide-eyed. I probably look slightly insane, but I’m powerless to stop myself. He looks ...  Otherworldly. 

His hair has been pulled back into a loose bun - A few strands left hanging free, expertly framing the sharp edges of his face. His polo has been swapped out for a boxy, white shirt - Adorned with embroidered bumblebees, and only partially buttoned. The deep V of the neckline, exposing the bronze expanse of his chest - Teasing me with a view of the alluring groove of his collarbone. The shorts, too, have been upgraded. White polyester having been replaced by tight, black denim. And, as if all of that wasn’t enough, his nails have been painted a deep shade of maroon.

He’s a vision. Tall, dark, and handsome - The perfect cliche. 

“What,” he asks again insistently, his voice weak with insecurity. “Seriously? Is - Is it too much, or something?”

He stomps over to the mirror, staring at his reflection blankly, and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. 

“No!,” I snap, perhaps a little too urgently. “No. It’s fine. I mean - It’s good. You look good. I was just - I was just admiring your shirt. It’s nice. Proper fancy, like.”

“Right,” he drawls, his eyebrows drawn in suspicion. “Well … You shouldn’t stare at people. It’s rude.” 

I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly, my face flooding with heat. 

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Sorry about that.” 

“Yes. Well … Come on then, Snow. Enough gawking! We haven’t got all day, you know”

 ————————————————————————————

Baz

The drive to the cinema is painfully awkward - The two of us sitting side-by-side in complete silence. I flick on the radio, attempting to alleviate the crushing weight of the quiet that hangs between us. It doesn’t really work, though. 

He’s definitely sulking. Although, I don’t know whether it’s because of all the weirdness in my bedroom, or because I refused to walk into town. I will admit that, he didn’t seem all that thrilled with my justification that you can’t risk breaking into a sweat when you’re wearing a six-hundred pound Gucci shirt - Just grumbling on about how I was a "High-maintenance, twat". 

He quickly cheers up when we reach the cinema’s kiosk, though - Dashing about scooping sweets into his Pick-And-Mix bag, and beaming over at me as he orders the largest carton of popcorn available. 

“Sweet tooth, Snow?” I tease. 

“Uh huh. Definitely … Do you want anything? I brought enough money for the both of us.”

“Maybe just some Revels,” I shrug. 

“Oh God! Yuck! You’re one of those people,” he complains, grimacing. “Gonna be honest with you Baz, I don't think we can be friends anymore.”

“Oh, piss off,” I scoff. “What’s wrong with Revels?”

“Everything but the Malteasers and Minstrels is what is wrong with bloody Revels! The rest of the flavours are just offensive. I mean, what kind of psychopath wants to eat Coffee and Orange Cream … And don’t even get me started on the fucking Raisins!”

“Uh, I believe I'm the kind of 'psychopath' you're referring to” I snap, swatting at him, jokingly. “They’re sublime! Your palette is clearly just too unrefined to appreciate them.” 

He coughs out a mirthless laugh.

“Whatever. Enjoy your shitty chocolates, Loser. Don’t say I didn’t try to save you from your own poor choices!” 

————————————————————————————

Simon

“Are you seeing this, Snow? How fucking inconsiderate is she?” he hisses, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “I mean, why come to the cinema, if all you want to do is sit on bloody Snapchat? Literally, what is the point?”

I huff out a quiet laugh, glancing over at him - His brow creased, and his lips pushed into a grumpy pout.

“It’s only the adverts, Baz. Chill. I’m sure she’ll turn it off when the movie starts.”

‘Well, that’s not really good enough. The adverts are a key part of the cinema experience! I really don’t see why they should be ruined, just because she wants to send some useless selfie.” 

“You stress too much,” I whisper, shrugging as I shovel a fistful of popcorn into my mouth. “It ain't so bad.” 

He snarls over at me, shoving a hand against my shoulder. “That is vile! Don't talk with your mouth full, Idiot. Seriously - Who raised you? Did they teach you nothing about manners?” 

I don’t answer. Choosing instead, to make a show of chewing with my mouth open, in retaliation - Earning myself an icy glare. 

“Barbarian,” he gruffs. 

 When the lights dim further, I beam over at him, excitedly.

To my surprise, he’s already looking over at me - His signature eyebrow raise in place, but a soft, shy smile dancing across his lips. Caught, he quickly averts his gaze, shuffling in his seat nervously. 

“It’s time!” I murmur, pushing my leg out slightly, and pressing our knees together. 

“I know. I have been to the cinema before.” 

“Whatever,” I snipe. “I just hope you don’t get too scared. Living in a haunted mansion, I imagine this may hit uncomfortably close to home, for you”

“Hmmm. Somehow, I think I’ll manage …  I’m a big boy, you know.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Tyrannus,” I tease, drawing out each letter of his name. 

He bashes his knee against mine, forcefully - Clearly unimpressed with my little joke. 

“Don’t worry though,” I continue. “If you do get too scared, you can always cuddle up to me. I’ll keep you safe.” 

‘Just shut it, Snow,” he sighs, rubbing a hand against his brow bone in frustration. “I will hurt you if need be.” 

I muffle a giggle with my hand, but I oblige - Biting my tongue, and turning my attention back to the movie screen. 

————————————————————————————

Squinting against the bright lights, we step outside the screen room - The disorienting feeling of being plunged back into reality, making my head whirl uncomfortably. 

“Did you like it?” I ask, chucking my rubbish into the bin as I talk. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, blinking his eyes stupidly. “Yeah. It was good. Thank you for the ticket - And the invite, of course. You’ll be glad to know that you can now consider your debt to me, repaid.” 

I chuckle halfheartedly, bitterly disappointed.

If I'm being honest, I don’t really want my debt to be repaid - It’s the only reason I was allowed to hang out with him, in the first place. I suppose I could just egg his house again - Although, I doubt he would be as lenient with me the second time around. 

Dissatisfied, I decide to try and drag the day out as much as possible (It’s only midday, so I have ages until I need to get back). 

“I’m starving!” I complain, clutching at my stomach dramatically. “Are you hungry?

“I could eat,” he shrugs, smirking amusedly. 

“Perfect! I know a great pizza place. It’s only like … Five minutes away.”

“Go on then, Snow. Lead the way.”

Grinning over at him, I grab his hand, weaving our fingers together unthinkingly. His are slimmer than mine, long and elegant where mine are short and stubby, but we fit together perfectly - The feel of his palm pressed against mine, causing my stomach to flip strangely.

When I realise what I’ve done, I pause - Loosening my grip on his hand, so that he can drop it if he wants. But, to my delight, he doesn’t - Instead opting to give it a light squeeze. 

“Carry on, then” he drawls, his voice flat with boredom (Although, his cheeks are dusted a light shade of red, so I think he’s just putting it on to be a prat). “There’s really no reason to stand here all day.”

And with that, I start to walk - Bounding off towards the diner, pulling him along behind me.

————————————————————————————

Baz

I scowl down at the plate, completely off-put.

“This looks foul, Snow. It’s practically soaked in oil! You don’t actually expect me to eat that, do you?” 

He swallows showily, gulping down his bite of pizza. 

“Come on, Baz,” he whines, tilting his head to the side pleadingly. “Don’t be a snob! I know it looks a little gross, but it's really delicious. Trust me. Just have a bite - It won’t kill you!”

Hesitantly, I raise a slice up to my lips, and take a minuscule bite. When the flavour hits me, I groan embarrassingly - Unable to control myself.

As much as I hate to admit it, he was right - It’s infuriatingly delicious. 

“Aha!” he yells, sticking out his hand, and jabbing a finger at my face. “I told you! Isn’t it so great?” 

“Alright, alright,” I chuckle. “There's no need to make a scene. I will admit that it’s fairly pleasant - As far as pizzas go, anyway”

“Nah. Piss off. It’s great, and you know it!”

I quirk my brow, swatting his hand away from my face. 

“Me and the boys come here after college sometimes,” he continues, biting into the pizza sloppily. “I know the owner, and everything. Sometimes he gives me free wedges … It’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“I see. And who are these boys, you speak of?” I laugh. 

“Josh and Nathan. We all go to Brockenhurst, but we live together too, so we’re pretty close. We’re practically brothers at this point!”

“Oh nice. Do you have your own flat or something?” I ask, confused. 

“Oh no. Not yet, anyway. We will do it soon. But, right now, we’re living in a kid’s home. Murdoch House? I don’t know if you know it.”

Shit. I’m such a twat.

“No. I don’t,” I sigh, twisting my hands together, ashamed. “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t realise. Some of the stuff I’ve said … If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have. I mean, if I touched a nerve or anything, I really am sincerely sorry. I’d never mean to actually hurt you - I just like taunting people. It’s my way.” 

“Baz,” he chortles, the sides of his eyes scrunching up sweetly. “There’s no need to get all serious, you Numpty. It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t. It’s chill, seriously. I've lived in homes my whole life, so I’m not really bothered. Not anymore, anyway. It’s just - People tend to go all awkward when I tell them, so I try not to bring it up”. 

I puff out a breath, relieved. 

“Okay. Well, good. Thank you for telling me, though. And, don’t worry, I won’t 'go all awkward' on you. That would be below me.”

He hums, smiling across at me, his cheeks stuffed with pizza. He looks like a hamster - And really, it should look ridiculous, but somehow, on him, it’s stupidly endearing. 

“Do you like it there, though?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t really know much about living in care - Only what I saw on Tracy Beaker as a kid. And, I’m not sure that’s exactly the most accurate account.”

“Not far off, to be honest,” he shrugs. “It’s mostly good. I mean, the kids are alright. And the staff at this place are nice - You can tell they like, properly care, you know? The rules are kind of strict, though - Which is annoying. And the food is abysmal … That’s probably the worst thing about it, to be honest . They’re pretty underfunded, so they have to just bulk buy the cheapest shit they can find … Leads to some interesting culinary creations.” 

I shake my head in disbelief. 

“Of course that’s what you care about, you absolute disaster!” 

“What?” He calls, outraged. “I’m a growing boy, Baz - I need sustenance! Delicious, well-seasoned sustenance.”

“You’ll have to come over to mine for dinner sometime, then,” I smile. “My step-mother is a pretty amazing cook - So, I’m sure she could make something you'd enjoy. We’ll have to wait until Father is away, though. I doubt he’d appreciate me inviting the hooligan that egged his house over for dinner.”

“Seriously?” He asks, his tone achingly hopeful. 

“Yeah. Why not?” I answer, schooling my voice into an indifferent drone. “My family are convinced that I have no friends besides my cousin and his mate, so it would be satisfying to prove them wrong.” 

“Oh well, cool,” he mumbles, his freckled cheeks flushing a light rose. “I’d like that.” 

 ————————————————————————————

We stayed, sat together in that grotty little diner for hours after that (Right up until Snow’s phone started blaring out an alarm - Signalling the approach of his of measly eight P.M curfew). We didn’t really talk about anything important - Mostly sticking to inane chatter about school and football. But, that hardly matters. It was still good. It was so, so good. 

I lean against the Jag’s bonnet, starting over at him silently. 

“Well,” He sighs, kicking his foot against the pavement childishly. “I suppose this is a good night then?”

“I suppose so,” I mumble, desperately trying to prevent the disappointment welling up within my chest from seeping into my voice. “It's probably best to avoid triggering a search party.” 

“Yeah - But … You’ll text me, yeah? I mean, I’ll text you, obviously. But you will answer won’t you?” 

“Of course.” I answer plainly. “You know where I live, remember? Ignoring you is meaningless - You could just stalk me into submission.” 

“Oh haha. Very funny, Dickhead,” He groans. “But seriously … I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I hope you do, Snow,” I say, simpering meekly. 

“Oh don’t you worry, Pitch. I will.”

With that, he flashes me a soft smile, waving me goodbye, before turning and trudging down the driveway. “Make sure your phone’s volume is up! I’d hate for you to miss my fantastic texts!” He calls, pulling the gate closed  behind him with an ear-aching screech. And then, he’s gone. 

————————————————————————————

SS (23:47): Tonight was fun :) We should hang out again soon

ME (23:47): Definitely. 

SS (23:48): Aha yes!

SS (23:48): You’re paying next time tho. 

ME (23:49): If you insist, Snow. 

SS (23:50): I defo do! 

SS (23:50): Oh, also ... Speaking of insisting 

SS (23:50): You should call me Simon. You don't have to keep referring to me by my surname, you know?

SS (23:50): I call you Baz. So, I reckon it's only fair! 

ME (23:52): I'll consider it, Snow. I make no promises, though!

SS (23:52): You're well mean! :(((((((

SS (23:52): Imma make you call me Simon one day! Whether you like it or not!

ME (23:53): I'd love to see you try. Pitches are not easily swayed! 

SS (23:54): Pftttt! Whatever! 

SS (23:54): Say what you like - I'm still gonna get you to call me it! 

SS (23:54): I've got a plan!

SS (23:55): And it's defo going to work!

SS (23:55): I gtg to bed now tho. My phone’s gonna get confiscated if I keep this up. 

SS (23: 55): So ... G’night Baz. I'll talk to you tomorrow :) 

SS (23:55): Don’t let the ghosties get you! 

ME (23:56): You’re ridiculous. 

ME (23:56): Goodnight, Snow. Talk to you then.  

————————————————————————————

ME (1:19): Good Morning, Snow. I know you're asleep right now, but I thought that you'd like to know that I ate the scone you left me. You were absolutely right ... It was delicious. So, thank you for leaving me one - With your insatiable appetite, I can only imagine how difficult that must've been for you. 

ME (1:20): You'll definitely need to bring me some more, at some point. I'll make more concrete plans with you at a more reasonable hour, though. I seriously need to sleep. 

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch

[funeral-clown]

for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late

heart emojis

The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.

You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.

The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway. 

Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to. 

They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.

“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”

The bored man behind the counter nodded.

“Name?” 

“Pennyworth.”

He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.

“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”

They hummed, an acknowledgement.

“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”

He grunted, his own acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”

The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.

“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”

The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.

Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.

They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit. 

“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”

There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.

“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”

“This from you?”

Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.

“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”

“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”

“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”

Champ groaned.

“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”

A cackle came through the line.

“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”

Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.

“Other left.”

Champ sighed.

“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”

“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”

“How’d I do?”

“Needs a bit more bass.”

“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”

“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”

Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.

-

Allison was having a very strange day.

That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.

And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.

It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.

(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)

Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.

More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.

‘The first of many gifts. A.’

There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.

“Huh,” she muttered.

A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.

It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.

“Is this a parallel universe?”

Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”

“That happens to you in this universe.”

“Beauty is a curse.”

“What’s going on, loser?”

He grinned.

“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.

Are we okay, she mouthed.

Dick winked.

Jason. Laser pointer.

Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.

“I was really worried!”

“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”

The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.

“I’m here to escort you through the day.”

“You’re gonna walk me to work?”

His face filled with sorrow.

“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”

“Dick-”

“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”

“Jesus.”

“No, it was Barbara.”

“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises!”

“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”

Groaning, she relented.

-

When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.

“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”

Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.

“I’m s-”

“It’s perfect.”

They paused.

“What?”

“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”

They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.

“Take it the cake got here alright?”

Alfred nodded.

“Hmm.”

He sunk back into the shadows.

They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.

By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.

“Is anyone home?”

Dick shrugged, grinning.

She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.

It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.

“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”

Alli laughed.

The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.

“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”

A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.

“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”

An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.

“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”

Jason hid his grin behind his hand.

“But my birthday was two days ago.”

A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.

“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”

Champ punched his sternum.

“DAMMIT.”

Allison laughed.

#happy uhhhh belated birthday babe

[willexxmercer]

I Love You a Latte

So I participated in A Very Becho Valentines run by @echo--positivity this year, and got to write a fic for the lovely @pawprinterfanfic!  I really hope you love this modern AU, and Happy Valentines Day to all of Bechokru!

Fic is under the cut and I’ll upload it to AO3 at some point tomorrow.

Summary: Echo didn’t do Valentines Day… until she did.

Echo Mendes didn’t do Valentines Day.

“It’s just another damn day when the stores jack up the prices and men trip over themselves trying to prove that they’re a good enough partner,” she complained, doing her hair up in a ponytail.  Her foster brother sighed.

“Something you have said every year for the past 13 years,” Roan replied dryly, stepping onto his yoga mat.  Echo rolled her eyes and sank to the floor, settling herself in a meditative pose.

“Because it’s true.  Valentines Day sucks,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.  She could hear Roan settling in beside her.  Together, the pair went through their yoga routine. It was something they had started the tenth year she had been living with the Azgeda family, during her health craze phase, and they still did it together ten years later, two times a week.  Yoga was one of the few things that relaxed Echo, and she could tell it helped Roan too, especially since his mother passed away two years ago.  The pair were nearly inseparable, except when Roan was in a meeting.

In fact, most people upon meeting them usually assumed they were together.  Echo always laughed at that.  Her and Roan? Hardly likely.  He was her brother, and he always told things to her straight.

“You know, one of these days, E…” Roan murmured as they ended their session, “you are going to meet someone, and you’re finally going to see the value of this holiday.”

“Not likely,” Echo scoffed, turning off the meditative music that had been playing.  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I see Valentines Day as anything other than what it is – a cash hog for big corporations.”  She rolled up her mat, glancing over at her brother.  “You have fun with Luna, though, mkay?”

Roan chuckled, rolling up his own mat.  “I will.  She’s letting me take her out for a candlelit dinner.  Never thought that would happen,” he said, storing his mat in the closet. Echo grinned.

“Wow, what a good boyfriend you are,” Echo teased him, storing her own mat away before stepping towards the door.  “See you.”

With that, she was gone, out of his apartment and across the street to her place.

= = = = =

Two months later, Echo met Bellamy Blake.  Or rather, re-met him.

While on a coffee run, her usual place was overcrowded so she asked around and found a hole-in-the-wall place around the corner.  Best coffee in town, apparently.  She didn’t care, as long as it was caffeinated.  Inside, there was a single barista behind the counter, standing at an espresso machine while a petite girl stood, waiting. There were no other customers in sight, so Echo was starting to doubt the ‘best place in town’ accolade that had been attached to the place.

“There you go,” the barista said, handing two cups over the counter to the girl.  She smiled and thanked him, a little too excitedly.

“The boys really need this.  Monty’s been up all night and Jasper’s going on maybe 36 hours of no sleep. I’m almost worried about them,” the customer chirped.  The barista laughed, and Echo arched an eyebrow.  He had a curly mop of brown hair on top of his head and a bit of a beard. He was also incredibly familiar to her.

“See you, Bell!” With that, the girl left the shop, the bell over the door jingling, and Echo was alone in the small sitting room with the barista.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice low and yet strangely inviting. There was an easy grin stretched across his face.  Echo nodded, offering a small smile in return.

“Hi.  Could I get… two coffees, black?” she said, stepping up to the counter.  The barista, Bell (a strange name), arched an eyebrow.

“Medium or dark roast?  Or we have vanilla flavoured today, too,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “And what size?”

Echo blinked.  “Um. Whatever’s the most caffeinated, I guess.  And large,” she replied, digging into her tiny purse for some change.  The barista merely smiled and rang up her order, and she paid for it.

While she waited, he shocked her by speaking more.  “Haven’t seen you in here before.  I know most of the customers that come in here, but you’re a new face.”  Echo blinked again, shrugging.

“My usual place was packed, and someone recommended here. Good location, I guess.  Right by the college,” she replied.  The barista laughed.

“Yeah, we get a few college students in here.  Not too many people know about us, though.  You’re a student?” he asked, handing the two cups of coffee over to her.  Echo took them.

“Yeah.  Well, I go to Polis, uptown.  But my brother works around here, so… here I am,” she replied, glancing around.  “Which reminds me.  Tray?”

He nodded quickly, pulling one out from behind the counter. “Here,” he said, “sorry about that.” Echo nodded politely and turned to leave after placing both cups in the tray.  As she got to the door, she heard him speak again.  “Hey, what was your name again?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him.  “Echo,” she answered with an arched eyebrow.  The barista seemed to do a double take, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Bellamy,” he replied, quickly, before Echo stepped out onto the street with the two coffees, waving back at him over her shoulder.

She got ten paces down the street before it dawned on her, why he had looked so familiar, why he seemed to recognize her name.  She stopped short.

“Crap,” she muttered, nearly losing the tray of coffees as someone bumped into her from behind.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, more loudly, to the disgruntled pedestrian, “just go around me!”

= = = = =

“Wait… you’re telling me he tutored you?” Roan asked, from the other treadmill.  Echo groaned, pressing the button to increase the speed on hers.

“Yeah.  And it ended… badly.  It was right when there was that huge mess between Polis and Arcadia.  I just stopped going to his place,” she said, picking up her pace.

“And he definitely recognized you?”

Echo increased the speed again.  “Oh, yes.  Not sure… how he feels, though…”

After that, both fell silent as they finished their runs.

= = = = =

A month later, Echo found her coffee shop crowded again, so she once again sought out that tiny place. It had a strange name, The Dropship, but she figured there was some sort of reference in there.

There were no customers in the shop, just Bellamy behind the counter.  His back was to the door, and he was doing a weird sort of shuffling dance to the jazz music currently playing on the radio as he washed dishes.  Echo walked up to the counter and cleared her throat.

Bellamy turned around quickly, his hands still covered in soap suds.  “Sorry about that—oh, hey.  Echo, right?”

She nodded, glancing down at the counter for a moment. “That’s me.  You really do know your customers, huh?”

“Yeah, like I said, we don’t get too many people in here. And I’m good with remembering faces, too…” he trailed off, and Echo felt a pang of guilt.

“Is that your way of telling me—”

“That I know you’re that Polis student I was tutoring for a while until you stopped showing up?  Yeah.”

Echo bit the inside of her cheek.

“You really do have quite the memory.  That was what, three years ago?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and putting on a stoic face, one that Nia had taught her years ago.

“Two, actually.  But no hard feelings.  I get it was probably weird, trying to come to our side of town… but I would have appreciated some kind of note, or a message, or… something?” Bellamy said. The way he said it didn’t sound accusatory, but Echo still could tell he was hurt.

“Look… if I could make it up to you…” she started, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ears.

“There’s this thing.  At the college.  Kind of a fancy thing.  I could use a date,” he interrupted her.  Her other eyebrow joined its twin.  That was bold and unexpected.  But with the look on his face, she didn’t know how to say no.

“I… sure,” she replied, pulling out a small datebook from her purse, “when is it?”

He eagerly told her the date and time, and she wrote it down.

“And that was two large medium roasts, black, right?” he asked, when she glanced back up.

“Your memory scares me,” she replied dryly.  He laughed.

Damn.  His laugh was contagious.

= = = = =

“Zip me up, will you?”

“Look at my little sister, all dolled up for her date.”

“It’s not a date, it’s a… favour.”

“Right.  And I’m not a CEO of a credit union.”

“Shut up and zip me.”

= = = = =

She had to admit, it was a fun evening.  Echo learned that Bellamy was an Education student at Arcadia, and that he was going to be an English teacher.  It made sense, considering he had tutored her in English.  She in turn revealed to him that she was trying to get her diploma in Public Relations, and he nodded thoughtfully.  She also met a few of his friends, including the girl she had seen at the coffee shop that first day (“I’m Harper!  Second year student, Psychology”) and the two she had been buying coffee for (“That’s Monty and Jasper, they’re taking Chemistry”). There were a few others, including a blonde medical student, and an engineering student who had a lot of questions for her, but by far her most awkward conversation was with a first year Kinesiology student who happened to be Bellamy’s sister.  Echo maintained her composure throughout the evening, sipping at her drink from the open bar, until it seemed that most people had left.

“Thanks for coming,” Bellamy said, sidling up next to her. Echo turned, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah.  It’s been fun, actually… although I’m not too sure your sister likes me.”

Bellamy shrugged.  “She’s like that with a lot of people.  She’ll warm up to you, though.  She’s actually dating a guy from Polis… do you know Lincoln Woods?”

Echo thought back, trying to remember if she had heard that name before.  “I’m not sure, but with a name like Woods he probably runs close to Lexa’s crowd,” she commented offhand, taking another sip of her drink.  Bellamy nodded thoughtfully.

“He does.  I think, at least,” he replied.  Echo glanced at him.

“So… what now?” she asked.  Bellamy glanced at her, a confused expression on his face.

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve been your fake date for the night, what happens next? Do we get coffee?  Do we go back to not contacting each other?” she elaborated.

Bellamy took a long time to respond.

= = = = =

“Well?  How was your date?”

“I’ll tell you next Wednesday, after the actual date.”

“Well, that’s new.”

“Shut up, Roan.”

= = = = =

Two months passed, and by that point Echo was pretty sure she had a boyfriend.  At least, she saw Bellamy three times a week, and he bought her flowers, and there might have been some hand holding involved.

Roan kept pestering her about meeting him, since she had met Bellamy’s friends, but for some reason Echo was holding off.  She wasn’t sure why, but it just didn’t feel like it was time.

She had plans to meet at his place for a movie, and arrived exactly on time, to a flustered Bellamy.

“Hey… you okay?” she asked as she stepped into the apartment, hanging up her coat.  Bellamy shook his head, closing the door behind her and locking it.

“I haven’t heard from O in a while,” he admitted.  Echo frowned.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  “I have an in with Lexa’s crowd, and I haven’t heard anything on that end.  She’s a teenager, they do weird things when they’re in love.”

Bellamy didn’t seem convinced, but Echo slowly guided him to his sofa.  “Look, I’ll look into it.  She’s fine,” she soothed him, rubbing his shoulder in small circles.  They sat like that for a few minutes, him leaning into her touch.  Finally, he sighed.

“I was thinking… Troy tonight?” he asked.  Echo grinned.  They had been working their way through any and all movies that had something to do with Ancient Greece.  Apparently, Bellamy had a secret love.

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder.

They watched the movie with popcorn in a bowl on the coffee table in front of them, and by the end of it Echo was nearly in Bellamy’s lap. She glanced up at him and smiled a lazy smile.

“That was really good,” she murmured.

Later, she wouldn’t be sure who had moved first, but all of a sudden they were kissing each other.  It was soft, and relaxed, nothing like the kisses Echo had had before, but she liked it. Bellamy’s hand was in her hair, and she raised a hand to his cheek, smiling against his lips.

After that, there was a definite shift.  There was no doubt about it now.  Echo definitely had a boyfriend. Each of their dates ended with a kiss and she had even stayed the night at his place a couple of times.

= = = = =

“Your birthday is coming up.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re spending it with Bellamy, I’m guessing?”

“Actually, I thought it could be you, Luna, Bell, and me.”

= = = = =

Her birthday was in November.  When Bellamy arrived at her apartment, she ran to the door and greeted him with a kiss, and he held out a balloon with a small box attached to the end.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, beaming.  Echo flushed despite herself and turned around.

“Luna, this is Bellamy,” she announced, glancing at her brother.  The two men had finally met the previous month.  Luna rose from the sofa, walking over and extending a hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.  I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, offering a polite smile. Bellamy nodded, shaking her hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, giving a small nod to Roan.  Echo beamed and set the package down with the other two gifts.  Then she walked over to Bellamy and took his hand in both of hers, leaning against him.

Roan and Luna left rather early after dinner and seeing Echo open her presents.

= = = = =

Life continued as normal.  She spent her days at the office, kept her routines with Roan, and saw Bellamy.  At Christmas, Bellamy presented her with a tiny box wrapped in silver paper with a translucent ribbon tied around it, and she had opened it to find a simple teardrop pendent necklace with the letter E engraved on it.  She in turn gave him a collector’s edition of The Odyssey, which had taken her weeks to track down, as well as a mug that had “best teacher ever” written on it along with a cartoon drawing of an apple.

“I love it,” Bellamy had murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Echo’s lips.  Echo had simply smiled, kissing him back before leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” she had said, before thinking about it. There had been a long pause, during which Echo had run several scenarios through her head, most of them ending with her walking out of his apartment, before Bellamy finally spoke.

“I love you too,” he had said, kissing the side of her head.

The flames in the fireplace had slowly died down as they curled up against each other, trying to be as close as they could.

= = = = =

“So, I’m… going to ask Luna to marry me on Valentine’s Day.”

“Bold choice.  Cliché, but I guess it’ll do.”

= = = = =

As February 14th approached, Echo grew hesitant.  Despite being happy in her relationship, she still wasn’t fond of Valentine’s Day.  It was just another day to her, and she kept trying to hint to Bellamy that she didn’t want to do anything out of the ordinary.  He seemed to be fine with that, although a conversation with Octavia at one of his college functions suggested otherwise.

“All I’m saying is that Bell’s a romantic guy.  He’s going to want to do something big, it’s just him,” the girl told her.  Echo frowned, shifting uncomfortably.

“I get that, but…” she trailed off.

“Look, I’m not telling you either way, but he’s my brother, and I want to see him happy, and doing big gestures is something that makes him happy,” Octavia said, shrugging.  Then she waved at someone over Echo’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go.  Haven’t seen Miller in ages,” she said, walking briskly past Echo, leaving her standing in the middle of the hall, biting her lip.

She loved Bellamy, but thirteen years was a long time, and she wasn’t sure if she could unlearn her dislike for the holiday.

= = = = =

“Just talk to him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“E.  Talk to him.”

“I’m leaving, now.”

“Echo!”

= = = = =

The big day arrived.  Echo woke up to a text message on her phone from Bellamy with several heart emojis and smiled despite herself.  She tapped out a response, adding some hearteye emojis of her own, then rose to prepare her morning protein smoothie.

While she was adding the protein powder, her phone vibrated again.  Echo glanced at it, only to see a message from Roan asking her to check some things at the office for him, since he was going to be busy all day with Luna.  She sighed, finishing her smoothie and grabbing a quick shower before getting dressed and heading out the door.

At the office, there was a note pinned to her computer, telling her that she needed to meet with someone in HR.  With a groan, Echo swept out of her office and down a flight of stairs.

Her meeting lasted all of fifteen minutes, and when she returned to her desk there were tiny cutout hearts all over it.  Echo arched an eyebrow.

“Ilian?” she asked, sticking her head out the door and looking over at the intern.  He glanced over at her.  “Did anyone come into my office?”

Ilian shook his head.  “Not that I saw.  But I did step away for some coffee…”

Echo sighed.  “Thanks,” she said, brushing aside the hearts and getting to work. She had a list of things she needed to do for Roan, and Bellamy was expecting her at 1pm for coffee.  It would be part one of their Valentines Day date, one she had acquiesced to after his famous puppy dog eyes.

At noon, she was just about finished with her list when someone knocked at her door.  “Are you Echo Mendes?” a man asked.  Echo nodded, arching an eyebrow once more.  “I’m supposed to deliver this.”  He handed over a small box.  Echo took it and looked inside.  There was a large cupcake with pink icing and a note pinned to the side of the box. She lifted the note and read it:

“Echo,

I know you didn’t want much for today, but I couldn’t resist.  This cupcake is sweet… just like you.

All my love,

Bellamy”

For the second time that day, she smiled despite herself and set the note aside, picking up the cupcake and nibbling on the frosting. It was delicious, she had to admit.

When it was time to head out for coffee, she left a memo with Ilian to call Ontari if there were any pressing concerns and headed towards the Dropship.  There, she nodded at Murphy, the other, more brazen barista.

“Oh, hey, Echo… Bellamy left this for you,” Murphy said, handing her a note.  Echo frowned, reading it.  Apparently, Bellamy wanted her to meet him at the library instead.  She shrugged, handing the note back to Murphy.

“Oh, and he said to give you this,” Murphy added, handing her a cup.  She sniffed at it.  Hazelnut. Her favourite flavour.  On the side of the cup, in Bellamy’s handwriting, was written “I love you a latte”.

“Dork,” Echo murmured, chuckling as she took a sip.

At the library, Emori the librarian gave her a funny smile and directed her to the back where there was a small table set up with a fake candle in the middle.  Bellamy was sitting there, a copy of The Odyssey in his hands, while a small pile of textbooks was sitting on the edge of the table.

“Oh, hey there,” Bellamy said, rising and setting down his book, “do you recognize this place?”

Echo frowned, glancing around.  Then it hit her.  Reference books to her left, atlases to her right.

“This is where we had our first tutoring session,” she breathed, her eyes falling back on Bellamy.  “How did you—”

“Amazing memory, remember?” he asked, tapping his temple.  Echo laughed, stepping forward and kissing him.

“The cupcake was delicious,” she murmured against his lips, “and the hearts were… thoughtful.”

Bellamy chuckled, low in his throat.  “I’m glad you liked them,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

The pair spent the hour chatting in the back of the library, then Echo headed back to the office in a considerably better mood than she had been earlier.

On her desk when she returned was a box of chocolates, a vase with a bouquet of roses, and a bottle with a rolled up piece of paper inside.  Confused, she tipped out the paper and unrolled it.  She immediately blushed.

Bellamy had written out a list of no less than 50 reasons why he loved her.

Echo sat in her huge office chair, her legs drawn up to her chest, and read through every single line.  By the end, she wasn’t sure she could smile any more brightly.

= = = = =

That evening, she arrived at Bellamy’s apartment in a red cocktail dress and opened the door with the key he had given her on New Year’s.  The first thing she saw was a whole lot of rose petals.  The second thing she saw was Bellamy, dressed in a full suit and tie, smiling at her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, extending his arms towards her.  Echo smiled, stepping forward into his embrace, kissing him.

“You really outdid yourself,” she murmured, tucking her head against his shoulder.  There was jazz music playing in the background, and she recognized it as the piece that had been playing in the coffee shop all those months before.  He swayed her back and forth, and they danced to the music.

“I know you said you didn’t want much, but… I really wanted to do this all for you.  It’s our first Valentines Day, and—”

“Bellamy,” Echo cut him off, pulling away and looking at him straight in the eyes.  He gave a noticeable gulp, and her heart went out to him.  “I loved every minute of it… and I love you,” she said, smiling at the twinkle that returned to his eyes, the twinkle she loved so much.  “I’ve never had someone to spend today with, but… you’ve made it so special.”

Bellamy leaned his forehead against hers for a moment, then backed away.  “I have one more thing for you,” he said, grabbing a small box from the coffee table.  Echo froze.  It looked awfully similar to a—

“Don’t worry, it’s not an engagement ring,” Bellamy assured her, holding it out, “even though I kind of… one day, definitely. But this is different.”

Echo opened the box, gasping at the simple silver band inside.  She lifted it out, admiring it from all angles.  Engraved underneath were her initials and Bellamy’s.

“Bell…” she breathed.  He smiled.

“It’s a promise.  One day, I want to make our vows in front of everyone.  But now… I want you to know that I am committed to you,” he said, his voice laced with emotion.  Echo blinked away a tear that rose to her eye.

“I love it,” she said, beaming at him. Bellamy smiled fondly, pulling her towards him and taking the ring from her.  He slipped it on her right hand’s ring finger, meeting her gaze, and kissed her deeply.

As she melted into the kiss, clutching to his lapels, Echo felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

Okay.

Maybe Echo Mendes did do Valentines Day.

#becho #the 100 #bellamy blake #echo kom spacekru #a very becho valentines #mine**ff #//posting this tonight because i might not have time to post tomorrow oops

[pinkpoundcake]

DESERT DEVIL

CH. 5  FROM THE MEADOW

All Might/ Reader as Female OC

NSFW AU

7K+ Words

Here we go! Finally. I had to pause and do quite a bit of research for this one. I’m pretty happy with the chapter, but I’ll go back and catch some mistakes later! I’ve been coloring in PS and typing  on GoogleDocs all day so my eyes are tired and won’t catch much. We’ll be taking off from here. I’ll warn that there’s no smut in this chapter, but you can anticipate some for the next. It was just out of place, sorry, lmao. 

I’m not sure of the next time I’ll be updating, but you can anticipate sometime next week. Thank you if you stop by! All Chapters are in my desert devil tag. 

I.

“You may not like this, but you all have to understand! It's for the best.”

The crowd erupted into irritated chatter and groans. This was one of those stressful downsides to using your quirk in this way. It would be easier for you to be the conduit for translation, if so many different kinds of minds weren't giving you so much feedback. Speaker, you, all the joined hands in the crowd. All the joined hands in the crowd, you, the speaker. So many different minds you had to help understand.

Your eyebrows tensed hard enough for muscles to spasm beneath your horns. You were bearing a lot of stress, and your main client, the mayor, hadn't picked up on that yet. His little, white paw was still clutched around your first two fingers while you kneeled down on the soap box next to him. Aizawa had taken your other hand, and then his other hand was linked to the next person. Like one big, unhappy pow-wow. Now, the Mayor, he was so eager to console his constituents, you didn't have the heart to tell him his time was almost up.

“How is that any fair?!” Your eyes were clamped closed. You recognized that voice, but you didn't have the head-space to pin a face. High and kind of whiny. That was probably one of the Inn keeper's daughters.

“The raised fee for violating curfew is incentive, my friends! For all of you to reconsider breaking this protective law. Two hours after sundown, we expect everyone to be locked up, or at least within the bounds of town!” Mayor Nezu responded in his usual chipper tone. His beady black eyes drifted over the crowd of grubby, exasperated faces.  

“A majority of these deaths were discovered far out of the edge of town, you see! And by the fees we've collected these long days and nights, some of you have not taken the previous encouragement seriously!” The Mayor spoke more sternly, though he was still smiling. “If you follow the law, you won't have to pay a hundred pieces, and you won't be ripped apart! How lovely is that!”

“So what are y'all gonna do with all of them extra coins, huh?!” You knew who that was without having to open your eyes. It was this young, plucky fella who always loitered outside the general store eyeing women patrons in their nicest dresses on Sundays. The purple gumdrop always liked to inform you that he didn't mind being around too tall fillies like you, and that always made you wonder where in the goddamn his mother and manners were.

“As always,” Mayor Nezu paused “these fees will be added to our tax well for railroad imports and provisions from Tucson. Public works projects, as well, that will improve our water storage for the future. The budget is always available for a gander at City Hall! I might look like a rat, but I'm no thief, ahahahaha!” You would laugh, too, if you could. He was easy to trust, but the Mayor was strange…

“Please, please, any other q-,” the Mayor blinked with surprise as you yanked your hand away and broke the chain. That was all you could handle. You needed a rest if you still had to hold Sheriff Todoroki's hand for the last portion of the itinerary.

Ah...well, alright. They were going to have a brief recess.

II.

The pounding in your head had subsided a portion. You were glad most folks were distracted with chattering amongst themselves in groups while they allowed you to rest up at the stone edge of the empty, town fountain. You were supposed to let Deputy Aizawa know when you were ready to translate again, which should probably be soon. You didn’t know what time it was, but you could feel the sun rising up higher over your head. It was nice for a little while, but now the bright beams were making your horns uncomfortably hot.

Off to your left, you sensed someone’s shadow sweep over. You thought they were someone in a passing group of gossip, but they stepped a little closer and draped something soft over your head. Your eyes ached, but you cracked one open to see who’d come to pester you. You already had an idea of who it was. “I didn’t think the sun was helping.” Yagi stabbed his cane in the dirt, and then sank down next to you. You heard distinct popping from the joints of his knees. He grunted his same, endearing grunt. This was his usual spot, wasn’t it?

“Thank you. It wasn’t.” You muttered. He understood you couldn’t sound as delighted to see him as you wanted. You sighed and brought his yellow shawl up higher to cover up your forehead and a portion of your eyes. It wasn’t medicine, but it felt and smelled nice.

“I don’t have too much time to talk.” “I understand.” Yagi crossed both of his big, rough palms over the handle of his cane, and then rested his chin over his knuckles. He leaned far and set his eyes on wads of familiar and unfamiliar people still discussing the first half of this morning’s meeting.

“Dove,” Yagi didn’t turn his head, but you could feel his eyes roll back in your direction “are you going to be alright?”

“After a few days of rest, I’ll be fine. I promise.” Yagi’s hands were beneath his chin, so you touched and rubbed his side instead to assure him. Maybe this was a little taboo, but no one was paying attention. He was resisting the urge to move closer. You’d never touched him before, not that he could remember. There was a wonderful heat and softness from your fingers that penetrated the thinned fabric of his shirt, and swept each scarred rib. He felt soothed ( oh yes, he was nervous) , but his intention was for him to comfort you, not the other way around.

“Togo.”

You, almost a little too hastily, tugged yourself from Yagi’s side. As if nothing strange had happened, you stood to your feet, and then gave the older fellow his shawl back. You didn’t know when Deputy Aizawa had approached, or how long the sneaky son of a gun had been standing there. By the look on his face, you could tell he had a certain amount of judgement and disbelief for the both of you. He didn’t have any comment, thankfully. Yagi wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m ready now.” You cleared your throat. Time to hold Mr. Boss-So-Roki’s hand.

III.

Ah, so you and I aren’t going to see eye to eye, boy?

It was a sick joke from a man who had no real eyes. Yagi had ripped them out from the sockets years prior when his heart was broken, and thirsty for revenge. He didn’t regret it. Men who didn’t respect this precious land didn’t deserve to ever take in its beauty.

“You smell like shit, you old fuck.” Yagi loathed to spit acid like a snake, but he deserved every shred of hate contained in his young body on that day.

The Gambler smelled like what he was made of: dirty money and brimstone and mosquito water.

What a nasty bark, you dog!

You look out of sorts, pup. Could it be that arrow you still have there? Here...let me help you pull that out.  

He had liked where Yagi was. Leg mangled. Curled up on the side of the trail like road kill. The vultures were waiting; circling the sun like the grim reaper spun his scythe. That’s what the boy was after all! An animal pretending to be a righteous man.

“DON’T YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON ME.”

And then Yagi was screaming in agony. The Gambler pulled the arrow out nice’n slow, making sure to twist and turn the carved bone of the head into the most sensitive, spewn places. He didn’t like all the mess on his new, priceless equipment, so he found it proper to smear the blood off on Yagi’s already red, enraged face.

Shut up.

Listen very well, dog. Maybe your body can’t die here, but I hope this lesson breaks your spirit like you broke all of my bones.  In stature, it was certain that The Gambler had never healed right. His body was twisted and gnarled like the lichon.  

Yagi did what he had to do after the whole gruesome ordeal was over. He never, ever wanted to kill another man of his own will after that day.   Uh huh…

So, did his spirit ever heal right?

It hurt his heart to try and answer.

IV.

He hated to dream. They weren’t fair. You were supposed to be able to alter your dreams; be whatever you want and do whatever you want. These were all memories he couldn’t do a thing to change. Perhaps he should have been grateful he woke up still clean, and in his own bed this morning. But at what cost…

He needed to stop thinking about it. Yagi had roped up Bell wrong for the second time since he started packing. He rubbed his mule’s neck and she affectionately bumped him on the shoulder with her nose. He didn’t like bringing her so far out from home, because she was his friend, but he had things he had to do as usual. He was going to meet you after he had his student come to watch his property for the two or three weeks you’d be gone. You needed to arrange your own trustworthy house sitter before you both began your long journey.

Yagi had been worried about you the days after the meeting, more than he should have been worried for himself. There was a lot now to consider. He was well aware that you were both lying to each other by omission. You wanted him to track the Devil. If you hadn’t taken the belt buckle back, he probably would have forgotten not to put it on. He hadn’t told you where you were both going for his part of the deal, either, or why he needed you to read. He had advised you on what to pack, and how long you’d be gone, and you just followed the instruction without question.

Did you really trust him that much? You were both traveling alone. In secret. You were lucky law enforcement only patrolled for law breakers, and didn’t go door to door every night. They couldn’t pay enough for all of that.

When he was finally able to meet you, the crown of the sun was starting to peek over the hard, flat line of the horizon. The sky was split in soft streaks of pink and orange. Pretty. There was no wind for haze. The air was still and cool. If only it could stay like this.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Yagi asked you while fixing the girth that strapped his mule to his small, travel cart. He came up to her mouth and made sure the secures there weren’t too tight. She made a quiet, but shrill sound through her nostrils. “I know you don’t like the bit. Be quiet.” The scolding was affectionate and punctuated with a kiss on her nose.

“Yes, and Kissy’s the same way. I think he tolerates it.” He wasn’t raised for riding, but he handled it well enough. Besides, he was the only horse you had.

You were sure you had all you needed. You had rolled up some provisions and plenty of water into your BaBa’s old saddle bags. You really hoped with your combined items, it was all enough. Traveling made you excited and nervous. You hadn’t been outside of town in years. You both had terrible timing, and would probably be in a heap of trouble for giving no notice of leave when you got back. Still, a potentially dangerous journey. And you’d both be alone.

“They all tolerate a lot.” Yagi shrugged his shoulders and sat up on the seat of his cart. “Let’s get moving, quickly!” He boisterously  thumped his closed fist over his chest since neither of you had a rally drum or trumpet.

You wondered if the Devil would lurk the canyon. The thought of you both running into him in the dead of night, or the beast ravaging your camp made your heart jump up somewhere in your gullet.  Yagi must have understood that risk, and he was still taking you to read whatever it was he wanted you to read. You could in fact translate language if you could touch the surface, but it’d been a long while since you’d done so. Most things of importance were printed in English, and a lot of folks couldn’t read no how, so they didn’t bother you.

“Yagi, do you mind telling me where we’re going?” You asked him after mounting. He took off his big brimmed vaquero hat and flipped it upside down. You could see some of your own wool stuck beneath the cap, but what interested you the most was what was embroidered to the underside: a map of the entire valley. Some parts of the thread were old and dirty, but other portions still retained the vibrancy of being freshly stabbed through. You were a little mystified.

”Up north east.” You expected Yagi to produce a compass, but he didn’t. He knew exactly where to go. He’d never been lost before.

“You’ll see, Dove. I won’t lead you astray.” He made a little beat on his chest again and grinned.

“Well...alright. I’m trusting you, sir.” You squeezed Kissy with your heels.

Yee haw! You were both off.

V.

Yagi was puffing out smoke and steam through his nose at the sight of you. His heart was a rumbling, rolling train and he hadn’t finished pounding in all the tracks.  The sun was setting in the distance. Vibrant hues from that sweet goodbye highlighted every plump curve of your naked body. When you turned in the water’s edge and brought your toned arms up above your head, your outlines rippled and writhed in a fog. You shook out your tail like a tambourine, and glistening droplets whipped around your figure.

His dry tongue lolled from the corner of his mouth. Clamoring on all fours, he was clawing the dirt and sand to make it to your mirage. You smiled at him with all your front teeth, and your pretty eyes, and then beckoned him closer with your long fingers. You were emerging from the pool; prowling to meet him halfway. Everywhere your hands and knees touched turned a luscious green.

Almost there… Come here, Come into me, Yagi.

The sun fully disappeared behind the mountains, and the storm clouds swarmed. He was stabbed with daggers of lightning. His big body and hands were all over your soft, fuzzy hide in a monstrous flash. He was pulling your legs apart because now he was long and strong for you. You clamped his waist, clawed his back, and called him by his real name while he was pumping his piston. With his rain and wind and thunder, and your good green earth, he had you. That's right, with your back down in paradise.

Just like he promised.

VI.

“UGH,” Yagi rubbed the faint cut left behind on his forehead. It stung. He had woke with a jolt and hit the side of the rocky perch he’d chosen for the night. You didn’t have a tent, so he let you have his to yourself. A woman, ugh...ow...needed her privacy. He smeared pebbled and already clotting blood on his sleeve. He hadn’t changed his stance on his own dreams.

He was glad you were paces away. It had to be that way. His excuse this time, was that he needed to be a look out for raiders and bandits. That was one thing, but really, he didn’t know when his body was going to change. Dangerous games. Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous dreams. Yagi glanced down at the personal tent pitched in his trousers. Uh...no, he wouldn’t have wanted you to see him like this.

He’d wait to calm down, water the horse and mule, and then wake you. You’d both been traveling for three days, and you had two days of long, hot, dry, travel left.

VII.

When you both finally made it to your destination, the sun was preparing to rise. Yagi was adamant about wanting to push through the night. You had taken such a long break in the afternoon, that it bled into the evening. You had wanted to go back to sleep so badly. You almost fell off of Kissy’s back twice. Yagi, while flustered and spooked, offered to change his mind on the urgency, but you told him it was alright. You just needed to wake up and put up. You were both on a tight schedule.

The clouds were rolling overhead and you wondered (hoped) that they would block the sun or consider banding together for some traveling rain, but they didn't. The trip had gone relatively pain free, it almost made you paranoid. You had to suffer somewhere, and you hoped the continued drought was it.

“Not too much further,” Yagi pushed up his hat and revealed a smile that gave the rising sun a run for its money. For a man who hadn't been sleeping much, he seemed awfully chipper. Dear lady, you had no idea how full of nostalgia he was. The familiar change in terrain gifted him fond and not so fond memories.

“Is that…” you covered a yawn “is that it?” You squinted through the sleepy tears in the corners of your eyes. In the morning haze, you could pick out blocky structures built into the side of a rock face. At another gander, you noticed some fencing holding in several huddled, sheared sheep. Thatched houses peppered the land on the other side of livestock pens and dry, unharvested crops . It didn’t look like a big, busy town, but it was certainly a settlement. It wasn’t too far off from the murky edges of the Colorado River, and the sight of that provided you even more relief. You didn’t know if you had enough water on hand to make it back to Struggler.

“This is it.” Yagi whipped the reins in his excitement and urged his mule on. She wheezed and groaned with some protest, but picked up her pace. You clicked your tongue and bumped Kissy with your heal so he could match speed. You were both kicking up a trail of dust behind you. Being somewhere new made you nervous, but the energy Yagi radiated made you feel more sure. He had his smile on full beam, belting out something incomprehensible at the top of his lungs with your mounts’ hoof-beats. That almost made you pull your draft to a hard halt. Nothing was wrong. No one was coming after the both of you, and he certainly wasn’t hurt. He was going to see his old friend again.

VIII.

There were plenty of times in your life where you felt a little out of sorts. You didn’t feel awkward exactly, just a touch shy. There was a small crowd gathering around Yagi as some reservation dwellers came to properly greet him, or see what the commotion was about. Some natives looked a little on edge, or as unsure as you did, but then the older fellow Yagi was so focused on, finished greeting the sunrise, and then approached. You figured he was probably somewhat in charge, because everyone politely made way for him, or minded themselves and went back to their early tasks. “Aa,” he was grinning from ear to ear just like Yagi was “how are you, my friend? This is a surprise!”

“I’m...well.” Yagi rubbed his neck, and then removed his hat to return the politeness.

“You made quite some noise on the way here! We were worried about a bandits,” the older man’s eyes were wrinkling around the tanned, weathered corners. He was very tall, though not nearly as tall as Yagi, and wore working clothes like the cowboys who traveled far yonder from Texas. You were amazed at the length of his graying hair. It fell behind him in a long cord, and was wrapped up in a braid with bright, crossing threads. He had a lovely, boxy, woven pattern in his shawl that you couldn’t help but eye up, too. Following the loop of his cover, there was a long scar that crossed his neck, and zig zagged down until it was hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. You knew better than to rubber neck that. Didn’t want to be rude.

You felt him sense your wondering eyes, and take a reserved look at you after allowing Yagi to exchange a bow. You were trying and failing to hide behind your big horse. His friend from another land had no one else for company, just you. His bushy brows rose. You assumed your appearance probably surprised, or tickled him. You were used to that, but he was actually assuming something else.

“Aa, this is your wife, Yagi?”

“No, no!” Yagi awkwardly laughed. “This is…” He trailed, trying to think of something that didn’t sound quite as suspicious. “My friend. I brought her here to translate something, if your clan will allow it. We won’t stay for too long, I promise.”

The fellow’s jaw slackened. He brought his hand to his chin. He looked between Yagi, who was anticipating an answer, and then you who were waiting for the same. You came all this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t get turned away and the journey would be for nothing. Whatever Yagi wanted you to read must have been important, or private, if you had to formally ask permission.

“You want to see the old messages? Don’t you?” The other man hummed.

“Yes, I...think it will help me understand.” Yagi had lowered his voice without meaning to.

“Understand what?” You cleared your throat. They were both looking at each other like there was some kind of secret afoot. If you were translating, you were going to know eventually, right? Yagi’s friend frowned at him. This young woman didn’t know? It wasn’t his place to tell you either. It was his request to offer a yes, or a no. “I’m looking to know a little more about this land’s past,” Yagi dug his cane into sand between the toes of his boots. He leaned on it a little, and then brought his still carted mule in closer with his other hand. “There’s some very old language here that a lot of Mustang’s family can’t completely read anymore. His family has been here for quite some time, many many many years,” he had turned his head in your direction while he dropped you this hint “so I’m hoping to find some warnings or helpful superstitions.”

Ah! Now you understood...sort of.  You wondered what Yagi’s interest in the past was, apart from solving the mystery of the Devil, but you didn’t know him well enough to poke and prod that business just yet. Yet. It did make sense, though. More sense than what you were reading. The Devil roamed this land in particular. Should probably consult who’d been here the longest.

“You’re a scholar, young ma’am?” Mustang asked while directing you both to come into the shade and relieve your mounts. By appearances, he wouldn’t have pegged you for someone familiar with his ancient heritage, but then again, when he’d met Yagi, he was quite skeptical of what a stranger would know, too.

“No, sir, it’s my Gift. I can translate speaking and writing if I touch or focus.” You held up your palm to illustrate. His eyes lit up and he clapped his hands once, then twice.

“You’re both blessed with two gifts, then!” Mustang was smiling again. “If you can understand, we will need to accompany you to record. We would like to remember the past, and hopefully our friend here will find what he’s looking for.” Hearing about your gift looked like it was truly a delight, and that made you feel pretty damn special.

“Oh, of course, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to help as long as I get time to rest.” You were trying to wrap your head around something, but Mustang was ushering you both along to where you and Yagi could set up your tent and tether your animals. He trusted Yagi heavily, so he trusted you, if Yagi also considered you a friend in such a sensitive affair. He was already talking about giving word to his family and friends to prepare a hardy meal for Yagi’s return, and then some other things you didn’t quite catch.

You slipped back into your shy sort of self while the two fellows talked on middle ground. You were unloading some items from the saddle bags, and then in the next moment, Yagi was ushered off somewhere else. You got Kissy and Bell somewhere comfortable and in the shade at a stable near to your allotted portion of the settlement. You were thinking about how...different Yagi seemed here while you were watching from afar. He towered over their hosts, readily available to offer his help, or carry things to and fro, even on his bad leg. He cracked jokes with them, and his smile had yet to really let up. He was louder, more open, though he still minded his manners. You were almost a little envious, but you understood. Yagi and Mustang, and some of his siblings have probably known him for years. You wanted to know him like that, too, but for now, you liked that he called you his friend.

After a while of settling, they were picking out sheep for a meal in the dry wood pen paces over. They did ask you if you minded, which you found a little funny. No one here had an appearance Gift that covered their whole body quite like you, so it was the first thing anyone noticed.

Uh, sheep...lamb. You’d never had it before, and didn’t want to try. So, they offered steer, but you had to decline that, too. It just felt weird. Like unofficial cannibalism even though you only looked like an animal. “My father is a bull, and my mother is an alpaca.” You used your other gift to join hands and inform your hosts before you and Yagi had split.

You got plenty of requests to touch your hair. You were used to that, too. You came out of some of your shyness to allow some touches. It was so white, they said, whiter than bones. And soft without needing to wash it so many times. Did you shear it? Well, of course you did. It grew too fast not to. Do you trade it?  Absolutely, let’s bargain.

You spurred an impromptu trading crowd without meaning to. Everyone watched in wonder as you cut off a cottony wad with your pocket knife, and a new patch of wool readily grew in its place. You had bread, and ground corn, and beads, and one young fellow who was very keen about you staying here with him if you were looking for a partner. You remembered you brought some melons full of seeds along, so you topped off that flurry with a big, beautifully loomed blanket on your arm.

When Yagi found you again, he was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. There you were at your tent, corralling all of your new treasures and spoils. You were a tradeswoman anywhere, weren’t you?

IX.

“Yagi?” The world was dark and silent. It was hard to sleep while you were so far from your cot back at home. The canvas edges of your borrowed tent quivered with the rustle of the wind. It was kind of cold, so you were glad you had your new blanket, and some of the blankets that Yagi had given you. You did that idiot thing were you didn’t bring your own. You were afraid of losing, or messing one up. Every blanket you had was special. Even your new one.

“Yagi?” You whispered again. You could barely see his dark outline on the other side of the thick fabric. He didn’t snore, so you could never tell when he had gone to sleep.

“Yagi?” You tried one more time. Maybe he was asleep? Better not bother him. But finally he stirred. He rolled over to his other side in the dark, and then poked his head through the opening. He looked exhausted in the eyes, and full by the temporary pudge in his belly. “Are you alright?” Yagi mumbled.

You were okay, just stressed in a certain kinda way. And paranoid. You lied awake with your heart heavy with anxiousness waiting to hear it; the hiss… “I..Would you…” You stammered, heart picking up a beat now that you actually had to ask your question. “Do you think it’d be alright if you were here? If you stayed in here with me?”

Your question woke him. You could see his eyes had brightened. He held that expression while he considered his answer. There were plenty of reasons for him to decline, but oh...you were making that worried little face. He knew you were hoping that he’d say yes, so he did, and dragged the rest of himself inside. He stretched out long legs that barely fit on the inside and rested somewhere on the other side of you.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t ask him to move any closer, though you really, really wanted him to. You wanted his pleasant scent fresh and not just wafting your nose from his blankets. And you wanted him to wrap his arms around you and maybe pat you over the head right between the horns like he did from time to time. Oh good glory, would you listen to yourself? Go the hell to sleep.

X.

Should you be touching this? It felt like you shouldn’t have been touching this. The rock surface Mustang had lead you to on horseback was high up. It took you a quarter hour to climb, and another quarter to catch your breath. Yagi had to climb after you with his head craned to the side so he wouldn’t be looking up your bare legs while your clothes were tied out of the way.You were glad the goat in you didn’t mind, otherwise this traverse would be difficult.

You were expecting writing, but you could read the cluster of rock carvings just fine. You squinted while activating your Gift. Things didn’t come together right away. It’d been so long since you’d used it this way. After another try, you finally started to understand.

A majority of the drawings and glyphs were just entrees. A documentation of the days passed. On this day, the men on horseback arrived. On this day we left to travel elsewhere. On this day the canyon was taken with floods. It wasn’t what Yagi was looking for, but Mustang was recording everything on some dried skin as you moved along.

And then, as the carvings grew older, you read out some stories. You could feel a headache brewing behind your eyes, but by now the intrigue had struck you harder, and you wanted to press on and know more.

The spider woman who taught the weaving. This one was hard to read, it was overlapped with other carvings, but Mustang told you that he was already very familiar with the tale.

The warrior with the heart of a bear. He was drawn robustly with his club leading his people to victory in a battle.

The winding serpent that made the river. It slithered and slunk down the entire length of the race face, splitting into other stories and recordings.

The story of good the meadow where the soil was fair and water plenty.

The Oasis on the other side of the sun, and her warrior protector. To you this one read the same, but it felt important. There was a buzz in your fingertips and the cogwheels in your thick skull got to turning.

You’d stopped relying the info without knowing, too. You had gone silent as the symbols stacked in your mind and made a structured narrative before your eyes. The Oasis’ protector became something beyond being a man, chasing off imps on horseback swinging their knives and  shooting their guns and bringing their greed. The spirit of mother earth entered the crown of his head and made him undying. And when his job was done, and he had to leave to return to the other world, the will of the earth entered the heart of a worthy someone else, and it would be that way for forever and ever.

“Dove?” Yagi touched your shoulder. You grabbed on to him to keep from falling over and hitting your head. You blinked a few times to call yourself back to this realm. Both men were staring at you with concern in their eyes.

“You said you wanted to know something about the land? This,” you let go of the hold on your Gift so you could actually think and respond. “This one talks about the Oasis.”

XI.

“I’m glad that you’re all doing well. Very glad.” The flickering light from the dying fire fluttered over the contours of Yagi’s face. He rubbed the bags beneath his eyes, and then rubbed the skin of his arm. It was faint, but he could feel the itch and tingle; the urge to be his other self. He should have been asleep, but he couldn’t. He had even more to think about now.

“It’s because of you, you know.” Mustang took his seat with the grunt of a grouchy old man, though he held none of that in him. “If you had not come for us, we would have had to leave. We’re always going to be grateful. But now, what about you? You don’t look like you’ve been well, Friend.”

“I haven’t healed.” Yagi thumbed through his book. He’d copied what Mustang had scribbled from your readings in his own personal book; one of the ones he kept hidden beneath his bed. It was all in Japanese, since his English on paper still wasn’t the best. He’d been reading it over and over again since you returned to the settlement. It was too dark to read it now, even with the stars out.

“It doesn’t look like you have. How is your leg? And your chest?” Mustang placed his hand on his belly.

“I need to use a cane most days. Sometimes I spit up blood, but I’m still living, and that’s all I can ask for. I tend to horses’ feet now. I’m no longer in the mines.” Yagi tucked his book away in his shawl.

“Is it…?” Mustang’s eyes hastily darted over to where you were supposedly sleeping. Your eyes were closed, and your full lips gently parted with your gentle breathing. You wrapped yourself up in your new blanket, and the young weaver you bought it from couldn’t have been more flattered by how much you adored it.

“I always thought that you would have your own clan, Tall One. Young women always liked you.” He lifted his arm and flexed it as he reminisced on the old days when they were chasing off blue coats.

Yagi huffed through his nose, and then dryly laughed. “So did I, but time’s gotten away from me.” His eyes fell on you briefly. He was already asking a lot from you. The last thing on his mind was courting (even though it was absolutely one of the first things on his mind). He couldn’t let himself fall prey to whims.

“It’s not too late to not be lonely.” Mustang shook his head. “You might want to, before a younger man with more horses and more silver comes along to bargain for her hand. I can see that you like her. Your eyes are very bad at hiding your spirit.”

Yagi scrunched his nose and screwed up his expression. “I would like to, but I don’t want to hurt her. Mustang...I must tell you something.” He relaxed his face and turned on the log he sat on to properly look his old friend in the eye. There was a heaviness that settled in the pit of his chest.

Mustang held up his hand. “I’ve heard of the Desert Walker from the traders.” His brows were drawn up tight. The bags beneath his eyes were rimmed in red as the fire was on its last log. “The Desert Dweller. Desert Devil. Canyon Demon. Valley Eater. I’ve heard many, many names. We can speak of it, but there’s something else much more important that I must tell you.”

Much more important than his murdering spree?

“Toshinori,” Mustang drew in a breath “I am glad, and grieved that you’re here, because now I must tell you something I know you don’t want to hear.”

“What..what is it?” Yagi’s feet were cold in his boots. Coldness had settled over his forehead and shoulders. The muscles in all of his limbs were crawling and twitching with sheer instinct.

“You know how we’ve struggled here. How we’ve had to fight. How we almost had nothing.” Mustang bit the inside of his cheek. His bottom lip wrinkled and puckered as this news left a foul taste in his mouth and nostrils.  

“Yes, I know.” They’d accepted him. His master had accepted him when he came to this side of the world with nothing but his nose, and the will to work.

“They want to bring the railroad through here. They don’t ask, they just take and assume you’ll show your belly. I smelled something in the air one day, and then a ghost appeared to me early in the morning bring in all of his evil.”

No…

No, it couldn’t be.

“I saw him die, Toshinori. I saw you slay him with my own two eyes, and the eyes I keep behind me.” He touched the closed lids hidden deep beneath his hair with his palm. “But I saw him again, and he made me my family an offer that tempted and troubled me.”

Yagi couldn’t respond if he wanted. His jaw was tensed so tightly that his temple twitched and his teeth ached. All of his tanned knuckles were white.

“He’s like a twisted root. No right arm, and walks with a cane just like you do, friend. He has money like these white men now, they think he’s one of them. He offered my family supplies, and protection if I allowed him to rip this land apart. I refused, and he simply took his leave. I think this troubles me the most.”

You had been awake and listening for a while now. You fought your instinct to adjust your position, but you remained still and kept your breathing slow. You were glad you didn’t snore. That would have been hard to fake. What were they talking about? Or rather, who?

Yagi took deep breaths through his flared nostrils. Just the mention of Him set his blood on fire. His stench wasn’t in the air tonight, but it was burned into his most vivid memories. Dirty money, and brimstone, and worm water, and rotting. A thief, a cheater, a liar, and a gambler. The real demon of the desert had no heart, and no real eyes, and he thought he could own anything like he boasted he could own anything, anyone, and any Gift.

“Perhaps, old friend, there’s still work to be done.”

He still had a promise to keep. To do what this world asks of him in return. And then maybe, just maybe he could keep the promise he made to you.

“I think...I think so.” Yagi rubbed the writhing out of his arms and the prickle from the pores of his scalp. He had to try and hold it in, but he was angry. After all the blood and guts, and the skin of his teeth; putting his body on the line. Adaka’i was still carrying on his business.

And Yagi wondered what business it was. Somewhere in the desert…

XII.

The fire was gone.The world was dark and quiet again on the other side of your closed eyes. There were no hushed voices to listen to, just a bunch of sheep who should have been sleeping, too. So, you crawled back on the inside of Yagi’s tent to dream before you had to head back to Struggler tomorrow. Your head was so heavy and tired. Tired from growing all of that wool, tired from showing off the shapes you could make with your horns, tired from doing all of that reading, tired from doing all of that thinking.

Could you really call this dreaming, though? This was just shameless hoping and wishing. You still wanted Yagi to hold you, and pat your head, and tell you that you were silly. He wasn’t far from where you were, not physically. He came to rest beside you in the tent after Mustang and his little wife had wished him goodnight.

You hoped and wished that he’d bring you up to his chest and let you sleep with your faces close. You hoped and wished that he’d fancy giving you a kiss, too. And you hoped and wished he’d kiss you in places the Devil kissed you. Your body opened your eyes for you before you could get too carried away in that distant land. You were greeted with the dark, and the slow rise and fall of Yagi’s long, bony side.

The Devil...whoever he really was. You wondered if he was looking for you, or if you should even be thinking of him. What were you supposed to think of him? A lover? A monster? A murderer? A demon to sit on your chest? Or a vengeful spirit? You couldn’t have them both, and one stallion was stronger than the other, you knew that for sure. If you were with Yagi, would the Devil finish the job? You just didn’t know. You shouldn’t have been thinking about it now. You were just making your headache worse.

Or maybe you should have. You read for Yagi, sweet, handsome, Yagi, and now it was his part of the bargain.

Without thinking (you were good at that), you pushed yourself up from where you lay and crawled over to Yagi. His breathing changed, so you knew he was awake, but he didn’t move. You were holding your breath as you relocated yourself up against his back. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder. It was kind of hard, like you were expecting, but he was warm and he always smelled crisp. You were almost blue, expecting him to turn over and ask you what you were doing at any moment, but he still didn’t move.

You felt him relax. He was asleep again, and so were you curled up close like a house cat behind him.

#all might #toshinori yagi #all might x reader #DESERT DEVIL

[littlecrookedheart]

Glitter Blizzard Wonderland Part One

Merry & Bright : The Twelve Days of Choices FicMas

Prompt 2, Snow globe

Pairing : Maxwell x Farrah

Rating : A tiny suggestive bit, the rest is all fluff!

Word Count : 6,470

Author’s Note : A massive thank you to @brightpinkpeppercorn for endless encouragement and being so wonderful, as well as the inspiration behind Millie's name.

Disclaimer : I do not own any characters mentioned that are found in the choices universe. I do own Brighton and its wonders.

"Where are the decorations?"

Farrah shot a confused glance at her husband as she stepped out of the limo and took his hand.

"Are we even in the right place? Is this the correct address?"

"Yes, my Lady," confirmed the driver, who tapped at an illuminated screen, showing them the invitation.

"I'm sure it's better inside," Maxwell smiled, gently resting a hand on her waist as they approached the entrance. "This is definitely unexpected for a holiday event."

"Lord and Lady," a man of security detail nodded, pulling open the grandiose mahogany doors.

Maxwell's beaming face went into a state of perplexity, furrowing his brow and immediately looking to Farrah. They shared a lifted eyebrow scowl, turning as Liam approached them with arms wide.

"Maxwell! Farrah! Come join us," he beckoned, handing them each a glass of champagne.

"Let's go mingle," Farrah said, handing Maxwell her drink. "Not feeling bubbly tonight."

"Suit yourself. I'll never turn down free booze."

Maxwell followed Liam over to a group of dignitaries, turning his head back to send Farrah a wink.

"Farrah, I've been waiting for you to show up. This gala is boring me to hell and let me tell you, I'm not up for a pissing contest with Satan himself."

Olivia Nevrakis stood with her arms crossed, a fiery floor length gown shimmering down her bodice.

"Liv, you look fantastic!"

"Normally I'd pretend I don't care what you think, but thank you. This dress cost a fortune. And you look...nice."

"Thank you." Farrah pretended to bow, conjuring a small laugh from Olivia.

"So," she said, slowly turning around the room, "What's the deal with absolutely no holiday spirit?"

"Good old Godfrey and Adelaide never had much of a taste for Christmas decor."

"Why are they hosting this year, then?"

"You know Farrah, you're right. You'd think they'd have just allowed me to keep it in Lythikos. We wouldn't all be standing around this drab entryway! People would be dancing and there'd at least be some snow. What a mess."

"I'll back up any proposal you put forth to solidify permanent Holiday Gala claim."

"I knew you'd see it that way. God, Farrah, I'm so bored!"

"Can we request a song change at least?"

Olivia craned her neck, inspecting the room.

"I don't see anyone in charge. Join me for hors d'oeuvres? At the very least, we shouldn't be bored on an empty stomach."

--

"Ready, my lady?" Maxwell asked, spinning Farrah effortlessly in a circle. "Truth is, I'm bored as can be. We'll have way more fun in the hotel room."

"You're presumptuous tonight!"

He wiggled his eyebrows and threw her a smile. "Are you saying no?"

She playfully pushed him by the shoulder and started to walk to the entrance, waving a small goodbye to Olivia, who stood occupied by a never ending story from Kiara.

"Lord Beaumont?"

Dressed in palace staff clothes, an old man with a thick moustache bowed to him, holding out a gift wrapped box.

"What's this, Grover? What are you doing here?"

"I came from the palace, Maxwell. This was asked to be delivered to you with utmost urgency. I told them you don't reside at the palace, but they just walked off. I suppose I wanted to see to it that you were handed this yourself."

"It's not a bomb, right?"

"Not to my indications."

"Well, alright then. Thanks, Grover. I'll send you a little something extra in your Christmas card."

"Not necessary, Maxwell. Have a lovely night."

Grover nodded and walked off, leaving Maxwell and Farrah standing in the middle of the staircase.

"Ready?"

"Very." She linked her arm with his, kissing his cheek as they walked into the night.

--

"You're early," the driver said, rolling down the partition. "Where to?"

"We have reservations at Middlebrook Estates. Mind if we get some food on the way? Can limousines go through drive thrus?"

"Oh, I assure you, they can!" Maxwell chuckled, "The palace limos have seen more fries than most humans have." He leaned forward to give the driver a location before turning to face Farrah as the partition went up.

"I'm a child. Let's open this thing."

His eyes lit up as they tore the wrapping paper to unveil a black box. Maxwell reached in, carefully removing an antique snow globe.

"Who sent that?" Farrah asked, "It's massive! It’s...wow."

"There's no card?"

"Oh my god, look. There's a little toy shop! I bet Santa lives in that little house."

"This is wild. Look at the detail!”

"Max, whoever sent you this must really love you. I'm blown away."

"Wait!" He exclaimed, pulling a taped paper from the bottom of the base, "A note."

Maxwell & Farrah

The beauty of Christmas lies within each of you. Be joyous this holiday season.

With love,

M.

"Any idea?"

"No," Maxwell sighed, turning the globe in his hands. "I doubt Madeline sent this."

"Not with that note. Someone with a heart wrote that."

"Merlin! Merlin and Morgana."

Farrah stared at him, an amused smile cracking through. She shook her head as Maxwell shrugged, running his palm across the glass surface.

"Should we turn the knob?"

Maxwell wound the knob backward, anticipating music. Instead, nothing happened.

"It's broken."

"It's still beautiful, Max. We should make it our living room centerpiece."

"Sounds good to me. Besides, I can always sing if you need music."

"Oh yeah? Play me... 'Santa Baby.'"

Maxwell lifted an eyebrow, mischievously moving his fingers just beneath her ribcage.

"Hurry down the chimney tonight..." he sang, tickling her until the both of them could hardly breathe.

--

Maxwell awoke to the chime of a bell, sitting up abruptly. He was still in his suit, the stiffness of the sleeves making him grimace, and flung the jacket off absentmindedly, startled at the clank it made wherever it landed. He rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn as not to wake Farrah with more noise, pulling the blanket around her. She was in her cocktail gown from last night too, makeup still on her face and her hair still holding its curl.

What happened last night? He wondered, fumbling to the en suite. His eyes adjusted as the light switched on, revealing cabin-esque decor accented with small nutcracker trinkets.

"What the..."

He cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed his face, backing up against the door to try and recall the events of the night before.

We were at the gala...I ate a lot of shrimp...Grover gave us that gift...and now we're here?

He patted his pocket in search for his phone to find only emptiness. No wallet, phone, or the emergency wireless headphones he always brought just in case he needed a pick me up. Nothing at all.

After using the bathroom, he pumped a handful of foaming soap, the scent of vanilla and peppermint hitting his nose with a sweet kiss. He didn't feel the familiar ridge of his ring, gasping quietly as he saw that it, too, was missing.

What is going on?

Maxwell found his suit jacket in a heap on the floor in the bedroom, next to a fully adorned Christmas tree. Checking each pocket to find none of his belongings, he folded his legs beneath him and sat on the floor, rocking back and forth as he ran a hand through his through his hair.

Truly, he had no recollection of anything after he and Farrah said goodnight, but they didn't say it here, at least not in his memory. Was he delusional? Did he just forget about the room being so perfectly cozy?

Composing himself as best he could, he crawled to the bed, gently brushing Farrah's cheek with the side of his hand.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?" She groaned, face still buried in her pillow.

"How much did I drink last night?"

"What?"

"Was I very drunk?"

Farrah turned her face to the side, her hair scattered across her face. Maxwell was kneeling on the floor next to her, but she hardly thought anything of it.

"You hardly drank, I thought."

“Yeah, right. I had two drinks…but somehow I don’t remember this room at all.”

“It was dark, that’s why.”

“Was everything decked out for Christmas?”

“Nnnn…”

“Farrah, I’m serious. I feel like I’ve lost my head.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Max. Come back to bed.”

“No, this is weird.”

Maxwell walked over to the far wall, slowly parting three layers of thick, velvety curtains embroidered with a white trim. Outside, the ground was blanketed in heavy snow that glittered in the light, a dusting still sprinkling down.

“Whoa. Babe, please…”

She sat up, throwing aside the duvet in frustration, “Max, I’m really tired, what is-”

He pulled the curtain open completely, using both arms to gesture toward the view.

Farrah jumped out of bed and over to the window, mouth agape and brows furrowed. Realizing her dress was still on, she took a moment to think before looking out the window again.

“Are we in Lythikos?”

“How would we have gotten to Lythikos?” Maxwell asked, a look of panic on his face.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.”

“Look!” Maxwell grabbed an ornament from the tree in the corner, shoving it toward her. “What the hell!”

“That’s an ornament, Max.”

He stifled a laugh, shaking his head. “Uh huh, and there’s an entire Christmas tree of them.”

Farrah wiped the sleep from her eyes and turned around, looking to him. “Max…what’s happening? Where are we?”

“No freaking idea! We must have been really drunk.”

“I didn’t even drink!”

“I had two drinks but thats like…basically sober. You’re the reasonable one, what do we do?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, but when Maxwell stood frozen with a finger on his chin, she continued, “I’ll call Liv. If we’re in Lythikos-”

“No can do, baby bear. Our phones are gone. So is my wallet, and weirdly enough, neither of us are wearing our rings.”

Maxwell went back into the en suite, returning with a warm washcloth. He held it to her face, gently wiping her makeup away.

“Did we get mugged?” Farrah asked, voice frail.

“Judging by the look of us, I’d say no,” he gently wiped at her eyes, lifting the mascara and eyeshadow away. “I feel okay. Do you?”

She nodded slowly, trying not to cry. “Something had to have happened! We’re probably just…”

"It’s alright, my love.” Maxwell pulled her into his chest, holding her as she sobbed. “There’s a way out of this.”

After a moment, Farrah drew in a deep breath and took the cloth from her husband, vigorously clearing off as much of the remaining makeup as she could.

“Okay. Let’s think about this. There’s only one place we know that gets snow like that,” she insisted, walking back to the window. “It’s beautiful, though. Looks like glitter, almost.”

“Do you remember taking a trip? Because I do not. All I know is I woke up, and I went in that bathroom,” he pointed to the door in the corner, “And saw a bunch of little mini nutcracker thingies. Then I freaked out a little and woke you up.”

“No..but Max, we didn’t just teleport here! What happened to our stuff? Our wedding rings?”

“We don’t need those rings, beautiful. You know that.”

“That’s not my point,” she sighed, fighting back another wave of emotion. “I’m scared.”

“We can’t be stuck here. There’s a way, we just have to find it.”

Farrah nearly collapsed onto the sofa, taking a deep breath as she buried her face in her hands. Maxwell was close behind, sitting beside her and gently stroking her back.

“Hey, it’s okay. No matter what’s going on, we’re together. Know what that means?”

She looked up, sniffling back tears.

“We’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this, exactly.” He gathered her in his arms, enveloping her in a warm embrace. “We should take advantage of this funky situation. We could go enjoy the snow. We don’t get it like this in Cordonia.”

“We don’t have coats, we’ll freeze. What is this place anyway?”

“There are some little soaps and shampoos in the bathroom, so I’m guessing some kind of hotel.”

“The logical step is to go to the front desk and ask about this whole ordeal. Someone has to know, right?”

“Of course,” he smiled, lacing his fingers with hers, “Let’s go figure this out.”

As they stepped into the hallway, wafts of fresh baked goods surrounded them, the tune of distant holiday music in the air. Maxwell’s face beamed at the strands of fairy lights draped across the walls, multiple holiday trees and various figures displayed along the hall.

In the lobby stood a tall tree, two older women occupied with trimming it as beautifully as the others they’d seen, struggling to steady a box between them.

Maxwell approached the front desk, looking around for someone who could help. An elderly man and a small boy laughed while having tea in a sitting area by a crackling fire, a grandmotherly woman effortlessly playing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town,’ on the grand piano. Maxwell was the embodiment of joy as he picked up an antique bell from the counter and rang it.

“Just a moment!”

A young woman carrying a tall, wavering stack of wrapped gifts turned the corner, nearly running into Farrah. She stuck her arms out to balance the gifts, met with a small shriek from the woman.

“I’m so sorry, miss!” The girl cried, setting down the stack. Her auburn hair in waves down her shoulders, freckles painted perfectly across her cheeks, with emerald eyes that complimented the evergreen trimmings on the wall behind her.

Farrah smiled warmly, resting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s okay. Do you need help carrying those?“

"Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you. Especially not when adorned in such beautiful formal wear! Where on earth did you find such beautiful garments?”

“Ana De Luca!” Maxwell exclaimed, running his hand along a shiny wooden sculpture of Santa Claus.

“I’m not sure I know who she is, but she sounds lovely! I’m Millie!” She extended her hands, shaking both Farrah and Maxwell’s hands at once. “How have we not met?”

“We just arrived overnight,” Farrah said, trying not to giggle at Millie’s enthusiasm.

“I’m Maxwell, this is Farrah. This place is so festive, I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it.”

“We don’t get visitors here in Brighton! Welcome to the Whitlebrook Inn! Where are you from?”

“Brighton?” Farrah whispered to Maxwell, who hardly seemed to notice as he walked over to help the women decorate.

“Cordonia, we’re from a little Duchy near there.”

“Oh! I’ve never been anywhere outside of Brighton, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Cordonia. It sounds like a lovely place, with lovely clothing stores! Are you hungry? I’ve just baked a most delicious cinnamon bread, and I am also baking a lovely holiday spice cake.”

“I heard food!” Maxwell nearly shouted from the place he’d wandered across the room, holding the large cardboard box of ornaments. “Can you feed me, Farrah? I’m busy.”

Shaking her head, she smiled to Millie, “Thank you, that sounds perfect.”

“Don’t you want to change first?”

“Oh, you know what, actually…is there a manager we could speak with?”

Millie furrowed her brow, thinking for a moment. “Well, I’m as much a manager as we have around here! What can I help you with?”

"We woke up in a room down the hall, but neither of us remember checking in. Or really even the ride here. Are we in Lythikos? I’m great friends with Olivia Nevrakis -”

“That’s peculiar! We don’t keep a file on visitors, I’m afraid. I can’t recall Brighton ever having had a visitor before. Perhaps once you’ve had some breakfast, we can head to the post office. If anyone can help you, I’m certain it’s Miriam.”

Millie cut two generous helpings of cinnamon bread, plating them with cherries and grapes and a small assortment of marmalade and apple butter. She set a small table with three chairs, helping herself to two chocolate cookies as Farrah sat down.

“Max, come eat,” Farrah called over, tearing into the bread. He nodded in reply, giving each of the women small bows before making his way over.

“This smells like heaven!”

“Tastes like it, too,” Farrah said, eyes wide and mouth full.

“Oh! Would you simply must try my handmade cider! I have apple and cranberry.” Millie dusted off her skirt as she stood, filling a small ceramic pitcher of each and placing two mugs in front of Farrah and Maxwell. “Careful, hotter than the sun itself, those are!”

"Thank you!” Maxwell said, fingers sloppily coated in cranberry preserves as he tossed a cherry into his mouth. “Got any napkins?”

“Max, really? Look down.”

A blush filled his cheeks as he unwrapped his napkin, pulling a fork, knife, and spoon from the bundle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s quite alright. Do you need an extra?” Millie beamed, standing and handing him another folded napkin from a shelf before he could reply.

“You know, I half expected you to be little Henry. That sticky fingered willoughby always comes in here right after I’ve set out a fresh plate of gingerbread and stuffs his pockets full!”

“Is that him over there?” Maxwell asked, taking a bite of his bread.

“Oh, no, no. You’d know if Henry was in here. If the blazing red hair didn’t do it for you, he’d likely swipe something from your pockets! Of course, it would return at the midnight chime as everything always does, but nevertheless.”

Farrah turned to her, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, is Brighton near England?”

Millie sighed, quickly trying to finish her cookie.

“You have something similar to an English accent, I just wasn’t sure. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“No offense taken at all, Farrah. I only wish I were better at helping you out with figuring out these locations in regards to our town.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Farrah said, mouthing a thank you to Maxwell as he poured her apple cider. “Millie, did you happen to be around last night?”

“Hmm,” she sighed, tapping her fingers on the table. “I was, but I went to bed around eight. Not to sleep, of course, but to watch my pictures! 'It’s a Wonderful Life,’ was on, it’d be such a tragedy to miss. Did something happen?”

“Well, we actually don’t know how we got here. I woke up the morning without a clue, Farrah and I are in last night’s outfits, and our phones and belongings are gone.” Maxwell looked up, forehead creased in concern.

“You know, I thought I noticed a little line where your wedding bands usually linger! I didn’t hear a single thing, but perhaps someone else did. Tell you what, how about we stop at Woolyworth’s and get you something extra warm and fuzzy to wear! Farrah, I do believe I have some extra bottoms! We look about the same size, don’t you think?”

Farrah smiled and nodded, finishing the cider in her mug.

“Splendid!” Millie clapped her hands together, twirling as she stood up. She reached for another cookie and skipped to the lobby archway. “Finish your breakfast and I’ll gather some clothes for you, darling!”

"Thank you. As strange as this morning has been, you’ve been such a delight.”

“Truly, Farrah, I thank you!”

Maxwell stacked their dishes together, wiping the table down before turning to Farrah.

"Ready?”

“Yep! Hey, what do you think of Millie?”

“That beam of sunshine? She’s a total sweetheart. Seems even more harmless than me.”

She elbowed him gently, cracking into a smile. They waited at the front desk, chiming the bell once before Millie called out, “One moment, dears!”

Millie returned from behind a bookcase, laughing as she saw their confusion.

“Don’t worry, I’m not walking through walls, though I’d certainly appreciate an ability like that! My room is just behind that wall, there’s a door behind the shelf.” She handed Farrah a bag of clothing, knit pieces and thick leggings, all in a terracotta color scheme.

“I’ll try these on,” Farrah said, taking Maxwell’s hand.

“Take your time, dear! Couldn’t possibly fathom the need to rush you. I’ll be here when you’re through.”

“She’s so nice,” Farrah whispered, walking with Maxwell to their room. “Hopefully something fits. I’m literally itching to get out of this dress.”

“That dress is like a disco ball. I love it, but you’re going to look so snug and cute once you change.”

“I hate that you’re stuck in that suit.”

Maxwell closed the door behind them and hopped onto the bed, crossing his legs.

“I’m fine, once I get a sweater from Willy’s I’ll change anyway.”

“….Willy’s?”

“Wasn’t that the name of the store?”

“I don’t think so,” she giggled, pulling on a skirt and a long sleeved ivory top. “What do you think?”

“Eh, it’s fine. Try the leggings!”

“You always want me in leggings.”

“When your wife has a booty like that, you want her in leggings.” Maxwell winked to her, a wide smile on his face.

Slipping into a deep, russet brown colored pair of leggings, Farrah put a hand on her hip and wiggled her butt at him.

“Those are the winners!” He yelled, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to him.

“You trying to detach my arm?”

“Nope! Just trying to love you a little extra.”

Maxwell pressed a kiss to her lips, running his hands through her hair.

“Now you look like a beachy winter princess.”

“You look like a dork,” she laughed, kissing him again. “We should go. The longer we don’t have answers, the longer those trade deals go unsigned, the longer I’ll have to spend working when we return.”

“You’re concerned with work?”

“You’re not?”

“No. Baby, this might be weird, but look around. We don’t know a single person. There are no phones, no emails, no busy assistants. It’s just you and me and this cozy little inn. This…this is a Christmas miracle.”

“You can not be serious, Max. This is awful! How are we supposed to stick to our holiday schedule? We have a week long tour that’s meant to take off today!”

“I didn’t bring us here, Farrah. I’m just making the most of a crappy situation. You should try to do the same!”

She rolled her eyes, gathering the unworn clothes back into the bag Millie had given her. She knew he was right, and hell, she’d normally love to relax if given the opportunity. But this was unplanned, inconvenient, and downright freaky, and the last thing on her mind was having fun.

–

In the lobby, Millie stood next to the grand piano, singing a vibrant rendition of ‘Angels We Have Heard on High,’ as the old woman played along. The man and his grandson hummed along, a half finished puzzle on the table between them.

Farrah set the bag of clothes behind the counter and leaned her head on Maxwell’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry for being so snappy.”

“Thank you for that,” Maxwell smiled, kissing the top of her head, “I understand. I’m sorry for not being intuitive to your feelings. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you more,” she sighed, swaying their hands to the tune.

As the song wrapped up they clapped softly, joined by the man and his grandson as well as the two women who had been decorating the tree and were now sitting in the dining area rolling cookie dough onto pans.

“Oh! Thank you all!” Millie said, meeting Maxwell and Farrah with a hug. “Let me introduce you? Perhaps someone knows of your home town.”

“Sure,” Maxwell shrugged, popping a mint from the desk into his mouth. “Oh my god, these are the soft ones.”

"Nobody ever has these! They’re extinct in Cordonia!” Farrah grabbed three and turned to follow Millie, who was softly chuckling.

“Help yourself. There’s plenty more!”

She beckoned to the woman behind the piano, meeting her half way. She was simply beautiful, with short gray hair and smile lines from years of wisdom and laughs. Her hand gripped a wooden cane that had been carved with the silhouette of reindeer, a long, violet cardigan flowing from her shoulders to the floor.

“Sarah, Brighton has a pair of visitors. This is Farrah and Maxwell.” Millie spoke smoothly and clearly to her, patting her shoulder.

“It’s so nice to see some new faces,” Sarah said, her eyes glittering. “My Maverick will be so happy to have someone new to tell stories to at supper. You’re staying for supper, I hope!”

“Maybe, we’re trying to figure out how we got here and how to get home.”

“Yes,” Maxwell said, “Do you happen to know where exactly ‘here,’ is? Brighton, I mean.”

“Oh, I can’t seem to recall. Brighton has always just been Brighton,” Sarah said, walking over to the seating area where the man and his grandson finished their puzzle. “Barney, help these young travelers. You know about geography!”

“Hi!” Farrah stuck out her hand to him, smiling. “I’m Farrah, this is Max. You really know geography?”

The old man smiled and shook her hand, his false teeth loose in his mouth. He adjusted them discreetly before saying, “I have read every book in Brighton at least ten times, dear.”

“Ten?! I wonder if you’re related to our friend Hana. Hana Lee?” Maxwell asked enthusiastically.

“Never mind him,” Farrah swatted the air, “We’re from Cordonia.”

“Cordonia, I think I remember from the globe back in the office.”

“Grandpa Barney, you genius! I’d completely forgotten that old globe. I’ll go fetch it. Would anyone care for some shortbread? I’ll bring some just in case!” Millie hurried off behind the front desk, the same way she’d come from earlier.

“I’m Teddy,” the small boy said, reaching to shake Maxwell’s hand, “I like the name Max. One day I want a dog named Max!”

“I like the name Teddy!” Maxwell grinned, shooting Farrah a quick wink.

“So,” he turned to Sarah and Grandpa Barney, “Is all of Brighton so welcoming?”

“Oh yes,” Grandpa Barney nodded, pulling an old photo from his pocket. “Here’s the rest of our town.”

“Grandpa Barney, I bet they’ll prefer to see it themselves!” Sarah chimed in, placing a stray puzzle piece in its correct position. “That old photo won’t do much for them. They should see Brighton in its full glory.”

“It’s nearly noon!” Millie reappeared, holding a dusty, small globe.

Grandpa Barney hobbled over and used his sleeve to wipe the dust away, a shaky finger finding Cordonia on the map.

“Where’s Brighton in relation to Cordonia?” Farrah asked.

“Farrah, Maxwell, hurry! We can’t miss it!” Millie clapped, gesturing for them to follow her. They all stepped into the snow outside, following Millie to the center of town which seemed to be only a few steps away. She turned to smile at them and said, “Each day, twice a day, a magical little thing happens here in Brighton. The most beautiful music plays, loudly, from the town speakers, and there’s a most gorgeous snow fall! You’ll be absolutely taken, it never fails to warm my heart even more than my famous cocoa!”

“Every day?” Maxwell asked.

“Mhm! Every day, once at noon and once at midnight. Personally, I prefer midnight’s snowfall a bit more on account of the twinkling lights, but who knows when you’ll leave us. You really can’t miss this!”

Teddy ran out of the inn, scraping a big red shovel behind him.

“Ready?” Millie asked him, laughing as he nodded, cookie crumbs sprinkling out of his mouth.

A chime rang through the town, several people quickly joining them in the town square as classical music began to play. A chill rose around them, the snow on the ground seeming to swirl into the air, mixing with white glitter from above.

Maxwell’s mouth was agape, hand instinctively pulling Farrah close to him. Her eyebrows were raised as high as ever, eyes watering in the wonder surrounding them.

All at once, the snow settled, only a few speckles still traveling downward.

“Well?!” Millie blurted, slipping on a pair of gloves from her pockets. She balled snow in her hands and tossed it to them, Farrah catching it and feeling the frozen texture. As it melted against the heat of her hand, the snow seemed to double in size, a faint gleam coming from the center.

“I’ve never…” Maxwell was at a loss for words, traces of glitter settling on his cheeks.

“That was the most beautiful moment I’ve ever experienced,” Farrah whispered.

“It’s special, isn’t it?”

"I’m not sure that’s even enough to describe it,” Maxwell smiled, throwing handfuls of snow into the air.

Millie clasped her hands together and squealed in delight.

“How about we get you two to Woolyworth’s before you become icicles! But first, I really should stop in the florist to order some new cuts. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Maxwell said, lacing fingers with Farrah’s as Millie led the way.

"Hi there, Miss Millie! Here for your daily dose of holly?”

“Mistletoe?” Millie giggled, pointing overhead. “I’ll take one of those for the inn! Can’t ever have enough love, isn’t that right, Dwayne?”

“Aw, now, Millie…You should be asking Bram!”

“Oh don’t worry, Bram and I are doing just fine.”

“Ooh, who is Bram?” Farrah asked, leaning forward to inhale around the fresh poinsettias.

“Those two have been fawning over one another for as long as I remember. Bram is my brother, he runs the little shop down the way.”

Millie lifted her mittens to her face in attempt to hide her blush, making Dwayne chuckle before he continued.

“You’ll meet him at Woolyworth’s! He’s quite a charming fellow, always chock full of kind things to say. He brings me new mittens each morning to go with my outfit!”

“How does he know which ones will match?” Maxwell asked.

“I’m not sure! But truly, he’s never gotten it wrong. Not even once.”

“Now, what’s this about transients? You folks making your way through Brighton?” Dwayne asked, sitting back in his chair.

"We’ve been having a lovely tour compliments of Millie here.” Maxwell smiled, shaking Dwayne’s hand. “Max.”

“I’m Dwayne, nice to meet you. Where about are you all from?”

“Cordonia, have you heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have, but no matter! It’s nice to see some new faces, I’ll say.”

“You’re growing tired of the same batch?” Millie jokes, tossing a fallen flower bud at him.

“Well, it’s hard not to with a population of thirty. Bored? A bit. Tired, not so much. Love my neighbors, that’s for certain. Say, have you made any shortbread today?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Millie handed him a bundle of pastry wrapped in plaid fabric. “He’ll grow bored of the rest of us, but never of my shortbread! Who told you about our visitors?”

“Oh you know Sarah, can’t ever keep her secrets in. She’s a kind old broad, but she can sure talk an ear off.”

“She can play the piano like nobody’s business,” Maxwell smiled, picking through a bin of cinnamon scented pinecones.

“That she can.”

“I’d like a few of these, how much?” Maxwell selected three pinecones and lined them in a row on the counter, reaching for Farrah’s hand.

“Don’t be silly, they’re yours. Pinecones aren’t in short supply here in Brighton! Please, take them.”

“Thank you, these smell incredible.” Farrah gathered them and held them in her arms.

“They’ll never lose their fragrance. Quality guarantee,” Dwayne grinned, revealing a wide gap between his two front teeth.

"Alright, Dwayne, we should be going. These two need some winter wear if they’ll be in Brighton for more than just a hot minute. Say, would you mind bringing me that mistletoe at supper? Won’t do me much justice without a ladder, and Maverick borrowed mine a while back.”

“Sure thing, Miss Millie. But you should know by now, Maverick lost your ladder. He is always losing everything, that old man.”

“But he’s such a kind heart, Dwayne! He would likely fill my ears with nonsense to tease me but I’d hardly have a care, I’d have a fun enough time listening to his shenanigans!”

Dwayne laughed, showing Farrah a closed rose.

“Are you in love?”

“Very much so,” she said, hand around Maxwell’s waist.

“This rose is special. It’ll bloom when you both touch it, but only if your love is one of the stars. It will never die or brown as long as you continue to love each other the way you do right now. Go ahead, try it.”

He handed Farrah the rose, a small smile on his lips.

Maxwell cradled her hand in his as the rose bloomed, a shine seeming to radiate through its petals. For a second, all of the plants in the shop seemed to sparkle among them.

“Thank you, Dwayne.”

“That was truly magical!” Millie said, her hands folded over her heart. “I love love. Speaking of, we should head over to Woolyworth’s!”

“It was nice meeting you all, I hope to see you again before you continue in your travels.”

Dwayne waved goodbye, eyes still sparkling at the thought of Farrah and Maxwell as they watched the rose bloom.

–

In Woolyworth’s, the door opened and triggered a small bell as they piled in. It was warm, the scent of fresh balsam fir accentuating the softly drifting smoke from the hearth. Rows of sweaters, scarves, mittens and gloves were laid atop dark wooden tables, much like the ones from the inn.

"Bram? It’s Millie! You won’t believe it, but I’ve got a couple of visitors!”

“Visitors? Why, we haven’t had a visitor for as long as I can remember.” Bram was a tall man with kind eyes and a baritone voice, towering well over everyone else in the room.

“What can I help you folks with?”

“Some sweaters would be very helpful,” Maxwell said, “But unfortunately my wallet is missing. We’re the Duchess and Duke of-”

“Not a problem!” Bram handed Maxwell a maroon sweater, “I don’t have a cash register anyway. We don’t use money here in Brighton.”

Millie held a green and brown knit sweater up to Farrah, nodding in approval.

“Not too much brown?”

“Nope! It works perfectly. Oooh! You should have this scarf as well, Farrah. Now you’ll look like royalty.” Millie threw the scarf around Farrah’s neck, grinning from ear to ear.

“You don’t take money?” Maxwell asked, brows bent inward. “How do I pay you?”

“Hmm,” Bram paused to think, “I have a mighty hankering for cobbler or pumpkin bread.”

“I don’t have either of those on me,” Maxwell laughed, pretending to check his pockets.

“How about that nice shirt you wore in here?”

“A trade? Sure, it’s yours!” He handed Bram the shirt, using his head to point to Farrah. “I’ll bring you something in exchange for those later on, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds like a deal, friend!”

Bram walked over and planted a gentle kiss to the top of Millie’s hand. Quietly he spoke to her, the bass in his voice making his whispers audible even across the room.

“You’re looking as radiant as I’ve ever seen, my love. How kind of you to show these two our town.”

“Oh, you know me! I’m always happy to help.”

“They’re so cute,” Farrah said, bumping past Maxwell to check out a rack of boots.

Maxwell’s eye caught on an old calendar hanging on the wall. For a moment, he stood in disbelief or confusion, unsure of how to process what he’d seen.

“Farrah, come here.”

“Hmm?” Farrah wrapped her arm around his, glancing sidelong at him.

“Does that calendar say December of 1937?”

“What? Where?”

“There,” he whispered, discreetly pointing to the date.

“Who keeps a calendar for seventy one years?”

Maxwell turned to her, hushing her.

“Millie? Bram? We’re going to have a quick walk outside.”

“Alrighty, have a nice time! Meet me back here when you’re ready. Bram and I never run out of things to chat about!”

–

Maxwell pulled Farrah’s sleeve, leading her behind a nearby tree.

“What if…hear me out. What if that calendar isn’t from seventy one years ago? What if it’s from now?”

“Do you have amnesia? It’s-”

“No, baby. I know what year it is. But think about it? You heard the way Millie speaks, she sounds like she’s from some old movie. And nobody has a cell phone. I haven’t seen a single one!”

“I think there’s got to be a more reasonable explanation than time travel, Max.”

“Please, Farrah, I know this sounds crazy. But it actually makes sense. Have you actually looked at the town?”

“No, we hardly had the time-”

“You have to see this for yourself,” he said, taking her hand and walking the rest of the way to the town square.

The shops all lined against one another, the inn nestled quaintly in the center. A florist at the left end, the post office situated next to that. On the right there were two more small shops, a happy looking toy store and Woolyworth’s, and a cute little apartment building at the other end. Seven buildings total.

“What do you see?”

“This…can’t be real.”

“I thought it looked familiar during the magical snow thing.”

“This isn’t real.”

“Farrah, it has to be.”

“Maxwell Percival Beaumont, you do not seriouslybelieve we are inside our snow globe!”

“You can’t tell me you have a better explanation.”

“This is crazy!”

“If you haven’t noticed, I live for things like that! I dip popcorn in fondue. I talk out loud to Chance and pretend he’s talking back! I like to use kids foaming soap in the shower. I like weird, Farrah. But most of all, I like happy. And by the way your face has been lighting up, I have a feeling if we stay here, I’m going to get to see a lot more of that.”

Farrah paced back and forth, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“I don’t know what’s happening. But please, Farrah. Just..enjoy it. Who knows what will come of all of this! We’re in the cutest little village I’ve ever seen, with nice people…and everything is as festive as we’ve ever dreamed.”

“You’re right. We have to be here for a reason, right? Someone in this town has to know a way home.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. But if we’re going to find this person, we have to take our time. Get to know everyone. Have some supper and see the magic snow thing again at midnight,” she smiled, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Let’s make some memories while we’re here.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

#choices12days #merry and bright #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x farrah #christmas

[gabzep]

A Marriage That Was Never Meant To Be (5)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

7 YEARS AGO

I folded a piece of paper into a triangle.  I place one tip on the table with my finger.  I scan the room real quick for the teacher; ok her back is to the class.  One, two, three and flick. Score!  Direct hit to the back of Peetas’ head, I stifle a giggle as I watch him flinch.

We use to sit together all the time but the teachers started to separate us for disrupting the class.  Mostly me, not that my grades were ever effected, I ace everything without even trying.  Class is so boring.  My mom’s medical books are more interesting then what they teach us here.

Peeta sits in the row next to mine two seats up.  I watch as he unfolds the paper reads the note, writes something on it and folds it back up.  Instead of throwing it back to me he passes it down the row.  Hilda hands it to me under the desk.  I unfold it to see his answer.

‘R U sure it’s K if I come over 2moro morning?  I won’t B cutting in2 UR play time w/UR BFF Delly?’  KE

‘OMG of course it’s K & how many times do I have 2 tell U she’s not my BFF U R!’ PM

I smile smugly at his reply.  It’s not that I’m jealous of Delly.  Well, ok maybe a little but he was my friend first.  When I met Peeta he didn’t have any friends.  His whole family’s life had changed when he was born ‘abnormal’.  The weekend he and Mr. Mellark came over so Peeta could be measured for his firstleg, Mr. Mellark had told us that when Peeta was born all their friends and some family started to distance themselves from them.  No longer inviting them to any of their social gatherings nor coming over to any of theirs.  So they just stopped socializing with most people from town.

Peeta said that once he realized they were being shunned because of him he felt guilty and would rather hide from everyone hoping they would forget he existed.  My dad told him there was nothing wrong with him, that it was the nonsense the capital was spewing and the people who bought into it that were the problem.  Mr. Mellark said he was so nervous for Peeta when he finally started school, thinking he might be bullied, how happy he had been to see Peeta had make some friends.

The day Delly became our friend, was also the first time I went over to Peeta’s house for a play date.  My dad had dropped me off at his house when we went into town to trade.  It was also the first time I met Mrs. Mellark.

She looked down her nose at me, turned to Mr. Mellark and said “Seeing as he’s going to have to live in the Seam one day, he might as well make friends with them now.”  She then shoved colored chalks into our hands and ushered us out the front of the bakery saying “Make as much noise as you want” she then went back inside with a smirk on her face.

Peeta had already mastered the use of his new leg and you almost couldn’t tell he was ‘abnormal’.  We ran around playing tag for awhile, and then sat down in the front of the bakery with our chalks to draw on the floor.  I saw Delly staring at us from across the way and could tell she wanted to play too.  I motioned for her to join us and as she was walking over her mom came out, grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back into the shoe shop.  Delly dropped to the floor and threw an epic tantrum right in the middle of the square.

“Why can’t I play with Peeta?” legs flailing, “I’ve always wanted to play with him but you never let me” fist pounding, “how come it’s ok for Katniss but not me, it’s not fair” and so on and so on.  It seemed to go on forever.  Delly’s dad finally came out of the shop and told Mrs. Cartwright to leave her alone.  That was it; Peeta had a second best friend.

Right as I was about to flick another paper at him the bell for lunch rings.  I grab my lunch bag and go over to Peeta.

“So what do you have planned for us tomorrow that I need to miss hunting with my dad?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise” he tells me.  I scowl at him, I hate surprises and he knows it.  He just grins at me.  “Come on Katniss you’ll love it, I promise.”

We sit down at our usual table; Madge and Delly are already there.  Mrs. Undersee and my mom are best friends so Madge and I grown up together.  We start to unpack our lunch.

“You girls know what he has planned for us tomorrow?” I ask them.  They shake their heads.  Peeta lays out slices of bread.

“I was going to ask you the same thing” said Madge “We thought you might know”.  I place pieces of sliced turkey meat and goat cheese on the bread.

“Nope, he’s being secretive” I say with a frown.  As he brings out the cookies and hands one to each of us.  I look at mine and it’s decorated with a Katniss flower.  “Wow Peeta, you’re getting really good at this” I tell him.  He beams at me.  I can’t help but smile back; he has such a passion for decorating.

Halfway through our lunch hour the sirens go off.  That can only mean one thing a mine accident.  My heart sank as the realization hits me dad.

“I have to get Prim” I yell.  I run to her class, Peeta right behind me.  She’s sitting at her desk, looking so tiny and pale, just waiting for me to get her as per our moms’ instructions if the sirens were to ever go off.  She jumps up, grabs my hand and the three of us run off to the entrance of the mines.

Our mom and the rest of our family from the apothecary are gathered around the district doctor as he coordinates the triage area.  Prim, my cousin Jasmine and I are assigned the minor injuries area.  My aunt Gina, my uncle Reed and my cousin Sage are assigned the urgent care area and my mom and grandparents get the priority miners section.  Peeta, Gale and several other volunteers work among us, handing out supplies as we call out what we need.

After what feels like hours my dad and Mr. Hawthorne are brought into the urgent section.  My mom trades places with my uncle so she can tend to them herself.  I let out a sigh of relief and go back to stitching Mr. Jones’s leg.

“There you go Mr. Jones, keep it bandaged and dry for 24 hours, after that wash it twice daily with soap and water and apply some ointment to help minimize infection” I hands him a bag of extra bandages and a clay pot of ointment. “Keep an eye out for swelling, redness, pus or bleeding which may mean it’s infected.”  He nods his thanks and his wife and kids come over to help him home.

I see Gale sitting by his father’s side as they work on him.  I wish I could be there too but I’m needed here and I don’t want to be in the way.  After a few minutes Mrs Hawthorne has to send Gale home with Rory and Vick.  He doesn’t want to but Vick is to upset and he won’t calm down.  I catch a glimpse of Peeta and notice he’s limping as he moves around gathering more bandages and supplies to take to my mom.

“Peeta” I call out to him “Come here when you’re done.”  He hands my mom the supplies and heads over to my area.  He keeps wincing as he puts pressure on his leg.  I feel tears stinging my eyes.  I can tell he’s trying so hard to hide the pain as he walks towards me.  He pulls me into his arms when he reaches me and takes me completely by surprise with a quick kiss on the lips, a kiss to comfort.  I blink away the tears.  This is the first time he’s ever initiated a kiss.  He usually tries to fight me off whenever I try kissing him.  Huh I have noticed that for the pass month now he hasn’t been trying that hard and then he’ll smile instead of frown when I manage to get one in.

“Was that ok?” he asks shyly.

“Yes, of course” I smile up at him. “But you need to rest your leg; you have been standing on it for far too long.”  I say as I direct him to a chair and have him sit down.  I guess Mr. Mellark thought the same thing because I see him walking to us and he has Peeta’s crutches.  He glares at his dad when he sees them.

“It’s either these or I carry you home” his dad threatens.  Peeta shakes his head and grabs his crutches. Mr. Mellark goes to talk to my mom and check on my dad.

“Thank you for all your help” I say.

“I just wish I could stay longer” he said.

“No, you have helped a lot, now you need to rest” I tell him and give him another hug.

“Goodnight” he says “I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how your dad’s doing, Ok?”

“Ok, Goodnight Peeta” I say and peck his cheek.

About an hour later I finally get a break and go over to Prim.  I’ve become a pretty good healer it’s taken a lot of hard work and determination.  But Prim at 7 and just starting on her training, is a natural.

“Katniss, you take over this area, since there are less miners coming in.  I’m going to go help in the urgent section.”  Jasmine said.  By the time Prim and I are finished we’re dead on our feet.  We grab a couple of blankets and go to a corner where we aren’t in the way.  My eyes close the minute my head hits the ground.

When I wake up I’m back in my bed.  At first I think it must have been a bad dream but as I pull back the covers I’m still in my school clothes and they are covered in coal dust and specks of blood.  It was real.  I get out of bed slowly trying my best not to wake Prim.  I rush out of the room; my dad and Mr. Hawthorne are on cots in the living room.  Mom and a very pregnant Mrs. Hawthorne, have fallen asleep on the kitchen table.

I tread softly over to my dad taking in all his injuries.  Several bad burns, cuts, and as my eyes drift down his body I spot his legs.  One ends above the ankle “Oh daddy, no” I whisper as tears start to roll down my face.  Just for a few minutes I will allow myself to cry.  They are alive that’s all that matters.  I look over at Mr. Hawthorne and one of his arms has also been amputated.  I take a deep shaky breath to calm down; I wipe the tears off my face, no more crying I tell myself.

The front door opens.  Gale, Rory and Vick walk in and come over to see their dad.

“You kids need to be quiet” said Mrs. Hawthorne.  I see my mom is awake too.

“We need to go hunting Catnip” Gale said. He’s looking at his dad with sadness.  “They are not going to be able to work for a while and we need to keep things up until they can.”  I look up at him even at 11 Gale it a lot taller than me.

“Ok, let me go get changed” my healers training is going to have to take a backseat from now on.  I go into my room and start to undress and pull out clothes from the dresser.  “Prim, wake up” I say as she starts to stir.  “You’re going to need to help mom”

“But your better than me” she said.

“You’re catching on quicker than I did at your age.  Dads in bad shape Prim.  I’m going to have to concentrate on hunting for now.” I tell her, as I feel the weight of responsibility drop on my shoulders.  He’s not dead I remind myself it won’t be forever. “Get up, get dressed and see if mom needs anything” I say.  She nods her head and starts to do as I say.

This is the first time Gale and I have been out in the woods alone.  We trek along working the snarl line.  Shooting at every rabbit and squirrel we find.  We’ve been out since dawn so by mid day we have a decent haul.  Not bad at all seeing as it’s a bitter January day.  As we make our way to the hob we talk about how we’re going to make this work.  We will go hunting before and after school and as much as we can on the weekends.  It’ll be hard work but we’re determined to keep our families fed until our dads get better.  The hob is packed today.  Some people ask about our fathers but since most have their own family members to worry about we’re able to finish up trading quickly enough.  We’re starved and tired by the time we get home.

Peeta’s here, I had completely forgotten he was coming over and he’s using only his crutches.  He must be in a lot of pain.  A wave of guilt washes over me. On the rare occasion that he over uses his leg he has to forgo the prosthetic and use just the crutches until his leg gets better.  He’ll normally stay home when he needs them like this but he must have been more worried about us than any embarrassment he might feel at being seen without his prosthetic on.  I should have made him stop earlier yesterday.  He’s about to get up from his chair when he sees me and I just shake my head and hurry over to him, bending down I give him a quick hug.

“Oh Peeta, I’m so sorry.  We should have been more careful” I say.  “Did mom take a look at it?” I ask.

“She’s been busy with your dad and Mr. Hawthorne plus others that have been stopping by” he tells me.

“Let’s go to my room” I say.  Dropping my game bag on the table and handing my mom the coins I made today.

“Katniss you need to eat” my mom says.

“Let me take care of Peeta first.  We’ll be right back” Peeta was about to say something but I just shake my head no.  He knows not to complain when I’m in healer mood.

I have him sit on the bed and I unlock and pull out the bottom drawer of my dresser.  I have extra jars of salve for Peeta saved in here.  I make these myself and learned never to leave then in my moms medicine cabinet because they’ll get all used up and only replaced when I make more.  I had my dad install a combination lock when I realized my mom was sneaking some.  I’m the only one you knows the combination.  No one messes with Peeta’s medicine and get away with it.

He has already rolled up his pant leg and I kneel down and start to massage the salve onto his stump.  “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, just a little redness and some swelling should be fine by tomorrow.  Do you need more to take home” I ask.

“Ya, I hadn’t realized I had run out” he said sheepishly.

“How many times do I have to remind you that when you’re down to one jar to let me know?  I have 5 in here I’ll give them to you before you go home.” I say.  “Did you bring back any of the empty ones?”

He nods.  “You’re always taking care of me”

“Of course, you’re my best friend.  I’d do anything for you”

“Same here” he said with a smile.  I grab a towel and wipe off my hands.  I’m too tired for anything right now so I climb and lay down on the bed.

“Katniss, you need to eat” he reminds me.

“I need a nap first” I say with a yawn. I feel him shift on the bed and he takes me in his arms.  I rest my head on his chest.  The beating of his heart is lulling me to sleep.  “Stay with me?” I ask.  As sleep takes me under I hear him whisper.

“Always”

Also on FFN  AO3

#everlark #marriage law #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Come Back Down, Part 18

(Picture found from Google search. I take no credit for this pic.)

Word Count: 4,218

Warnings: Cussing and illness; I’m gonna call this a solid~Teen and up audience. The next chapter will move more quickly than this one but there are clues in this one for the next one. So... yeah.

Summary: Jensen and Y/N travel to Texas to spend the holiday with the Ackles. The parent’s are blissfully unaware of the trouble following Y/N.

A/N: Hey guys, I’m not dead like you probably thought I was. I’m just another anxious opossum that likes to write when I can. I’m not sure any of you would still like to read this but I kind of have to finish it for myself. Anyhow, I hope there’s still someone out there that wants to read this crap.

Come Back Down Master List

Hollygopossum’s Master List

Come Back Down Part 18

 After I had driven down from Vancouver to pick up Y/N, it had been a fairly quiet trip. I had borrowed Jared’s transport plane to avoid possible large crowds of people rushing home for the holidays for the rest of the trip. It was honestly the best for both of us. What, with her habit of telling people exactly what she thought and avoiding being flooded for pictures and signatures, it was a good plan. Not that I minded that she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind or the fans attention most of the time, it’s just that I was in a hurry to get home.

 The trip was perfect, except for the bit of indigestion the coffee I’d consumed earlier had created. I’d just taken to cramming down chalky tums every five minutes. If I alternated that with some Ativan and the occasional Pepto, who could blame me around the holidays?

 I couldn’t believe that it was nearly Thanksgiving already. It had actually aligned with the time frame of our visit if I added a few days onto the end of our trip. It had been a no brainer to stay and it sent Mom over the moon.

 The rental car had been ready as promised when we landed at the airport, a little inconspicuous black Lexus because I didn’t like to attract attention. I just wanted to get to my parent’s house and have a traditional, laidback holiday with them. Plus, I was excited about spending it with Y/N for the first time since we… well, you know.

 Yes, everything had been going fine up until that point, until I crouched down to slide into the low seat of the rental car. (By low, I mean how do people not get road rash on their ass driving these pretentious fucking roller skates?!) There was a blinding, sharp pain that caught me completely off guard and made me drop harder into the seat than I’d intended.

 The impact pushed an involuntary grunt out of my lungs as I dropped heavily into the seat. Undoubtedly, I had earned her full focus and concern that I’d been trying to avoid. However, I didn’t get to see her face because I was doubled over so hard that my forehead was on the steering wheel. I felt the weight of her hand sliding smooth circles intended to comfort even though she could have no idea what was wrong.

 “Jensen? Can I do something for you? Do I need to-.” I must’ve looked like a wreck as I felt the flop sweat beading up at my temples and the top of my lips. In an effort to keep her from panicking, I wiped the inner part of the sleeve covering my forearm as inconspicuously as possible. Despite my covert efforts, she sounded like she was on her way to being well and truly panicked. And that was just unacceptable.

 “M’okay. Jus’ a stomach cramp. I think I pulled a muscle in the last stunt I did.” It was a lie, but I knew she was already stressed about leaving her home and her animals. I had asked a few of the local PD to keep an eye on the place, and Mike was solidly keeping things under control. However, if you had a stalker, there’s no way you wouldn’t be stressed out, too.

 Besides, selfishly, I couldn’t afford any setbacks and I wouldn’t let something as trivial as a stomach ache get in the way of my plans.

 Unfortunately, the truth was, I’ve been feeling a little nauseated on and off for the better part of the week. I just didn’t take it seriously because my anxiety kicked up bouts of nausea all the time. Now, this pain was new and I grit my teeth together as it resonated for a couple of minutes before backing off to a dull ache.

 There was such a big contrast between having the sharp pain cramping my stomach and the red, hot poker stabbing into my side that seemed to change with every passing moment.

 I sat up slowly, taking even breaths and making a conscious effort to unlock my jaw before I put the car into reverse to back out without even turning to look at her. “Sorry. I’m fine. Must’ve just twisted funny.”

 I could feel her eyes watching me carefully, taking in all of the situation before she responded with an entirely unconvinced, “Okay.”

 ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 “Well, honey, would you look at this? Our son is home for the first time this year!” Despite the sarcastic jab, Mom beamed at us when we walked through the door before I found myself in her rib crushing embrace. By now the pain had mostly eased off to only when I moved a certain way.

 The house smelled of cinnamon candles just like I knew it would, a sharp feeling of nostalgia making my eyes wet. My mom loved Christmas and kept some decorations up year round. Candles that were red and green in color could be found scattered artfully around the house, and mostly on the mantle in the living room. It wasn’t anything tacky like multicolored string lights and candy canes, but the nativity stayed on display right next to the fire place.

 I’d often wondered if it was entirely appropriate to put Mary and Baby Jesus next to an open fire. Or it could be that I’d spent way too much time on the show. Maybe I was the only one in the family that continually associated fire with hell and demons.

 “And you, don’t you hang back behind him like some blushing maid. We all know better, sweetie.” Y/N’s mock offense was funny before she too was wrapped in mom’s embrace.

 Even though I know Y/N had never asked her to, Mom had always taken it upon herself to watch out for her after her parents had died. Y/N’s mom had been her best friend so the sentiment wasn’t unfounded. She always got an invitation for every family gathering, even third cousin christenings. Most Christmas mornings, I would find her down on the couch in her pajamas practically wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee. She was always here, except for the years with that assbag boyfriend that had kept her away from us.

 “And he made you carry your own bags? Jensen Ross Ackles, I know I taught you better!” She grabbed the bags that Y/N had insisted on hobbling inside herself and gave me a stern look with her hands on her hips. I immediately felt like I was 5 years old again. “I swear.”

 “But, momma, she…” I felt obligated to voice the truth, but she wasn’t hearing any of it and I got distracted by Y/N’s gleeful laugh at my misfortunes.

 “Best you just do as your told son.” My father patted my shoulder before brushing past to hug Y/N and I wondered who the favorite child really was. I couldn’t help being a little pouty, even though I’d never ever voice it. I hadn’t seen them in months and yet here they were showering her with attention.

 “Oh, baby, you pull that bottom lip back in.” Mom grabbed my lip and tugged like she’d done a million times when I was growing up. “No one likes a pouter. Why don’t you take your things and get settled in. Dinner’ll be ready in about an hour. Your daddy is making bbq ribs.”

 I trudged up the stairs with all four bags while Y/N hobbled up the steps one at a time. She was still having trouble with that leg and recently she’d stopped wearing her brace at all. I often wondered if something else was going on but hadn’t the balls to ask just yet.

 I dropped the bags on my bed and surveyed the room. My old double sized bed sat in the middle of what could only be described as a shrine. All of my sports trophies were scattered on shelves with certificates of achievement and a few mementos from my younger years. There were some framed pictures sprinkled in that I recognized too.

 “Hey,” she leaned into my side, taking in the room right along with me for the first time since my parents had moved. “Sorry I got you in trouble.”

 I looked down to see her sheepish expression, flush still present on her cheeks and felt all the tension leave in one breath. I wrapped my arm over her shoulders to pull her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about it. They just haven’t seen you in a while.”

 “Yeah, I guess.”

 “I don’t think I can sleep in here.”

 “What, that awkward 90s poster getting to you? Because, I gotta be honest, I probably won’t be able to either because I won’t be able to stop mentally making fun of you.”

 “Hey, it was my first poster! I was excited!”

 “Those frosted tips, wow. You looked like a Zack from Saved by the Bell wanna be.”

 “Hey,” I pointed a finger at her, “You can’t talk shit about Zack, he was the epitome of cool back then.”

 “Uh huh. Whatever you say, darlin.” I looked down and could see the teasing smile on her face and relaxed again.

 “You’re terrible.”

 She turned in my arms and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss my lips. “Yes and you love me.” As she rested back onto her heels she winced. I couldn’t resist pulling her closer to me by her hips.

 “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

 “Nothing’s going on with me. I’m fine.” She smiled again and I knew it was a lie because her eyes were trained on my old Dallas Cowboys bedspread. “Hey, do you think your parents would mind if I showered the plane germs off?”

 “Yes, they have a strict non-cleanliness policy. You can only shower once a week.” I deadpanned and loved her answering eye brow lift. “Of course they won’t mind. Go ahead. Knowing mom, she’s already got fresh towels and those little guest soaps on the counter.”

 “Awesome.” She reluctantly let go of me and grabbed a bag before disappearing down the hall. I waited for the telltale click of the bathroom door before I sat down on my bed with a heavy sigh.

 She hadn’t even given me the first hard time after the disagreement in her barn. She hadn’t even wasted any time before she asked Mike to stay and look after things. For that, I was grateful, because it made the arrangements that I had to make easier when I didn’t feel like I was dragging her along for the ride.

 I was extremely happy to have her here, surrounded by people I trusted implicitly. She was always happy to see my parents. I knew nothing bad would happen to her while we were here.

 ^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 Before I knew it, we had finished dinner, of which I had eaten carefully because my stomach still hadn’t calmed down since the incident when I got into the rental. If I sat mostly still, the nausea and dull ache were tolerable.

 “It’s good to have Y/N back here.” My father commented quietly from his seat at the old oak heirloom dining room table. We were having a cup of coffee while Mom and Y/N washed dishes and put away left overs. The next time when my Mom cooked, it would be Dad’s responsibility, but tonight Dad had grilled out for everyone. I’d always admired my parents balanced relationship. It wasn’t always that way in Texas.

 “Yeah, it really is.” I had to admit that I was enjoying having her back here with me. I’d always enjoyed the way my family and Y/N had interacted in the past, and this visit was no different. Mom and Dad knew things were different between us, but had yet to comment or treat her differently.

 For instance, at the dinner table, my Mom had taken to filling up Y/N’s plate with food rather than letting her dish out her own because she knew that Y/N wouldn’t eat much if she didn’t. It was a throw back to when her parents had died and my parents had done everything they could think of to help.

 The cleanup was always a point of contention between my mother and Y/N. Mom would insist she have a seat and that she would handle it. It was usually said in an intimidating enough tone that even I would’ve backed down immediately. But not Y/N.

 There was a scandalized, “Donna!” heard from Y/N over the hum of the dishwasher and the sink running, followed by loud giggles.

 “Well, that sounds suspicious.” My father remarked, throwing an analyzing gaze in their direction.

 I held in a laugh as my stomach felt too tight, but smiled. “Yes it does.”

 “Maybe we should check on how things are going…” I knew he wasn’t concerned; it was more like he didn’t want to miss out on the fun. I stood up as normally as I could manage, but it seemed that my father’s parental scrutiny picked up that there was a problem immediately. “You okay, son?”

 “Yeah. I’m just cramped and sore from traveling in that little toy Jared calls a plane.” I put my acting skills to use and smiled like everything was fine. He too scrutinized me with the same care that Y/N had done in the car.

 He’d eventually nodded, “Okay, well let’s go and stop whatever fool thing they’ll want to get us involved in. Remember the time your Mom and Y/N wrangled us into wine tasting a few Thanksgivings ago?”

 “How could I forget? Mom and Y/N got borderline smashed and disappeared.”

 “Yeah, they were feeding the palate cleansing crackers to the ducks at the pond.” He was shaking his head fondly, “And it wasn’t borderline anything, they were smashed. They kept getting samples of the Rosé from different staff.”

 I gave him an exaggerated look of worry, “We better get in there. I’m not carrying either one of their butts back to the car this year.”

 ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 That night, with Y/N sleeping peacefully snuggled up on my shoulder, a stabbing pain jerked me from a deep sleep. This time, it didn’t let up and I felt lightening sharp pain spark in my stomach and saliva flooded my mouth as I tried to orientate myself.

 Oh, parents house.

 I was going to throw up.

 I tried to be as quiet and careful as possible as I slid out of the bed and made an unsteady beeline for the hall bathroom. It was down to the second when I slammed down on my knees and involuntarily lost my dad’s ribs in his incredible, family heirloom, special BBQ sauce. I was just thankful that I hadn’t bit it in the hall way and puked all over myself like a 5-year-old.

 I heaved until nothing was left, and then dry heaved some more. By the time I was done, I was light headed and covered in sweat with a fine shakiness set up in my bones. My stomach felt like it was flipped inside out and my throat was raw. I rested my aching head on the cold toilet lid after I flushed, trying to catch my breath and for the room to stop spinning. I waited for the pain in my gut to stop pounding like a damn beacon.

 God, the cold toilet seat felt good. I seriously considered just camping out. I mean, if the toilet was nice and cold, it stood to reason that the floor that was beckoning me would also be. It was so incredibly tempting because I had just barfed up my entire stomach contents and I felt exhausted. But, that would signal that something was wrong and there was no need to panic over a stomach bug or food poisoning.

 It was possible the grilled chicken sandwich I’d snuck from set had gone bad. (To be fair, we didn’t really have to sneak anything from set. The crew loved us to the point of getting away with murder.) It only took a few hours for food poisoning to kick in. I’d have to call Jared to check on him since he’d eaten the same kind of sandwich. What else could it be?

 I took a moment to brush my teeth and collect myself before I crept back into the room. I then swapped out my boxers and left my t shirt off. By then, the sweat was cooling on my skin that caused goosebumps to pop up. The slight shiver I’d developed didn’t make my stomach feel any better, but even then it was better than being overly hot like before.

 She was undisturbed and peaceful, and I was loathing to disrupt her. She had enough on her plate that didn’t involve me being sick. So, I laid there counting her eye lashes until I finally fell asleep.

 ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 The next morning, I woke up before Y/N and took a quick shower, hoping to look better than I felt. The nausea was still there, but I hadn’t thrown up since last night. No, what was really concerning was the pale faced guy with rosy cheeks that had stared back from the mirror. That, and the pain in my abdomen that had kicked it up a notch.

 “Hey.” She greeted me with a smile when I entered the bedroom to hand her a cup of coffee, defiled just the way she liked it.

 “Hey, sweetheart, did you sleep okay?” I held my most disarming smile long enough for her to take the coffee so that I could curl up next to her and rest my forehead against her neck.

 “Yeah, I did. Did you?”

 Nothing sounded like she was suspicious and there was no reason to make her worry. “I did.”

 It was quiet for a moment while she sipped at her coffee and hummed in approval. I tucked in closer, throwing my leg over hers and wrapping an arm carefully around her waist. It felt fucking fantastic snuggled up next to her. For the first time I questioned coming home. If we’d stayed in Wyoming it would’ve been easy to convince her to stay in bed for most of the day. Without a confirmed illness my parents would drag us out to be social.

 She had downed at least half of the warm, aromatic brew before she hummed a bit more emphatically. “Mmmm, your parents make the best coffee. Do you think I can weasel the brand out of them?”

 “Dad grows and roasts his own coffee beans, but I bet you could talk him out of a bag. Maybe one could make its way into your stocking. You’ll have to talk to Santa about that one.” The pain and tightness was fading a little and I found I could finally take a deep breath as she laughed.

 “So, what’s on the agenda today, love?” She slid her arm over my shoulder to rub my back in slow, calming movements. “You’re awfully warm… are you okay?”

 “Love, huh? I like it.” I let the warmth the pet name brought me settle in my chest before I attempted to move like a bomb would go off in my belly if I didn’t go a certain way. I shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, struggling and hoping she couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, just did a few errands for Mom. You know how she can be.”

 “Yeah, I guess.”

 She was definitely suspicious, but I wasn’t gonna give her a chance to examine her theories in any sort of detail. “I’m gonna head downstairs to see if they need anything else. I’ll see you when you get that cute ass out of bed.”

 I was up and out of there before she could say a word, but I nearly ruined the perfect getaway by losing my balance. Luckily the wall had been there to catch my clumsy ass and I just bruised my elbow. Who does that, I mean, really?

 When I found my mother, she was wiping down the counters. She was obsessed with keeping the kitchen spotless. I’d been able to distract her long enough to ask if there was anything I could do to help.

 So, that’s how I ended up pulling ten boxes of Christmas crap out of the attic and a couple more from the garage. It was ridiculous how much my mother loved Christmas. It is an all year type of celebration. She leaves as much out as Mackenzie would allow before becoming personally offended. I believe her favorite phrase when she was 16, was to the effect of us being a bunch of rednecks. To which Mom replied, “Maybe I am a redneck and proud of it! Now get your behind over here and help your brother string the popcorn and cranberries.” Oh, man had she been grumpy and unpleasant to work with.

  My childhood was always filled with fantastic, traditional Christmases, and they really hadn’t stopped when I became an adult. She always had a way of making everything about Christmas magical right down to the personalized stockings on the mantle, to notes in said stockings that told us her hopes for our lives and how proud she was of us.

 Once I was done hauling some of the boxes in, I had worked myself back into sweating profusely and the abdomen below my belly button was starting to feel like a hot poker was stabbing me over and over in rhythmic pulses.

 Then, it was my mother’s turn to fawn and question my health. ‘Are you feeling okay?’

 “M’fine.” I grumbled as I grabbed a lemon-lime Gatorade from the fridge before I attempted to stand up straight like the proud Texan I am. All it did was make her give me that look. The look that said I better spill or she’ll have my precious nuts in a vice.

 “I’ve known you best your whole life, son. Since you were in the womb of my belly,” I had to cringe here because, gross. “I know when something’s wrong Jensen Ross. You had better fess up or I’ll…”

 Apparently not feeling well made me a tad bit suicidal, “You’ll what, show her my old, embarrassing pictures? Nice try, but she’s seen them all!” I couldn’t help smiling in triumph.

 “That may be true, but I am still your mother and I have my ways.” Her hands were reaching out to touch my forehead and if she made contact the charade would be over instantly.

 I backed a step away, “Everything is fine, momma.”

 We were in the stare down of my life and she was pulling out the tearful eyes and deeply concerned face only reserved for manipulation.

 Surprisingly, she was the one to cave first, “what are you doing with Y/N? You were just filing for divorce a month ago. Don’t you think this might be moving fast?”

 This. This I could answer with all the honesty I had left. “Momma, we’ve been moving towards this since her parents died that Summer. I think I… Mom, she’s my favorite person. She always knows what to do when I fall apart. She’s been filling in the holes to my marriage for years.”

 “Are you telling me you-?!” I could tell she had taken that whole statement the wrong way, but it was better to keep her distracted from the obvious. I wanted for Y/N, Mom and Dad to have the best holiday. A visit to the ER for a stomach virus? That was just stupid and I didn’t want to be viewed as a pathogenic mess on the holidays.

 “No, I’m talking the best friend part that Danneel was supposed to be. The part that puts me first and that I put her first. The part that doesn’t run away when I get a bad cold or have a metaphorical bump in the road. She’s the one I should’ve seen before. And, before you go jumping on that, I thought I loved her, Mom. I, fuck… I didn’t plan on getting a divorce and you know the last person I would’ve wanted to disappoint would be you. We never cheated, Mom.” Ugh, the fever I didn’t realize I had was making my eyes water like a pushed button.

 “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” The thought of my mother actually believing that I might’ve cheated was seared in my brain and left me caught off guard. So, when she leaned in for a hug, I didn’t resist and the impact of a firm hug from my mother cued up the best acting I’d done. Ever.

 I held in the grunt of pain created by just the small bit of pressure applied to my abdomen. With my face tucked against her neck, she couldn’t see me go red in the face.

 “You are a little warm, baby. Keep an eye on that, okay?” She patted my back in what would normally be a comfort but sent shock waves through my entire body. Like my nerves were too sensitive and on freakin fire.

 “I will, Mom.”

Tagging Forever’s: (I know I haven’t written in a while. So, if you would like for me to take you off the list just let me know.) @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @justanotherdeangirl, @weasleywinchester, @easelweasel, @akshi8278, @tas898, @mandymoiselle1970, @pansexualmeteorite, @wheresthekillswitch

Tagging CBD Only: @melissaj616, @katrena7, @deansdirtyduchess, @anticipate1003, @jellersquad, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @shamelesslydean

#Oh jensen #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x Y/N #Jensen Ackles fan fiction #Jensen Ackles rpf #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles angst #jensen ackles fluff #hollygopossum writes #come back down #supernatural rpf #supernatural x reader #supernatural x Y/N #Jensen Ackles Reader Insert #spnfanficpond guppy #guppy fic

[theusualspotcafe-blog]

In the Presence of the Moon, No One Sees the Stars

Game: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Lea, Isa, Riku, Ventus, Vanitas, Iris Amicitia, Sora, Kairi

Pairing: Riku/ Lea (Leaku)

Rating: Everyone

Author: The Usual Spot Cafe

Word Count: 1781 Words

Notes: Riku gets jealous of Isa and Lea’s relationship even though it’s exactly like he and Sora’s. The song Demyx sings is You and I by the Struts (It’s a really good song, give it a listen)

“Ok, I’ll see you then. Love you too. Bye.” Riku looked up from his book, suspicion all over his face as his boyfriend pressed end call on his cell phone.

“Was that your parents? Sibling? Some other relative?”

Lea shook his head with a smile, “Nah, that was just Isa. He’s decided to come visit me. We've been talking about seeing each other again since I moved but with the job I don’t really have much time and he didn’t need a job since his parents are paying for his school.”

“Isa…your um…” Riku cleared his throat, trying to hold down the little green monster of envy threatening to claw it’s way up his larynx, “your childhood friend right?”

Lea just smiled brightly, “Yep! We’re probably as close as you and Sora are. I’ve known him since daycare.”

Riku looked back down at his textbook, brow furrowed, “Well, that’s nice.”

Lea arched his brow at Riku, his grin quickly fading away. “You’re jealous.”

Riku threw him a glare over top of the turquoise glasses he was wearing. “Am not.”

“Uh huh. Just do me a favor, Ku?” Riku hummed in acknowledgment before Lea continued, “Give him a chance?”

Riku sighed, just barely resisting rolling his eyes, “Anything for you, babe.”

Lea sent him a tight smile, grabbing up his messenger bag. “Well, I’ve gotta get to class. See you later?”

Riku nodded, “Of course.” Lea gave him a kiss on the top of the head before walking out. Riku immediately texted Sora and Kairi everything.

##

Kairi and Sora bounced in their chairs as they sat in the café on music night. “This is so exciting, meeting your boyfriend’s ex!” Kairi grinned at the boys seated next to her.

Sora smiled back at her, “I know! So much drama. Do they still have feelings for each other? Will he beg for Lea back? Why do our siblings hate him so much?”

Riku rolled his eyes at them, “C’mon guys, they aren’t exes. They’re just friends. And Roxas and Xion have beefs with a lot of people so I don’t really think they’re the best judges of character.”

Sora scoffed at him while Kairi pouted, “party pooper.”

Ventus, Vanitas, and Iris showed up to hang out with them since Xion and Roxas refused to come and Sora and Kairi spent the whole time they waited for Lea and Isa to show gossiping about hypotheticals of what the two really were to each other. Riku pouted until he saw a familiar mop of red hair walking by the windows.

Lea pushed open the door to the café, yanking off his beanie and leading his blue haired companion over to the couple of tables the group of six was occupying. “Hey guys, sorry we’re a little late, but there’s a blizzard in Radiant Garden that delayed the train a little. I want you all to meet my friend, Isa,” Lea smiled, gesturing to the stoic looking man beside him, “Isa, this is Ventus, Iris, Vanitas, Sora, Kairi, and, most importantly, my boyfriend Riku.”

Riku looked at the other man. He was attractive for sure. He had an angular, but pretty face, full lips, bright green eyes, and long, silky blue hair flowing over his shoulder in a braid. He was as tall as Lea and as bulky as Riku. Intimidating was definitely a descriptor now running through Riku’s head about Isa, but the actual ‘threat to my relationship’ alarm hadn’t gone off…yet.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you all,” Isa's voice was quiet and calm. He didn’t smile, but nodded in acknowledgment to them all before taking a seat while Lea got them something to drink.

Riku rolled his teacup around in his hands, looking at Isa sitting a seat away from him. He had left room for Lea to sit between the two of them and Riku was grateful for that. “So,” Riku cleared his throat as the word came out hoarsely, “what are you studying, Isa?”

Intense green eyes met his own blue-green ones and he immediately wished he hadn’t spoken up without Lea as a buffer. The corner of Isa's mouth twitched up in an almost smile though, so Riku considered it a win. “Astronomy. I love space. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, but especially the moon.”

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome!”

“And you?”

“Oh, um, I’m undecided right now.” Riku blushed a little, just knowing that Lea's friend would think he was stupid for not knowing what he wanted to do.

Isa just nodded, “I was too my first year of college. I actually was almost completely misguided by my admiration for Xemnas Chi. The man nearly had me convinced to go into the field of cardiac medicine.” Riku raised his eyebrow at Isa’s seeming willingness to talk about Xemnas. According to Roxas and Xion, he’d been the last to finally admit to himself that Xemnas' Organization was simply a well disguised crime outfit.

“Yes the Chis do love their hearts.”

Riku saw another little mouth twitch from Isa that may have been a smirk, “Indeed.”

Lea came back with two mugs and set one down in front of Isa. He had a huge grin on his face as he sat down, “You two seem to be getting along.” Riku and Isa said nothing, but it was just as well, as Demyx had just taken the stage, acoustic guitar strapped to him.

Demyx immediately started playing a song that had people tapping their feet and some joined him singing. Riku looked over and saw that Lea was laughing at something Isa had said to him. Sora and Kairi were watching like it was an episode of a soap opera. Riku nudged Sora, “Stop it. They’re just two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.” Sora pouted and rubbed his ribs where Riku’s elbow had caught him.

Demyx finished his sing a smiled at the crowd. “How's everyone doing tonight?” The small crowd in the café cheered in response and Demyx grinned even wider. “Today I want to play something special for two dear friends of mine because one of them is visiting from out of town. Isa, take a bow.” Isa rolled his eyes as Demyx gestured to him, but waved a little. Demyx didn’t press him further and continued on. “So, for Isa and Lea, here’s your song.”

Riku's eyes grew wide as Demyx began strumming his guitar again. Sora was looking between Isa, Lea, and Riku with his hand covering his mouth, eyebrows raised in shock. Lea and Isa were looking at the stage horrified and Riku could feel the pang in his chest growing sharper by the second.

“Where did you come from

Where did I go?

You and I

Walking the mile now

Need you to know

You and I

When I try to leave you

You won't go

This is a love song nobody knows”

Riku could feel his eyes stinging as he listened to the song. They had a song, what sounded like a love song. They had been an item at one time, and Lea had lied to him.

“You and I

Hate the way you make me feel

I need you

Hate the way it's only ever

You and I

Can't escape

You always steal my shadow

Give it back

Give it back

Give it back!

You and I

You and I”

Riku felt a hand on his shoulder and he immediately brushed it off. He had to get out of there before he actually started crying. In the back of his mind he vaguely registered multiple voices calling his name as he rushed to the door, coat barely even on. He started aimlessly walking, only to stop when the bitter wind bit right through the sweater he was wearing. Riku stopped to zip up his coat, his fingers fumbling in the cold. He’d left his gloves and hat back at the café, but he refused to go back, so he threw up the faux fur lined hood of his coat, shoved his hands in his pockets and continued on. In the silence of the night, he distantly heard the bell on the café door.

“Riku!” He heard Lea’s voice behind him and huffed, not stopping for him. “Riku, please wait!” Riku closed his eyes, looking down towards the ground. He had stopped moving and he started shivering as the cold began to creep in.

“You lied to me.” He knew his voice was shaking but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. He could feel Lea's body heat radiating off of him as he stepped closer and tried to resist pressing into it just to get warm.

“You know I didn’t lie. I never said we didn’t try dating. I said we were just like you and Sora.” Riku blushed as he remembered he’d actually told Lea about the time in high school he and Sora had tried dating (and Kairi too which was probably why it didn’t work out because of Riku’s jealousy issues).

“Why did Demyx play your guys' song like you’re still together?”

Lea put his hand on his hips, shaking his head, “It’s a breakup song, Ku. It was a song we dedicated to each other when we agreed we couldn’t date. Because we do still need each other in our lives, just not in that way.”

“I’m sorry. I…” Riku shivered, hunkering further into his hood as the cold wind whistled last him, “I can be really irrational and jealous.”

Lea chuckled, “You have to hold it deep inside until you eventually get over it, like I do when I see you messing around with Sora and Kairi.”

Riku blushed again, looking up into Lea's eyes, “I didn’t know that made you jealous.”

Lea shrugged, “Only sometimes, like when you guys joke that you’re all together and madly in love, but I also get that you guys are really close friends and probably couldn’t live without each other.”

Riku nodded, leaning on Lea’s chest, “I should have understood. I just…”

“What?”

Riku’s blush deepened and he hid his face in Lea’s chest, “He’s really pretty.”

Lea put his hand under Riku’s chin, tilting his face up to get him to look into his green eyes, “So are you.” He leaned down and brushed Riku’s lips with his. Riku stood on his tiptoes, pressing further into the kiss. Lea smiled softly down at him as they pulled away from each other. “Now, we should get back before you freeze to death or your best friends kill my best friend.” Riku chuckled, letting Lea wrap an arm around his shoulders and lead him back to the café.

#theusualspotcafe #Riku #riku leonhart #lea #Lea Sinclair #leaku #AkuRiku #Lea/Riku #sora #sora strife #Kairi #kairi skye #Ventus #ventus strife #vanitas #vanitas strife #Iris #iris amicitia #isa #isa elena #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | eleven

“Okay, it was so nice to be with you guys all this time but I...am going the fuck home,” Beija laughed as she rose from the seat she was sitting in. The tour bus she was on had been parked in front of her apartment for the last 45 minutes—she had taken the ride back to New York with Dame, Bas, and Cody, and they seemed to be trying to keep her around just a bit longer.

“Alright, I guess we gotta let her go now,” Cody chuckled as he stood up and grabbed a couple of her bags. “I’mma miss you,” He said with a dramatically sad tone.

“Boy,” Beija laughed as she gave him a brief hug. “I’m a phone call away. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you two very soon,” She pointed between Bas and Dame, who both stood to hug her.

“Of course. But I got a studio session next week, and Cody got one in about two weeks with the girl J and Ib supposed to be meeting up with,” Bas explained before running a hand over his head. “You think Ib gonna let you work with her?” He asked.

“I think he is,” Dame was the last to hug Beija before he grabbed the bag off of her arm. “But hey, enough work talk. We supposed to be resting,” The boys walked with her off of the bus, heading outside where Jermaine was leaning against the wall of her apartment building, scrolling through his phone.

“Aw, even J came to walk you up,” Cody teased, and J lifted himself from the wall before gently mushing his head.

“Y’all are stupid. It’s gonna be weird not hearing y’all argue every day though,” Beija chuckled as they walked inside and through the lobby, heading for the elevator.

“True. Although it’ll be nice not to hear Ib’s loud ass snoring,” J chuckled as they piled onto the elevator.

“I know you not talking! Nigga be sounding like he sawing wood when he feel like it,” Dame complained.

“Both of em terrible. It’s a wonder anyone gets any sleep,” Bas commented.

“Wow, so y’all just gonna jump me?! This why The Temptations broke up—because niggas was sneak dissing,” J shook his head as they stepped off the elevator and headed down the hall.

They stopped in front of Beija’s door and she unlocked it before they passed her luggage to her. Once she got it all into the house, she came back out and opened her arms. “Give me love then go home. Y’all better get some rest,” She threatened.

“Yes mama,” Cody was the first to hug her before chuckling. “You rest up too, B!”

“See you later, Beija. It was fun touring with you,” Bas hugged her next before he and Cody headed down the hallway.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much,” Dame joked as he hugged her, wincing when she smacked his back harshly. “Ow,” He mumbled.

“Don’t be annoying folks since I’m not there,” Beija laughed, and he grinned as he headed down towards the elevator.

“I’ll reserve all my energy for ya!” He saluted her before jogging down the hallway. “You comin’, J?”

“Yeah—go on, I’ll be down there,” Jermaine called behind him before he looked down at Beija with a small smile. “I guess this is it, huh?” He asked.

“You act like you’re never gonna see me again. Now you know where I reside—so if you ever wanna come by you’re welcome to. And you have my number, use it,” She said before approaching him, holding out her arms.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and the two hugged for a moment, letting the comfortable silence fall upon them before they pulled apart. “Take care of yourself, Imani. And if you need anything, call me,” He smiled as he slid his hand into hers.

Lacing her fingers with his, she squeezed his hand in response before nodding. “Alright. Go on, before they come find you,” She smirked.

“Alright,” He seemed to linger for a moment before he finally let go of her hand, and headed down the hallway, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“See you around, Lamarr,” She called out, and watched as he pulled his right hand from his pocket, giving a brief wave.

Once Beija made sure he was on the elevator, she walked inside of her apartment before stretching her body a bit. As fun as it had been to travel, she was more than ready to get back to ‘normal’ and start with her work and everything else she had in store. She took the time to wash and put away her clothes and by the time she was done with that, it was evening. With that, she prepared for bed and embraced her bed with no second thought.

The next morning, she gone through her morning routine and got dressed to go to the grocery store—since she hadn’t been home, her fridge and pantry were a bit barren and she needed to restock. Once she got herself together, she headed for the door and walked out of her apartment to see Omari returning from what looked like an exercise routine. “Hey,” She greeted.

“Oh hey! Welcome back,” Omari smiled as he stopped in front of her. “I would have come by to see you last night but I figured you wanted to rest up,” He explained.

“No problem—but I appreciate you considering that,” B ran a hand over her hair before she tilted her head. “Came back from the gym?”

“Yeah, gotta keep myself lookin’ right you know?” He chuckled before he glanced over her casual mode of dress. “Where you heading off to?” He asked.

“Store. I need some food in my house. Plus, I’ve been itching to cook tonight since I ain’t had a home-cooked meal in months,” She huffed.

“How about I come with you? If you can wait on me to shower, that is. Then maybe you can come over and I’ll cook something for you,” He offered.

“You can cook?” B raised an eyebrow as she walked towards his door, silently accepting his invitation.

“Aw,” Omari sucked his teeth before letting out a laugh. “You gonna try to play me? Bet. I’mma give you the best meal and make you literally eat your words,” He approached his door before unlocking and opening it.

“If it means I get fed then shit, you go ahead and try to prove me wrong,” Beija grinned. “But if it’s bad you paying for the take out,” She challenged.

Once Omari showered and got dressed, the two headed out to the grocery store, not only getting enough food to stock Beija’s refrigerator and pantry, but enough food for Omari to cook when they got back. Once the two returned to the apartment building, Beija took her things inside of her apartment and put her groceries away.

She began to head over to Omari’s place, but then looked down at her attire. She merely had on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and she felt...underdressed, almost. They were just going to hang out at home, but she felt a need to impress. With that in mind, she took another shower to rinse off the summer heat that she had to endure. One wash with soap and another with her body wash would do fine.

Once she got out of the shower, she applied lotion to her body before she looked at her nails and toes, seeing that they were within proper maintenance. She nodded before she took her hair down from the bun she had, and sighed a bit as she looked at the mess of curls that fell in front of her face. She didn’t keep the braids she had in for very long—she forgot how tight they could be, and she didn’t want her hair to suffer from it. Putting some homemade product into her hair, she tried to tame her curls for a bit until she was satisfied with them. After putting on some proper undergarments, she slipped on a shirt and a pair of lounging pants, slipping her feet into her slides before she grabbed her keys and phone and headed across the hallway.

She knocked on the door, and some moments later, Omari opened the door before he tilted his head, looking at her change of clothes and slight primping. “Girl, you didn’t have to do all that,” He joked as he opened the door for her to come inside.

“Oh? So you want me up in your house looking dusty?” She countered as she stepped inside of his apartment.

“You’re beautiful either way so I wouldn’t have really cared,” He closed the door behind them before locking the door. “But hey, it’s whatever you wanna do, baby,” He said as the two began to head for the kitchen.

“You’re exactly right. It’s what I wanna do,” Beija walked into the kitchen to see that he was already prepping some of the food. “So what exactly are you making for us?” She asked.

“I’m blackening some salmon to grill, and we’ll have that with some rice, stewed okra and tomatoes and some homemade garlic biscuits,” He listed. “Then, for dessert I’m making peach cobbler. I got ice cream in the fridge too,” He added.

“That sounds...actually, that sounds amazing. I wish the ice cream was Blue Bell, but what can you do?” She shrugged.

“That’s so Texan of you,” He said, laughing as he moved away from her swatting hand. “Dryer’s is good enough, huh?” He asked.

“Oh, you got us the rich white people ice cream? Look at you trying to impress me!” She laughed a bit as she walked to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m helping. So tell me what you’d like for me to do first,” Once she finished washing her hands, she grabbed the hair tie off of her wrist to pull her hair back.

“Well, I still need to wash off and chop the vegetables so I can stew them. Are you sure, though? This was me trying to take care of you for a night,” He said, and her face softened a bit before a smile spread across her face.

“Well, you’ve got the rest of the evening to do that. Let me at least help prep, and you can do the rest,” She bargained.

“Alright, deal,” He nodded as he nodded towards the cutting board and the plastic bowl that held the okra and tomatoes. “Knock yourself out then.” As Beija began to go and wash off the vegetables, Omari continued to season the salmon before he took a break to grab his skillet to get the fish ready to grill.

“So where did you learn to cook?” Beija asked, her voice slightly rising to be heard over the running water.

“My grandma. Since my mama was away in the military I was raised by my grandparents,” Omari explained. “So I kinda got the best of both worlds—learned the ‘manly’ stuff from my granddaddy, and then learned how to do more home-based stuff from my granny,” He concluded.

“So you’re pretty self-sufficient, I’d assume—you out here hunting and sewing clothes. A real country boy,” She chuckled a bit.

“Hey, a man gotta survive out here! Can’t be caught slipping,” He laughed softly before he shook his head.

“What brought you out here to New York anyway? As my daddy would say, only fools would try to live here,” Beija shut off the water once she washed off and drained the water from the vegetables, taking them to the cutting board to chop.

“Well, after college I decided I’d come up here to try to get up in my business career. I’m actually a stock market trader...well, I’m starting out anyway,” He answered.

“What?! You mean, all them numbers? All that math? You’re out of your mind,” She laughed a bit. “But seriously, that’s great! I’m sure that wasn’t easy to get through in college,” Beija continued to speak as she carefully chopped and diced the tomatoes first.

“It wasn’t easy. But hey, you gotta get through it somehow. I’m trying to be up in a penthouse at least before...60. 50, if our economy stays well-off,” He chuckled. “But what made you want to get into...music? You do music, right?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m an A&R now,” B proudly beamed. “But I just love music...everything about it. I want to find talent and bring a rich sincerity back to the industry. I’m tired of the same old shit on the radio,” She said.

“Amen to that. I miss being able to turn on the radio and hear some feel good shit. Nowadays, it seems like all the popular radio stations only know trap rapping and electronic music. I can’t knock nobody hustle but gotdamn,” Omari put some butter into the skillet once it was properly heated, squirting a small amount of lemon juice with it to make a sauce right into the pan.

“Exactly what I’m saying. That’s my whole thing—there needs to be a balance. Believe me, I like to shake my ass when I hit the club but sometimes I need something to feed my mind and my spirit. I need a little bit of everything,” She explained.

“That’s what’s up, though. So is that why you working with J. Cole and them?” Omari placed the fish into the pan before he kept an eye upon it, allowing the fish to sear. “And what’s he like?”

“That’s why. They all share my vision so it was kind of just...fate, that we all came together,” She declared, glancing once Omari pointed at the rice cooker and the ingredients sitting nearby it. Nodding, she walked over before preparing the rice with the chicken stock infused water. Once she turned on the cooker, she left the rice to cook. “And he’s pretty cool. Nice, funny guy. He’s really just private to the public eye for obvious reasons, but he’s an awesome friend,” She said.

“I think that’s so cool. You out here cool with one of the few good rappers left. You lucky as fuck,” He chuckled softly.

“You know, I never really thought about it that way. I just never really got star struck. It’s a job for me, and I’m making friends along the way. It was easy for me not to just see him as a celebrity but as a person. A lot of people seem to forget that,” She leaned against the counter as she watched him begin to put the vegetables on to stew together.

“You’re right. Some people would be hype as fuck to tell the world who they know and who they met. It’s good to know you can keep it lowkey,” He nodded as he took a whiff at the air, smiling at the pleasant aromas that seemed to come together. “You smell that?”

“I do. You might just have this food thing down,” B laughed softly. “And what did you buy from the wine aisle?” She opened the door to his fridge and pulled out the bottle.

“Just some chardonnay. It goes well with salmon and I like that brand,” He said as she inspected the bottle, nodding as she placed it back in the fridge. “I meant to ask; do you enjoy wine?” He asked as he continued to watch over the fish, taking it off of the heat once it was finished.

“I am a liquor kind of girl, actually,” Beija hopped on his counter and sat as she watched him begin to make the peach cobbler to put into the oven. “Cranberry and vodka is my pick when I’m trying to be a lady,” She smiled.

“Oh?” Omari looked over his shoulder, gazing at her as he gave a playful smile. “I gotta watch you closely otherwise, huh?”

“Well, if you get me with the Hennessy, you might,” She laughed a bit, and he shook his head with a soft chuckle. “I know you like Henn too, don’t front,” B smirked.

“I do, I do. But I’m a patron type of guy when I’m trying to be a ‘gentleman.’ But tonight, we’re just gonna stick with the white wine,” Once he finished up with the peach cobbler, he put it into the oven before closing the oven door.

Beija watched him as he began to wash his hands, smiling goofily as she nodded. “Good. You don’t need to be trying to get frisky yet,” B shot him a playful look, and he let out a laugh. “Uh-huh! I knew it. Sneaky,” She giggled as he moved to stand between her legs.

“Who’s being frisky?” He placed his hands behind his back, smiling softly as he looked down at her. “I’d never even dream it. Gotta court you first,” He leaned down and kissed her temple slowly, smiling against her skin.

Beija rolled her eyes a bit as she felt her cheeks warm, and she gently pushed him away. “You think you’re just gonna slide in here and court me all easily? Hmph,” She crossed her arms slowly, mostly because they both knew the answer to the question.

“I never said it’d be easy. But I am trying.”

After the food was finally finished, Omari made plates for them both along with glasses of wine, and the two parked in the living room in front of his television. After some time searching through Netflix, the two agreed on a science-fiction flick that neither had heard of. It seemed interesting enough, however, and it’d be a good backdrop for them to continue to talk.

“Alright...the moment of truth,” Beija mumbled as she began to take a couple bites of her food. Omari watched quietly as she chewed, waiting on her reaction. “Hm...not bad. This is really good,” She declared.

“What’d I tell you, huh? You’ll never get a bad meal coming from me,” Omari promised, a proud and broad smile crossing his face.

“Okay, don’t get cocky. I might catch you slipping one day,” Beija spoke between indulging in her meal.

“Sure you will. Next time you gotta cook for me so I can see what you got going on,” He said, and she raised an eyebrow as she chuckled.

“Maybe. We’ll see if you earn that,” She nudged him playfully before they both began to eat, completely throwing their attention into the food.

After they finished their food and got through the bottle of wine, the two got comfortable on the couch—while Beija recalled some of her more memorable tour memories, Omari kept her feet in his lap as he rubbed them. “...And then the last show with Sean, YG, and Jeremih—that was a crazy night. I actually went out to party with YG and Sean after that show...never again. Women lose their shit around a Cali nigga. I don’t know what it is,” She sucked her teeth as Omari laughed.

“You wasn’t ready for the groupies, mama. I’m sure they were out there in droves,” He commented, and she chuckled as she grabbed the neck of her wine glass, taking the last sip of her wine.

“I honestly have never seen no shit like that before. It was crazy,” She laughed softly. “But you know, despite all of that, I’m really glad I’m back. I was getting tired of fast food and long hours on the road. I’m sure I’m gonna have to detox like crazy. I feel sluggish and shit,” She complained.

“If you ever want to go exercise with me in the mornings, the offer’s open. I’d be happy to help,” He said.

“Oh I bet you would. You just wanna see me in some cute workout gear or something,” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Damn, you got me,” He laughed lowly before he shook his head. “I really want you to come work out with me, though! The nice gear would be a perk,” He moved his hands from her feet to her calves, leaning over before he gave a soft peck to her lips.

“Mhm,” She smiled a bit before she leaned back towards him, giving him a peck of her own. “Come lay down with me,” She requested. Omari released his grip on her legs before moving to lay behind her on the couch, and she moved before laying in front of him, her back pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around her before resting against her stomach, and she laid her hand on top of his. “This is uh...nice. Just to kinda spend time with a person like this,” She admitted.

“It is nice. I’m glad you’re giving me a chance, Beija. I appreciate it,” He spread his fingers as she laced hers with his, and he lifted their hands before kissing her knuckles.

“I’m surprised. I haven’t really...done this, since high school. I never really give the idea of dating this type of attention,” Beija stared at the television as she spoke.

“Really? I’m surprised. I’d think you were a social butterfly or somethin’, the way you carry yourself,” He laughed.

“I am social...in a plutonic way. I have never been good at building up to an intimate anything,” She admitted.

“Well, that ain’t too bad. We got time to build, you know?” He pulled her a bit closer to his body before he relaxed against the couch. Beija relaxed a bit before she laid back against his body, watching television.

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction #j. cole ff