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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 3

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Disagreeing amongst partners, disappointments, unexpected turns, denial of feelings, unwanted revelations. Summary: It's Valentine's Day and no one's date seems to be going quite the way they expected. Notes: Apologies for the posting delay, my lovelies! Please enjoy 💖

Ch1 ~ Ch 2

When you still haven't heard from Marcus the next day, you're really pretending not to be bothered by it. You go about your work as usual, take care of your guests, manage a few nibbles of lunch, and work through the Valentine's check-ins with Malachi to make sure that everything goes smoothly. The whole day is chaotic and the inn is completely sold out, and yet you can't stop glancing down at your phone to see if you've gotten a text back.

You've just slipped into the kitchen after your shift to see Sydney after her spa-and-afternoon-tea date when the restaurant's hostess on duty comes in with a reservation slip to add to the board. The restaurant is basically fully booked now, with a few last minute cancellations and reservations working themselves out throughout the day, and a part of you wishes you could just stay here tonight and keep working, but you promised Sam. And you promised your mother's office that there would be social media updates tonight. This date might as well be public, so there is no backing out now.

“Hey babe!” Sydney grins as she looks up from the cake she is decorating, the piping bag in her hand full of dark chocolate buttercream. “Checking in before going to get ready?”

“Yup. Just came in to say hi and check the last minute reservations.” You take the slip from Sydney’s hostess with a flourish to tack it up on the board, and immediately make some sort of inhuman squawking noise that has your best friend whirling around in the kitchen.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She demands, rushing over to the board. From the noise you made, it’s either incredibly good or incredibly bad.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Not technically, anyway. But you hand over the slip with obvious discomfort — or maybe a tinge of something else deeper and darker — on your face. “It’s…I guess…Marcus has a date tonight.”

“What? Oh…” she takes the slip and reads it, frowning slightly as she looks up to see you fidgeting and looking away from the paper. “Well, um, I guess that means he will be here and it’s good that you are going out with Sam.”

The frown that has formed on your face cuts deep, and you put down the empty mug you had grabbed to pour yourself a late afternoon cup of coffee with a slam. “Of course it’s a good thing.” You state unequivocally, not wanting to deal with or admit to the burning feeling in your chest. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s a very good thing.”

Sydney doesn’t comment, just pins the reservation to the allotted slot: 7 pm for two. There’s a note on the reservation to have a bottle of champagne brought to the table with dessert, so she’s not sure what to make of that. It seems unlikely that he’s taking his mother or sister out for a romantic meal.

“I have to get changed.” Comes the unnecessary announcement as you pace a little square around the corner of the kitchen only to end up facing Sydney again. “I just wanted to say hi, and I hope you and Juan had a good day.” Before this…intrusion into your thoughts, you had wanted to know everything. Every single thing they ate at tea and did at the spa. Now you feel like throwing up from pure discomfort.

“We did.” It seems wrong to rub it in your face right now, since you seem to be having some sort of reaction to the idea that Marcus would book a date here. She has to wonder if there’s meaning behind it, or if he had just imagined bringing someone here because it was a wonderful little place. The dining room of the restaurant is intimate, perfect for romance, especially tonight with the lights lower and the decor that had been brought out for the holiday.

“Good. I—okay. I’m going to go up, then. Malachi has a full reservation book and there’s an extra bellhop on tonight for the full house.” Sweeping out of the room is probably an overstatement, but you certainly move fast enough that Agent Bailey has to hop to in order to keep up with you as you head for the back stairs. Suddenly you have all the nervous energy in the world to walk all the way up to your apartment instead of taking the elevator.

“Okay…bye.” Sydney calls out, eyes wide at the dramatic exit and she pulls out her phone to send a quick text to her husband.

You might have tried a little harder than was strictly necessary to look good tonight. Not because Marcus might see you — that doesn’t make any sense — but to try to shut up all the whirling thoughts in your head about your loyalties and your attachments. You’ve been with Sam for almost a full year. It’s eleven months next week. And he deserves your complete attention. So if he gets you in your best little black dress and the earrings he gave you for your last birthday? That’s good, too.

Sam is nothing if not punctual, actually showing up fifteen minutes before you needed to leave. One of his office aides had run out to get you some flowers, now in hand, and he smiles widely when he sees you. “Wow.” He hums, whistling appreciatively. “I feel underdressed.” He jokes, wearing a smart suit like he normally does.

“You haven’t been underdressed since the day you were born.” Sam is perpetually put together, so you have definitely stepped up your game from the jeans and cheeky blouses that would normally have been good date clothes in the past. “Hi honey.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers you the flowers with a smile. “You look incredible. These are only half as beautiful as you.”

“Thank you, honey.” The large bouquet is all red and pink buds, clearly done up for the holiday, and you let the day’s earlier tension roll off your shoulders as you inhale the sweet scent. “Let me put these in the vase in my office and we can get going?” Upstairs in your place they’re beautiful, but downstairs means anyone who sticks their head in your office will see them.

“Of course.” He nods and looks towards Agent Bailey. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Agent Bailey.” He tells her politely. “Would you mind following us to the restaurant tonight?”

“No surprise stops, Congressman?” Following behind isn’t unusual, but Bailey still had to do her job. Any unexpected additions to the night just complicate matters.

His smile tightens slightly. “Just the itinerary you have planned out.” He comments, slightly irked that he has to have plans approved through the Secret Service. It’s not exactly his idea of pleasant.

“Ready to go?” It only takes a moment to get your flowers in water, and you reach for Sam’s hand. After spending your time getting ready reminding yourself to focus on your relationship and stop being so wishy-washy, you’re trying to put your best everything forward for tonight.

“Absolutely.” Sam smiles broadly, his shoulders rolling back and he puffs his chest out proudly. “Let’s go get romantic.”

The restaurant that was picked out is small and welcoming, a homespun but upscale bistro owned by a couple from New Orleans that moved up to Maryland sometime during the raising of their children. You had read the website while you were getting ready for tonight. The place boasts an impressive menu and a fan favorite étouffée, as well as an entire family working every aspect of the restaurant. From what you can tell, it looks like a perfect date spot. When you pull up it’s brimming over with people, too, which makes you even more excited. Busy means tasty, of course.

“Well this looks promising.” Sam comments, looking over at you. “What did you say the menu was?” He hadn’t really paid attention to where it was, just that you had said it was a good choice for a dinner out and photographs. You know how to work PR from your mother’s campaign, something he admires.

“New American through a New Orleans lens.” That’s what the website had said, and you could swear you already hear jazz pouring out the front door.

“Interesting.” He doesn’t particularly care for spicy foods, his stomach never agrees with it, but he trusts your judgement. “It’s perfect for the photographer and I’m assuming there’s some heartwarming backstory to the place?”

“Family owned and family run.” You can practically hear the silent commentary in his head, and you touch his arm as he holds the door for you. “I read the reviews in advance. Not everything is spicy. Don’t worry.”

“You know me too well.” He throws you a grateful look and leans forward to open the door for you to enter the bistro.

“Good evening.” The hostess at the front of the restaurant knows exactly who you are, just like everyone working tonight does. Just like their entire family does. Getting a visit from the Secret Service and having a discreetly placed photographer arrive just a little while ago gives the whole night an extra flare of the unbelievable. With two menus in her hand, she smiles a shaky, bright grin. “Please come right this way.”

Sam’s hand is on your back, knowing that a lot of eyes are turning from the staff to the patrons. It’s expected when your significant other is a recognizable face. He doesn’t miss that they put you and him at a table in the middle of the room.

There are small vases of red carnations on every table, and candles, and neat purple tablecloths that look like they have been given a little extra pressing for the occasion. You thank the girl politely and smile, not thrilled to have all eyes on you but already knowing that there is nothing you can do about it.

Sam is the one to pull out your chair and help you sit down before he pulls his own chair out. “Shall we order a bottle of wine?” He asks. “Or would that not look good?”

“How about a half bottle?” You suggest, showing him the part of drinks menu that lists half bottles. “Celebratory but responsible.”

“Perfect.” Same agrees, knowing. It wouldn’t be a positive image to have drinking and driving be recorded.

“Whatever you want to choose.” He’s pickier than you are in general, and definitely about wine, so it’s up to him.

He smiles at you in gratitude and immediately dives into the wine list to see what they have available.

“Oysters Rockefeller to start?” As a Maryland boy he loves seafood, and there’s some sort of odd determination in your mind to prove to yourself that your focus is entirely on Sam.

“Absolutely.” He agrees while wholeheartedly and when your server approaches, he finds in a polite smile to give them.

He orders the wine and your appetizer, and beams a smile at the flustered waitress before the two of you are left — sort of — alone again. Agent Bailey has gone to sit with the designated White House photographer at a separate, discreet table. It leaves the two of you to pretend that this is just as normal a date night as any other. “So,” you hum, looking over the menu. “How was work?”

“It was good.” He had kept his office hours short today, like most of the House, so he could get out on time. Plenty of other members had plans or just didn’t show up at all today. “Worked on the bill I want to introduce.”

“How close are you to having the draft done?” The House Judiciary Committee has been an important posting for him, and though you can’t claim to understand the nuance of every single detail of the bill he has been working on, you know that it is a big offering to make from such a new member of the committee.

“First draft is almost complete.” He tells you proudly. “Only a few more hours of work to be honest. My team has been working hard on it.”

“The first bill you’re sponsoring yourself is a big deal. I’m glad you’re proud of it.” Given how much of his work is paperwork and legal-ease, it’s good to have something tangible to work on and be proud of. Certainly not everyone who works in the government can say the same.

“Thank you.” He smiles, leaning back as the waiter comes back with the glasses of wine. “Hopefully it’s just the first of many.”

"I hope so, too." He has high hopes for his career, and you know he'll work hard for it. There's just the tiny voice in the back of your head reminding you that he might not value your success as highly that is bothering you. Still, you raise your glass to him and smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” Sam smiles and taps his glass to yours before taking a sip. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”

“I thought we could talk about it tonight?” The mention of a proposal specifically makes you shiver in a way you didn’t know you could shiver, but here you are. “Starting with…the logistics of it all.”

He admires the practicality of your statement and nods. “What are your concerns?” He can hear that you have them and hopes that the two of you can come to some kind of agreement. He’s negotiated a lot in his position and knows there is always give and take for things to work.

“I…” He’s practical. Pragmatic. And you know that. It’s something that you have always said you liked about him because it balances against your tendency to dream. “I want to move forward. Take another step.” In your impulse, you reach across the table and take his hand. “But I’m not sure I’m ready yet. So I’d like to do it slowly.”

“Maybe a drawer for when you stay over?” He offers, lifting a brow. “Space for a toothbrush?”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking, yeah.” A relieved smile spreads, glad to see that he isn’t upset at your still moving slowly in this relationship. Moving too fast in the past is what you blame some very serious relationship failures on. “Maybe try to see each other more than just once a week? Work permitting, of course. I know we’re both busy.”

“That was kind of the point of moving in together.” Sam reminds you, although he’s not put out by it. “Maybe we can, but you will have to spend less time at the inn.” He hums. “You are always there. You even live there.”

"I know." That's on you, and you know it. But you still shift in your seat like you've been called to the principle's office. "I have to cut back on late nights. Malachi is more than capable of running the place any time of day and the new night manager is doing really well."

Sam nods, it’s a conversation that he’s had with you several times but nothing has changed so far. “I understand being passionate about your work.” He reminds you with a smile, reaching for your hand. “But I also want you to be passionate about other things too.” He squeezes your fingers. “Maybe kids, one day?”

"You know I want kids." That is never something that you have hemmed or hawed about. Wanting a marriage and a family is something you were pretty up front about. "Kids, a dog, the whole white picket fence thing."

“I know.” It’s a good thing too, because he wants the same thing. Although he knows that can’t really happen if you are running yourself ragged at the inn. “Just wanted to make sure that was still the case.” He jokes.

"It is." Your fingers squeeze his gently. "I haven't changed my mind about what I want."

“That’s good.” Sam smiles and feels a little better about the fact you aren’t jumping at the chance to move in with him. He had expected less resistance if he was honest with himself.

"So the next time I come over I'll bring some things to keep at your place?" A little bag of work clothes and duplicate toiletries at his house sounds positively quaint, but very sweet.

“If that’s what you want.” He agrees, leaning back again when the waiter comes with the appetizer. “Are you still planning on staying tonight?”

You pause long enough to thank the waiter and for both of you to order your entrees and have a sip of your wine after the waiter goes again. "Of course I was planning on it. It's what we talked about. But...I felt like packing a bag to bring over tonight felt a little...presumptuous? I didn't want to jinx it."

“Nothing presumptuous about it.” Sam disagrees with a smile, knowing he would have loved if you had started bringing things over. “But we will do things on your schedule, as long as our end goal is the same.”

End goal. That part still bags at you a little and you still aren’t sure if you’re overreacting. Marcus seemed to agree with us, and so did Sydney…and it’s making you wonder. But will it ruin the night to make a fuss over it? There’s really no way to tell. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page about all of it.” You decide, making sure there is no worry or waver in your voice as you reach for an oyster. It’s just a conversation. Just a conversation with your boyfriend. No big deal. Just clearing the air.

“Good.” There’s a moment’s pause where the two of you start to split the appetizer, each of you tasting it and Sam hums in approval. “I say we live together for at least a year.” He looks up at you. “What do you think?”

“At least a year before what?” The clarification seems important, since the two of you seem to have slightly different expectations. It’s slight, but it’s there.

Sam chuckles slightly. “Before the next step?” He asks playfully, shrugging slightly.

“That makes sense.” But not knowing exactly what he meant makes you feel a little foolish, so you huff a laugh and have another sip of wine. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

“You seem off tonight.” Sam tilts his head curiously. “Fight with Sydney? Never thought I would see that.”

“No, god no, nothing like that.” A fight with Sydney is about the farthest thing from the truth. The trouble is…you can’t really tell Sam the truth. It would be a ticking time bomb in the middle of your relationship. To not only think that you might have met your soulmate but to suddenly find yourself caring immensely about what that could mean? Hell, even being attracted to him? It would be a disaster. And you can’t blame him because you would feel exactly the same way if Sam came to you after meeting the girl that the universe says is his perfect match. Instead? All you can really do is make an excuse. “I haven’t really been feeling myself for the past few days.” That is very much true. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let it affect tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Sam’s brows pull down. “Do we need to ask them to box up our meals? The photographer can take their photos now and we can go home if you aren’t up for a night out.” Despite his own views of how the night would go, he would never drag you around if you’d rather be in bed sleeping.

It’s sweet of him to offer, but you know he would be disappointed. And, unfortunately, no amount of sleep is going to pull you out of the Marcus-shaped funk you have found yourself in. No, sleep won’t help. And tonight is supposed to be about you and Sam, so it’s going to be. “That’s okay,” you assure him, shaking your head and promising yourself that the smile on your face won’t falter again tonight. “I’d rather spend tonight celebrating with you.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He’s giving you a doubtful look, but he doesn’t call the waiter over. “Maybe it’s just that you need a night away.” He suggests. “I have a late morning scheduled so we can sleep in.”

“Unfortunately, I have an early morning.” You bite your lip, knowing he’ll hate that. “We have a big event tomorrow night and they’re showing up early in the day. Early bird check in, venue set up, all of it.”

Sam is quiet for a minute and then looks down at his plate again. “Well, I guess that can’t be helped.”

"It's all hands on deck right away." And suddenly you feel horribly guilty about it, even though it's your job. It's something you do out of love and a deep passion for the industry that you've chosen to work in. But a morning of just sleeping in sounds so nice.

“You don’t need to explain.” It’s not like you would change your plans anyway, but it definitely sours the idea he had for the next morning. “You have priorities.”

“Yes, I do. Just like you would if you had a day full of meetings to handle.” He sounds cold, and it bothers you so much more than you would have thought. Like you’d had disappointed your parents with a bad grade on your report card instead of telling your partner than you’re anticipating a demanding work day. “I would support you if that was the case, so I don’t understand why you seem so upset with me.”

“Because we had talked about it.” Sam reminds you. “Two days ago.” He clenches his jaw and takes a breath before releasing it. “You’re right, you have work and it’s important.” He agrees. “Forget I said anything.”

“We did talk about it two days ago. And we talked about me staying over, but not about doing anything the next day. Because I told you weeks ago when this group booked their party that it was going to be a big deal.” Barely managing not to drop your fork in the table, your eyes drop to your lap and you can feel the pressure of disappointment driving at the backs of your eyes like fire and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “I feel like we haven’t been communicating as well as we used to.”

“After we talked about you staying over, I asked if you wanted to have a lazy morning and you said ‘sounds good’.” Sam realizes you had told him about the booking. “We got our signals crossed. It happens. We will need to work on it.”

“Yeah.” You nod, quietly sitting back in your chair again while being very aware of the pairs of eyes that have all turned to witness the First Daughter argue with her boyfriend over their romantic Valentine’s dinner. Fuck. Mom’s going to kill me. “Yeah,” you agree with a vague nod of your head. “We’re just a little off. We’ll work on it.”

“It’s okay.” Sam promises with a smile, reaching out and taking your hand again. He doesn’t want you to be photographed looking unhappy, because then rumors would fly. Public figures aren’t allowed to have bad moments. “We will make the best of tonight.” He tells you. “Or…we can go back to your apartment if you’d prefer?” He offers. “That way you can sleep a little longer?”

"You normally hate staying at my apartment." The water pressure is better at his house, you'll give him that. And the bed is bigger. But the breakfast at your place is far superior every single time.

“I know, but I also know that you have an early morning and I would like to compromise.” He offers.

His hand fits around yours, anchoring you to the table and to him, and you remind yourself to breath. A miscommunication isn't an argument. And even if it is, an argument isn't the end of the world. "I would really like that," you agree, squeezing his hand just a touch. Trying to show him silently how much you appreciate that he's willing to bend a little for you. It has never bothered you that you go to him — stay at his place, attend his work and social events, usually let him pick restaurants for dates as well. But it's nice to feel a little give in your direction as well.

“Alright, then it’s settled.” He nods quickly and smiles at you. “We will have to swing by my house to pick up a change of clothes though.”

"We can do that." You'll tell Agent Bailey after dinner, and the message will get relayed. It will all be fine. Whatever is causing this gap between you and Sam, you'll figure it out. Starting with a little bit of compromise. "And tonight we'll clean out a drawer for you at my place. We'll each have a drawer."

It’s on the tip if his tongue to refuse, to remind you he doesn’t like staying at your place. It’s too busy and he likes privacy in his home, not people coming and going at all times. “It’s a plan.” He decides to say instead, happy that the meal is coming out.

The restaurant is busy tonight, full up with reservations for dates and girls’ nights out. Tables are packed full and the kitchen is bustling, but Malachi sits calmly at the reception desk making sure that all of the inn’s reservations for the night are being taken care of to the best of his ability. The less you have to worry about tomorrow with that incoming party, the better.

Marcus smiles as he walks up to the desk, guiding Vanessa up with a warm hand on her lower back. He hadn’t wanted to be alone, especially on Valentine’s Day, so he had once again tried one of the dating apps. Tinder Without Marks was kind of the opposite of Mate Marks and he appreciated that. There wasn’t any emphasis on tattoos or scars, just on personalities. He had been talking to Vanessa since you had bailed on his offer of dinner and tonight was the first date. “Reservation for Pike.” He greets Malachi warmly.

"Special Agent Pike!" Malachi was not going to forget that face or those shoulders anytime soon, and he smiles genuinely for what seems like the first time all night. Holidays are always a lot of extra running around. "Reservation for the restaurant tonight?" He would have noticed the name if the FBI agent had reserved a room at the inn. He definitely would have noticed that.

“Yes.” Marcus nods and smiles. “How are you Malachi?” He remembers the concierge’s name and greets him like a friend. “I knew that coming here would be a fantastic treat.”

“And…Miss D’Amario.” When the concierge’s eyes light on the woman beside Special Agent Pike, he nearly bursts out laughing. This is going to be the biggest gossip amongst the staff. Multiple staffs. “Does chef know to expect you? Or should I let her know?”

Marcus tilts his head and looks at Vanessa. “I didn’t realize you’ve been here before.” He had told her where he had made reservations, but she hadn’t said. “Do you come often?”

“Once or twice.” She admits with a sheepish smile as Malachi comes out from behind the desk to escort them into the restaurant. “Usually just to run errands. My boss…he comes here a lot.”

“Interesting coincidence.” Marcus muses as the two of them follow Malachi. “You never actually said who you worked for.” He reminds her.

She hadn’t. That’s true. Because on a dating website all kinds of information can get taken out of context or photoshopped into other things. All she had said before now is that she works on Capitol Hill. “Congressman Chase.” She tells her date, a little more secure in handing this information over after having looked into him and agreeing to this dinner. A girl can never be too careful, after all. “I’m the senior aide in his office.”

To his credit, Marcus doesn’t freeze, although his eyes blow wide. He can hear Malachi snicker quietly, although the agent isn’t sure why. Even though he doesn’t have anything against the congressman, the knowledge that she is his senior aide dulls the excitement of the date almost immediately. “I met him just the other day.” Marcus admits. “My friend and former colleague is the event planner here.”

“You know Juan?” Vanessa seems to ease immediately, the tension of meeting a stranger off the Internet soothing with the knowledge that Juan Badillo is an excellent judge of character. “Okay. So you know who owns the inn, then. And why I’m running errands here fairly often.” She smiles when Marcus pulls out her chair for her and thanks him before sitting. “I’ve always wanted to try the restaurant but never have a chance.”

Marcus smiles and nods, even though he’s not exactly sure how this dynamic would work. “Then it’s a good thing I got reservations here.” He tells her and picks up the menu. “Do you want some wine? I think I would like some.”

“That sounds great.” She nods happily, not catching the change in his demeanor even in the last few seconds.

He’s still not going to be rude. Vanessa is a lovely woman, and he shouldn’t feel guilty for being here on a date with her. Not even if you know her and she works for your boyfriend. “Are you a red, white or rosé kind of woman?” He asks, scanning the selections and looking back up at her.

“Usually white. But if you like red I’m happy to try something new.” Vanessa is happy to let Marcus take the lead, not feeling strong enough one way or the other to have a preference.

“There’s a wonderful Prosecco on the menu.” Marcus offers, lifting his brows. “It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and we aren’t alone. We should celebrate.”

"Perfect." Her smile spreads again and she sits back, looking over the menu and regarding the man across from her. "So what department of the FBI are you in? We haven't really talked about work yet."

“Art Crimes.” He supplies wondering where you and Sam are. A discreet glance around the restaurant was a relief and a disappointment not to come up with you. “I’m actually the head of the department.”

"So...is that forgeries and thieves? Like in caper movies?" Vanessa sounds suitably impressed even though it isn't the part of FBI work that gets glorified on tv or in movies. "I didn't know that was a whole department on its own. You must have a lot of responsibility."

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Marcus admits. “Although I’m sure you have plenty yourself.” He chuckles. “I wish that it was like the movies, or that show White Collar that was on a few years ago. I could use a Neal Caffery sometimes.”

"Oh, I don't think I've ever seen it. I guess I have a little homework to do." On whatever the show is, plus on art as a whole. Art class or art history...museums in general aren't really Vanessa's thing. It just never seemed very practical. "Paperwork is okay when there's a rhythm to it. Sometimes I even turn on music quietly in the office while I'm copying and filing. It's really helpful even though it's kind of a no-no."

“Why would that be a no-no?” He wonders if Sam is a stick in the mud. “Most of the time, I encourage my team to listen to music, it helps engage your mind.”

"We try not to have anything on in the office that could interfere with being understood on the phone," she explains, like it's some kind of party line or sage advice that has been handed down to her. "Staying on message is important. And it's hard to stay on message if you can't be heard."

“And what’s your message?” He asks, finding it slightly intense, but he’s not the politician.

"Right now, our message is about serving our community. Working to bring business into our district without threatening existing small businesses, and making sure that we take safety standards into account." Obviously very proud of her work, Vanessa sits up straight in her chair and folds her hands in her lap with the air of someone being interviewed. "The Congressman is paving his own path and we're all on board for the ride."

“I see.” He can approve of such a message, admire it even. The congressman is obviously working for the best of his district and there is something noble about that. “That’s a good message to have.”

“It really is.” When Vanessa nods, it’s eager. “He’s on the fast track to the White House. It’s a privilege to get to work for him now.”

“A fast track, you say?” Marcus works so hard to keep from frowning, not liking the way that it makes it seem as if you are a steppingstone for Sam. Even though that shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

“Absolutely.” She pauses long enough for the waiter to return for their drink order and explain the beautiful Valentine’s prix fixe menu before leaving them be again for a few minutes. “Congressman Chase has seven more years to be the youngest president ever elected, and he can do it.”

“That’s a lofty ambition.” Marcus agrees, wondering how much of dating the current president’s daughter is included in those plans for the White House.

“It’s going to be great.” She laughs, not the least self-conscious, but shrugs her shoulders. “I like my job a lot. Sorry if I get carried away a little.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus waves that away, although he’s sure he sees hero worship in Vanessa’s eyes, and perhaps a crush on her boss. Nothing wrong with that unless they are being inappropriate and he can’t see the congressman doing that with his ambitions. Some congressmen, sure, but not Sam. “I wish a lot more people enjoyed their jobs like that.”

“It makes hard work worth it,” she agrees, though she does demure and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “You…must love art? To be so involved with those crimes specifically?”

“I have come to really appreciate it.” Marcus tells her. “I never really stopped to look and think about much art before, but some weekends, I enjoy going through the museums for pleasure and not trying to research a piece.”

"DC is a very good place if you like museums." Even if she's not very big on them herself, she knows that to be absolutely true. It's where she ends up bringing family whenever they visit, so she has seen quite a few of the Smithsonian museums by now. She'd just rather be at a game.

“They are nice. Especially if a game gets rained out.” Marcus agrees, leaning back when the waiter comes back with the first course. “Thank you.” He hums and looks up at Vanessa. “This looks amazing.”

“It really does.” Vanessa looks as delighted as Marcus does and she offers him a sincere smile. “I’m very glad you decided to ask me out tonight.”

“I am too.” He smiles at her even if he feels guilty that he’s not as glad has he had been before he realized the connection to Sam Chase and therefore….you. He picks up his Prosecco and holds it up. “To positive first dates.”

“Absolutely.” Their glasses make lovely clink as they tap together and Vanessa smiles again, very glad that she decided to take this step to try to get over the crush she has on her boss.

“Looks like the inn is fairly packed tonight.” Sam hums as he pulls into the employee only portion of the oyster shell parking lot. He’s not upset for you business-wise, but he wished there weren’t so many people there.

“The night manager had the idea to keep our sitting room open for some live music, and it seems like people have stayed. It must have been a success.” The rooms aren’t sold out tonight because there are early check-ins for that party in the morning, but managing to keep people in house and engaged is a huge deal.

“Interesting concept.” Sam’s not really sure if that would attract the kind of clientele that you want here, but he’s a politician, not an inn owner. “Hopefully not too late?” He asks, wondering if it will be noisy into the late night. That’s not romantic.

“It should be over soon,” you promise him, seeing that your watch reads almost eleven o’clock.

“Good.” Once out of the car, he rushes around the hood and wraps his arm around your waist. “I don’t want them to interrupt our plans for tonight.”

“Nothing’s going to interrupt us.” Heading for the back door, you can pop right into the elevator to head upstairs without having to interrupt anything that’s going on or get sidetracked by Malachi. You just want to take a peak into the sitting room but that’s all. “And you can sleep in, in the morning after I’ve tired you out.”

"Is that a promise?" Sam asks playfully, allowing you to lead him away from the elevator and down the hall.

"Absolutely." The rest of the date had smoothed out, being a relatively quiet and pleasant night Now that you're back at the inn with a bag of Sam's things to stash away in your bureau, you're feeling a little bit flirtier and more upbeat. "And when you come downstairs after you finally drag that excellent butt out of bed, I'll have Syd make you some breakfast."

“I do love her breakfasts.” Sam groans, smirking at you playfully. “So you are planning on wearing me out completely?” He squeezes your waist and looks ahead towards the music.

"I'd say you deserve a night of intensely deep sleep, and I intend to make sure you get it." There is a little line waiting for the elevator as guests start to go up to their rooms for the night, so you hang back with Sam and look toward the sitting room instead. The music coming through is atmospheric and sweet and you are right about to lean your head on Sam's chest while you wait — when you spot someone unexpected in the sitting room.

Marcus had decided that just because Vanessa works for Sam doesn’t mean that he can’t have a nice night with her. The music had sounded lovely floating from the sitting room and he had asked if she wanted to stay. Now, they are dancing and he hasn’t thought about you in at least five minutes.

It's not exactly a gasp, but you end up trying to swallow whatever noise of surprise you were going to make when you spotted Marcus with his date in the the other room — and instead of keeping your reaction to yourself you end up choking on your own damn spit and coughing hard enough to worry Sam.

“Are you alright?” Sam pats your back and leans in with a worried look on his face while you wave him away. “What’s—” he glances around the room and immediately stiffens. “What is he doing with Vanessa?” He asks, his voice bristled with a slight anger he can’t shake.

"Vanessa?" You hadn't even seen who he was with, just choked at the sight of Marcus enjoying a quiet, romantic moment with another woman — something which you know shouldn't bother you but it had been a whole five minutes since the last time you thought about him so apparently that is your maximum. "Like your aide Vanessa?"

“How does he know her?” Sam ignores the question, staring holes into the FBI agent that is currently slow dancing with said aide and making her beam up at him in a way that has Sam wanting to drag her away from him.

"I don't know." He's practically fuming, and your forehead furrows as you turn your eyes back from the couple in the other room to Sam beside you. "Why does it matter?"

“I find it funny—” his tone definitely says otherwise, “that this man just magically shows up, gets invited to a game night and is now cozying up to my top aide.” Sam knows that he’s already been tagged by the DNC as a rising star, his own seat on the council is indicative of that, and now there’s this FBI that is showing up everywhere.

"He's friends with Juan." The defense in your voice is impossible to miss, and you cross your arms defiantly over your chest like you're waiting for him to pick a fight. "Maybe they were introduced by a mutual friend? Met in a coffee shop? Found each other on a dating app? Who knows?"

“And they just happened to book your inn as a date?” He scoffs slightly, unable to believe that fanciful tale and narrows his eyes as Marcus twirls Vanessa around and pulls her back against him.

"Why don't you go interrupt them and find out if you're so curious?" This has taken a very deep turn for the worse, and you can only be glad that the last guests waiting for the elevator near you have gone up so you're more or less alone now. Of course Agent Bailey is nearby, but she never comments.

“No.” He wants to. That’s the problem, and he knows it’s not a good move. Frowning, he turns away from the dancing couple. “Let’s go upstairs. The music is horrible.”

It's not. At all. But this isn't about the music and both of you know that silently even if it isn't said out loud. Sam jams his thumb in the 'Up' button for the elevator again but you say nothing, glancing back at the sitting room one more time to wonder if Sam is upset about the date that is happening for the same reason you are. And if he is...what does that mean for the two of you?

Once upstairs, Sam steps out of the elevator and sighs. “Can we just have the apartment to ourselves?” He directs his question to Agent Bailey, not looking at you.

There are certain protocols that have to be upheld, and Agent Bailey looks to you before starting them. “Ma’am?”

In your mind it’s awfully rude, knowing that asking her to sit in the hallway means hours and hours of uncomfortable sitting, but you also know that Sam is…in less than a good mood right now. And while you’re cranky too, you would rather try to smooth things over if you can. “If…you wouldn’t mind?”

“Please stay here.” Bailey directs you both. She’ll do a sweep of the apartment to make sure no one is waiting for you, and then she’ll take a chair into the hallway. She won’t say so, but she doesn’t mind not hearing a fight if it happens. Or the makeup sex. Neither one is her favorite.

Once you two are alone, Sam sets his bag down, aware that the mood of the evening is ruined and it’s his fault. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, not even sure if he wants to stay at this point. Especially if Vanessa and that agent will also be spending the night under this roof. He’s not happy to see his best aide here, and usually he’s always happy to see her.

“Can you explain to me why you’re so upset?” It’s definitely uncomfortable, this tension that hangs in the air now, and you try not to let your eyes drop to the right before going back to him. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just surprised. He’s the one who got mad.

“It’s— I’m not—” There’s not a rational reason why he’s upset, and logically he knows this. “I don’t like the fact this man seems to be everywhere.” You had told him about meeting Marcus at the market and it seems as if he’s suddenly everywhere when a few weeks ago, no one knew this man was even in the area. “Strange in my eyes.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” That’s what you’ve told yourself, anyway. It has nothing at all — nothing whatsoever — to do with the universe putting you into situations where you’ll bump into each other. Not at all. “The Secret Service did a background check on him. He’s totally clear.”

“Then I guess I’m just overreacting.” Sam sighs and wipes a hand down his face. “I should go.” He knows that if he stays, the night won’t proceed like it was planned and he’s better off going home. You don’t seem too happy with him. “Unless you want me to stay?”

What you want, and what you should do, and what seems like the healthiest decision for your mental health all are different things. You should tell him to stay, brush it off, and try to salvage the evening. You want to go downstairs and interrupt that damn date to find out if Marcus Pike is as good a dancer as he seemed to be in the small space of the sitting room. But what’s best for your mental health? Is probably neither of those things. “Maybe I can come over this weekend and we can try to have a less stressful night at your place instead?”

Sam is silent for a moment and then nods. Understanding that something has fundamentally shifted in your relationship and trying to figure out what that might mean for the future. “Sounds good.” He agrees and looks at his bag before picking it up. “I’m sorry about how the night ended.”

“So am I.” The air between you feels different. Colder or heavier or just more tense, but you won’t back down just for the comfort of having him next to you in bed tonight. That isn’t fair to either of you.

Instead of a romantic kiss, Sam leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. “I’ll text you when I get home.” He promises, stepping back and frowning slightly before nodding. He had honestly expected you to change your mind, but he won’t beg to stay, knowing it’s not the best idea.

“Get home safe.” A long moment passes with thick air hanging between you before Sam nods again and opens the door, stepping out of your apartment and back in to the elevator. “It’s just us tonight,” you tell Agent Bailey, who comes back into the room the moment she hears the door. “The Congressman has gone home for the night.” And of referring to him by his title instead of his name isn’t a big fucking clue to you right then and there, it should be.

It’s not surprising, given the way the evening has turned sour, but it’s not her place to say anything. “Very well.” She nods. “If you need anything, let me know.” She intends to stay outside and let you sulk if you need to. She hadn’t missed ’the Congressman’ title instead of Sam.

“You can stay inside.” Banishing your Secret Service detail to the hallway is one more thing that rubbed you the wrong way. “I’m just going to go to bed. But the coffee you like…the vanilla caramel one? It in the cupboard above the coffee maker. Any time you want to make some.”

“Thank you.” The couch you don’t mind her sitting on is a lot more comfortable than the chair in hallway and she appreciates that you don’t mind her using the bathroom either. “Is there anything you need before you go to bed?”

“No.” You’re too afraid to ask if you did wrong by letting Sam go home, so you don’t even consider it. “Tomorrow’s an early morning. Agent Sisson coming to relieve you early?”

“Five.” She nods. “If you need to be up earlier, I will be here.”

"I won't be up until after that." Unless you can't sleep, which is a serious possibility considering how poorly the night went and how half of your thoughts are currently downstairs in the sitting room. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Bailey."

“Goodnight, ma’am.” It’s best to keep things formal, although she feels bad that your evening did not end up like it was supposed to. And incredibly interested in the reaction of the congressman to Marcus Pike’s presence.

"Good night." Going to your room alone isn't what you wanted for tonight, but it feels like it's for the best. All you can do now is hope that you sleep.

The next morning is a flurry of activity, but Sydney notices that you aren’t rushing in from the parking lot when you come into the kitchen, looking like you didn’t get much sleep last night. “Good morning sunshine.” She teases, reaching for the coffee pot to pour you a cup.

Teasing barely earns her a grumble in return, but you gratefully accept the cup of coffee she pours you and turn to doctor it immediately. “That early check-in group should be here in a half hour.”

“I already have a breakfast spread ready for them.” She motions to the counter and the baskets she has already started filling with baked goods. The bowl of fresh fruit is inside a hollowed-out watermelon. “I couldn’t sleep.” She explains. “Indigestion.”

“There’s a joke in there about swallowing too much cum, but I’m too tired to make it.” You huff though, trying for a smile for your best friend. “It looks great, Syd. Thank you for working so hard.”

She sees through you instantly and frowns, moving around the counter and wiping her hands on the ever present rag tucked into the pocket of her chef’s jacket. “What’s wrong?” She asks, feeling your forehead and looking like an over anxious mother hen worrying over her baby. “Are you not feeling good? Juan, Malachi and I can handle this if you need us to.”

“Not a chance.” Considering you never take sick days even when you’re actually sick, there is no way you would make your team handle a big event without you. “It’s nothing. I just…had a bad night. That’s all.”

“Everything alright?” She frowns, tutting at your stubbornness and moving over to the espresso machine to give you a shot to help boost you up.

“Sam and I had a little…series of tiffs,” you admit with a sigh. There is a pan of her fresh baked broscia nearby and the Sicilian brioche-style bread is calming to you to be crammed full with jam and butter so you grab one still warm. “We got into it at the restaurant over me having to be at work early today and then again later when he flipped out about Marcus being here on his date.”

“Marcus?” Her head whips around and she gives you an utterly confused look. “One, why was he here? Two, why was Sam upset about that?”

“He must have stayed after dinner. For the musician that Malachi brought in.” Sam had been cranky about it, but you thought the singer at the piano had been lovely. “He…uh…Marcus, that is…did you see who his date was? When they came in for dinner last night?”

“I didn’t see, it was crazy in the kitchen, but Malachi told me that it was Vanessa.” She huffs. “How the hell do they know each other?”

“I don’t know. But the same question made Sam so upset that he ended up leaving my apartment last night instead of staying over.” The best you can do is shrug your shoulders. Because as much as it bothers you? You know why it does. There’s no mystery there, only guilt. “He thinks there’s something suspicious about Marcus, apparently.”

“Something suspicious about Marcus Pike?” She chokes out, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it. “The FBI agent? The man who was an Eagle Scout?” She and Juan had pulled that nugget of information out of him at game night.

“Because apparently, he’s ‘suddenly everywhere’ when none of us had seen him before.” Jam and butter join your bread roll and you sigh a little at the comfort of it. “I think it’s just confirmation bias. Like we probably were in the same places as him before, we just didn’t know to look for him.”

“Well…Juan would have recognized him.” Syd reminds you. “So that’s not exactly true, but I understand what you mean.” She sighs and hesitates for a moment. “Do you think it’s him or because he was with Vanessa?” She knows the other woman has a crush on Sam, it’s obvious from the hero worship stars in her eyes when she’s around. She knows Sam isn’t the type to cheat, but maybe there’s some feelings there that are repressed.

“I feel like that didn’t help.” Coffee and a little breakfast is helping. You can think a little straighter even if you don’t like the thoughts. “I know Vanessa has a thing for him. It’s not subtle. But before now I didn’t think there was cause for concern the other way.”

“It could be that Sam thinks that Vanessa could give away information that he could use if Marcus wanted to cause problems between you and Sam.” She rationalizes. “Slightly conspiracy theorist in my mind, but I could see how it could be construed.” Sydney enjoys playing Devil’s advocate, even if she likes Marcus and doesn’t think he is angling for anything.

“Before last week, I didn’t think there were problems between me and Sam.” It’s disconcerting to realize, as you stand here and talk through it with your best friend, that your relationship has not been as steady as you once thought. “Now? I don’t know.”

“Other than his overreaction, what makes you think that?” She asks, aware that you’ve been a little edgy lately but every relationship has ups and downs at times.

“He seems…really agitated lately. Much more upset than usual about having an agent around. Last night he wanted Agent Bailey to sit out in the hall while we slept, how does that make sense? And making comments about the future of our relationship to other people?” To Vanessa’s parents, now that you think about it. It sometimes slips your mind that his most trustworthy aide is also the only daughter of one of his largest donors. “Everything just feels on edge.”

“Have you talked about all this? Like really sat down and talked?” She frowns, not liking what she is hearing, although it could just be a case of miscommunication.

“Before now there hasn’t really been a reason.” Or at least, there hasn’t been such an obvious compilation of reasons. “And considering he never texted me back when he got home last night, now I’m wondering if he’ll be willing to sit down and hash things out.”

“I’m sorry.” She slides the shot of espresso over and reaches for your hand. “I like Sam, but if it doesn’t work out, it’s better to find out now, than down the road.”

“With the whole soulmate thing and now this kind of…weird accumulation of things?” You shake your head and just sort of shrug awkwardly. “I feel discouraged in a way that I really wasn’t expecting.”

“I’m sorry.” Immediately feeling guilty, Sydney’s shoulders drop and she bites her lip. “I shouldn’t have teased you about finding out what kind of hummingbird tattoo he has.” She hadn’t expected it to cause so many problems, or for you to be so resistant to it. Before Sam, you would have demanded to see the tattoo right away just to disprove the soulmate theory. “What can I do to help you?”

“Honey, you’re growing a literal human. You have enough to deal with.” It’s disheartening, and confusing, and frankly you’re shocked that you’re so willing to throw up your hands. That’s not like you at all.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t be there for my best friend.” She argues, frowning at you. “Your shit is my shit, remember? I’ll be expecting you to do a rotation getting up with the baby.” She jokes, wanting you to laugh a little.

"If we still lived together, I absolutely would." Being in this apartment upstairs is actually the first time you've ever lived alone — taking over the role of caretaker for the inn when Sydney moved out of the apartment you had been renting in Old Town to buy a house with her soulmate. "At this point I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place...and one of those blockages is purely made up of how confused I am over...just feeling like I want to throw in the towel instead of working things out. That's not who I am. Or not who I have been."

“Honey, sometimes you just…don’t want to work things out. That doesn’t make you a failure.” She hums. “You might just realize that you have different goals.”

"But why do I feel that way?" There's only a few bites of your bun left and you know that today is going to be a peckish day. You tend to nibble when you're worried. "Is it just because I'm having doubts? And why am I even having doubts? It's...soulmates never mattered to me before this."

“Maybe it’s because of the man and not the soulmate aspect?” She probes gently. “Let me ask you this….if you weren’t in a relationship with Sam, would you be interested in Marcus. Even without the soulmate possibility?”

"I—" It feels dirty. A kind of guilt you really don't like and makes your skin crawl. But this isn't a situation you're going to lie about. Not when you're literally asking your best friend for help. "I mean...probably. Yeah."

“Then you should step back. From Marcus or Sam, that decision is yours. But some space might be needed to figure out what you are feeling.” Syd suggests.

"All the social media shit from our date last night is going to go viral really fast if anyone gets a whiff that we've broken up." Just as astonishing as the idea that you would even consider ending things, it's alarming how fast your heart knows the right decision to make. Or at least what you perceive as right in this moment. "It's going to be a shitshow..."

Sydney doesn’t comment on the fact that it seems like you’ve made up your mind, just humming. “Take it slow. It doesn’t have to be some kind of announcement.”

"The last thing I want is to have to make an announcement." The end of your coffee cup comes all too soon, and you fill it up again with a sigh. This morning is going to be a lot for many different reasons. "Syd...you would stop me if you thought I was making the wrong choice, right?"

“I would definitely try to talk to you.” She promises. “I like Sam, I really do, but if you don’t see yourself marrying him, well—” she shrugs. “Just give yourself a week, how about that?”

"Have I really reached the point in my life where it's not worth staying with someone that I don't see myself marrying?" That is a fairly rude awakening because of how honest it is, and you stifle a groan in one hand. "You're right, and I know you're right. But the State Dinner for the Spanish royal visit is in just over a week. The last thing I want is to have to go to that alone."

“To make it fair, give yourself that time.” She tells you. “Give him an honest try and if you still can’t see it, then you have your answer because Sam is the type to want marriage.”

"I want to get married, too." You always have. Ever since you were little. You reveled in family weddings and dreaming in your own big day. You had even talked to Marcus about it at the market. But whenever the future comes up with Sam, it ends up feeling tense now. "I just...it's a lot to even think about, Syd. You and Juan just...you're so good together. I don't think I'll ever get that lucky."

“I think you will.” She encourages. “My relationship with Juan isn’t without work.” She reminds you. “We still have to communicate and work through issues.”

"But it's worth it because you love each other so much." The sentence is out of your mouth before you have a chance to really sit on what you're saying, and just seconds after you hear yourself say it, your shoulders fall in defeat. "Oh...fuck..."

“What is it?” She asks, frowning at the way you just seemed to deflate.

"It's worth it for you and Juan to work through your issues because you love each other so much." Repeating the phrase makes it hurt all the more, because you didn't realize until this exact moment that it doesn't apply to you. At least, not anymore. "I...don't think I feel the same way..."

“Oh honey.” Her expression softens and she is immediately around the counter again, this time pulling you in for a big hug.

"I'm okay," you insist, through very obvious tears that announce the contrary. "I'm okay." You have to be. You have work to do, and you can't greet a large family party here to announce and celebrate an engagement with runny mascara. "I...have to be okay."

“Listen.” She lets you go and takes your shoulder to look you in the eyes. “You are going upstairs. Ahhh.” She stops you when you start to protest. “Take ten minutes, take an hour, take all day, but take some time to yourself before you start running around dealing with the very obvious results of love.” She tells you. “I can get them started with food and then Juan can take over to take them to the venue.” She shakes her head, huffing when you open your mouth again. “No, I’m not listening. Now go.”

"I'll be back in ten minutes." The best thing you can do for yourself today is keep busy, but she's right that you need to have a clear head for things to go well. "I just...I didn't know this was going to happen today. Or ever."

“I know, babe.” She squeezes you again and sighs. “But I’m here for you. Completely.”

"Thank you, love." Squeezing her tight against you as much as you can, you steal your second coffee away with you from the kitchen and head back upstairs with Agent Sisson following behind.

Sydney sighs as she looks at the door you disappear through for a moment before turning back to her work. The best way she can help you right now, is to make sure the incoming clients are happy.

Walking out through the back hall, you clutch your mug of coffee and try to hang onto a thread of dignity until you get back upstairs. There are more tears pressing at the back of your eyes and you absolutely do not want them shed in public. The elevator is in use, apparently, and you jam your finger in the button a second time for good measure before blowing out a sigh. What a great fucking Valentine’s last night turned out to be, and what a terrible fucking day this is looking like…

The little toiletry kits provided in the rooms are a godsend and both Marcus and Vanessa quickly clean up after the alarm had woken them. “Can’t believe we drank so much and we don’t have hangovers.” Marcus hums, riding the elevator down to get a quick breakfast with his Valentine’s date. They had ended up finishing a bottle and then having another few glasses while dancing. Feeling too drunk to safely get home, the night manager had agreed to let them take one of the rooms on the promise they would check out early. He has been grateful and eagerly agreed. “How about you?”

“Normally I would say I’m still drunk,” Vanessa admits with a sheepish laugh. “But I’m okay. I think it’s just a miracle and I’m not in the habit of questioning those. Though I could use some breakfast.”

“I’ll get you fed and then get you home so you won’t be late to work.” Marcus promises. He will be late, but he had already told his team to come in late, so it’s just paperwork that he’s missing.

“In case no one has ever told you before, you are a consummate caretaker.” It makes a girl like Vanessa feel very special, who spend her working hours caring for someone else and her downtime making sure to live up to her parents’ expectations, and while Marcus Pike isn’t quite her dream man — he’s handsome and sweet and she would be stupid to ignore that.

"I like to make sure people are happy and safe around me." Marcus shrugs off the praise with a small grin. "I took you from your house, it's only right I deliver you back to it." He hums as the elevator stops and dings before the doors open. "Now to get you fed."

When the elevator doors slide open in front of you, the most unwelcome sight in the world is waiting. The vision of Marcus Pike and Vanessa D’Amario in the same clothing you saw them wearing last night, looking refreshed and giddy huddled together in one corner of the elevator car makes you want to turn on your heel and flee back into the kitchen. And you probably would, if you weren’t rooted to the spot in shock and trying to remember how to breathe.

Vanessa murmurs your name in surprise. "I—I didn't expect to see you here this morning!" Her eyes dart around, almost nervously as she expects Sam to pop up. "I—uh, is Congressman Chase here?" She asks, "I thought— he said that you had a date." Normally dates between you and Sam included sleepovers.

“He’s not here.” You won’t invite questions by giving extra information, but when your feet remember how to work, you step out of the way to let them off the elevator. “I—um—I was just headed upstairs.” Sam is going to be in a very foul mood if he’s coming off a bad night and Vanessa walks in looking freshly fucked, and that almost makes you sob all over again. “N—nice to see you, Vanessa. Marcus.”

Marcus can't even do more than just nod and lift his hand and wave slightly, feeling foolish as he watches the doors slide closed and your eyes meet his in a kind of silent agony. "Well," Vanessa giggles and Marcus can't help the way that he swallows guiltily, like he's done something wrong. "I guess that's one way for my boss to learn I had a date."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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profound-bouquetbird · 4 months

Note

Hello, saw your post about httyd and I'm happy there is more people here!!!

Can i please request hiccup and female reader who lives on a small island with dragons? They're friends and she even rides one (personally i think wooly howls are so cool), hiccup finds the island while exploring with toothless and they meet.

Maybe he's fascinated that's there's someone else who's like him who's friends with dragons and doesn't want to kill them, maybe there's species he haven't seen before so he becomes a nerd (i love when he and fishlegs get like that).

It's like a small idea that i thought would be cool to see, i think as a one shot during second movie or race to the edge? Whatever you think is best.

Thank you for your time!!!

YESSSSS, I LOVE WOOLY HOWLS!!!!

I didn't watch rtte, buuutttt this is before the second movie took place 👍

I had fun writing this tbh. And, just so you know, this was written from a platonic perspective! But I also think it can be read from a romantic perspective..

Hiccup soared through the air, the salty seawater droplets making small contact with his dragon, Toothless, as they slowly ascended higher up into the sky

"How're you holdin' up, bud?" Hiccup questions as he gently pats his dragon. Toothless only let out a huff as a response, his gaze not shifting, instead focused on the scenery up ahead

Hiccup shook his head lightly, suddenly tugging on the dragons saddle as they flew up into the sky

Hiccup watched as they passed each island, every single one already being in his maps. He furrowed his brows as he let out a huff of annoyance, laying down onto his dragons back

He stared up into the sky, glaring at the clouds as he mumbled words and curses underneath his breath. Toothless paid no mind to him, his focus now on the slowly forming, seemingly unknown piece of land

Toothless let out a growl, turning his head slightly towards Hiccup to warn him. Toothless began growling, jerking his head towards the unknown land, desperately wanting for Hiccup to get out of his frustrated state of mind and to look

"What do you want Toothless." Hiccup breathed out as he sat back up, glaring at the dragon as it managed to turn his head to tug at his sleeve

"Hey- what has gotten into.." Hiccup stopped as he watched the huge piece of land slowly coming towards him, "..you" he breathed out as Toothless let go of his sleeve, facing forwards yet again

A confident smile tugged at the Berk boys lips as he quickly grabbed the saddle, laying down a bit so that the two could go faster

As the two were getting closer and closer, Hiccup watched in awe as the island became more clear

It was a pretty decent sized island, lots of greenery all throughout, but it was rich with beaches and had an odd amount of ice clinging to its side

As the Night Fury landed, Hiccup made sure there weren't any traps before getting off of Toothless. His prosthetic leg squeaked once he got off, he brushed off the nonexistent dirt off of his clothes as he looked around, a smile present on his face

Before he could even get a word out a rustle from the bushes caught his attention. He turned his head at the sound, the Night Fury quickly taking a fighting stance as it stood behind Hiccup

The boy extended his arm, motioning for Toothless to not take action as he slowly approached the rustling bush

His heart pounded in his ears as each step he took made his fear rise up. But that fear quickly disappeared once he saw a small baby dragon playing with a stick

Hiccup let out a sigh of relief as he crouched down, petting the little dragon

"You gave me quite the scare there." He chuckled, petting the top of the dragons head. The small dragon purred in delight as Hiccup slowly examined the species

"A Wooly Howl?" He questions, as if the dragon was going to give him a response. He did gain a response, but not from the small dragon

His eyes widened as he heard a low growl, his head rising up slowly to see, possibly the mother of the little dragon. He slowly began moving his hand away from the small dragon

"Hi?" He said, his voice sounding squeaky. The Wooly Howl furrowed its 'brows' as it slowly opened its mouth, presumably to attack

But the Wooly Howl closed its mouth back up as it heard a whistle, its head immediately turning towards the noise. The small dragon purred in delight as it let go of the stick and ran towards a shadowy figure

Hiccup tilted his head to the side in confusion as he inspected the silhouette. It sure didn't look like a dragon, but it didn't look fully human

Hiccup stood up, his eyes squinted as the figure slowly approached. He was even more confused when the thing came into the light

The figure stood a few feet away from the boy, one of their hands clutching onto a makeshift weapon, their mask shining under the sunlight

The figure mimicked the boy's action, tilting their head to the side as they watched him. Hiccup straightened up, and so did the figure

"What are you?" Hiccup question, although it may have been a stupid thing to ask, the boy was just the tiniest bit lost

The figure let out a chuckle, their free hand going towards their face as they slowly took off their mask. Hiccup's eyes widened in shock as he felt like the wind was knocked out of him

The person shook her head, putting her mask under her arm as she adjusted her mess of a hair

"A better question: what are you doing here?" She asked, a small smile present on her features as she tilted her head to the side, waiting for the boy to answer. The boy jumped slightly, clearing his throat as his dragon slowly walked to his side

"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, the son of the Chief of Berk, and I am on a little mission of looking for.. islands." He said, hoping that his full name and title would spark fear into the girl, despite his scrawny physique

But the girl paid no mind to his word, her attention fixated on the Night Fury by his side, her lips slightly parted as she was astonished by the dragon

"A Night Fury." She whispers under her breath, slowly approaching the two. Hiccup stumbled back slightly, staring at the approaching girl in confusion, the Night Fury copying his actions

The girl extended her hand out slowly, waiting for the dragon to sniff her hand before resting his head against it. Hiccup watched in awe, but he quickly snapped out of his daze and pulled his dragon back

"Okay- who are you?" Hiccup asked, his hand gripping tightly onto his dragons saddle as he glared at her, not wanting to let his guard down

"Oh! How rude of me!" She chuckled, setting her weapon and mask onto the soft grass as she straightened up her clothes

"I am Y/n L/n.. the dragon rider?" She awkwardly chuckled, giving him a quick bow. The Wooly Howl let out a distorted chuckle behind her, making the girl, Y/n, give the Wooly Howl a quick glare

Hiccup let out a chuckle, his grip loosening before his hand slowly dropped back to his side. He shook his head slightly, looking around, although there wasn't much to look at since he landed in an area surrounded by tall trees

"Would you like a tour?" His head snapped back towards the girl, who was now oddly closer to him, "of the island." The girl added in case he was confused. He smiled, nodding his head a bit before actually speaking

"Yes, that would be appreciated." He sighed. Y/n smiled as she quickly turned around, grabbing her weapon and mask before mounting the Wooly Howl

"Follow me." She chuckled, her voice slightly muffled by the mask. In a blink of an eye, she shot up into the sky

Hiccup watched in awe as the girl ascended, but his gaze was shifted to his dragon, which had nudged him out of his train of thoughts

Hiccup mounted his dragon, quickly shooting up into the sky as he began following the girl

The two flew side by side, hiccup watching as more of the island revealed itself now that he was flying directly above. He examined the the island with interest, taking in each detail. His gaze dropped onto a small clearing which had what looked like a little shack and multiple little crops, he supposes that where Y/n lives

His breath got caught in his throat as he heard the girl beside him whistle, causing the leaves on the trees to rustle as a couple of dragons ascended into the air, flying below the two

He watched as unfamiliar dragons flew past him, giving the boy a quick glance before quickly switching their direction. He chuckled in delight, turning to look back at Y/n

She gave him a nod before making the Wooly Howl plummet towards the ground. Hiccup watched in shock, but quickly followed her actions, flying a few feet above her

She looked back up, seeing the boy following with determination. Y/n gave Hiccup a small wave, tugging lightly on her dragons fur as it changed directions, now hovering a few feet above the ground

Hiccup's eyes widened as he roughly tugged at his saddle, making the dragon quickly change directions and, luckily, not lose his balance. He let out a sigh of relief, shaking his shoulders before going back to following Y/n

He watched as she slowly made her way towards the ground. He smiled, landing down a few feet away

He jumped off of Toothless and rushed to her, his dragon not bothering to quicken his pace

"Did you get a clear view? Or do you need to take another look?" She asks, kicking the sand underneath her feet lightly. Hiccup shakes his head as he sat down onto the ground, pulling out a little notebook

"No need, I've seen enough." He replied, opening up the book to reveal a map. Y/n looked at the map with curiosity, knitting her brows together in confusion at the odd names of the islands

As Hiccup made the adjustment to his map, Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at the odd names of the islands

Once the boy had stuck the piece of paper to his map, he turned to you with a smile

"What do you call this island?" He asked, eagerly tapping his pencil onto the paper. Y/n stared at the map for a little while before turning back towards Hiccup

"Nita?" She blurted out, clearly not having any idea on what the name of the island was. Hiccup smiled and turned back towards his map

"The Land of Nita, quite catchy." He notes, writing the name of the new island down. Once he was done, he set his pencil down and watched in prude at the multiple islands he had found

He tapped his map gently before turning towards the girl yet again. Watching as the air gently blew her hair and as a smile slowly made itself present on her face

"Are you hungry?" She asks. Toothless' head shot up at her as he eagerly nodded, making the girl chuckle lightly as she stood up, motioning for the two to follow

"C'mon, I'll make you something to eat." She said, taking off her mask and giving it to her Wooly Howl, patting its head gently. The Wooly Howl gave her a huff, gently holding the mask in its mouth as it flew away from the three

The girl made her way into the woods, turning to the two as Hiccup clumsily tried to close his map

The girl chuckled, shaking her head as the boy ran towards her

"Hey- if you don't mind me asking, what was that one blue tinted dragon? I don't think I ever saw one like that!" He asks, giving a poor example of what dragon he was talking about as he began walking next to the girl, the Night Fury being a few steps behind them

The girl chuckled as she slowly began telling him the different dragons that had made their way to this island. Hiccup listened closely, the thought of his friends and father being worried slipping his mind completely as he took notes

#how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd x reader #httyd hiccup #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #toothless #httyd toothless #x reader #anonymous asks #anon ask

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wolfiesmoon · 6 months

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JJK boys with a gyaru GF

i wanted to write for all these bois but didn't have a good enough concept let's do what i do best!! Short drabbles!!...😔

I did this on my main blog too and it did really well so here i am🥰

Characters featured: Nanami, Choso, Megumi, Gojo

Nanami Kento

"Hahahaha! Kento, you look sooo cute!" You clapped your hands, satisfied with your work so far.

After much convincing, Kento allowed you to give him a gyaru makeover. It was almost artistic how much the bright, colorful accessories contrasted his strong body and calm personality.

He sighed. He can't believe he's actually letting you do this. Your puppy eyes are quite a dangerous weapon, he fears.

When you move away for a bit, he asks "Are you done?"

"Done?! We haven't even gotten to the makeup yet!! Or the nails!!" Your response shocked him. You really were going all out here, weren't you.

"Which, speaking of nails, let's do a leopard pattern like your tie!! Have I mentioned how that tie is peak gyaru yet?" Your mention of the tie evolved from there and he listened to you ramble on about the latest trends in gyaru fashion.

He liked the moments where you rambled on about things you enjoy. He loves the sound of your voice, especially when you're excited about the thing you're talking about.

You press a quick kiss to his nose all of a sudden, making him jump slightly in surprise.

"Hehehe, sorry. Your smile was just so cute and I couldn't resist." He was... smiling at you?

God, you're gonna be the death of him.

Choso Kamo

He's always had his eyes on you. To be fair, you were a little difficult to miss with all your bright acessories and clothes. And with a bright smile to match, too.

"Choso!!~" you ran up to him, hugging him tight. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around you, causing you to smile at him.

He would do anything for you, and he makes that clear as day. He holds your shopping bags, he helps you pick out nail designs and plugs in the curling iron for you while you're still doing your makeup.

Of course, he would do a lot more than that but you never let him.

"Hello." He greeted you simply, wondering where you'll take him today.

"Soooo, there's this new clothes collection I've been eyeing for a while..." you let go of him, much to his dismay.

"Do you need money?" He asked.

"What? No, I've been saving up! And I want you to come with me to pick out the best date outfits, and the best girls night outfits, the best party outfits, you get the point." You listed all the necessities off, straightening one of your fingers each time.

"Ah, I just went and called you over without explaining anything beforehand. You're not busy, are you?" Your face suddenly shifted to worry, something he hated seeing.

"No, I'm not."

Truth be told, he was supposed to go to a meeting right about now, but you're much more important. The peck you pressed to his lips was more than worth it.

Fushiguro Megumi

"Hehehe, look here Megumi~" you smiled, turning your brightly accesorised phone towards him.

Instead of posing with you like you wanted, Megumi walked out of your camera's view without a word.

"Oh come on, babe... You never let me take pictures of you..." you whined, putting down your phone and pouting.

"I don't like my face being on social media." He crossed his arms, looking as straight faced as ever.

"Who said I was gonna post it on social media? I just wanted to show you off to my girlies... They don't believe that I actually have a boyfriend..." you looked down.

"...Fine." your head shot back up, meeting his eyes. He isn't a jokester, and he never teases you on purpose either, so this can only mean...

"Yayy! I love you, babes!!" You practically jumped him, attacking him with a flurry of kisses to his face. He acted annoyed and pushed you off, but you have a feeling he liked it deep inside.

"Hehehe, now your face is covered in kiss marks!" You smiled playfully at him.

Before he got a chance to wipe it off, you snapped a quick selfie that you're going to show off to your friends so hard later.

They can't claim he's just a friend you payed to take a photo with if he has your lipstick all over him, can they?

Gojo Satoru

"Kyaaah!" All your friends squealed at the sight of your boyfriend. Satoru smirked slightly, sitting down next to you and kissing your forehead.

"You weren't lying when you said he was super hot!" One of them said. "Ahhh, he really is super tall!" Another added, looking him up and down. You nodded excitedly in response, proud smile on your face.

Satoru didn't really want to meet your friends. He had nothing against them, but a date with you and only you was way better. Atleast in his humble opinion.

"You are SO. LUCKY." Your third friend giggled.

Satoru doesn't even pay attention to your friends fangirling over him, taking your freshly manicured hand into his and appreciating your nails. Blue and sparkly. Undoubtedly to match his eyes.

He raised your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one, keeping eye contact with you the entire time and listening to your friends lose it in the background.

"Satoru...?!" You tried your best to not let your blush show. Suddenly, he pulled you close by your hips, whispering into your ear.

"Hey, here's a bright idea. Let's ditch your friends. After all, I'm in the mood for something sweet." You felt a shiver run through you at his words.

"Hey-Satoru!" You pulled on his ear, making him pout and promise not to do it again, but you have a feeling he won't stop trying.

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sodasa-was-taken · 1 month

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How subtle is the romance of G-Witch really: The language of romance and the bias in interpretation

First of all, I want to express my gratitude for all the feedback I've received. You guys are awesome. When I posted my first analysis, I had no idea how it would be perceived. Throughout my life, I've mostly been met with confusion, if not a bit of curiosity, when I've told people about my fascination with the romance genre. Even people who like the genre don't treat it with the respect I do but rather see it as something they can turn their brains off to. I was scared that people who saw my analysis would think that G-Witch, I dunno, had too much else going on to be considered a romance. I can't tell you all how validating it's been to get this much praise for writing about one of my biggest passions. Thank you so much.

This post is less an analysis of G-Witch as it's an exploration of the hypocrisy in how straight and gay romances are interpreted even by the queer community. I've engaged with a lot of female/male romances, especially when I was younger and thought I was straight, so it's quite surreal seeing similar stories being interpreted vastly differently based only on whether the main characters are queer or not.

There's been a lot of discussion about how explicit same-sex relationships in fiction should be. Many agree that the minimum for the characters to be unambiguously into each other is for them to kiss. That would be an ideal metric if the same applied to a man and a woman being into each other. It does not. For the vast majority of history, since people first started portraying characters in romantic relationships, explicit depictions of physical affection between those characters haven't been a thing. Depicting that sort of thing didn't become commonplace until the 20th century. For example, you would be hard-pressed to find any of the somewhat indecent positions Miorine and Suletta get into in a Jean Austin novel. Like, usually in a platonic hug, you lay your head on someone's shoulder or clavicle, and Miorine's burying her face in the upper part of Suletta's cleavage. How scandalous!

Of course, these views are centuries old, and the expectations of what should be included in a story about people getting together have changed drastically since then. Except in a lot of ways, it hasn't. Especially in manga, light novels, and anime, it can take real-life years for two characters to show affection through physician touch. Still, it’s expected that the characters are or will become attracted to one another and that they’ll end up together before the end of the story. Unless they’re the same gender, where not only is that not an expectation, but due to tropes such as Bury Your Gays, people are more likely to think one of them is going to die. That’s messed up. Being a main character in a romance or something adjacent shouldn’t be a death sentence for any character. Then there’s the fact that same-sex couples-to-be in fiction can be as forward as they want in their physical and verbal affections. Still, a straight couple-to-be that does nothing but bigger or just be the most prominent characters in their respective genders will still be perceived as less ambiguous. A man and a woman who get a bit flustered around each other are hopelessly in love. Yet, two girls sharing an intimate hug after a conversation about how neither wants their engagement to just be a transaction; that’s “totally platonic.”

Better yet, Hollywood has fine-tuned this to the point that the male and female leads only need to look at each other for about five seconds, and it’s enough to infer that they’re attracted to each other. This has become so ubiquitous that people have gotten confused when the leads are implied not to have gotten together despite having shown zero romantic intent. Having the character show romantic intent isn’t generally considered a requirement for them to end up together in a Hollywood film. No, seriously. All this is to say that literary and visual shorthand have always been and continue to be a major part of romances. Yet, the bar is much higher when it comes to the confirmation that two characters of the same gender are into each other. An author can use the exact same narrative tools that have become a staple of female/male romances/romantic subplots, and someone will tell you you're being led on for picking up on them.

The main reason for the high standards placed on same-sex couples is the desire for representation. If straight couples are allowed to or even expected to kiss at some point in the story, the same should be the case for same-sex couples. That said, kissing neither is nor should be the be-all and end-all of good representation. Yeah, straight couples get to kiss and have sexual relationships, but by all accounts, a significant amount of straight representation is absolutely abysmal. Lots of straight romances reek of sexism, outdated gender roles, and stereotyping, are toxic, and straight-up have a reputation for romanticizing abuse. If kissing or an “I love you” is the metric to which good representation is judged, two straight people who have zero chemistry or are downright abusive would be better representation than a same-sex couple whose relationship is built on mutual respect and support but who doesn't get to kiss or say “I love you” and that's ridiculous.

It’s also worth noting how people who tell others they’re crazy for seeing a queer story where according to them, there aren’t any, get characterized as needing to see something explicit to pick up that a story is or even just be interpreted as a queer romance. The thing is, most of these people aren’t dense; they’re willfully ignorant. They can pick up on the signs just as easily as they can in male/female romances; they’re choosing not to, even if it’s likely an unconscious decision. There seems to be a need among queer people to have depictions in media that even bigots can’t deny are queer. Why though? Representation is vital in helping to normalize the existence of various types of people, but for so many queer people, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. So what if some people wouldn’t get it unless the characters kiss? Those people will just start complaining about how they’re having queerness forced down their throats, and that’s their problem. There’s so much more to the queer experience than displays of physical affection, and this representation gatekeeping isn’t helping anyone. Normalizing same-sex couple kissing is important, but normalizing people of the same gender kissing is only going to normalize the kissing itself. If, for example, two people of the same gender get to kiss and then one of them gets killed off, that's the opposite of normalizing same-sex relationships.

Pulling from my own experiences, I've never been told that there was anything wrong with two people of the same gender kissing. Still, I saw same-sex relationships as inferior and believed being in one couldn't give me the life I wanted. I tried so hard to convince myself that I was straight and was only attracted to someone with a different gender presentation than me – because I was also an egg who told myself I was wrong for feeling uncomfortable for being referred to as my assigned gender at birth. Honestly, I thought that I would be happier if I didn’t even entertain the idea of getting together with someone with the same gender presentation as me. So, imagine how much it meant to me to see a show about two girls where one of them didn’t even think that getting engaged to another girl was an option, both of them having young men interested in them but asking each other to spend their life with them, and ending the show being married and being all the happier for being with the other. That's the kind of representation I've been looking for.

On a less serious note, I’d like to share an antidote from when I watched episode one for the first time. When Suletta sees someone floating around in space who appears to be in danger I didn’t initially consider that the person in question might be Miorine. The visuals planted the idea in my mind and the thing that confirmed it was the framing of the two inside Aerial’s cockpit. I couldn’t explain what I was picking up on, but to me, it was a dead giveaway.

#queer representation #mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #the witch from mercury #g witch #sulemio #suletta x miorine #love is love and film language is film language #when the visuals dialogue and music all suggest something romantic is happening how subtle is it really?

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sanest-bsd-delegate · 9 months

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CAN YOU DO BSD BOYS HAVING A S/O WHO IS CHILDISH AND SARCASTIC BUUUT THEIR S/O IS SECRETLY HAS FRAGILE PERSONALITY AND OVERTHINKS? ONLY IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE AND HAVE TIME THO 😭😭 . (I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS REQUEST BECAUSE EVERY POST OF YOURS IS PIECE. OF. ART.) SKSKJSKSNSLWK

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

headcanon: Who knew that even the boldest overthinks? ft: Dazai, Chuuya and Ranpo

MASTERLIST

Dazai

He was onto the traditional method of suicide, the typical jumping off the roof. Unfortunately for him yet again, someone had to interrupt him. "Oh look its you Y/N!" Dazai comments, laughing as he stood on the hard ground. Shaking your head, you just pinched him on his arm as you drag him back to the ADA office.

"Are you out of your mind Dazai? Oh wait you don't even have the audiency to ow-"

"It hurts Y/NNNNN" Dazai comments, as he rubs the spot where you previously held his arm.

'Did I pinch him to hard? Oh fuck, is he hurt? what if-'

Almost thinking, Dazai wrap his arms around you as he laughs out loud, burying his head on your shoulders. "I was joking Y/NNN". You look at Dazai, as you hold his face, before pouting and holding a childish frown on you face, clearly disappointed. You were about to turn you head away before Dazai holds your face with his hands staring at your eyes before kissing your forehead.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"Oh I don't know? But that wasn't clearly in my job description"

Chuuya

It was one of those occasions where you would wake up earlier then Chuuya, as you would walk outside the room to see the mess you created last night. You both had been through a really messed up mission and Chuuya being Chuuya, thought too get drunk.

Guess it was you turn today to make breakfast today.

"Morning" Chuuya says, rubbing his eyes while walking towards the dining table seating himself while he half sleep watches you make breakfast. "Oh? is that Chuuya speaking to me or is it Mr bonnie lass am speaking with?" You said jokingly, as you place two plates of breakfast in front of you.

"Seriously Y/N? Its to early for this" He says while trying to stay awake, his body yet to fully sober up. "Early? Its 10 am in the morning...Mr bonnie lass wouldn't act like that" you joked, while drinking the cup of coffee. missing the blush that had formed on her lover's face.

There was an awkward silence after that. 'did I do something wrong? did i cross the limit?'. You look down at the table before giving a sigh, letting the overthinking thoughts consume you, but before it could you hear him speak,

"The breakfast was delicious Y/N"

You look up to reach his eye level, his head tilted on one of his hands, as he gave you a grin something you could never tired off. "Oh really? glad to know"

"You should make breakfast everyday you know?," he says, before walking over and giving you a kiss on forehead before walking towards the sink to rinse the plates.

"No thanks, besides you look cute in aprons. Any who would wanna miss checking you out wearing that?"

Ranpo

"Ranpo! You cant keep eating candies forever!" You commented as you snatch the snacks he held in his hands, before keeping it away on the top shelf, "Geez, How come you haven't gotten diabetes yet from eating so much candies".

Yeah, that was the last time you talked to Ranpo. He had quite been ignoring you at the agency, turning his head away each time you came in his view pounding and secretly throwing a tantrum inside. You on the other hand, just couldn't figure out why he was ignoring you. You both never fought, and infact Ranpo was a type of person who would never try get separate from you. He carved for physical affection, and when he didn't it got you concerned. Was it your fault? Did you do something wrong? Will this become the reason that you and him drift apart? You didn't know.

"Ranpo," You spoke, your arms wide open as you take a step towards him, a little guilty and unsure how he would react. He is mad isn't it? "Did I do something wrong?...Please tell me"

Ranpo seemed to catch your emotions before viewing your arms, he dived into the hug whining and complaining, "Y/NNN you never gave me my candy back, I wanted to finish it"

Oh? So that was the reason he refused to talk to you?

"You are a big baby you know that?" You said, as you reached the cabinet and give him the sweet snack back, only for him to beam brightly and start eating again. You look at him, shaking your head wondering if your boyfriend was a 26 year grown old man or a 6 year old child.

I had the idea to bullet them all, now I dont even know if I wrote a headcanon or a drabble. (ps tysm love😭, your words mean a lot :D srry for the wait)

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mosaickiwi · 1 month

Text

Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.

A dull ache began in your back.

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #o boi #heyyyy angelll #it's me the devil #angel!angel says feeling feelings feels bad!!!#except when it's good!!!#this was in rewrite hell sorry #the original thing was 3 parts but i cut a lot cause some bits didn't hit right in my brain #i am my own worst enemy #i mean i'm super happy with how it ends here bc ominous yearning and longing angst?? love her #if i decide to write more it'd be the absolute last one #and then infodump #or i could infodump now teehee!! shout out to the people in my askbox waiting for 4 months pls forgive meeeee

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mrsmikaelsxn · 8 months

Text

ABBA Marathon

masterlist

pairing: father sirius black x daughter reader

warnings: like one curse word, tooth rotting fluff, sirius being an icon, literally just a very fun read that i hope has you smiling in your bed

summary: you meet sirius, play chess with sirius, and have an abba singing and dance party with sirius (sirius meeting his daughter post azkaban - requested by anon)

a/n: im so obsessed with this idk i wish sirius was my dad, also sorry this has been in my inbox for so long

song: waterloo - abba

Being Sirius Black's daughter was quite tiring. But also thrilling. Especially since it was your third year when he escaped Azkaban.

Your best friends are Harry, Hermione, and Ron. You couldn't have asked for better ones.

With the rumors of Sirius coming after you and Harry, people had been cold towards you because of your father, not that you could control who your father was.

Right now you were outside, taking a walk in some fresh air. Suddenly a dog comes up to you and barks once. "Why, hello there," you coo and bend down. The dog happily wags his tail and jumps onto her. "Aww, you're so cute!"

You pet the dog, who leans into your hand. "You are very skinny," you frowned. "Follow me, I'm sure Hagrid has some food I can give you."

As you two head down, you get near the Whomping Willow. As you pass by, the dog suddenly spins and before you could blink the dog was biting your pants, tugging you to the tree.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Dog, but these are new pants." You then get very close to the tree, "Er- I don't think this is a good idea," you say nervously as the branches of the tree start to move.

The dog looks up in alert and quickly tugs you into some type of hole that they slid down into. "Ah!" The dog jumps up and pulls on your pants again. "Where are we going?"

Finally, you come into an empty abandoned room. "What is this place..."

You walk over and pick up a dusted book, blowing on the cover before putting it back down. You turn around and her eyes go wider than they've ever been. "AHH!" you scream.

"AHH!"

"SHH!"

You cover your mouth and stare at the one and only Sirius Black.

Your father.

"What the fuck," you whisper to yourself. "Oh my Merlin, I'm too young to die! I- I haven't gotten to slap Malfoy yet, I haven't been able to prank Snape! I ha-"

"Prank Snape?" Sirius pipes up.

"I'm going to die. Oh, Godric," you pace while frantically whispering to yourself. "I'm in the same room with Sirius Black, alone."

He frowns at being called by his name instead of Dad, which it should be.

"Relax, love, I'm not going to kill you."

You spin and face the man, "You're not?"

"No."

"Then why am I here? For giggles and a tea party?"

"One, you're about to find out. Two, I don't like tea," Sirius makes a face.

"Huh, me neither. Now, go on, tell me why I'm in an abandoned room with an escaped convicted murderer," you cross your arms.

"I'm not a murderer. I'm innocent, I swear."

You narrow her eyes, "How so?"

"Well, it started when I first got to Hogwarts..."

You wipe the tears from under your eyes, "That is the saddest thing I have ever heard."

Sirius waves his hand, "Now that you know what happened, you believe me right?"

"Of course!" You throw her arms around the man, who relaxes into his daughters hold. It's been a long time since he has had human contact.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid you can't tell anyone about me just yet."

"Why?! If I tell them you're inno-"

He smiles sadly, "I'm not so sure they would believe you."

"But-" Sirius shakes his head. You sigh, "Well, are you going to be staying here?"

He nods, "I guess. It's a bit dirty though, if you ask me."

"I can fix that," you grin. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity. You takes out your wand and flick it. The room starts moving and the dust all collects together before flying out the window. The furniture vanishes and new ones appear. Pictures form on the wall and the room cleans up into a brand new, clean room.

"Wow, impressive. Thank you," Sirius says. You nod and flick your wrist again. In the blink of an eye, Sirius is freshly cleaned and looks well taken care of. His eyes almost water at your kindness. "I truly can't thank you enough."

"That's better, isn't it?" You smile proudly at your work. "Oh! You need food," you think for a moment, "I'll just bring you down daily meals."

"I can't ask you to do that, it's too much."

"It's a good thing you don't have to ask. You mentioned your friend... Remus Lupin." Sirius nods and gestures for you to continue, "He's a Professor this year... anyway, is he a..."

"A...?"

"Werewolf," you say hesitantly.

Sirius' face goes a bit pale, "What makes you think that?"

"His boggart was a moon, and he has lots of light scars."

"Would it change your opinions about him?"

"Not at all! If anything I think it makes him even better." Sirius nods his head. "Yes... he's a werewolf?"

He nods again, "You're a bright witch."

"Thank you," you beam. You looks at your watch, "I have about twenty minutes before my friends start looking for me. In the meantime.... Wizard's Chess?"

"Yes! Checkmate!" You jump up from your seat in excitement. "I won!"

"That's not fair! You only won because I'm rusty," Sirius crosses his arms and sinks into the couch.

"Sure, sure. Rematch tomorrow?" you ask.

"Rematch tomorrow," you two shake hands and you go to the exit.

"I'll bring you some food in a little while."

"Bye, darling," he waves, watching you leave.

A few weeks later, you were on your daily trip to see Sirius. You snuck in through the Whomping Willow, you also learned how to avoid the branches.

"Hello?!" you shout.

"Over here!"

You follow his voice and see him digging through a closet. "What are you looking for?"

"I- that's... a good question." He stands up and clears his throat, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It has come to my attention that you recently made an appearance in the castle."

"Mhm."

"And you didn't inform me about it beforehand," you gives him a blank stare.

"I wanted to, but it took a while to plan and I wanted it to be a surprise," he grins with jazz hands.

"You do realize that I could have helped you in, right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to risk you getting in trouble," he frowns.

"I appreciate your concern," you salute him and he does it back with a chuckle.

"What's in the bag?" He nods to the one hanging on your arm.

"This, my furry father-"

"That was a horrible joke."

"-Is a record player!" You excitedly pull it out of the bag and place it on a table.

"A what?"

"A record player. It plays music. Want to see?!"

"As if I would say no to music."

You reach into the bag and take out some vinyl records. "I picked ones that I think you would enjoy best. There is a supergroup that I thought you would really like. They're called ABBA. They're one of my favorites."

You set up the record player and place one of the vinyls in. You grin at the man as you hit the play button.

"YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE! HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE! SEE THAT GIRL, WATCH THAT SCENE! DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN!"

You and Sirius continue to shout the lyrics into your fake microphones as you hop around the room with the song blasting. When the room was first set up by you, you placed several privacy and silencing spells, so you two didn't have to worry about anyone hearing anything.

"YOU ARE THE DANCING QUEEN! YOUNG AND SWEET, ONLY SEVENTEEN-"

"GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT! WON'T SOMEBODY HELP ME CHASE THE SHADOWS AWAY?" you sing while bouncing on the couch.

"GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT! TAKE ME THROUGH THE DARKNESS TO THE BREAK OF THE DAY!" Sirius continues as he walks and dances as if he were on a stage.

"MAMMA MIA, HERE I GO AGAIN! MY, MY, HOW CAN I RESIST YOU?"

"MAMMA MIA, DOES IT SHOW AGAIN! MY, MY, JUST HOW MUCH I'VE MISSED YOU?"

Sirius and you hold hands as you jump together and flip your hair with matching goofy grins.

"YES, I'VE BEEN BROKENHEARTED! BLUE SINCE THE DAY WE PARTED!"

"WHY, WHY DID I EVER LET YOU GO?"

"BUT NOW IT ISN'T TRUE! NOW EVERYTHING IS NEW!" you grab your wand to create two pairs of light up sunglasses, you toss one to Sirius and you both put them on.

"AND ALL I'VE LEARNED HAS OVERTURNED! I BEG OF YOUUU!" Sirius sings.

"DON'T GO WASTING YOUR EMOTION! LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON MEEEE!" you shout together.

With a flick of your wrist, you - much to Sirius' surprise - somehow managed to have a disco ball with neon lights come from the ceiling.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sit in the Gryffindor common room.

"I wonder what she's doing right now," Harry looks thoughtfully.

"She's been leaving a lot recently," comments Hermione, biting nervously on her nail.

"I hope she's okay," says Ron, "Sirius Black could be out there."

"LAST NIGHT I WAS TAKING A WALK ALONG THE RIVER, AND I SAW HIM TOGETHER WITH A YOUNG GIRL!"

"AND THE LOOK THAT HE GAVE HER MADE ME SHIVER! 'CAUSE HE ALWAYS USE TO LOOK AT ME THAT WAY!" Sirius grabs your hand and twirls you, causing you to laugh.

"AND I THOUGHT, MAYBE I SHOULD WALK RIGHT UP TO HER AND SAY 'AH-HA-HA, IT'S A GAME HE LIKES TO PLAYYY!" you and Sirius shimmy dance to each other.

You jump and freeze before breaking out in another dance and sing the chorus. "LOOK INTO HIS ANGELEYES, ONE LOOK AND YOU'RE HYPNOTISED! HE'LL TAKE YOUR HEART AND YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE!"

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"I TRY TO CAPTURE EVERY MINUTE!"

"THE FEELING IN IT, SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"DO I REALLY SEE WHAT'S IN HER MIND, EACH TIME I'M CLOSE TO KNOWING, SHE KEEPS ON GROWING!"

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"SOMETIMES I WISH THAT I COULD FREEZE THE PICTURE!"

"AND SAVE IT FROM THE FUNNY TRICKS OF TIME!"

Sirius and you wrap an arm around each other's waist as they sway to the music.

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERSSSSS!"

Sirius then starts pretending like he's playing the guitar to the music making your giggle.

You and Sirius fall back, panting, onto the couch. Sirius turns to you and gives you a high five.

"Oh my Merlin! That was the most fun I had in forever!"

"Me too, kid. Thank you. I don't know the last time I felt like that."

"You're welcome," you bumps his shoulder. "Oh! And you can keep everything, I have my own."

"Really?"

"Mhm, I'll bring you more vinyls I have. We can have more singing and dancing parties like this."

"I'm looking forward to it." He looks at a watch you got him, "I think it may be time for you to head back."

You look in a mirror on the wall, "My hair is messy from flipping it."

"I can help you with it, if you want," he smiles at you.

"Really?" He nods. "Thanks!"

Sirius gets up and grabs a brush, you turn on the couch so he is behind you as he brushes through your hair. "I'm going to try to do that braid you taught me."

"Here's a hair tie," you take one off your wrist.

He struggles at first but manages to do a good, tight braid. "Done!" Sirius claps his hands.

You look in the mirror, "Wow, you have a good teacher."

He shrugs, "Meh, she's alright." You slap the back of his head, "Okay, okay! Not the hair! Okay, I have the best teacher."

You nod happily and grab your bag, "Bye, Dad."

"See you soon, y/n," he winks.

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eluxcastar · 9 months

Note

As I opened my tumblr, just to check if there is new Arlecchino stuff to swallow... lo and behold, I saw your post with the Arlecchino simp tags. Shot me the moment I stepped into the door right there, hahaha! May I request an Arlecchino x reader, headcanon or anything you're comfortable coming up with. The reader is thousands of years old, who got disowned by the Tsaritsa because they declined their performance in greatness for someone else's benefit and saw no worth in her/them. Could be a sibling or a friend, the betrayal stung like a bee since she/they saw Tsaritsa as a mother figure or could literally be the mother (Got kunikuzushi'd in a way, minus the puppet part). So, here's the main part - How Arlecchino would handle that person, when they meet in hostile terms. An accidental encounter, had banters and fights and eventually found strange subtle solace from each other. Could be romantic, or just obsession on Arlecchino's part because we love deranged women pls step on me with your sharp heels - anyway, since Arlecchino is interpreted as someone who won't hesitant to betray the Fatui. On her own benefit, works with the reader to mess and interrupt Fatui operations. I won't include more or else you'd be dealing a whole thesis of it. Hahahah! Good day to you~!

One of Repetition

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: in a strange decision nobody quite understood but could not contest, you were dismissed from your position by the tsaritsa herself but allowed to live. you wander for some time, lost and confused, and most notably unable to escape the fatui even when you are no longer associated with them, which means an unwanted letter and an even more unwanted visit from the knave.

୨୧﹑genre :: kinda angsty

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader has a pyro vision, arlecchino has a cryo delusion, reader uses a bow, capitano is not human this time, he's just a plot device too, their previous relationship is implied but ambiguous, implied age difference, reader is most often called by the title brighella, writing this spiralled me into insanity, possibly bad writing, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 13.6k

hehe, I know that Arlecchino simps flock to me once they learn my requests are open. I have no idea why. maybe they're just especially desperate for food, but they linger, and I have a little collection of anons.

don't worry about how much it'll take me, I honestly enjoy writing longer works. anyway, I received a request similar to this some time ago (was it you? I have encountered that before) but haven't gotten around to completing it, so I'll be partly combining the two

here's the other request:

it's gonna provide some stuff for me to follow, and I remember exactly when I got it, so I wanted to include it for the dear anon who sent it

why brighella you may ask well that's because brighella has been described before as essentially Arlecchino's smarter and more vindictive brother and they compliment each other well. I think Arlecchino may also work for Brighella in some versions?? either way it felt right even though they're not really based off of the character brighella, they do share a few traits with him but not fully it's just a fun little parallel

I really did not expect this to be so long that it literally lagged the writing program I was using to save it and I have been staring at this for so long I literally have no gauge on the quality anymore just that it's variable because it took me so long someone send help

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother— your world— turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him.

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes, prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight ten other Harbingers. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that. Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fought for you and did not deserve a punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you, "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really. There is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette. "What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else."

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure him to a place. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you.

She needs your name, reputation, your relationship with your subordinate, melding together with her lies to make for a tale of tragedy with him as the hero.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim.

His death was another factor to hold over your head, your penance, the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with anger, but you cannot fight. Despite your feelings of anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to.

But...you must.

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition.

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him."

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that thin mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity, being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he treasures to this day. Even if he was to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach.

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value.

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her less-- to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since before the Archon War. What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them? The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks, the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. In this state, you required her for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all of eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance.

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. It's possible that he has become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watched set, you would never come to terms with it living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last. Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger, years of your life spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair.

You almost want to call them wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this...perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours.

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides your own arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have nothing but your vision and bow left to aid your defence. Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to have to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it.

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

There is a stark silence that is deafening to your ears.

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on. The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in your honour, believing that you had passed away. All of them are completely unaware that as they remark on the death of Brighella, they are speaking to the former Harbinger, who asks about the news under the guise of being a curious traveller. They also strongly advised you against venturing into the innermost heart of the nation. If anyone were to notice the helmet carefully secured around your waist, it might bring unwanted attention to your travels.

Though you were stripped of your insignia, you have your armour, which by some grace had been spared from confiscation. Though a seemingly trivial act of kindness, a sense of pride swelled within you as you gazed upon it. You are glad it is still yours. This armour had accompanied you through countless blood-soaked skirmishes, serving as a steadfast shield against all manner of danger.

It is at that moment you decide to treat it as a trophy. Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying. Now, the armour which once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. You know that you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. Already, the whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path and in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence. Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was only the Fourth of the Tsaritsa's children, but she was the most combat-heavy, and no one wished to cross her, except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have immeasurable wealths of information that spill with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength a tad as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuttals the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening again.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly down on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such...devotion."

"It's strange, but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it just as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of Fourth Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it."

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

God, these people are so dull. Just listening to them, you can tell they know nothing of the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth.

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya."

"So what if I am?"

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as it was before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and every human who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose.

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte.

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about. Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall that's called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night." Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you declare your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

Months pass before there is talk of the crowning of a new Harbinger, the people abuzz with the news and eager to know all they can, preferably before the aristocrats feel like sharing the night of the event. You considered attending the ceremony but ultimately decided against it. You may have the courage to do so, but you are certainly not stupid enough to wander into the waiting heart of the Fatui's clutches. You have waited patiently for this moment and can easily wait longer to hear the news.

No longer treating the inn like a home, you settled somewhere in the plains of another nation only a few weeks after you had first arrived there, sensing the barkeep was getting sick of you and the attention you were drawing to his otherwise obscure establishment.

People settled there for a night, saw you were there, and word of mouth as they boasted of their encounters with you lured others who came to see you. While this influx of new customers certainly provided a boost to business, it also had the unintended consequence of driving away those who preferred to keep a low profile and valued its place as being for those 'in the know'. In other words, while you were great for a boom in business, you were bad for long-term business.

The barkeep pushing the mora you tried to pay him to pay for another night was enough to send the message he wanted you gone, out by morning. The idea you were not to come back for quite some time was clear to you in the look he gave you.

Liyue, on the other hand, is filled with mountains and teeming with visitors who have come to witness the highly anticipated Rite of Descension. Surprisingly, the influx of tourism only adds to the overall enjoyment of your experience. You would think that tourism would hinder your time there, but completely contrary it makes it better in a way. The locals are expecting an influx of outsiders to come to see the Geo Archon in person, and, as a result, they are not only willing to hire help for the time but also serve later at food stalls, and the place is livelier.

People notice you less as you blend into a crowd of people who don't belong, and you slip under the radar.

You have no interest in the Rite of Descension nor the Geo Archon, and most of your time is spent outside the Harbour.

Wangshu Inn is still within Liyue but at a considerable distance from the Harbour, a mid-point between there and the border to Mondstadt. It is quieter, which is neither good nor bad, and home to some very understanding owners who ask so few questions it almost alarms you. Nonetheless, you crave respite from the chaos and theatrics you were revelling in as a reprieve from the stress you were under, wondering how you would live your life now. At one point, you relished being hailed as a hero by many, but it soon became overwhelming, and you found yourself trapped in the clutches of Brighella once again.

Whether by design or happenstance, your identity had begun to consume your life again, and if you wanted to have any hope of living outside of Brighella, then that had to stop. And so, you sought out a place to lay down your burdens and unwind, leading you to where you are now.

You arrive your old self, and despite clinging to it since your travels had begun, you remove every piece of your armour for what you intend to be a long time and leave it all neatly arranged for when you eventually return to it. You feel compelled to finally don the fresh outfit you acquired during your journey through Fontaine. Admittedly floor-length dresses and extravagance are not your style after years of being cooped up in a heavy suit of armour, but there's something alluring about trying out a new look, especially when it involves pants that don't weigh more than a third of your body weight. Besides, you always kind of liked them anyway, just...not yet. Now seems like a good time to dip your toes in.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you finally see yourself in the mirror. Perhaps you got too used to seeing a metal helmet staring back at you and a suit of armour for a body, but the fresh air against your skin and lighter clothes feels...good.

For the first time in a while, you feel free.

The new outfit is making you giddy, too giddy for your taste. You don't recall having such an innate pep in your step, only one that felt deserved, but this different. While you typically associate a sense of satisfaction with having earned it through hard work or perseverance, this newfound exuberance seems to come from just existing in your new clothes. You are happy just because even if there is nothing to feel happy about. It's as if the simple act of wearing them has given you a boost, despite not having accomplished anything significant. It doesn't even seem like you made much progress toward becoming yourself when you lay it all out on paper. You bought clothes and wore them, that's it.

Something about it feels so much like yourself. The freedom to stray from what you thought you were until now, something you hadn't dared to try before.

One thing you like about Wangshu Inn is how it serves even people who aren't staying there. The ground floor overlooking the water is designated as almost a kind of restaurant. People filter in and out to be served, stay for lunch, meet with friends, and take breaks from their missions. It is meant as a place for travelling merchants, but you find that is not all its patrons see in it.

You are not nearly as sociable as you were in the Snezhnayan bar you were at, but this seems more manageable anyway.

"If you've come looking for work, the Adventurer's Guild may have a place for you." A suggestion from a merchant who struck up an idle conversation with you for some reason sticks with you. You can't say why, but you imagine a product of boredom.

"They accept anyone?" Your surprise is evident in your tone, as you thought they might have tighter restrictions.

Just as in disbelief fact as you are, he shrugs, "As long as you've got enough power to back yourself, a friend of mine said they'll accept anyone."

That sounds far too good to be true, at least for your taste. "And it doesn't matter where you come from or where you go?"

"Adventurers are known to get restless in one place for too long."

"I see, and you can just go up a--"

"Excuse me, miss." You don't remember hearing that voice, but you recognise the attire when you turn your head just enough to be met with the sight of a cicin mage standing before you impatiently awaiting your attention. The top half of her face is concealed, as is customary, but there's no mistaking the unkind smile that tugs at the corners of her lips as you meet her gaze.

Has she come for retribution?

Despite your fears of having to make a mess, the woman reveals a letter that is sealed with wax and extends it towards you, expecting you to receive it sooner rather than later as she waves it slightly as a form of incentive. "From the Damselette," she adds.

"What could the Damselette want with me?"

"Perhaps a warning." The words slip by, quiet but noticeable, immediately catching your attention. You raise an eyebrow at her. She's slowly unveiling her contempt at your presence; you're very aware of that fact. You are not familiar with her. It is unlikely that she ever worked under your command. However, it is possible that she might've held a certain level of regard, which has since turned to hostility as rumours of her arrogant killer run rampant. "I don't know. I'm not privy to those things."

Your eyes glance over her from head to toe in thought, scrutinising her for any indication of where her animosity came from. However, there is nothing that gives away her motives. You break your gaze away from her and glance down at the letter in your hand. "I suggest you get a better hold of your tongue. They don't like it when you're rude to their guests."

Her smile does not waver. "You are not a guest." She states that fact with glaringly false politeness.

"Everyone who recieves correspondence from a Harbinger is a guest."

You suppose you can't fault her disdain when all is said and done.

From somewhere tucked away in her clothing, she pulls what appears to be a knife from your peripheral vision and points it at you, but you look up to find it is only a blunt letter opener balanced in the palm of her hand, waiting to be picked up.

"I was ordered to stay until you had read the letter to deliver her your response."

Just as she believes you are a murderer, the letter addresses you as such. Your lies have reached her ears. Moreover, she is playing along with them.

You expected threats and unfair deals, but it is only an update on what is happening regarding your position, the reassurance that they have not violated the terms of the agreement made. A half-hearted apology and an excuse. Preparations set them back, supposedly.

While you imagine preparing not only a funeral but a ceremony to announce the next Harbinger does take time, it would not take this much time with how prepared they were to kill you off in the first place. It was a planned betrayal.

It just looks better if they don't appear so prepared.

For whatever reason, perhaps your consolation prize for enduring her shameless lies, she shares a secret with you. As you casually scan the letter with little care for its contents, your attention is immediately drawn to the heart of the matter. It's the very subject on everyone's minds and all that anyone speaks of.

Il Capitano. His name is Il Capitano.

Personally, you would not have picked it, but that does not mean that you hate the name. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you have to admit that when you envision the name paired with his face, it suits him well. She ends the letter promising that she will 'take good care of him', though you know that your respective ideas of those words do not align or even coexist in the same universe. There is an unmistakable discrepancy between her intentions and your own, and you don't like it.

"Come back to us, Brighella. You can watch everything you wanted in person."

You won't go back. It's a trap.

Irritated, you find yourself back in the heart of the country where nobody lurks, haphazard in the way you fire your arrows at every creature that dares to disturb your sense of peace. It's hard to focus, and you don't bother trying. Liyue is not the same as Snezhnaya, with open plains broken up by rocky mountains. The creatures are mostly the same, and all die the same, hilichurls and geovishaps running rampant and shot down into piles of meat and rocks.

It doesn't matter how loudly you shout, as there's nobody around to hear it. You could scream, cry, and throw a tantrum all you want, and it won't matter. Even if you throw yourself at the ground and bang your head into the dirt, nobody will see it.

This is all pointless. You will never escape. It will never matter how far you roam or how fast you run.

Why did you think you could? Had your brain melted from your head?

There is no other side. There is no salvation. You are owned from the day you're brought in until the day you die, but why? Why did they want to bring you back to Snezhnaya? What was the point? You are out of the way now, hardly causing trouble for them. Despite this, everything seems to be running smoothly, even with the liberties you have taken in your new role. Was that it? The reason they wanted you to see?

It must be. There is no other reason to risk exposing the lie otherwise. Unless it was to tarnish the Fatui's reputation.

You refuse to believe it is something as innocent as wanting to see your request honoured. Nothing is innocent within the Fatui, not an action without hidden intentions or motives. Centuries of watching their misdeeds from the inside, which always go unpunished and unchallenged by anyone except the powerless commoners, have taught you that there is always an ulterior motive lurking behind their actions.

Not to mention it came from Columbina.

You must've spent three days out there before finally returning to Wangshu Inn, dirtied by the elements and craving something to eat, like a child's insatiable desire for sweets. The dead of night provides a cover for you to take a dip in the water beside the inn in an attempt to rinse the dirt and sweat off of you. It dawns on you that your new clothes would've been ruined if you hadn't had the foresight to change before venturing out again. In that moment, thoughts of the Fatui and the memories evoked by your armour flooded your mind, and you didn't want the same thing to happen to the clothes that had made you so happy from the moment you put them on.

It feels childish how you cling to these things.

A part of you just can't help it, torn between holding onto the memories that define who you believe yourself to be and starting anew with a clean slate. Neither can win. One is stuck on the past and what little you have of it, and the other wants to abandon all of that and start completely fresh.

The half-compromise you are trying desperately to make work by accepting that what's gone is gone while keeping your armour close to your heart is obviously not working. The thought of discarding it pains you too much to actually do it, plagued by the urge to melt it down to scrap metal while also being overwhelmed by the knowledge you will regret doing that as soon as you see the mess that would be left of it.

Your new clothes make you happy, so you need more new things to make you even happier, right? If new means you glean happiness, then more new is what will help you move past all of this deliberation in your head.

Clothes were a given, and...maybe a haircut? Yeah. You should try cutting your hair and decide on a name for yourself that isn't Brighella. Something you want, a name you like, that you can look at yourself and see that person reflected in a mirror. The person you think you are supposed to be when you look past the expectation that has been instilled in you.

That merchant you spoke to mentioned the Adventurer's Guild might have a place for you. What if you should be helping people instead of hurting them? What if you only did that to please the Tsaritsa?

In the background of your thoughts, you walk yourself back to your room at the Wangshu Inn and collapse onto your bed, thinking. Though you are exhausted, you cannot bring yourself to sleep for one reason or another. You make excuses for yourself just to ignore the glaring root of the problem you know is there but refuse to acknowledge. The problem isn't really how hot or cold the room is or the texture of your blankets and how much you dislike the humidity in the air. Something else entirely is keeping you from rest.

Your hair isn't the problem either, or your clothes. Even your lack of a proper name really doesn't bother you. They're only the illusion of change you're using to cover up how truly lost you have become now that you have to think for yourself.

How long have you been alive now? Centuries at least. You can't even live independently after that long? No. No, you can't.

You are so lonely, you are lost, you are confused. You need company, you need guidance, and you need purpose. How are you supposed to live? Where is the person who will tell you what to do every day?

You have to make that choice yourself? You can't do that. You've never done that.

The thought of even something so basic scaring you so severely brings you to a weakness you never realised you even possessed. Fear surges through the very depths of your being, an unfamiliar sensation that you find unsettling. You don't like it, but it's an impossible feeling to push down and ignore. Over the years, you had quietly collected your shortcomings into a neat little jar and pushed it aside, out of sight, away from your conscious thought, as if pretending you were invincible.

What would you have done if you had gotten to Capitano? Make him decide?

He can't. He's not human. He doesn't know enough to decide. You've only made him just like you, a fearsome man until he's abandoned and vulnerable like you have become, and then he'll be pathetic and helpless too.

Nothing came out of any of your efforts, did it? It couldn't have possibly. Even with every attempt you made, it was always doomed to fail.

It turns out that the Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take you in, in a way. They put you right to work. It helps to take your mind off of things if nothing else. It's mindless work, able to tune out everything in your brain and run on auto-pilot. You take to this life so well it scares you, completing your tasks with so little trouble you wonder how this isn't more popular, even if some are arguably unnecessary. If only you were good at proper cooking, you might get rich from the tens of requests for certain dishes.

You're irresistibly drawn to the combat, right back to the heat of battle where you feel truly alive. In all you've had to question, your love for the thrill of fighting has never been up for debate. You're unsure whether it's the adrenaline or something else, but you don't care to know, either. You don't concern yourself with such questions. It's not important to you why, so long as you find comfort in it. It's the one thing you cannot be robbed of.

A hard day's work is always rewarding.

"Make sure you be careful today." A fellow adventurer is quick to catch you before you can wander off for your next quest, smiling and unbothered despite his words. You've never met him, but he speaks as if you have.

Something about the bond of adventurers is so reminiscent of the Fatui.

You turn back to place your full attention on him rather than the grilled tiger fish you had acquired out of curiosity about the taste. "Why's that?" You're not too bothered, expecting him to tell you that it's dangerous out there, the Abyss Order existing and all.

"The Fatui are restless."

His words catch you off-guard, light in tone as they are. In outward appearances, he's mostly unbothered, while the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You try to grasp your bearings just enough to speak. "They don't do that for fun." Something about it is just as shaky as you expected, unable to fully mask it, but you figure he'll blame it on nerves.

"Harbinger, apparently." He doesn't draw attention to your demeanour, so neither do you.

"Which one?"

"Dunno."

It's probably Columbina. Maybe you pissed her off when you shot the messenger. Yeah, she probably wouldn't appreciate that. When you did it in a fit of anger, you expected her to find it funny after coming to your senses.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

You startle as you realise he had been speaking that whole time, and you just weren't listening.

"Sorry?"

"I said it's weird that they'd be up and about so soon after the newest was officially promoted."

You deadpan a little, realising it wasn't something of actual value, just a misconception that the greatest powers that be in Snezhnaya aren't spiteful enough to hate each other just as much as they hate everyone else. "Not really. They're not particularly sentimental."

"They don't even care to go out drinking for their own?"

"They hardly know how to tolerate each other." You realise your slip of the tongue too late, seeming too familiar. That's a problem. He barely draws attention to it, only making a strange face.

"Well, whatever the reason, work doesn't stop for them."

In silence, you agree and continue your day as if you really believe that.

As you wrap up your work for the day, you feel a sense of pleasant exhaustion wash over you. It struck you as strange that nobody was out in the wild, even the usual fatuus you avoid. Something about it was uniquely eerie. It dawns on you why he came to the conclusion that the Fatui were 'restless'. They must have retreated into the city to prepare for the impending arrival of the Harbinger destined to disrupt the small peace you had found. The sudden influx of fatuus in Liyue would make it seem like they are increasing in numbers nationwide when in reality, they are just moving.

You're not going to let it bother you for now.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have promised yourself that repeatedly and have found it to be a lie, but you mean it this time. You're familiar enough with the workings of the Fatui to know that they don't like to leave sectors alone for too long, and Liyue had spent a fair time before your dismissal unchecked.

Even at night, you remain unbothered when you wander Liyue for a time, looking for something to do and notice what he was talking about.

Many of them are fussing more than usual, meaning that chances are it's too late to inhibit the process of this Harbinger arriving. You could turn tail and run, scurry off to the other side of Teyvat and settle in Fontaine or even Natlan, but you like it here.

You sit in the heart of Liyue, listening to a speaker tell his stories. You know you shouldn't linger, but you tell yourself you can for just a little while longer. It reminds you of the past, filled with Liyue legends you remember hearing about as news at the time they took place. The fact these tales are now old enough to be suitable for a speaker's recitation as 'legends' is a grim reminder that maybe you're older than you realised. Your early life is now from the time of legends. You can push that feeling aside to focus on the nostalgia of hearing these stories.

Beside you, you hear the chair move but don't budge from looking to see who it is, assuming that all other chairs are taken or that it's an adventurer who got curious, possibly even the man you had spoken to earlier about all of the Fatui--

“Reminiscing, Brighella?”

You recognise both that voice and that name and go stiff, eyes finding her before your head can even turn in her direction.

In front of you—or rather, across from you—the Knave sits upon the other chair at your table as if she was always supposed to be there, seemingly at ease, but you know better than to assume her guard is down. Arlecchino has always had an icy composure, though she can be hot-headed at times and can lose her temper when provoked. It's not surprising that she was able to track you down, even without knowing what your face looks like.

She turns to you leisurely, unhurried. "I came to look for you since you missed the ceremony." It sounds like a greeting the way she speaks those words. You suppose it is one, really.

Ah, maybe you should've been worried after all.

You try to play off your emotions as if you're completely unfazed by her presence. It's the only way to maintain some semblance of control. "Did Columbina not like my gift?"

"Oh, she rather enjoyed it." Arlecchino maintains a similar composure, knowing approaching you in public means employing subtlety as much as it means she's less likely to be attacked. "She felt it was just the kind of gift you would give."

"I try my best not to disappoint." Your response is less enthusiastic than you might like, a hint of nervousness infesting your brain and refusing to budge.

Despite this, she doesn't notice, not outwardly. Really, that means nothing, as you are very aware of how good her poker face is. "Il Capitano hasn't stopped speaking about how much he'd like to kill you. You don't want to disappoint, do you?" When you were waiting for her to speak, those weren't the words you expected to hear, but somehow you're not fully surprised either.

"I see, so my lies reached even his ears."

You thought as much.

"I think you'll be quite surprised when you see him." Her reply is so cocky that you almost scoff at her.

"Who said I would be seeing him?" You try to match the audacity she had to make such a remark.

She turns to you rather casually for the words she speaks, an odd tone you can't quite place, lacing her words half like mockery. "You miss him, don't you?"

It's that question that makes you snort and turn away as you realise that her negotiation and persuasion skills are abysmal for such a cunning and intelligent woman. "Not enough to become foolish enough to trust someone whose title denotes them as dishonest and untrustworthy." You always wondered about that, really. "A name like 'the Knave' really isn't subtle."

"Funny." She doesn't laugh or even smile. "I believe yours was something close to 'bother'."

You lean back in your chair, testing it slightly as you push the front legs off the floor as a means of entertaining yourself through this frankly dull conversation. "Then I suppose we're both living up to our names."

She remains silent for several seconds, pondering her next words. You can see her fingers rub against the wood of the chair as a distraction.

"The others told me it was pointless to try to bring you back."

"They were right."

"You won't come back for any reason?"

"I know a trap when I see one."

"Of course."

Silence, again. You don't care to break it, either. You came to hear the stories, and you really would like to continue that rather than listening to her voice, but she's not making it easy.

"Is that all now?" Your voice shows your impatience more than you might like, but you realise it may work in your favour if she senses she's annoying you.

For the first time in a while, she smiles faintly to herself. "For now. Your answer is abundantly clear." She appears to concede, if only for a little while

You let the chair land back on all of its legs and lean your elbow on the table.

"Are you going to get out of that chair?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It's comfortable."

The urge to roll your eyes brims in your mind, but you stop yourself. You don't want to give the Knave the satisfaction of knowing something she is already well aware of. Besides that, you don't want her to know that you really don't want her here in any capacity. Arlecchino's presence is never a good thing.

You let out a tentative breath as you consider your next words quite carefully. The wrong thing might have Arlecchino never leaving you, and the right one might drive her back to Snezhnaya if you're lucky. You shift your whole body to face her. "You just arrived from Snezhnaya, I take it. What do you want to eat?"

She eyes you suspiciously, scrutinising you for any sign of trying to fool her into consuming poison or making herself sick. "You're feeding me now?"

You pretend you don't notice her intensity. "Well, you're not leaving. It would look strange for me to order food for myself."

Again she smiles to herself, a light mockery that's cautious and testing, easing herself into accepting your offer. "I wasn't aware you cared so much."

"You could starve if you'd prefer." You turn away as you speak and don't look back, shifting yourself back in your seat to be front-facing.

There's a quietness between the two of you, both waiting for the answer to your proposal. You have an inkling Arlecchino will accept, but you don't know with her. She never seemed especially pleased by the times the Jester would convene you all over meals and such, ending up in fights and bickering. She never fought with you, however, so perhaps it's different.

"Order whatever you like."

You find yourself looking intently at a list of the options on the menu. It's quite a lengthy list. "Mm..." Even though it's just a false invitation and you're doing it to be courteous, you can't say you aren't enjoying the thought of picking out a meal and sharing it with her. Despite your removal from the Fatui's affairs for some time, you'd be lying if you thought you weren't at least a little curious. "Jade Parcels...and maybe Jade Fruit Soup? But Dragon Beard Noodles sound good too..."

Becoming slightly irritated by your indecision, Arlecchino looks across the table to where you are sitting deep in thought. "Is it that complicated of a decision?"

You spare her only a glance before returning to looking for something she would enjoy. "I have to pick something you'll like, don't I?"

Soup is more challenging to share than noodles are.

With that, your decision is made, and you settle. Despite yourself, you are somewhat restless in thought. Arlecchino's lack of contribution is slightly frustrating, but it sounds like she'd be content with anything. You're not sure if your choice is the correct one, but you believe you picked something to the best of your abilities that is easy, even to a foreign tongue. As far as you know, Arlecchino is from Fontaine. You've never eaten like this with Arlecchino to know her tastes or dietary restrictions.

"Jade Parcels and Dragon Beard Noodles. Sound good?"

"It'll do."

"Good. I'll go order it, then."

Arlecchino must be surprised that you returned, as she doesn't seem too thrilled. She never really does, but there was a disappointed glint in her eye right up until you walked in front of her to get to your chair.

It continues until you get the food, and Arlecchino finally stares at it with an overwhelming sense of dread, left with an intense feeling of apprehension regarding whether. You appear not to hesitate, though this arrangement isn't quite what she had expected. Arlecchino had thought you would order enough dishes that you wouldn't have to share, but you seemed to understand it in a way that meant you would be eating from the same bowl.

You notice her hesitation almost immediately, yet your vexation with her arrival makes you unwilling to acknowledge that you know the reason, a deliberate miscommunication on your part. "Mm. I didn't think this through." Your words seem to make her perk up as if you will free her from her awkwardness by asking for another bowl. "You probably aren't used to using chopsticks, are you? Not many dishes that need those back home."

She knows you're toying with her, that sweet smile from across the table hardly hiding your true intentions. Arlecchino waits, watching to see what you will do next, as she looks back at you with a scowl.

Her eyes do not leave you as you wordlessly collect a Jade Parcel and present it to her like you are patronising her with this action. Your feigned kindness, this supposed benevolence of you offering to feed her like a child, no doubt hoping she'll back down and excuse herself completely.

She won't let you do that and have the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She won't allow you to break her facade of acceptance.

Though you circle the food in front of her slowly, only a motion with your fingers trying to convince her or make her as uncomfortable as possible, Arlecchino continues to stare for several more moments. Eventually, she musters the courage to relinquish some of her pride.

Arlecchino leans in slightly, just enough to open her mouth and take a bite from the food you hold out for her. Despite the circumstances that led to this moment, she can't help but acknowledge your good taste. Arlecchino couldn't possibly eat another bite that way, though. Not being fed by the woman who is now her adversary just to avoid her 'winning' in the situation, but admitting she is willing to let you get under her skin is not an option either.

She must treat this situation differently, as if you are merely feeding her out of obligation to her rather than because you have your own motives.

It hardly stops her from enjoying her portion of the meal from the chopsticks you share with her. At some point, it finally occurs to her that you only hold one pair, leaving her set untouched despite feeding her. You had been feeding her with the same set you ate with the entire time, and while you were well aware of that, it hardly seemed to alarm you as much as it alarmed her.

Your biggest disappointment was being unable to get rid of her that whole time, watching her readily accept whatever you tried to use against her. Watching a Harbinger practically bow their head and obey you, however, fuels your consciousness. It's like eye candy to think back and realise you did that.

It's another one of your quiet defiances against the Tsaritsa. You wonder how far you can take it.

As you stand from your seat, you stretch your arms above your head until you hear a faint pop as all the tension in your back relaxes. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"No. I have plenty of business outside of you." It's not a lie. She's got a lot to do in Liyue even without your presence, but you're a priority.

You lean back over your chair, a mischievous little look on your face. "Do tell."

"You know that I can't do that." She's not amused by the attempt, either.

You straighten back to your usual height and brush it off in moments. "Unfun. I thought your loyalty to the Tsaritsa could be won over easily."

She scowls. "Not by you."

"I see. You have standards after all."

She chooses to ignore your comment. Up until now, you have had quick-fire conversations, sometimes interrupted by a silence that drags on. This is no exception.

"Capitano truly believes you are dead." Arlecchino realises when she has caught your attention, and that time is now. She notices how your head tilts towards her ever so slightly, and your head raises. "For a time, he grieved, but it didn't last long. He has become fixated on the idea of revenge ever since he heard that Brighella's killer was running around boasting about their achievements with the authentic armour to support their claims."

Suddenly it makes some small amount of sense in your mind why they would want you to come back exactly. Capitano won't stay put forever. If he's stuck on vengeance, he won't rest until he exacts it. You weren't thinking about how much your stories would piss him off at the time.

When you spend an extended period of time silent and seemingly disinclined to answer, Arlecchino continues. "I want to show you to him."

You have subjected him to human emotions he's not equipped to deal with. Rightfully, you feel horrible like more of your failures are being wrenched from your corner and dumped out into the open for all to see. It doesn't matter that you're in Liyue, where nobody knows the two of you. You don't want them to see either.

"He wouldn't want to see me." You don't think she really wanted to hear those words when you finally speak. Her expression gives it away. "He should enjoy his position without my interference. I've ruined his life enough."

"You've given him power and status, he should be grateful for that--"

"No. He shouldn't." You don't even wait for her to finish. She hasn't even realised it yet. Not the way you've been forced to. That power is a detriment, not a blessing. Why should he want that? "I thought that way as well, but now I…I don't think my choice was the correct one."

Arlecchino was not expecting to evoke your vulnerability, shallow as it may be for now. "What choice?"

"To bring him back from the abyss."

From a purely objective perspective, taking in Capitano was the cause of everything. Arlecchino presumably thinks of it in the way you don't want her to, that you regret taking him in because he ultimately ruined everything for you, causing your world to fall apart. You don't. You wish you hadn't dragged him down with you.

Now Capitano still dealing with the consequences of your choices. He was perfectly satisfied where he was and would've remained that way had he not been caught up in your plans. It was your arrogance that made you think Capitano would prefer to come with you. At no point in your first interaction had he indicated he was displeased in his circumstances, only hostile because humans were so close to him. It is an understandable thing, considering that humans were a foreign concept to him and potentially posed a threat.

"Because he overtook you?"

There it is.

Despite her words, she appears to have dropped her irritated expression and the impatience in her words and actions. You are finally speaking, and she won't lose that opportunity to an avoidable break in her temper.

"No. No, nothing like that." You try to find the words to explain it, even knowing she likely wouldn't understand it in her current position. You doubt she could ever comprehend it with how she treats her loyalty. "It's more like… Off the record, though I was cherished for many years, even I eventually became disposable. I have left Capitano in the hands of the person who caused that, and now I have damned him to the same fate."

Arlecchino is silent in thought, mulling over your words with great care. The tone of the conversation shifted right under your noses, and with it, so did her demeanour. She became relaxed in a way, though you imagine no less guarded than she always is. "I fail to see how your performance declined. In fact, you are more necessary now than you have ever been."

"I see." In your head, that means she's on your side to a degree. "So you believe that my termination was a mistake?"

"A grave error at best." Her words only confirm the way you thought of it. "Even if you had declined in performance, the people have begun to question more than ever, which sabotages the political landscape of Snezhnaya for those who care about it, the same people who stood idly by while you were ousted. Those who oppose the Fatui are pushing the notion that we must be weaker than we appear, because if even Brighella could die, then what does that say for the rest of us."

Though you wish you could say that concept was inconceivable, the idea that those fighting for reform would seize upon your demise as a means to spur change. It's not shocking that everyone else has been called into question, either. Though it is easy to push the role of frontrunner onto the Director, his duty is mainly administrative, as is the case with many high-ranking positions. His wrath is quick and brutal, and sparse. Dottore is too busy with his disgusting hobbies, and Columbina must remain in the light as a figure they can cling to. That leaves the position of Fourth as the one who is publicly the most violent and ruthless, which used to fall to you.

"I see. Is that why they want me to come back?" You don't expect an honest answer as you ask that question, half anticipating another play at your heartstrings.

"No."

Frustratingly, she doesn't elaborate.

"I'll only agree to return if Capitano is free to do as he wishes."

She scoffs, somewhat returning to her brash attitude. "Even if I could make that decision, we're well past the point where that's a possibility."

You know that she's correct in that.

Still, you can't stop the sight you let out. You knew the request was wonderful in theory but inconceivable in practice, but asking never hurt anyone. "Then what do you want from me? I take it that though I'm only a stagehand, my part in the theatre is not yet over."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Answer my question."

"Execution."

You pause at her answer.

"Execution?"

You're not even sure you heard her correctly. The execution of who? Brighella has already been put to death, and Capitano has barely warmed his seat among the Harbingers. Nobody left in this is worth killing, given the precarious nature of the Fatui's support in the aftermath of Brighella's murder. It was already unstable, and now things are just worse, with no better word to describe.

You doubt they made the decision lightly.

"Execution. Your execution for the murder of Brighella and crimes against the state."

Your nerves instantly spike again, and your guard is higher than ever. At any moment, you could need to draw your bow and fight her because even though you're unsure of how to treat this life, you're not ready to give it up. No foe has scared you before, and neither will the prospect of rebuilding from square one.

"I see, so you've come to extradite me."

"You read my intentions horribly. I'm impressed you managed to make it so far like that."

You furrow your brows in annoyance. "Then what?"

"The values of the Fatui no longer align with mine." The assertion draws your attention more than anything else. You have always been aware that she is unconcerned with the ideas of loyalty and honour, which you can't fault her for. Abiding by the code of honour the Tsaritsa instilled in you left you here.

You may be completely wrong, but she was so vague and doesn't seem to be waiting to say anything else. "Is this your way of telling me you're deserting the Fatui?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You so happen to be someone I like."

You're startled by that as well. As far as you were aware, the decision to do nothing in the face of your dismissal was unanimous. You thought Capitano was your only remaining ally. Even if she's the lowest ranking, that is not indicative of power in an objective sense but of authority. In a sense, she is the new 'you' of the Harbingers, as she always was to a degree.

Blame for the disorder is shifting in your absence to her.

"Because I cleaned the messes you now manage?"

"Because you aren't cowardly and fixated on politics but inhibited by them. You are a model of what is right." You can't say you follow what she's saying but allow her to continue. "Pulcinella and even Pierro refuse to travel abroad, always making excuses to shirk their jobs when faced with danger in order to comfortably remain in luxury. From the day I joined, you stood out to me in that way."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by whatever she's trying to do right now. "Are you trying to flatter me into coming back?"

"I was telling the truth." She doesn't look impressed, either.

You feel a little embarrassed by that, suddenly feeling as though you really had responded quite rudely to an innocent statement. "Hearing a person idolise me is strange," you admit.

"It's not idolising." Her correction is sharp.

"Sounded close enough."

Silence again, as with the pauses scattered around the rest of your conversation. You aren't catapulting the topic into something of great interest or progressing, and neither is Arlecchino. Her lips press into a thin line trying to hide any cracks and stifle any emotion that slips through.

"I admire you."

You did not realise such a thing was possible, really.

"I thought you may have remembered the times we shared and think fondly of it, but perhaps not. We fought once- maybe twice- before. We drank together. Nothing else."

To end that statement with 'nothing else' as if to reduce every conversation, interaction, hour and experience to ashes is thoughtless at best. You didn't remember either instance in which Arlecchino believes you fought and still don't, though you try to now that you have come to find it apparently happened. If it did, the chances of you actually remembering is slim to none with how your memory is. It's not that you forget things quickly, but that minor events slip through the cracks in your frankly chock-full memory.

"I don't remember them, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to."

Despite her words, there is a faint bittersweetness to it, the realisation you are insignificant to the person you aspire toward being like. Somewhere, even if she is aware it was always not only a possibility but highly likely, it still feels like a letdown, the fragile hope you might remember her strength. You only remember her drunken and all too enamoured by you to think properly. It is foolish of her to feel that way because you have battled many foes, and expecting you to remember all of them, let alone your underling, is unreasonable.

"You still haven't answered my question." Changing the topic, you take the opportunity to try to direct her back to what you asked in the first place. "Why are you really here?"

"The Jester gave me permission to pursue you, believing I would attempt to convince you to return to Snezhnaya after Columbina failed." As Arlecchino begins to explain, it slowly begins to make sense as the pieces fall neatly into place. "However, I have no interest in appeasing the wants of dignitaries who care only for their comfort."

You don't want that either. It's just a repeat of Capitano. "Do you understand how dangerous what you're doing is?" It's an attempt to remind her, but Arlecchino's unwavering expression tells you that reminders are unnecessary and unwanted.

"Yes, you were removed for less." She only confirms it for you. "Dottore is of the opinion that you will be forgotten, as are several others-" you imagine singling him out has something to do with them fighting all the time- "but that is simply impossible."

"Times change. You would be surprised how many things we thought would never be forgotten that humans have completely lost all knowledge of."

To her, that concept may be harder to swallow. Arlecchino has never seen the centuries roll by as you have and isn't as familiar with what does and does not remain. Even the greatest gods fell in the Archon War, and most humans cannot name any but the seven Archons. It is natural to forget and progress. The past is meant to become speculation and theory.

"I won't allow that." Abruptly she stops, though her sudden words startle you somewhat with how intense they are. That kind of illogical thought process is natural, maybe. You can't really say. "They could remember."

You shake your head in response, a firm denial before she's even begun to try and sell you on the idea. "There's no need for them to remember."

"There is every need."

"People don't glean the same admiration you do for someone they see as a tyrant."

"Then evoke fear!"

"Enough." You did not expect to have to put your foot down so harshly but do not hesitate to. "I won't entertain this."

Arlecchino grits her teeth at how easily you let go. Even though you are obviously not acclimated to civilian life, you refuse her offer that would allow you to return to Snezhnaya in a potential position of power. It is yet another failed step in the many she expected to have to take to convince you.

"Then let me hide you until some time passes."

"I'm not a precious treasure." She ignores how you roll your eyes at her, completely withdrawing how emotionally available you had managed to be. She can't let her anger take control of her again. "I can handle myself thank you very much."

You sense she will not be giving up easily.

Even if you could convince her to leave you to your devices and that you would be fine, you doubt she would accept that. However, you have a feeling she knows you intend to disappear after this conversation. You have no idea why else she would pour her heart out in an attempt to make you easier to keep hold of. If you leave, you hold the advantage.

"I cannot continue to defend your honour while you stand by and allow them to do as they please with your name."

That doesn't worry you too much when you've been contributing to it since leaving. "Then give up. Let my name be tarnished."

Arlecchno's anger finally begins to boil over despite her efforts to contain it, rage spilling from the cracks in her composure. "You cannot have forgotten everything we did together."

"Of course I have not forgotten that." Your words are more fuel than suffocation to the growing fire.

"Then accept my help and stop being so stubborn."

"There's no need to."

She grabs you by your arm before you can step away, and you can feel a chill in her hand seep into your skin, likely a byproduct of her delusion. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't match well with how warm you are most of the time. "You would be willing to pretend you don't wish for normalcy to avoid confronting the Tsaritsa?"

"If I return to Snezhnaya, I will die." You lay it out as directly as possible, without an if, but or and. There's no room to debate this because the outcome will not change. Even if the two of you decide you're best friends, nobody else will see things that way, so it's pointless to pretend you don't see it as it has to be.

Arlecchino finally appears to consider your words more carefully, remaining silent again, but you do not interrupt her this time. You shift your focus to the icy hand still touching you and begin to channel what little you can of your vision without drawing your bow to warm her. You hope she doesn't notice it, not wanting her to find an ulterior motive in it.

"Then it is unavoidable."

You don't quite understand what she is saying until she removes her hand from you to place something on the table you shared.

Suspiciously, you eye the item as you wonder about the significance of abandoning it beyond the obvious, but you don't want to acknowledge that option. "You'll need your insignia if you wish to return." You needn't remind her of that, but it is a prompting statement.

Arlecchino shocks you with her next words.

"I'm remaining with you."

You stand in stunned silence for several seconds, replaying them over in your head. Remaining with you. She doesn't mean that, does she? This is another of her persuasion tactics, right? She cannot actually go through with this. "You're what?"

"I'm not going back to Snezhnaya."

That only confirms your fear, the chill of it rushing to the core of your being and lighting your nerves up with an icy cold. Maybe that's just the hand touching your cheek.

"You can't. You shouldn't. You should stay there."

She makes an odd face at you, half understanding of your plight and the other confused about why you care so much about what she does with her job. "In that place you curse yourself for leaving Capitano?"

"It's a comfortable position." You try to reason that way with her, pointing out the inarguable benefit.

"I don't care for comfort."

You scramble to find another reason, something else to make her give in and pick it back up. You have not gotten anything you attempted to get this night. Arlecchino didn't leave and is, in fact, intent on leaving the Fatui to continue that.

"I don't care to waste my time pandering to people who do not value what I provide for them, all the while relying on it."

That's not a reason you wish to say, but it is. It is a very real reason. You can see it in how the Fatui regards your circumstances that they have never found enough value in the mountain of work you took on. If they had, you wouldn't be having this conversation. She's right, you realise, she realised what you could not.

"Even if you do not allow it, I would be able to follow you." It's a strange thing to say, but maybe she was trying to convince you. Her arm falls back to her side.

You shake your head. "Humans tire."

"I won't be too slow."

It's different for her. Arlecchino doesn't hulk around a bulky suit of armour and a helmet to conceal her face. It is open and well-known. There will be places she can't ever travel to again. Her life will be this and nothing else, while yours will eventually become something else, as it was always supposed to. Even if you don't want to now, you will move on and find a new sense of self. She may never.

"There are grave consequences."

"I know."

"You may never know peace."

"I can live with that."

"You--"

--will question everything you have ever known. That was what you were about to say. You again come to a realisation that clears things for you. It's different. Arlecchino has not spent her whole life dedicated to serving the Tsaritsa, only a few years at best. You spent centuries. It is no wonder that she could give it all up so easily. Arlecchino only had one foot in the door in the first place.

The realisation dawning on you this way is daunting.

"...Fine. I will accept that." Though you thought you would struggle more, you also understand that it is useless to do so.

"A good choice."

The act of conceding can bring about a sense of relief and comfort. Conceding feels nice, in a way. It is a respite from constantly controlling everything to be exactly as you wish. It allows you the freedom of simply acknowledging the reality of a situation and accept that it may not align with your ideals, even if you don't necessarily like it.

You don't want Arlecchino to accompany you for her sake, but accepting that she will not share your fate of being humiliated can bring about a sense of peace. She will live however she pleases, and that means she may not want for the same future you received. Having a free will allows her to leave.

Slowly, you try to recover from the shock of the situation. As you take in a deep, quivering breath, you begin to steady yourself and attemt to process all that is unfolding.

A single question comes to your mind, a relatively simple one but significant enough to matter greatly.

"What is your name?"

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

#♡ — kae.#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — angst.#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x female reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader

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nondivisable · 3 months

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Hi! I just saw your post about crocheting even though your hands hurt, and was hoping for some advice. I've had some sort of unspecified spondyloarthropathy for about 16 years, so I'm used to dealing with feet and knees and shoulders but all of a sudden it's in my hands too, and I'm terrified. Putting aside that I'm a musician and this threatens my livelihood and independence, I can't stand the idea that it's going to take away 90%of the things I do for fun, aka crafting. What do you do to keep crocheting through the pain -- or, even better, do you have any tips for working around it? Special hooks I can look for? I knit too, have you gotten into that enough to have needle or pattern recommendations? Do you do any sewing? I'm looking for help, but mostly I'm looking for hope.

if this makes little sense I'm sorry, I've had a migraine all day but I wanted to answer and not forget. I'll edit this later if it's necessary

compression gloves are the actual love of my life. they help my finger joints so much. kt tape as well, my shoulders start to kill me, specially when I started knitting.

for crochet, I know some people put tennis balls on the grips of their hooks to make them more ergonomic. there's also ergonomic hooks but I haven't tried them yet.

knitting: I usually hold my needle and knit (as in move the yarn) with my right hand. I find that this gives me cramps in my shoulder and hand. moving my yarn with my left hand and holding my needle with my right helps me relax both my hand and shoulder, as well as keep a straighter back. knitting is also way easier on my hands than purling since we're at it.

sewing: I absolutely love it, my joints don't. for sewing patches or smaller bits of fabric onto another what really helps me is keeping the fabric taut using an embroidery ring. it helps me make less of an effort with my hands. if you don't have a sewing machine but are looking to buy one, don't buy one of those small, portable ones. I did and I never use it because between having to squint my eyes and manouever with my hands, my body detests it

finger knitting is also really fun to keep your hands busy. if I'm having a really bad pain day but feel restless, I'll usually grab a thick yarn and make a finger knit panel. it can take me hours to finish a small square but it's quite pain free and makes me happy

collage is such a fun technique if you like drawing and painting but find that your hands are kind of failing you. for me, at least, it helps take off the pressure of having to make a neat, clean piece of art , you know

mostly, remember to stretch, take breaks, drink water, be kind to your body. there's no shame in doing your hobbies in bed, laying down, or in ways that aren't necessarily "pretty" or functional; it's okay to do your hobbies for the sake of having fun with them

hope this has helped you and not extremely confuse you <33

#spoonie #chronically ill #chronic pain #chronic illness #ask

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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aaaand Steve with OCD 💕

Okay, this one I actually don't have any text down for. I made a post about Steve having OCD last year and I really like the concept, and I want to turn it into more of a fic than a "guys, imagine with me" post

If I were to develop it more, Eddie would probably be a great way to explore the topic. Shipping reasons aside, he's the one coming in late, viewing Steve and his compulsions with fresh eyes. Everyone else has gotten used to Steve's "quirks" and they don't really think twice about them; in some cases, they've even learned to accommodate them.

They don't question why Steve needs to do things in a certain order, why he needs objects around the house to be in certain places, why he needs to tap the roof of the car three times before he gets in, they just know that he does. That's just Steve

And Eddie - well, look, he's not questioning it, exactly. Like, he's not one to cast aspersions on anyone else's coping mechanisms, it's just that he worries that these particular coping mechanisms aren't actually helping

Sure, on a good day, Steve gets to do everything in exactly the right order, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be, he gets to complete his routines and everyone is safe and he's happy. But when something gets interrupted--as it often does, because that's life--Steve tends to look like he's one shirt caught on the doorknob away from a complete meltdown

It's a delicate balance, and Eddie's starting to wonder if maybe he's the only one noticing that Steve could easily tip over the side

Or! I could go a sort of lighter route and make it, like, a 5+1 fic about Eddie noticing different behaviors Steve exhibits, and one time he learns how to help, or something like that. I haven't quite decided yet

#devondespresso #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington has ocd #sorry this one's a bit vague I think I'm outta brain juice for the day??#answers from solar #wip meme

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love-toxin · 1 year

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I'm so in love with the way you write!! Especially bully!Eddie, he makes me feel all gooey inside<3 can't wait to see what you write next, pretty 🥰✨

hehehe!!! take this!!! (yes i am using this as an opportunity to be self-indulgent AND festive even tho i finished this a little late LOL <3)

(cws: bully!dad!eddie, f!mom!angelface, christmas festivities, gift-giving, teasing, mentions of postpartum healing and a past of poverty living, set 5 years post-babytrapping, fluff.)

If you thought Eddie wasn't gonna bother getting gifts for your children before he became a father, you would be beyond wrong. He's always been mean, always been rough, but ever since that first Christmas you spent together as a family, he's been the biggest softie you've ever seen for his babies.

Your first one, Elliott, is getting bigger by the day--he's five and still as much of an angel as the day he was born, dark curls exploding all over his head and freckles dusting his nose. Lorien, who just turned four, is a clumsy little guy with his father's eyes and your soft, demure smile. And Trinity is still a bit too small to show much personality yet, but she's giggly and a good sleeper and quite happy for a two-month-old in a chaotic house full of boys. They all get spoiled, but not rotten, lucky for you. Eddie can at least be strict at times and you don't fold easily to those glimmery little eyes when the boys are begging for something they want. But that definitely changes at Christmas, when your husband plays the role of Santa so well you might as well slap a fake beard on his chin and give him a suit to go with his sack of goodies.

However, that same gesture hasn't exactly extended to you. It's not one-sided--you don't really get him much, either--but Eddie's gifts to you in the last five years have been pretty scarce. Your birthday is always a different story and so is his, but with having at least one child each year and that number growing over time, as well as struggling to pay bills and keep the roof over your heads on a single income, presents haven't ever really been a spectacle between you two. Usually it's some chocolate if he can afford it, or simply a kiss and the promise of a date during those couple years where you could barely avoid food, those awful times when you literally scrounged for whatever pennies you could save just to get your children something to open on Christmas morning. All the while watching and feeling a sense of relief at their excitement, all while yours and Eddie's stomachs rumbled with hunger but your boys sat full and satisfied.

But those days of struggling are over, at least for the foreseeable future. This year Eddie's taken over a considerable chunk of the garage as a partner and started doing detail work on the side, and with the success of that as well as the band picking up more and more gigs, you've watched those fears of not being able to provide for your children slowly vanish in your rearview. You even have a job yourself, part-time at the general store where you can chat away with Joyce and have a little time and money to yourself. This is the first year you're actually spending the holidays in a house instead of the trailer, one that you scouted out and Eddie bought, and with all those changes under your belts, you've managed to carve out quite the life for yourself and your little family.

And Eddie's changing, too. You'll never be proud of what you did, you're sure you'll never not feel a little sick at the memory of sabotaging his contraceptives all those years ago. But you've grown and so has Eddie--he's still gruff, and can be a little prickly around the edges when he's in a mood, but your opinion of him definitely changed when you watched him become a parent. And not in the literal sense, just at Elliott's birth. You've watched him become gentle and sweet and learn how to manage himself, you've seen him apply those behaviors to you and you've even gotten some good moments out of him--an apology, for one, and a promise as well.

"I'm never gonna be perfect, I know. But I'll...I'll be the kinda guy a girl like you deserves. I'll be good to you. And....fuck, I mean, I'll try and make it up to you for all that stupid shit. I'll just....I'll find a way, okay? I'll find a way."

That way had been a ring and another baby, the latter of the two being pure coincidence, but he really is making an effort. That much is obvious in the littlest things, like how he waved you off to bed and told you he'd take care of the baby tonight, doing all the feeding and burping and changing and soothing that would usually be shared between the two of you. His only excuse had been that it was Christmas Eve, and he expected a damn good breakfast in the morning for all that last-minute grocery shopping he'd had to do for you the day before. But even as he served you all that indignation and sass, he had cradled your baby girl in his arms as he gave you a kiss, and quietly smiled down at her as he cooed a little lullaby and you snuggled up in your bed to sleep.

"Mommy! It's Christmas, mommy! Wake up!"

When you're finally shaken awake by your boys at eight am sharp, you almost aren't sure where you are, or what day it is--you've been so exhausted taking care of your newborn that you've forgotten what a good night's sleep is. They hop around cheering and grabbing at you to get you up, only calming down enough to lean in for kisses when you bid them a good morning. When you're eventually dragged out of bed by those two excitable little gremlins and stumble half-awake through the hallway, you nearly bump right into your husband as he's carrying your daughter back to her bassinette.

"Mmh....Eds, did you sleep?"

"A little." Somehow, he's grinning, despite it being so early and him sporting bags under his tired eyes. You hadn't been woken up once that you can remember, not even to breastfeed, which would mean that Eddie had been up with Trin for pretty much the whole night in the nursery. Not unusual, but....well, sometimes you forget he can be pretty thoughtful when he feels like it. With a kiss placed on your daughter's head, and another sleepily pressed to Eddie's lips, you rub your eyes and let your sons take each hand to pull you down the steps to go see what Santa left you all. And, as per usual, only half-listening to their father's nagging to slow it down, so you don't go flying!

Fortunately, by the time you're down the stairs and Eddie's on your heels, you've blinked away snough of the sleep that you can stretch and yawn and shake off the tiredness that had kept you so soft and warm in bed. You let the boys take the lead as they hurry into the living room, and when you turn the corner to join them, you're met with quite the unexpected surprise. One that leaves you so pleasantly shocked that even Eddie can't smother his low, soft laughter as he comes up behind you for a kiss to your ear.

Waiting for your boys at the base of the tree are the gifts you and Eddie had wrapped and placed there, making sure to do so later in the night to give your boys a proper taste of that innocent belief in Santa Claus. But Eddie's ploy of staying up with the baby evidently wasn't all for the reasons he had supposed--you can see now that the stockings you had put up over the back of the couch, purely just for decoration, have been stuffed full to bursting with sweets and little toys and trinkets. You've got three of them, one for each child with their names stitched in by Eddie's careful hands, but there's another one that wasn't there last night. Smaller, cuter, but still with a few goodies inside that look like your favourite chocolates peeking out the top and some fuzzy socks. When you turn to look at him, he doesn't even pretend he wasn't looking, although he swerves around you and does pretend to be occupied with soothing your still-sleeping baby.

"Looks like Santa got a lot of work done, huh, boys?" You call out to them while not breaking your locked stare with your husband, arms crossing over your chest as you exchange a few looks that don't feel as innocent as they once were. Eddie winks in that confident way that stirs a heat up in your belly, before he turns and moves to lay your daughter down in the little handmade cradle by the wall that he's left out since the boys were small enough to sleep in it.

"Uh huh! Mama, look! Santa gave you presents!" Lorien calls right back to you, plopped down right next to his brother as they wait on the rug by the tree, practically vibrating with excitement. You quirk an eyebrow, but Eddie hustles over and distracts them by starting up the train of gift-unwrapping, handing each of them their first present with a warm sort of smile that doesn't come around all that often. With their interests piqued and their excited squeals coming out as they tear through the colourful paper, you pull the crib over a few feet to include your little girl in the festivities and take a seat on the couch. You're definitely still on the mend from Trinity's birth, and you don't mind rocking the little wooden cradle as you watch your children laugh and thank mommy, daddy, and Santa for their new toys.

They're such sweet kids, and you don't feel like you're that amazing of a person, so it's really quite the phenomenon that they've turned out to be such respectful and kind little boys. Elliott is so gentle in helping his little brother open the harder to unwrap presents, and they both hold each side of the gifts they got for you and for Eddie as they place them in your laps, giggling and squirming when they get a hail of kisses on their faces as thanks for the little drawings and handmade necklaces. But after most of the pile has diminished, and your sons are thoroughly wiped out from the excitement and looking forward to breakfast, Eddie tilts his head and gestures towards the kitchen.

"Go get a snack, and watch your cartoons in the den until breakfast. Help your brother open his, El."

"Okay, daddy!" With one of their new toys in hand and one last tight, gripping hug on each side for their beloved father, Elliott grabs Lorien's little hand and leads him towards the kitchen, both sets of adult ears tuning in to hear the sounds of them bustling around before they get to the right cupboard, and hustle into the playroom in a fit of giggles to catch their favourite cartoons. Then, and only then, does Eddie drag out those presents that had been hiding around the back of the tree, and drops them carefully in front of you until there's at least six or seven boxes by your feet. It isn't until you pick one up and read the tag on it that you realize it's addressed to you, and with a nervous bite to your lip you look back at your husband without much to say. Is it a prank? He encourages you to open them, and when you pull one of those mid-sized boxes towards you and gingerly lift the top off, you blink away the surprise of seeing a few nice, soft sweaters lying inside. All three are somewhat similar to cashmere if not the real thing, they're in your size, they're in colours you like....but he brushes off your awed thank-yous and just puts another gift in your lap, waiting anxiously for you to open it and find the hair clips and little makeup set inside that you'd been wanting.

"Eddie....really, you didn't have to get me anything. You didn't have to get me this much."

"Oh, shut your mouth, you little goody-goody. Take the damn gifts." He shakes off your gratitude like a wet dog, and shoves the next present into your hands before you can even fawn over the one you've already got. Yet, despite coming off as aggressive as he can be, he's got that smug smirk crawling its way across his lips whenever you seem shocked or excited at what he had bought you. But when the hail of presents is done with, and Christmas morning has officially wrapped up, you feel a sense of guilt as you thumb through the books and the tapes he had got you for the new cassette player you have. While you've definitely gone without any gift exchanging in other years, you did get him some new work gloves and a pic case with the Metallica logo on it this time, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. And he can tell by the way you meekly apologize for your pathetic gift-giving, although he doesn't scoff or poke fun at you like he usually would. He just....looks down at his hands, and fiddles with the string on his plaid sleep pants before he answers you.

"You gave me three kids, and a life, and....and a reason to live. You didn't need to get me anything, and you shouldn't have, cause...." He trails off, and you sit there slack-jawed in awe of what you're hearing, wondering if that's really what you're hearing, because it's so rare for Eddie to be touchy-feely when he's also being lucid about his own behavior. You know he knows how he acts is cruel at times, which is why he's really toned down since you first got pregnant and when you had the boys and Trinity. I'm not gonna be like my father. That's what he had said, and he's kept his word since then. Even so, he slips up at times, but you never would've thought that even with all the progress he's made, he'd do something like this completely out of the blue. Eddie smiles at some thought he's got in his head, and reaches over to clasp his warm, rough hand over yours, and you turn your wrist so you can hold it back and lace your fingers together as your palms touch. "Sometimes, I only got up in the mornings because I knew I'd get to see you. I'd get to bully that dumb smile off your face and make you cry, and I'd feel something."

Maybe it's something in the air, but you feel the courage well up inside you to bring your entwined hands up to your face, and kiss each one of his knuckles so tenderly. Usually that would serve as an oportunity for Eddie to flick your nose or jab at you for being a cheesy, mushy crybaby, but shockingly again he says nothing and just....smiles again. It feels normal. Maybe he's been doing it more recently, and you just haven't noticed.

"Now I got people that depend on me, I....I got people who care whether I live or die. I can work hard day after day, and know that the ones I love will get something out of it. I'm someone's fucking dad. That's crazy." Just as the words come out of his mouth, you hear the squeals and laughter of your boys in the other room, along with the soft gurgling of your precious little girl as she starts waking up. He really isn't wrong, he works incredibly hard to provide and even when he grumbles and complains as he pulls himself out of bed to cover someone's no-show shift, he still comes home with a tired smile to welcome his boys into a hug and waltzes in to kiss you hello. He teases you to no end but he still holds you when you're in pain, he takes your complaints and worries so seriously and never misses a chance to bring you to the clinic or pick up your medicines if that's what you need. And even after twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hour shifts where everything's gone wrong and he just wants to pass out for the whole evening, you still stir awake to get a bleary-eyed look at his bare back as he stands over Trinity's bassinette, soothing and bottle-feeding her late into the night so you won't have to get up.

"You're an amazing father, Eddie." You lean into him, a kiss pressed to his jaw as you hold his hand so closely to your chest, and even with your head resting on his shoulder and his breath hitching when yours puffs against his skin, he still rumbles out a soft bit of mockery to fill the empty space between.

"Shut up. Fucking softie.....I love you."

"I love you too." You kiss his chin this time, and he takes the hint to tilt his head down and capture your lips when you go in for another. He's chapped and warm, he smells of milk and a bit of menthol along with his cologne, and it's the strangest combination but it so encompasses Eddie as he is now. He's the kind of father that would get his children McDonald's and watch them eat with a smile as his stomach rumbled, and he's the kind of husband that would agree to share your meal just to take the most unintrusive bite of your burger and tell you he's full. And he's the type of man that, if you ever fell back on those hard times again, would do it all over and more if it meant making sure that his wife and children were taken care of. And still he asks for nothing, but you know by the way he had stared down at the drawings and that pic case and traced the insignia that he'll treasure those moments forever--he'll always know that he's loved, and that his sacrifices will always mean something to your family, especially when your kids grow up and find those same values within themselves. Hopefully, with your influence included, without any of those feelings of abandonment or turmoil that Eddie's still working at undoing with you as you both grow older.

As you sit there together, cuddling and holding one another with plentiful thumps of your hearts, you squeeze his arm so tight and let him feel how much love tightens around it in a hug. He looks so peaceful, and you just have to take the chance to teasingly throw his favourite words right back at him as he looks so solemn and lost in thought. "You gonna cry, you little baby?"

"Fuck you," He spits back immediately with a grin, turning to look down on you and following it up with an especially passionate kiss. If it weren't for your kids being in the other room, and for Trinity starting to stir in the crib as she yawns, it probably wouldn't have stopped there. But for now it does, and Eddie helps you to your feet as you hug him close one last time before moving to welcome your little girl into your arms, and see what she's feeling like so you can hopefully omit some oncoming discomfort. Clingy as ever, Eddie snakes his arms around you from behind one last time as you hold her, kissing your cheek over your shoulder and gently bopping Trin's little Munson nose before he whispers his plans for breakfast in your ear, and slips away to duck into the kitchen.

"Boys! Breakfast in ten! Bacon, yes or no?"

"Yes!" The two of them shout back to their father from the playroom, and you chuckle to yourself as he pretends to mishear them just to elicit a playful reaction, as they frantically correct their daddy while you spend a little time tending to your newborn. Thankfully she doesn't seem too hungry yet, just a little restless, so you lay her back down in the crib and make a mental note to remind Eddie to bring the whole thing over to the table so you can all eat as a family. For now, though, you find yourself meandering back through the archway to find your husband at the stove, several pans already laid out and a carton of eggs open as he's in the midst of cracking a few and humming. You recognize the tune, One Night in the City, and you find yourself joining in with a softer voice as you come up from behind, and wrap your arms around him to lovingly rub his belly the way he likes. It's kinda sweet how surprised he always is to find that you've remembered things like that about him, and as always, he has to brush it off with a few words so he doesn't have to acknowledge how special it makes him feel.

"You love me, huh? That's embarrassing." Even so, he grazes the hand you've got on his stomach with his own, smiling silently to himself as he cracks another egg into the pan with a sssh as the whites hit the hot steel.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bully!eddie munson #eddie's angelface #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #willowsgrl #anons

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