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fleetingpieces · 3 years

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My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

#my one in a million #moiam #fanfic #remus x sirius #siriusxremus #sirius x lupin #wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

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monster-bait · 3 years

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Monster Match: Landry, NB Monster x F Human, SFW

For @ghostlystitches, my 3rd place contest winner from waaaaaay back in August! Thanks so much for your patience, I can’t wait for Landry and the choir to make their return in Cambric Creek!

There was a universal truth to working in the service industry, one that not many people outside it understood: everyone who’d been doing the job for more than a few months possessed a customer service voice. Whether it was poised and polished, bubbly and enthusiastic, or steadfast and calm, The Voice had little bearing on the person to whom it belonged; gave little insight into one’s personality once they were off the clock and safe at home, far away from the food service or retail or call center way of life.

You were no different: friendly and professional, you handled customers with ease, chatted easily as people checked out, and always had a ready smile. The fact that you hated crowds and grew anxious at the thought of evenings out was not something the customers at your job would be able to guess, but you still sighed a small breath of relief upon clocking out each day, eager to be home with your cats and fuzzy socks.

There would be no respite that day.

As you walked across the shopping plaza’s parking lot, your stomach clenched with nerves, and a familiar tightness wrapped around your chest. Your heart was beating just a little bit faster than it had been an hour earlier, and a slight ripple of nausea replaced the giddy relief you normally felt as you went home each day. It was Thursday, the most anxiety-inducing day on the calendar, when you would leave work and go straight to the Nocturnal Worship Center, a non-denominational church for a subset of the community’s residents.

Your work friend Greska had gotten it into her head that it would be so fun! to join the Cambric Creek community choir several months earlier, changing her availability at the store almost immediately afterward, meaning she no longer worked on Thursdays with you. She hadn’t been on time to a single rehearsal since. You’d been unsurprised when she’d texted that afternoon, letting you know she’d not be able to make it to rehearsal that night; knew she’d already lost interest in the choir and would likely be announcing her intent to quit any day now.

I really hate Thursdays...

Being a human in Cambric Creek was hard enough. You loved your multi-species neighbors, had made good friends and enjoyed the varied clientele at work, but you still tiptoed, worried that you’d inadvertently say or do something to offend someone, finding it easier to exist at the periphery of friends groups at work and school. The community choir was a distillation of everything that made you nervous: a large, noisy crowd of big personalities, wannabe divas and social butterflies, and your heart would be in your throat each week as you made the drive.

The parking lot would already be filled with cars by the time you arrived, werewolves and lizardfolk and tieflings hustling in, neighbors and friends calling out greetings and socializing in the aisles beneath the big, domed ceiling of the non-denominational worship center, moonlight winking down through the glass overhead. Instead of comfy clothes and cozy socks, you would be in your work clothes for hours more, in particular your Thursday work outfit—one you always spent a bit more time and care picking out, attempting to be as cute as possible when you arrived at the choir’s home, a task which seemed impossible after a long shift.

“Mi mi mi mi mi mi miiiiiiiii….”

Landry’s rich voice reverberated off the wall to your back as you carefully stepped up the risers, taking your place beside them. As usual, you were unable to repress your smile as they belted out the arpeggio.

“Did you ever notice how self-absorbed this exercise is? There’s no you, no us. It’s all about meeeee!” They belted the last syllable once more, and you ducked your head as you laughed, lest they see the heat that stole up your neck. You enjoyed singing, it was true, but you enjoyed the company of the Thursday night rehearsals more. “As if there weren’t enough inflated egos packed in here!”

As if to prove their point, a turban-wearing harpy in the row ahead let out a window-rattling operatic warble, her voice piercing in the upper notes. You huffed silent laughter as Landry lifted a webbed hand as if to say see?!

You would be lying to yourself if you pretended even for a moment that your crush on your green-skinned section-mate wasn’t the reason you were determined to stick with the choir, despite the absence of your friend. Always chipper, always smiling, choir rehearsal with Landry had simultaneously become the brightest and most worrisome spot on your weekly calendar, as you fretted over saying the wrong thing or being too awkward, talking too much or not enough, seeming too eager...but the week’s worth of anxious over-thinking would wash away once you saw the small, pointed teeth revealed by their bright smile, and the hour-long rehearsal would seem only minutes long, leaving you free to bask in the afterglow of your crush throughout the weekend, before you began worrying all over again the following week.

“If you keep that up, Chaz is going to call you out again for not harmonizing. Do we really need a repeat of the great a Capella nightmare of two weeks ago?”

They huffed dismissively as Chaz, the eccentric vampire in charge, began to tap a pencil on the music stand before him to call the chattering group to attention. Your audition may have been good enough for the 1980’s fashion-loving choir director, although you were fairly certain your status as a human made up for what you lacked in musical talent, and that Chaz deliberately spaced his less-than confident choristers, strategically placing them adjacent to those who had talent to spare…like you and Landry.

“Please! What’s he gonna do? We’re the backbone of this whole row, he’d be lost without us!”

Your laughter was hidden behind your folder of music as the vampire ahead banged the music stand against the stage, finally earning the choir’s attention, and fire once more heated your neck.

I love Thursdays…

“The front row favorites were talking about going to the Sidecar after rehearsal. You’re coming, right?”

You froze, missing the note you were meant to be writing in your music, your entire body seizing in panic. It wasn’t until a webbed hand reached over, turning the page before you that you snapped from your stupor, your voice joining the first note half a beat behind. You knew a large portion of the choir gathered together after rehearsal each week, but you’d never joined them. Perhaps if Greska would have been there, perhaps if you were a part of any of the existing cliques which comprised the choir, if you didn’t feel so awkward…besides, it wasn’t as if you’d ever been invited by any of your fellow choristers.

“You’re not really going to leave me alone with these vultures, are you? You know I’m liable to say something about the out-of-tune second row if you’re not there to mind me.”

The Sidecar was a speakeasy-style pub, dimly lit and trendy with an expansive cocktail list and entirely intimidating. You’d never been there and couldn’t imagine yourself confidently strolling through the doors alone.

“You can follow me if you’ve never been there before. C’mon, you know I can’t be trusted alone.”

They wouldn’t be alone, you thought immediately: Landry was fun and funny and friendly towards everyone, and surely wouldn’t have a problem slipping in with the larger group.

“Please? Pleeeeease? I really don’t want to go if you’re not coming, but I’m parched. I’ll shrivel up like a blue-raspberry fruit roll-up if I don’t get something to drink right after rehearsal.”

A smart-assed retort about the nearly-full water bottle beside their chair danced on the tip of your tongue, but as you raised your head to deliver it, their wide, golden eyes held you spellbound, imploring you to give in. You felt suspended in time, like a prehistoric bug in amber as you admired the angle of their jaw, the slight sheen on their blue-green skin, the tightly sealed gills at the side of their neck. When your eyes wandered back to theirs, the golden orbs shimmered with hopeful expectation.

“Sure. We don’t want you getting into too much trouble. Look what happened the night of the harvest jamboree concert.”

Chaz was tapping the music stand as the piano started up, the elderly beetle woman who provided the accompaniment hunching over the keyboard with her multiple arms, and you were unable to bury your face in your music as you flushed. You scarcely recognized the confident voice that had come from your mouth; you were surprised with the way you’d responded, but pleased all the same, and you realized there was an unexpected benefit of possessing The Voice.

“I never met my father, but you can’t miss what you don’t have, you know?”

You nodded sympathetically, crunching into another of the fried zucchini sticks from the basket between you. They would have been better with a touch more salt, but your companion had a low tolerance for sodium, and you were happy to go without.

The Melted Meeple hummed with energy and people, as it always did on Saturday nights, but the tabletop gamers kept to their own parties, leaving plenty of open booths and tables toward the back half of the establishment, and you enjoyed the happy energy within. You’d blurted the question over their heritage, unable to tamp back your curiosity for another week, and to your relief, Landry had laughed.

“Well, my mom is a human. My parents met while she was studying abroad, and she came home with a hell of a souvenir! Although I must say, I’m way better than a t-shirt.”

Your face flamed, regretting asking so personal a question, but Landry waved away your flustered expression. “None of that. I was the only amphibious kid in the family, so that meant I won every swimming contest. I’d go to the river with my cousins and we’d mop the floor with the other kids. Now I live in a nice neighborhood where there are some folks who look like me, I have my own pool, and I sing in an awesome choir. No regrets!”

There was a ridged fin that moved down the center of their head like a punkish hairstyle, mirrored by the delicate fanned membranes of their ears...you already knew from casual bumps and touches that their skin was silky smooth, if not a touch rubbery, and you wondered what their long, webbed fingers would feel like moving over your skin, or entwined with yours…

“You’re right,” you agreed, watching them drain the last of their drink. “You’re much better than a shirt.”

That first night at the Sidecar had been as awkward as you’d feared, but Landry had stayed by your side and had lamented how fussy and complicated the bar menu was as they walked you back to your car once the choir members started to disperse. When the plans buzzed around rehearsal the following week, they hadn’t needed to beg again, and your dislike of crowds was slightly mollified as you walked into the speakeasy together, your taller companion’s hand resting lightly on your back.

“Let’s go somewhere else this week,” they’d whispered as Chaz addressed the tenors of the second row, the third week after that first post-rehearsal meetup. “That place is too dark and crowded. I thought that gnoll was going to climb into my back pocket last week.”

Somewhere else had been the Melted Meeple, then the Black Sheep Beanery the week after, and a dim sum restaurant that served bubble tea the week after that. A full month had gone by, and then another, you realized, two months of Thursdays, and somehow your stomach had stopped clenching in anxiety by Tuesday each week. The Melted Meeple had been your favorite of the spots you’d visited together, and you’d been the one to suggest it that night. Landry’s golden eyes had glimmered as they nodded happily, straightening to attention when Chaz lifted his head, signaling the group to attention once more.

Your weekly post-rehearsal outings had become the most looked-forward-to event on your weekly calendar, and when you’d once been overcome with anxiousness, a giddy elation seemed to carry you into rehearsal each week, and you were amazed by how quickly the time had seemed to fly.

“You know, there’s going to be a dinner after the Snowdrop Festival concert, we’re not going to be able to wriggle out of that.”

“That’s fine,” you allowed, laughing at their screwed-up expression. “You know, if you keep carrying on about the second row, that gryphon is going to assume you’re jealous.”

“Oh, you take that back! The audacity!”

You weren’t sure who this girl was, as you dropped your head back, unrestrained laughter pouring out of you. You weren’t sure who she was, but you liked her, you decided. Liked the possibility that perhaps your feelings weren’t completely one-sided after all. You’d wondered, a few weeks earlier, when Landry had talked around the gnoll sitting in front of you, evading her questions about that evening until the choir was called to attention, wrapping a cool, webbed hand around your wrist the moment the rehearsal ended, hurrying you down the aisle and out the door, before whooping into the night air that you’d escaped and were free to do what you wanted.

“We’re going to the dinner, and that’s that.” You watched as they rolled their eyes, sighing dramatically.

“Fine...what about Saturday?”

“Is there a rehearsal on Saturday?” You felt a prickle of panic that you’d forgotten to schedule something, for you definitely had to work Saturday afternoon, and had nothing else on your schedule…

“No, no...dinner, on Saturday? Are you free?”

The sound of other patrons playing their tabletop games suddenly seemed very far away, and wind rushed in your ears. Were you free Saturday night?

“I think I am,” you answered guardedly. “W-why? Is there something special about Saturday?”

“Yes. It’s not a rehearsal night.”

You bit your lip as Landry smiled broadly, giving you a glimpse of those small, pointed teeth. You wondered what their kiss would feel like; if their skin was always cool to the touch, and if they liked cats. “I work in the afternoon, but I’m not busy at all that night.”

They slipped on the knit hat you’d made them as you left the noise of the Meeple behind, their head fin popping adorably through the opening, and your heart felt close to bursting when long, cool, webbed fingers threaded with your own as you moved through the chilly night.

“Perfect, then. It’s a date.”

You’d reached your car by then, but you made no move to open the door. “A date.”

“A date.” Their lips were cool and soft against your cheek, and the heat that flooded your skin was enough to make the cold night air seem balmy. “A date,” they repeated once more, a bit softer, squeezing your hand before releasing you to open the car door.

You had learned to love Thursdays, but you were certain, as you pulled into the night, your skin buzzing where they’d kissed you, that Saturdays were about to become your new favorite day.

Next up is Alder the Ghillie Dhu’s revisit & then my first and second place contest winners! For exclusive Cambric Creek stories every month, smash subscribe on my Patreon!

#Exophilia #monster lover #enby monstey #non-binary monster #monster match #monster matchmaker #terato #amphibious #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x female reader

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isolaradiale · 3 years

Text

The dark hues of the evening blended to lighter, softer blues of dawn. With every minute, the creatures of the museum began to slow until they stopped altogether, all at once. Whatever they were doing, they dropped it, and began to move their way to the places they had been before the museum took a turn for the lethal.

The artwork climbed back into their frames, stepped onto their pedestals, and walked back into their display cases. A light rain outside washed all the street paint away, color emptying into the drains in the city. Landscapes let their prisoners out, shutting the windows to their world.

Those unlucky enough to earn a spot on the Wall of Shame reappeared in the lobby, their wounds appearing as colorful splashes of paint, and nothing more.

As the oranges and golds of the sun trickled in through the ornate windows of the museum, a blaring voice interrupted the stillness as the intercom museum sparked to life.

"Goooood moooorning, my lovely little visitors! The door to the museum will be opening shortly. Please make your way back to the lobby in an orderly fashion, and be sure to grab all your belongings!"

As Capella promised, the large wooden doors opened once again, releasing all the prisoners of the museum.

"Thanks for visiting the Tempus Museum! Janus, did you want to say any parting words?" "I'm mortified enough as it is, thank you." Came a muffled voice from behind, sounding much less enthused.

"Aww, somebody's cranky... Well, suit yourself!"

As if to add *Extra Enthusiasm*, as everyone exit the doors, they passed by Capella's invulnerable form as she personally waved everyone goodbye, stickers glittering in the morning sunrise. Janus was still sitting at the reception booth, head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

"Bye bye! Goodbye now! Goodbye! Buh-bye! Bye now!" was the chorus that trailed off as she spoke, bidding farewell to the museum's visitors...

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Thank you, everyone, for participating in our recent event: Canvas! As a reminder, you will receive event participation IF:

You've written a starter, thread, mini, or interacted with someone else using the event setting for parts 1, 2, or both.

You've written a 500 word drabble using the setting of the event for parts 1, 2, or both.

You did not have to participate in both parts to receive event credit (so if you only wanted to participate in part 1, it still counts!)

Remember that for participating in the event, you can give yourself 100 stars to use in the marketplace!

A few things have changed as a result of this event, also:

The Tempus Museum has decided to make its home in the Archimedes ward, for now, not far from the Theater of Calliope. Its structure and function is largely the same, but the Optimized Tools won't be there. The artwork won't come to life and attack you, either... during the daytime, that is. You can check out its full description on Archimedes' page!

Janus still takes his place as the museum's curator, and does his best to accommodate guests of the museum. It's not uncommon to see him taking and teaching courses and workshops in the museum, either! He's still polite and eager to help with anything involving the museum and its activities, but if asked questions about the Stars or Spirale, he'll politely explain that he doesn't want to get anyone into trouble. As in the event, on the odd chance that someone is hostile and violent toward him, they'll instantly be killed, and will respawn back in their room.

Thanks again for participating in Canvas! We hope you had a great time!

Frequently Asked Questions:

"Do the things we made turn back to normal?"

Yup! If you didn't destroy it in Part 2 of the event, whatever you made will turn back to normal.

"Will our artwork try to kill us at night?"

Nope! If you took it with you, it's of no danger to you. If you kept it on display at the museum, it's also no danger to you (or anyone else for that matter.) Only the original stock monsters of the museum come to life at night. But unless your muse breaks into the museum, you have nothing to worry about.

The monsters still have their damage invulnerabilities, so unless your muse has a death wish, maybe don't break into the museum without some serious planning. Shady art theft rings will buy your stolen artwork for a hefty price, though, so whether it's worth the risk or not is up to you.

The more often your muse breaks into the museum, the more the monsters will recognize their patterns. Breaking into the museum more than two times is almost impossible, and should be reserved only for the most cunning of thieves.

"What if we made weapons or jewelry? Can we take those back home too?"

Sure! Just know that the weapons will go back to being fragile, and will shatter if used in combat. Any jewelry will look very convincing, but if you try to sell them to anyone, they'll identify it as a fake. Not that they won't buy what you have anyway, but it certainly won't be worth the price of actual precious stones and minerals.

"Can we go back to the museum?"

Yes! It's open to the public from sunrise to sundown, unless there's a nighttime gathering at the museum (which you're free to come up with on your own if you'd like to use it in a setting for a thread.) You could also theoretically break in or sneak in, or hide until the place closes, but you run the risk of running into the guard patrols... or worse.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ (Epilogue)

As the visitors left the building, Capella skipped over to the front desk. Caelum emerged from the darkened corner of the lobby to join her, with the rubber stopper on his cane making soft thumps on the elaborate stone tile.

"Well, that was fun! Thanks for letting us use your museum, Janus." "You're... welcome, I suppose." "Good good! I'll come back here when I make more pieces to show off to the lovely people of our Spirale."

Punctuating this, her hands went up to playfully pat his cheeks.

"Ooookay! Well, until next time! And as for you, Dr. Caelum, I'll see you at this afternoon's meeting or whatever, right?" "Aha, yes I'll be there."

Saluting the both of them, her form vanished into a series of pixels, leaving the other two at the desk. Now that she was gone, the AI turned to give a pointed look at his father.

"...Mmm. Still angry, eh?" Came a chuckle, but the other didn't look so amused.

"You know, at one point, I would have congratulated you for feeling slighted. And I would have celebrated you experiencing such a thing. But you've been around for so long that these things come naturally to you now, don't they? Feelings like being angry... Now I just feel bad when you're upset like any other human."

Another more cheery laugh, and he walked himself over to the doors, motioning the other to follow. With the crowd gone, he could finally step outside and stand on the steps.

"...I am sorry for causing you trouble." "I know." "Good, I'm glad that came across." "I'm still irritated, don't get me wrong." "Yes, yes. I don't doubt it." "And I'm not sure if anyone will come back after such a thing. I wouldn't blame them. I just wanted a place to contribute to this whole thing, and now it's all..."

Sighing, he sat on the first step, watching the rest of the street illuminate in the warm glow of the sunrise. He only realized the old man beside him was trying to sit down when he gave a little huff of effort, and immediately helped his father down beside him.

"Ahh. Much better, thank you." "I could have gotten you a chair..." "Haha, that's alright. If you can sit on the steps, so can I."

For a while, the two sat in silence, watching the streets of Archimedes begin to wake up. Cars stirring, cafes opening, people walking their dogs.

"...Are you doing alright over there?" Janus asked, not turning his head.

"About as well as I can, mmhm." "You still have your migraine medicines down there, right?" "Mmhm. Dr. Lyra has been taking good care of my health, don't worry." "She's the nice one, isn't she? That's a welcome change from the other facility..."

A hand went to the Ai's shoulder, patting it reassuringly.

"Instead of worrying about my health, you should direct that concern inward, Mortimer. You have a place where you can walk around, do all sorts of things humans do. Talk to people, make friends. Play games, read books, paint your lovely canvases. You're not confined to the life we lived three years ago."

Silence followed for a little until the young man leaned against the older one. He must be pushing 70 at this point, right?

"...Are you in a place where you can refer to me by my name? And not that Star code that they made?" "Well, no. Not really. But I don't think anyone's listening. So I don't care~" "Ha! Rebellion got you into this mess, didn't it?" The AI replied with a laugh, earning another from his father.

"Well. Messes that they were, I can still sit with you without you being stuck behind a screen. So even after all the hells we've been through, I'd call that a success. Wouldn't you?"

A smile cracked on his face. They have gone through a lot.

"A success... it's nice to finally call something a success again, father. It's very nice."

#Isola Event: Canvas

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aloysiavirgata · 4 years

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scully, snow, jellybeans, fox, guitar

He sits on the porch next to a little propane heater, gazing out at the Winter Hexagon as it slowly rolls above the horizon. It is the cusp of twilight, the lavender sky tinted with pale green edges that streak the snow with Monet delicacy. From the iPod on the table comes the friendly twang of CCR, all rhythm guitar and the Cajun affectations of John Fogerty. Mulder sips at a hot toddy, more warmed whiskey and honey than anything else. He tosses a handful of birdseed across the low porch wall and a flurry of chickadees seems to materialize from nowhere, squabbling and pecking on the blank page of the lawn.

They take wing when Scully trudges through the snow from around the back, shin deep in her heavy boots. She looks a bit like them, with a sleek black cap on her head and a thick black scarf knotted below her white face, though her cheeks are slapped rosy by the cold. She has her hands jammed into the pockets of her coat, a trim down cocoon, leaning forward as she walks.

Mulder holds a second mug up. “Looks like you could use this,” he calls.

She pauses to look at him, head tipped to the side with her long braid swinging out. Her lush mouth is pursed as she bites at the inside of her cheek, eyes bright as Sirius and sometimes just as remote. “Is that Proud Mary?”

“ROLLIN’,” he sings along. “ROLLIN’ ON THE RIIIIIVAH.”

Scully wrinkles her nose in distaste. “If you had a day job, I’d tell you not to quit it.”

He pouts, but holds the mug up again. “Come warm up. Your fox all sorted out?”

She nods, face canted towards the sapphire sky. Artemis in lux brumalis. “I gave him some marrow bones."

The fox is big and glossy, with a lair in the bracken by the split rail fence. He is a wild creature, won’t come closer than thirty feet, but Scully leaves him morsels. She loves the vivid flag of his tail, the elegant contrast of his black stockings. It has become her pleasure to find choice treats for him, to keep his fur lustrous and his belly too sated for the poultry house.

“We should build a snowman tomorrow,” Mulder suggests. “A good old fashioned one with a carrot nose.”

Scully scoops a handful of snow in her black-gloved hand. “It’s a good consistency for a snowman, though no fun to walk through. An old fashioned one needs a top hat, though. And coal.” She hums a bar of Frosty.

Mulder considers this. “I have a baseball cap from Cradock Marine,” he offers. “It’s black, do you think that’s close enough?”

“Needs must. But we don’t have coal, either.”

“Well, you were a very good girl this year.” She had been particularly delightful on Christmas Eve, clad only in shadows and flickering light before a roaring fire.

She narrows her eyes like she knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t play along. “You can pick some black jellybeans out of that bag in the pantry.”

“This will be better than an old fashioned snowman, Scully. Though maybe we should just go full Calvin and Hobbes and build snow zombies or something. Here, come up on the porch.” He beckons gently, as though luring a wary animal. In his deepest places, he is afraid she is still not yet tame either. She is doe-eyed, slender-limbed. She has bolted before.

Scully thumps up the steps, moon boots shedding snow in her wake. She accepts the steaming mug from him and he thinks that in fairy tales, it is the third try which binds.

She sits next to him on the wicker loveseat, cuddling close. Her head is bowed over her mug for a sip, curls of steam rising over her eyelashes. “Mulder!” she says, looking up. “Do you even have any water in this?”

He shrugs. “It’s not an exact recipe.”

She takes another swallow. “I’m a pretty cheap date, you know. You’ll have to carry me upstairs if I finish this.”

He hopes so; the weight of her in his arms taps some caveman primalness she’d shoot him for if ever expressed. He likes the idea of her hair spilling over his arm, her lovely face soft with drowsy whiskey eyes. “Tomorrow I’ll make a buttered rum that’ll knock your socks off.”

‘Socks or pants?” she asks, a sly smile.

He waggles his eyebrows. “How about you just don’t put any on?”

Scully puts her mug on the little table. “I love the sky out here,” she says, dreamy. She points a gloved finger towards the vault of the heavens. “The stars are so clear. Procyon, Rigel. Capella.”

Mulder is proud of their house, their foxes and pines and sky. He is proud that she loves it. He finds his throat unexpectedly tight and reaches for her other hand.

“Good,” he says.

Scully squeezes his fingers, then lets go to take her hat off. She unwinds the elastic from the end of her braid, shaking the plait loose. Her hair tumbles in waves like the Virgin Queen. She curls onto her side with her head in his lap, looking up at him.

He is afraid to touch her, to talk, to break a gathering spell.

She must see it in his eyes, must see something, because she uses her teeth to tug her glove off so she can reach up and touch his face. “I’m home,” she says.

Mulder kisses her palm and she drops her hand, smiling, closing her eyes. Her lashes brush her cheeks.

Beyond them the gloaming deepens into night, skeleton branches hold fragile treasures of snow, the fox gnaws bones in his burrow. In Taurus, Aldebaran glows dimly red.

He strokes her hair until her breathing slows. He carries her upstairs.

#Anonymous

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eerythingisshaka · 3 years

Text

Ficmas Day #2 “A Chris Gets His Wings”

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Word Count: 1.6K

“Reena! Pick up your phone! I already texted you and I know you seen my messages!” You hang up the phone as your friend Dez shivers next to you, rattling her sheet music.

“Maybe we should just call it a night. Caroling this year will just have to be a bust.”

“But we always do caroling! Why should this year be any different?” You enthusiastically wave your hands for emphasis but lose a sheet or two in the process.

“Dammit!”

“Come on, we can still hang at my place and warm up with some cocoa and try another night. We have like two more weeks before Christmas,” Dez offers.

You straighten up, adjusting your knit cap over your head. “I know but this is our night. We can’t always reserve this spot in the park with the piano. It’s too high in demand and she is our pianist!”

Dez shakes her head. “I don’t know what else to do, but let me think about it in a warmer environment. I’ll be in my car, you are welcome to join when feeling comes back to your brain.”

“Love you like an ingrown too, queen,” you remark as she heads for the parking lot.

You stand alone on the brick pavement under a gazebo trimmed with white lights in a place called Angel Park. The black piano that sits silent is so worn from weather and graffiti, it’s hard to believe any beauty can come from it. A slight hitch of panic pulls you to its keys, walking your fingertips over the cold white bars as the random notes play out loud.

You stop, satisfied with what you’ve heard that it is indeed a functioning piano but what can you do without a player? You and Dez could try to sing it a capella, but your vision of caroling is complete only with a piano at the helm of it all. That’s what will pull people in, otherwise you are just two random people singing, not carolers.

You sigh, feeling the cold hit your toes, you walk around a bit and work some heat back to them. You feel your phone vibrate and get excited, checking for the sender

Dez You heard from Reena yet?

You No

Dez It’s still warm in here if you wanna wait in my car

You No, I’ll wait like ten more minutes

You put your phone back in your coat pocket and look mindlessly at your sheet music. Rudolph, Christmas Song, Frosty; you know them all by heart but caroling without sheet music seemed to not fit your image of Christmas either. You imagine about five people standing ear muff to ear muff, taking a deep breath together as their eyes study the paper in front of them, watching the slight bob of their head or tap of their fot to keep time and joyfully sing about the Christmas season.

You, unfortunately, stand solo outside of an empty gazebo as passersby walk on without a glance in your direction. As you look up at the sky, barely able to make out a star, you hear a few notes coming from the piano. You turn to see a stranger in a turtleneck and peacoat working the keys over creating a random tune that fills the air warmly.

You walk up to him in a huff. “Excuse me, sorry, but this is my time to be at the piano. I already reserved it with parks and rec.”

He looks up at you, white breath coming from his lips. “Is that so? Well,” he stops playing. “Let me not hold you back.”

You shift your weight back and forth, looking at your feet. “Thanks.”

A few seconds pass between you both as neither of you moves on.

“So… are you planning to play during your reserved parks and rec session?” he asks.

You clear your throat to hide your embarrassment. “I didn’t say that I am playing necessarily. I just reserved it for...music.”

His eyes go wide as he knocks his head back for an animated nod. “Sure thing, just usually people who want to take time with a musical instrument for music, they plan to play said instrument, though is it just nice to look at. Check this writing here: FOR A GOOD TIME CALL 816-5…”

“Ok! I made plans with some friends to carol and it just fell through, from the looks of things.” You pull out our phone and check for any missed messages: none yet.

He plants a hand to his chest in awe. “Caroling! Oh! I love caroling! Some say caroling at Christmas time is the one chance you get to catch an angel having a good time on earth instead of you know, doing God’s work, so to speak.”

“Well that may be, but ain’t no angels coming for me tonight it seems. Look, I think I’m going to head-”

“How about I teach you a chord or two? Make this time worth a little something, right?”

Your mouth moves as your thoughts move quicker than you can say them. “What’s your name?”

“Chris! Like Christ, without the cross. Get it?” He smiles with a chuckle that makes you smile mildly for the first time all night.

“Cute. Well...it couldn’t hurt. It’s the Christmas season after all!”

You round the piano to join Chris on the bench, rubbing your hands together fervently.

“Ok, so how about we start with Jingle Bells? Make it simple and sweet. Start here, then here….”

You study his fingers as they push down one key after another, trying to remember the pattern.

“...so it just follows that same pattern basically the whole way.”

“So I can just like Chopsticks this?” you ask, trying out the keys for yourself.

“Yeah! I swear I don’t mean to dumb it down by the way, just for time purposes…”

You wave him off, smiling at him genuinely. “No! You’re being so nice, I’ll take whatever lesson you’re giving. I’m a singer first off anyway.”

“So that’s your instrument! Well we will be quite the pair. I’ll play with you but give me a bit of vocal too while you’re at it.”

You giggle with excitement, no longer bothered by the cold as you both share a space on the bench and prepare to jam. Chris starts off the chords as you do your mini part, stumbling here and there but thankful Chris is carrying the melody all the way.

As you sing, a couple of people notice, smiling at the two of you and quietly bobbing to the jingle. When the last line is sung, you both are welcomed with a round of applause, which Chris joins in for you.

“Oh please! Clap for you!” you exclaim, coming to a standing as he holds his heart gratefully.

“Thank you! Do you have time for one more?” Chris asks.

You check the time on your phone. “Maybe? It depends how soon someone might need the space.”

Chris brushes your worry off. “Ahh come on! One song and it’s quitting time. Park it here!”

You scoff at his demand but follow nonetheless. Sliding next to him, your hip touches his, making you jump. He doesn’t seem bothered but you give an inch just in case, noticing his gorgeous eyelashes for the first time.

“‘Baby It’s Cold Outside?’” he asks, looking to you to confirm.

“Well I’d say it is.” you respond, laughing into your chest at your own quip.

Chris gives a warm snicker as well. “That it is, baby. But can you sing it?”

“Sing yes. Play? Not even close.”

“Well here’s what we’ll do. I’ll play this time, and you just handle the lady part of the duet, I got the guy to help you out.”

You think about this a moment. “Ooh, know what could be fun? I’ll do the guy part, you the lady.”

Chris stretches his face in understanding. “ I got it, let’s do it!”

Chris starts off the song, “I really can’t stay…”

“Baby, it’s cold outside!”

“I’ve got to go away!”

“But baby it’s cold outside!” You give him a puppy dog look that almost makes him break as his face reddens. You get up from the bench and a bit more flare to your dramatics as you move around the gazebo, maintaining the chemistry with Chris as he gets into the show too. The crowd has tripled in size around you both as the song builds to its final big note, clapping in rhythm as the attention is fixated on you stepping out to sing the last line.

“OUT! SIDE!” You give a bow as the crowd erupts. When you come to stand, Dez is in front of you.

“Girl, I wondered why you hadn’t picked up your phone. I called you a couple times, I thought someone snatched you up!”

The crowd begins to dissipate as you catch your breath. You put a hand to her shoulder, taking off your knit cap to fan yourself a little. “No issue here! I was just with a friend-” You turn back to point at the empty bench. Looking around, there’s no sign of Chris anywhere.

“Reena said she overslept so she has to make it up to you on the caroling, but you said ten minutes and you know me, once it has hit 11 minutes I am coming for you.”

You put your hat back on, and walk out to where the crowd was. “He was just here…”

“Girl, everyone was here. I can’t believe you did a solo and didn’t text me to see it. That’s brave of you regardless. Come tell me about it on the way to the car.”

You whip around to meet your eyes with Dez. “You swear you didn’t see a guy at the piano?”

“Child, the piano was empty as ever when I came up. I didn’t catch what you sang, I just saw the crowd clapping and found you. He wasn’t a creep was he?”

You shake your head. “No he was really fucking great. Just came to have a good time I guess.”

#shakafic #ficmas #chris evans x reader

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Note

Do you have any must read bechloe fic recommendations? Other than your stuff of course; I've reread those already. Preferably more than 10K words? Thank you. Also, I genuinely love the way you write. It's such beautiful writing and it kept me entertained through multiple 13Hr flights. Yours were the fics I read very early on and tbh I didn't expect any fic writing to be at that level and fortunately was pleasantly surprised. Thank you so much for sharing your writing. Have a great day. :)

please know that i am probably the least talented overgrown shrub in this ridiculous little fandom and this message made me simultaneously happy and terrified. you are so incredibly kind and thank you so much for sending this message. sharing fics is my favourite activity so i hope you’ll enjoy some of these faves. i can only aspire to be as good as them one day.

in any case, this is only a snapshot of the world of bechloe fics out there…please enjoy!

it only comes in waves (it must be chemical)

by coffeesomemore (10,933 words / complete)

Summary: while she was busy with a capella, Beca’s personal soundtrack slowly evolved.

or, Chloe Beale, and the songs she got stuck in Beca’s head during freshman year, which Beca would deeply resent if they weren’t so catchy.

Notes: this is a really charming and well-written supplement to PP1. There is something about that era of fics that will always get to me…please enjoy this one.

don’t keep on driving (let me say something)

by @chloebeale (13,842 words)

Summary: beca and chloe’s relationship told from the inside of chloe’s car.

Notes: don’t ever leave this fandom without reading something by @chloebeale. Also, I’m such a sucker for liminal spaces.

Somewhere In My Memory

by @wlwoolf (11,623 words / complete / AU)

Summary: “You have really nice hands,” Chloe says, fingers idly drumming along her cue stick. Beca pointedly ignores her, setting up the shot and the moment her arm cocks back to shoot, Chloe adds, “They look like they know how to show a girl a good time.”

or, the AU where Beca walks into Chloe’s bar years after they graduated high school

Notes: before you say this is biased because this was a Christmas/Pitchmas gift…amber is so so talented. this was such a good fic and I’ve re-read it such a handful of times already, it’s almost embarrassing. I LOVE IT.

You Still Make Sense to Me (Your Mess is Mine)

by @emilyjunk (31,416 words / complete)

Summary: "Chloe fills up all of the spaces inside her that she didn’t even know existed until Chloe was there.“

orrrrr the one where it takes a fake-engagement and being domestic as hell for these two idiots to realize they’re in love.

you will see me come undone

by @paintedviolet (12,111 words / complete)

Summary: Seeing Chloe’s face drop when she plays the mix at the next official practice is honestly the best reaction Beca could have hoped for. Beca has floored her; she’s totally exposed, having to listen to what is most definitely one of her lady jams and discuss the parts each person is going to sing. All the while pretending it doesn’t have an effect on her at all.

Beca and Chloe incorporate their flirting game into their Bellas practices. One of them has to crack sooner or later.

Song Beneath The Song

by @piratekane (14,413 words / complete)

Summary: Chloe has always followed the music, because music has given her the best, most important things in her life. It’s never led her astray. Sometimes, though, she wishes it’d give her a little bit of warning about the roller coaster she’s in for.

Stained Glass

by @kailoraurelius (143,135 words / 44 chapters / complete / AU)

Summary: Chloe’s always been able to get Beca to do things she wants. So when Chloe wants Beca to be her fake girlfriend at her best friend’s wedding, Beca does it. She wasn’t expecting it to be so easy. But while she’s busy figuring out why that is, the bride goes missing. Looks like Beca and Chloe aren’t the only ones lying.

Head-First

by @aliciameade (25,585 words / 4 chapters / complete / rated E / AU)

Summary: They’re lifeguards.

Forgive Me These November Days

by @obstinate-questionings (78,705 words / 12 chapters / complete)

Summary: Why Chloe Beale didn’t graduate—and why she finally did—as told through yearly celebrations of Thanksgiving.

tell me is it so wrong (even if we fall in love?)

by @backtobasicbellas (31,733 words / 7 chapters / complete)

Summary: But Chloe’s giving her that giddy grin, the one that tells Beca she’s going to break her facade and burst into laughter at any moment.Beca thinks this won’t be so bad, fake dating Chloe. Not when everything with Chloe happens with ease.

Everything Stops (Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend)

by @sentientaltype (24,045 words / 2 chapters / complete)

Summary: Chloe Beale does not fall in love…so when Chloe meets Beca Mitchell for the first time, she knows she’s absolutely fucked.

hope this sustains ya!

#fic rec #bechloe #text #mine #Anonymous #ask

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goatbi · 4 years

Text

The Riverbank Chapter Eleven

It was a quaint little coffee shop. One that none of them had seen before, though simply by having never been in the area. It was one of those places Tommy loved to take them all on dates, when they would hold a table for hours, only keeping from annoying the employees too much by getting drinks often, or cake pops that they had hidden.

Of course, Darnold was here alone this time, one simple coffee set in front of her at the two person table, book up to her face. She wasn’t reading anything on the pages, unfortunately, but still turned the pages carefully as if she was. This is where she would sit for the moment, as it was the only place that any of them knew that the other stars would go.

Hopefully they were right and they would come back. Darnold certainly hoped so. She also let herself hope that this would all be over soon enough, so they could come back here, make better memories than this, sitting here in silence and hoping that Benrey was still okay enough for this little trap to be worth it.

Someone in the corner of her eye entered the shop. She barely glanced over, but they froze, before turning and leaving again. Darnold said nothing, hoping that that didn’t mean they knew and were going to leave, move spots, ruin this on the second day of trying to get them in.

Three page turns later, someone sat down in the chair across from her. She didn’t look up for a moment, but lowered the book carefully, eyes darting towards it.

It wasn’t the same person that had come in before. She knew that well enough. It stared back at her quietly, eyes narrowed, before the world went grey around them. Darnold’s eyes flicked across it’s face, noting the bruise blooming across it’s cheek. Yellow eyes bored into her, and finally, finally, she made eye contact.

“Capella.” Careful, measured. It knew what it was doing giving it’s name to her. Darnold simply smiled back.

“Darnold.” She replied instead, setting her book down on the table in front of her, pushing the forgotten coffee to the side in order to do it. Capella stared at her quietly, unblinking. Darnold simply stared back. She was used to G-Man’s slightly off existence, not to mention she was dating Tommy. It wasn’t like the unblinking thing freaked her out anymore.

Capella frowned after a moment, seeming to realize this, and sat back, pushing it’s feet against the table legs to balance on the back two. “So. Who knows you’re here.”

At this Darnold looked away, trying to look nervous. It must have worked, as the chair clunked back to the ground.

“No one?” Capella seemed to purr, and Darnold glared at it, halfheartedly, then shifted to look closer, eyes focusing on the bruise on it’s face.

“Are you alright?” Capella jerked back, eyes going wide. “I mean, that looks pretty bad. I thought that... stars could heal that sort of thing.” Darnold tilted her head slightly, almost innocently, and Capella glared at her.

“Fuck off.”

“It was just a question. I didn’t... mean to upset you.” Not to that extent at least. Darnold wondered idly if stars could fix damage done by other stars. Maybe that was it. Dissent in the ranks perhaps? Or... something worse. She shook it off, and Capella leaned forwards again.

“Is this a negotiation? For your little abomination back?” Control. That’s what it wanted here, but even so, the name that it gave Benrey brought a tidal wave of anger.

“Perhaps the people of earth see you as the abomination.” She said instead of screaming, lifting her cup to take a sip carefully. “I know they aren’t, however.”

Capella seemed to give up then, standing and grabbing Darnold’s arm with a burning grip, dragging her bodily from the seat. The coffee teetered for a moment, but steadied, as it and the book were left behind. Darnold stumbled behind it for a moment, but managed to find her footing, putting up a struggle, though knowing that she couldn’t break free from it’s grasp. She was dragged through the portal, all without Capella noticing Bubby and Coomer stationed across the street.

It dragged her through, and she stumbled into a building, almost warehouse like. Her eyes darted around quickly, trying to take everything in at once, trying to see it all, in order to tell them later, as Capella dragged her through the building.

“Acrturus! Guess what I found!” It called, and stopped just outside a door. When it opened, Capella didn’t go in, but instead, Arcturus stepped out carefully. With the pure white eyes, Darnold couldn’t tell who he was looking at, but she knew it wasn’t good, even before the grin split across his face.

“Oh wonderful. Looks like you haven’t failed me after all.” It hit Darnold all at once, eyes flickering between them, but she didn’t speak, as Arcturus carefully cupped Capella’s face, right over the bruise the same size. “Good job, darling.” He turned his head, just barely, to look at Darnold, then moved his hand from Capella’s face to hers, thumb on her chin, forcing her head up to look him in the eyes. “Another of their little group, I assume?” He asked, and Capella nodded.

“I think so. Seemed to know the abomination.” Darnold held back the snarl, kept herself calm. Arcturus seemed to be searching for something, and whether or not he found it was something Darnold didn’t know. He simply drew back, hand falling from her face, the spot he touched burning.

“Put them together. It might be nice to see what we’ve done to your precious nuisance.” Capella dragged her off, and Darnold stumbled to keep up with her, forcing her gaze away from him.

When she was pushed into the room, she chose to land on her left, crashing to the floor, hands curled around her middle. Her upper arm, where Capella had held her, also burned, and, when Capella left, and Darnold sat up to look, the cloth of her dress was melted to her arm.

“Darnold?”

At the sound of her name, her eyes flicked up to the corner, catching the barely glowing eyes of Benrey huddled there. The damage looked extensive, as Benrey’s clothing was mostly covered in blood, the original color lost at this point. His left eyes was swollen shut, though a second peeked out from under it, granting him the normal full range of sight. His lip was split, nose at an odd angle. They were favoring one arm, curling it close to their chest, and, when Darnold got a closer look as she moved towards them, there was bone peeking from the skin, around which had been sweet voice healed. One leg was tucked under daem, the other stretched out in front of daem, covered in various burns and cuts. It seemed a theme with them, the burning.

“Hey.” Darnold kept her voice soft, settling next to daem carefully, wiping away a tear before it could fall properly, Benrey turning his head to look at her.

“How... You shouldn’t be here.” He muttered, and Darnold smiled, reaching into her pocket.

“Yes I should. I did this on purpose.” Out from her pocket came a vial. Inside was two liquids stacked on top of one another. The bottom was dark, sucking in the light around it, while the top was bright and shining. “I can get the others in here, and Tommy and G-Man aren’t gonna be powerless cause they were... invited. This was a trap and they fell right into it.”

Benrey stared at the liquids quietly, eyes wide. "Is that...” Darnold nodded slightly, lifting the little vial a bit closer to Benrey’s face, so that he could see G-Man and Tommy’s blood begin to mix within.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #darnold pepper #benrey #feelings in various ways #mentions of abuse #mentions of an abusive relationship #mentions of torture #capella

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ear-monstrosities · 4 years

Text

should've stayed, were there signs I ignored? (can I help you not to hurt anymore?) 1/1

Summary: Beca visits Chloe one last time

Rating: M

Notes: Title from One More Light- Linkin Park. SPOILER*** TW: Suicide TW: Car crash. first oneshot and its really fuckin sad, hope you enjoy :)

Read below or on AO3

REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

****

Beca’s beaten up car pulled to a whining stop on the gravel road. The fragments crunched under the weight of her tires. She took in a deep, steadying breath and slowly got out of the car. She didn’t move for several minutes. Of course, she knew exactly where to go, but this was the first time she had seen her grave since she died. The old, dead grass crunched under her feet as she slowly walked up to the seemingly untouched headstone. She crouched down and ran her fingers along the smooth grooves in the stone.

”Hey Chlo” Beca started. “I brought some flowers for you. I also have the yellow cup with me. You know this is the first time I’ve been up here since... it happened. Don’t think that I love you any less because I couldn’t come up here. No, I just physically couldn’t. Couldn’t get out of bed. Couldn’t move. I was broken. It’s not your fault though. It’s mine.”

”I should’ve talked to you more. I should’ve paid attention to the little things. I should’ve loved you better than I did. Maybe then you would still be here. Maybe I should’ve done a better job to care for you. I could’ve stopped this. I never should’ve left you that day. I should’ve stayed home. Maybe we could watch a movie. Twilight marathon? I know how much you loved that movie. Maybe Harry Potter. I don’t know, it would’ve been your choice. I would’ve fallen asleep after about an hour anyways. No biggie.”

”Anyways, back on track. I just came to tell you how much I love and miss you. You know I never thought the afterlife was real. I thought we just died and that’s that. But if it gives me something to hold onto, I’m gonna believe today. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Chloe. I still remember the first day.”

-2012-

”Hi, any interest in joining our a capella group?” The redhead smiled and handed Beca a flyer.

”Oh right, this is like a thing now” Beca stated, warily watching the girl across from her.

-Present Day-

Beca chuckled, a short, dry laugh. “I kinda regret acting like that, but 18 year old me was a bit of a bitch. Of course, you knew that, but you still put up with me. Of course you did. You’re Chloe. Chloe Beale. You’ll always be Beale to me. You put up with my shit when no one else did. I never realized how great you were to me until you left. I still remember every time we went out for ice cream at 2 am. I still remember the innocent touches in Bellas rehearsal. I remember it all. How could I forget?”

-2013-

”Beca, please?” Chloe drew out the ‘e’ and pouted.

”Alright, alright, fine. I’ll take you to go get ice cream.” Beca relented and Chloe wrapped her in a bear hug.

...

“What kind do you want, Chlo?” Chloe stared at the case for a solid 3 minutes before finally shouting “Cookie dough!” Beca laughed and bought it for her.

”Gimme bite” Chloe demanded after they sat down.

”Why’d you make me buy Cookie Dough if you wanted my Cherry Blitz?” Beca mock glared as she gave her a bite.

”Tastes better from yours”

-Present Day-

”God Chlo, you never ate it all but ended up eating half of mine.” Beca laughed, a loud, boisterous sound. “You always took mine, even if you hated the flavor, you took it.”

”I think what I loved most about you is that you had such a big heart. You could absolutely hate someone, but give them a second chance because you thought they deserved it. I guess I’m kinda lucky there, ain’t I. You took so many chances on me, and I never took a chance on you. I did not once ask if you were truly doing okay. Feeling okay. I didn’t. I never checked up on you, and I should have. I should’ve given you the world, and I would’ve, but I never did. I thought you were happy Chlo-“ Her voice cracked and she paused for a few minutes.

”I thought you were happy all the time. You pretended you were. For me, you pretended. I should’ve made it clear you didn’t have to.” She looked up at the setting sun and let a tear run down her cheek.

”Guess it’s getting pretty late, huh. Well now for the real reason I’m here, how about it.” Beca took a deep breath.

”I guess I never told you this because I was afraid it’d change everything, but now it’s too late, and I have to say it now. I was- am- in love with you, Chloe. I always have been. Always will be. I should’ve told you before. I never did though, and I will always carry that with me. Chloe you were it for me. You were my person. My one and only. I will never stop loving you, and I will always be there for you, no matter what. I had the chance to save you from drowning, and I didn’t. I let you sink. I never had the chance to give you my air. So if this is the last you ever hear from me, know I love you so much. With every fiber of my being, I love you. I think I’ll play our song one more time”

Beca began to sing, tapping rhythms with the famous yellow cup effortlessly. She eased through every verse, never missing a beat. On the last word, she sobbed, a loud, crushing noise in the silent area.

Beca once again ran her fingers over the smooth stone divots, tracing the name of her love. She stood up, waved at the stone, brushed the dirt off her jeans, and started the trek back to her car.

When she got there, she noticed her window was cracked open just an inch and a small ladybug flew onto her steering wheel. Beca smiled and sobbed at the same time.

“I see you, Chloe. I see you” She spoke to the ladybug. She carefully put the ladybug on her finger and let her fly away. Eventually, she composed herself enough to drive and got into her car. While starting the car, she noticed a small CD case in her passenger seat that she had gotten from Chloe the day she passed. A suicide note, of sorts.

She began to pull out of the cemetery and onto the busy road as she put the CD in and pressed play. She heard a whirring noise, and a distinct sob before choked words came out of her speaker.

”I love you too, Beca.”

Beca was too distracted by the scratchy voice that came from the radio to notice the other car come flying down the wrong lane, it's tires screeching as the driver tried to stop.

She didn’t notice the glass shards fly from her windshield and into her neck, slicing the delicate skin that rests there.

She didn’t notice the hard plastic pin the lower half of her body, the strong bones crushed effortlessly under the car’s weight.

Never heard the scream of the other driver as they jumped out at the last minute.

She didn’t notice any of it.

The only thing going through her head were the words that had swept through her car merely seconds before.

“I love you too, Beca”

Beca’s eyes fluttered shut seconds before she took her last gasping breath.

I’m coming home Chlo.

I’m coming home.

#pitch perfect #bechloe #beca x chloe #chloe x beca #beca and chloe #chloe and beca #beca mitchell #chloe beale #one shot #fics #fanfic #ficlet #tragedy #tragic #sad

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silenthillmutual · 4 years

Text

@milk-teeths wanted dadniil comforting khan during a breakdown. i’ve never written khan before so i hope this turned out okay ;; --------------------

Victor means well. He always does. And Khan knows he's very lucky, to have a father that means well. But meaning well doesn't exactly help in all contexts, least of all this one. One that Victor is far from able to advise him on, and he is not, under any circumstances, taking this spiral of self-doubt to uncle Georgiy. It's not even that Victor had suggested it, but knowledge hung there in the air between them both as they explicitly did not talk about Georgiy "such a pity we have no male heir" Kain.

He'll apologize to his father later, if he must. If he feels the compulsion to, though he knows the man doesn't expect it himself. Right now he just needs to get out. He'd get out of Town, if he could, even with the voice in the back of his head screaming Irresponsible at him. He has a town to look after, a future, a people, and he just wants to run away from it all. There's no privacy here, no place where he can just let the mask go and be sixteen years old and not have to worry about any of this. About leading. About being an example. About people finding out.

And who is he kidding? In all probability, they already know.

The Polyhedron is gone, but the Nutshell at least still stands as a neutral territory. He's counting on Capella's feelings, her connections to reach out to him and tell people to leave the place undisturbed until he's ready to go. It's three hours until nighttime, but people hang around here anyway. He bites his lip as he rounds the corner, but it's blissfully empty.

He almost vomits in the corner. He manages to push back the wave of nausea by leaning his head against the wall. He's not feverish, but God forbid if his father or his sister or worse, Artemy Burakh learns he's nearly been sick. He'll never hear the end of it. He guesses he's glad for it; again, he's made to think about how fortunate he is. Notkin doesn't have this, Capella hasn't in years, but he can't stand the babying. It's how they treat the women here, all of them, and he doesn't know how they stand it. But he sure as hell doesn't want it directed at him.

Khan pushes off against the wall and undoes his shirt buttons, fingers shaking. He needs to unwrap these bandages before he suffocates. He hates that he can't manage it for long, when he knows it's only going to get worse the older he gets. When he's eighteen, at least, he'll be able to talk to someone about it. Burakh, maybe, or Rubin if he won't. They're Olgimsky men, ostensibly, and whatever happens between them all he trusts Capella not to let him down.

...But the idea, the idea of the Capital, of seeing a doctor there who can take this weight off of him...

The door slams open clumsily and he barely has time to tug his shirt back over his chest before he spins around, scowling. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear - but at least this doctor, though bumbling as the others, makes a habit of asking before entering. If, of course, he knows where he's going. Dankovsky blinks at Khan, rather confused, and sighs at himself, rubbing his forehead. "Not again," Khan hears him mumble, and sets his bag down for a moment to look at his map. Over a month now, and he still doesn't know the streets.

"Do you need directions, doctor?" Khan asks, trying his best through the pain to lower his voice.

"No, no, I'll get it!" he says, waving his hand. His face doesn't exactly betray confidence, though, brow furrowing. Khan hears him mutter the word "Whatever" before he shoves it back into his bag, and looks at him, still frowning. "I needed to speak with you anyway."

Oh, no. "I'm afraid it'll have to wait," Khan says, attempting authority in his voice. "I'm indisposed."

Wrong choice of words. Of course he shouldn't have assumed the doctor would be any different here - Capital man or not, he's still a doctor. "All the more reason for us to talk," he says, removing his gloves. He's spent too long around Burakh, putting his hand over Khan's forehead. "You're not running a fever, from what I can tell," he says, apparently oblivious to his own slip, and continues. "Where is it you don't feel well."

"That's none of your concern," Khan says, but as the only adult who hasn't treated him with condescension, he's never been good at sending Dankovsky off. "I didn't call for you."

"Well I'm not leaving," Daniil says. "That would just be ridiculous, and your father and sister would never forgive me."

"I thought you weren't on speaking terms with Maria?" Dankovsky scowls at him, but he can see the man's not going anywhere. "It'll pass anyway, doctor, it's just -"

"Hang on." His voice is coming out slow and suspicious. Khan is unnerved. The doctor walks around him, frowning, and he knows what it is he's got in hand before he shows it to Khan. "Have you been -? Khan, is this where all my missing bandages have gone?"

It's the fact that his voice sounds hurt that's got him to breaking. God damn this time of the month. "I'm sorry," he says, voice squeaking. He hates it.

"Oh - don't cry, please." He watches Daniil squirm uncomfortably, from where they stand a few paces apart, Khan looking elsewhere with his jaw clamped shut. "Just - why? Is there something going on I don't know about? Your... your... What do you call them again? Dog Ears? Are they hurt?"

"No," Khan says, words coming out a little too loud. "It's something different. You wouldn't understand."

"Please explain it to me. I'll try." Khan fidgets. "Casper?"

"I need to bind -" he blurts out. He cuts off his words with his teeth. "Something. It's - I have to do it very carefully. And if I use anything coarser than bandages, I'll hurt myself. Do you understand enough now?"

Things are very quiet for a moment. "I understand perfectly well," Dankovsky says softly. "Better than you know."

"You don't know anything! None of you do!" But what should come out as an angry retort is lost behind tears. He doesn't sound commanding, he just sounds pathetic. "All of it is such a mess now! Everyone's scattered, and even you aren't helping! With your alliance with Burakh, you've got Capella thinking the future won't work out the way we'd intended. And the Tower is gone, so there's nowhere for me to even run to anymore, and - no! You don't get it!"

Khan stops shouting, covering his top lip with his arm. He feels stupid now, having said so much when he's supposed to be... different. More mature. More in line. He hears Dankovsky's "Oh, dear," and feels his shadow shift as he walks closer to Khan. He doesn't have to move his body much to look Khan in the eye to say, "Well, you're right about something - I don't understand a word of what you just said. But that first bit, about the binding - I understand what you're doing, and even with bandages, you *will* hurt yourself. I'll be surprised if you haven't got some internal bruising already. How long have you been binding for?"

"For as long as it's been necessary," he says, tone sour.

"Oh, dear," Dankovsky repeats, "So earlier than I'd been."

He blinks, and turns his head sharply to look at the doctor. His face is neutral. "Earlier than you'd been...?"

"Yes," Daniil says. "That's what I meant when I said I understood. It wasn't just a worthless platitude. I know how much those..." he trails off, looking for the right word, and ends with a flat, "Suck."

Breathing comes a little easier now, such an intense change that Khan almost feels light-headed. "How did you manage? Until you were able to -?" Khan gestures to his chest.

"Lots of layers," Daniil replies. "It helps that I'm usually quite cold, and that it fits my aesthetic. No one ever asks, and no one can tell." Khan nods. "So this sick that you feel, is it your cycle?"

And it's back to uncomfortable now, but at least it's the kind he can deal with. "Yes. I keep getting nauseous. It didn't used to be so bad in the Polyhedron, but now -"

"Closer to the twyre, yes. That *has* made things worse. I've prescribed lots of pain medications for headaches, cramps, insomnia - I don't know how you all stand it, here."

Daniil is shaking his head, but Khan notices he's smiling. "And yet, you stayed," he points out, and watches the man blush. "You're part of what ruined everything, you know."

"What a surprise," he deadpans. "Howso this time?"

"You and Burakh. Getting along, like Simon and Isidor used to. It's made Capella think there's other options for the future." He shakes his head. "Love matches, and that nonsense."

The doctor keeps blinking, flustered, for a moment before he continues, "Well, do you really want to marry someone you don't love, just for politics? That's hopelessly old-fashioned, and you're meant to symbolize the future -"

"It's not that. I have no preference for that sort of thing, really," Khan says. "I'm only sixteen. But it means I don't -" He stops himself short. This almost feels unsafe to talk about, but... Though he stayed, he is still an outsider, so maybe he can... Offer guidance... "I don't have any way to stand out, now. The Polyhedron is gone. In a few years I'll be too old for the gang. My sister is the mistress. My uncle is the only remaining founder of this town. My father still lives with the ghost of my mother's memory, and even he means more to the town than I will if I don't marry Capella."

Daniil takes a moment to listen, before he hums, and nods. "There are other ways to stand out, I'm sure, if you really want to." He stops. "But do you really want to?"

Khan's fingers clench and fight against each other. "Does it matter what I want? I'm a Kain. I'm going to, one way or the other."

"But then that solves your conundrum. By your name alone, you'll stand out."

"But I won't have made a mark for myself," he explains. "And I have to."

"Why?" Daniil shakes his head. "My dear child, you don't have to do anything. I think it's enough, really, to just be happy."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Khan admits. "You, of all people!"

"Doesn't that sort of illustrate my point?" Daniil asks. "I came here thinking differently, feeling differently. Things change. I can't say that the plague should have taught you something, that wouldn't be very fair of me. But - quam bene vivas refert, non quam diu. Don't worry so much about the future. There's no fate, Casper. It isn't set in stone. And I think you'll be happier if you allow yourself to just exist."

He shifts weight between his feet, uneasy. "I don't know," he says. "I'll have to think about it -"

"But promise me that you will," Daniil says.

Khan nods. "I will."

#icarus.txt #ok to rb #nori writes #khan kain #PLEASE give me guidance in writing him just. be gentle i beg u #daniil dankovsky #counts as pride month since they're both trans here #mine #icarus.docx

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sheps-shepherd · 4 years

Text

Title: Candlelight Concoctions

Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey; Mikleo & Sorey

Rating: T (for non-explicitly implied sexual content)

Written for @sormikweek 2020 Day 5: Waning Gibbous - Introspection; Receiving and Sharing / Capella - Eminence; Knowledge

A/N: At this time, not all of the week's prompts were completed, but I do plan on finishing and posting all of them as I get them done. I'm invested in this project of mine; they're getting done, I promise. For now, here is the next completed prompt!

In case you missed the memo: all of my SorMik Week 2020 prompts are taking place in a BBC Merlin AU where magic has been outlawed, Mikleo has magic, and Sorey is not only a prince but also Too Good for the world.

Apologies in advance if Tumblr messes with any of the formatting!

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

“Can I ask about the magic?”

The pattern of fingers carding through his hair didn’t falter with the question. Sorey continued to comb through the short strands, brushing his bangs back and away from his forehead. The action helped cool Mikleo’s heated skin and calm the magical frenzy that had been bursting inside him earlier. It was strange, to feel the touch of fingertips there instead of his circlet, but also far from uncomfortable. In fact, as he lay with his head pillowed on Sorey’s arm, pressed flush together in the small space the inn’s bed provided, Mikleo didn’t think he’d ever felt more comfortable in his life.

“Mhm,” he hummed, not opening his eyes as he basked in the warmth that came with being so close to Sorey. “You can ask me anything.”

His magic stirred at the mention, but Mikleo found the willpower to keep it shoved down. It had already had its fun, buzzing around inside of him as it chased each of Sorey’s touches, leaving him thoroughly hazy and exhausted now that they had finished. Now, in the aftermath, was the time for it to be just between him and Sorey. His magic would have to deal with that.

Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to put up much of a fuss. It quietly went back to rest, sated by their prince’s presence and affections, leaving behind the soft murmur Mikleo always carried with him. Just as comforting as Sorey’s touch.

“How long have you had it?”

“Forever. I was born with it.”

“Are all people who have magic born with it? Because, Velvet….” Sorey’s voice trailed off, like he was unsure of how to finish the thought. Mikleo didn’t need him to.

“I can’t vouch for everyone who has it,” he said, “but I think it’s more a matter of becoming aware that it’s there. Not everyone is as in-tuned with it, and not everyone’s is the same. It just depends on the user.”

“So you’ve always known about yours?”

“Mhm. My earliest memory is of laying in my crib and staring at the mobile my mother had hanging above it. She’d leave the window open so the breeze would make it spin, but I guess it was never fast enough for my liking. I sent it flying off the hook. Scared her half to death.”

Mikleo did remember: remembered opening his eyes that day and staring up at the stillness of the mobile, remembered the tiny cloth-sewn animals tauntingly waving the slightest bit, remembered the childlike want to see them dance and the not-yet-frightening feeling that rushed to fulfill his wish.

The fright came later, long after he’d outgrown his crib, as he watched the horror on his mother’s face grow deeper and deeper every time he had to tell her he hadn’t meant to do whatever it was his magic had done.

Now, Mikleo opened his eyes and saw the dark rafters of their inn room, just out of reach of the flickering light of the candle burning on the bedside table. He turned his head and saw Sorey - saw the smile that graced his face and the dopey look in his eyes. The sight of him made Mikleo’s mouth twitch. No one had ever looked so happy listening to him talk about his magic before.

“Who else knows?” was the next question. Mikleo hummed again, thoughtfully.

“My mother and my uncle. Gramps. Zaveid found out by accident a while ago, but I asked him not to say anything. I think Eizen and Edna suspect it and just haven’t brought it up yet.” He paused for a moment. “And Velvet.”

Sorey blinked in surprise. “Velvet knows?”

“She was the first person I told, actually. Back in Camlann, when her magic was first starting to show itself. She came to Gramps and I, and she was so scared… I couldn’t act like I didn’t know what she was going through.” He sighed softly and turned to stare back up at the ceiling. “And I was afraid. Of what might happen to her if she thought she was alone. Magic is so unpredictable; it thrives off of everything. I had people who helped me make sure it grew from something good. I wanted Velvet to have that too.”

Sorey was quiet, still diligently brushing his fingers through Mikleo’s hair. Mikleo didn’t push him to speak again, letting him have however much time he needed to process everything he’d said. Sorey’s family had always been a sensitive subject for him.

“Thank you,” he said finally, and the sentiment startled Mikleo into turning back towards him. Sorey’s face was still soft, even with the tinge of sadness that Mikleo could make out along the edges of his features. “For looking out for her. I think you’re right; she needed someone like that. Like you.”

“You were that someone for her, too.”

It was the right thing to say. Sorey’s answering smile drowned out some of his sadness. “And am I that someone for you?”

It was such a baiting statement, but Mikleo took it regardless. He wiggled his arm free from where it lay trapped between their bodies and lifted his hand towards Sorey’s face. He cupped the other’s jaw in his palm, his thumb brushing against his cheek and his fingers slipping through the sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck. Green eyes watched him expectantly; Sorey’s gaze didn’t waver at the touch.

“Of course you are,” Mikleo murmured, and his efforts were rewarded with Sorey’s trademark grin, the one that outshined the sun and made Mikleo feel warm all the way down to his toes.

Sorey’s hand finally left his hair. Mikleo didn’t get a chance to miss the contact - Sorey wrapped that arm around his waist, tugging him into what Mikleo thought was meant to be a hug given the position they were laying in. It brought them closer together, enough for Sorey to lift his chin and be able to press a kiss to Mikleo’s forehead. Mikleo’s eyes fluttered in response. Between the comforting touches and the warmth radiating off of Sorey, he found himself fading fast.

He suddenly felt himself being shaken and opened eyes he didn’t remember closing. Sorey was still watching him as intently as before. Ever the child, Mikleo thought vaguely. Of course he isn’t tired yet.

“One more question?” Sorey asked softly, hopefully. Mikleo nodded against the pillow.

“One more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sorey’s tone wasn’t accusing. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t mad that you didn’t, but I want to know why. So I can fix whatever it is that made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

“Sorey.” Mikleo’s heart could have burst out of several things: relief, exasperation, love. “You don’t have to fix anything. That was never it.” He adjusted his hand so it laid more comfortably against Sorey’s cheek, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. “It was all me. My entire life I’ve been told that I had to hide who I was, that no one could ever know about my magic. So I did. I never told anyone, not until Velvet.”

He paused again. Sorey waited for him to continue, watching with ever-patient eyes. He really wasn’t angry. And Mikleo was beyond grateful for him, not for the first time since they’d met.

“I wish I could have told you first,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t regret telling Velvet, or that Zaveid found out, but I wish it was you. It should have been.”

“Mikleo.” Sorey’s voice was just as quiet. “All that matters is you told me. I don’t care who knew first. I know now.”

“I care,” Mikleo pressed on. “It never felt right, keeping it from you. I wanted you to know, but… things got so complicated.”

Which was the understatement of the century, really. In fact, hiding his and Velvet’s magic had been the easy part of it all. The complications had all come later. Artorius denouncing Sorey and having to flee Camlann and constantly running around the continent trying to find a way to right all the wrongs while also not letting Sorey get himself killed-

“There was never going to be a good time,” Sorey spoke again, bringing Mikleo’s attention back to him before his mind could go through every scare Sorey had ever given him since they’d left Camlann. “This wasn’t any better than any other time you could have told me, okay?”

“I can think of one.”

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“Can’t you guess?” He tucked a brown curl back into place behind Sorey’s ear. “It was a night just like this one.”

Sorey’s eyebrows drew together as he thought about it. He was quiet long enough for Mikleo to consider admonishing him, because really, they hadn’t had many nights together like this before. They didn’t have that kind of time. But before he could open his mouth to start, Sorey’s eyes lit up and widened with understanding.

“That night?” Mikleo nodded, feeling a tiny smile tug at the corner of his lips. He did open his mouth this time, now with a teasing remark at the ready, but Sorey wasn’t really looking at him anymore. It was more like he was looking through him.

“That’s right,” Sorey continued, sounding distant, like he was talking out loud to himself instead of to Mikleo. “You said you had something to tell me. You said it was important, but you never told me what it was. You never had the chance….”

Sorey propped himself up on his elbow, the movement so quick and sudden that Mikleo started where he was laying. He stared up at Sorey, and Sorey stared back at him, and the length of his side felt cold and numb without his prince there to warm it.

“I stole your confession.”

Mikleo snorted at how horrified he sounded. “I would hardly say you stole it-”

“But I did!” Sorey squawked. “I told you I wanted to say my piece first and- And I was just so happy when you said you felt the same way about me that I-”

“I forgot, too.” Mikleo pushed himself up on his own elbows, giving Sorey as stern of a look as he could when he had nothing but affection to back it. “Don’t blame yourself. I was perfectly capable of stopping you and telling you. I just didn’t. And the next morning, I felt awful about missing a chance to tell you again, but definitely not about what I told you instead.”

Sorey still didn’t look convinced. So Mikleo shifted onto one elbow, mirroring the other’s position and inadvertently placing himself back into the warmth he’d just been missing. He ducked his head and placed a swift kiss against Sorey’s mouth, just to make sure he really had his attention. When he leaned back again, Sorey’s eyes were bright and focused on him.

“I know you have the kind of soul that always wants to take the burden so no one else has to,” Mikleo said softly, “but don’t, not with this. My magic isn’t yours to carry.”

And Mikleo could tell that was a point Sorey still wanted to argue. He could also tell that Sorey couldn’t stop the smile that took over his face.

“So on top of being the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, you can read souls, too? What else are you hiding from me, Mikleo?”

“Nice try, but that was your last question.”

“Good thing I don’t need to ask about this anymore, then.”

Sorey reached out with his free hand and cupped the back of his neck. He guided Mikleo in for a proper kiss, one that was soft and unhurried and made his magic sing. Sorey kissed him until every bit of him was warm again. Mikleo clutched at the bed sheet covering his hip and let him.

They fell back to the bed in opposite positions, Sorey now stretched out on his back with Mikleo’s head pillowed on his chest. But Sorey’s hand found Mikleo’s hair again, fingers twisting into the strands at the back of his head. It was grounding, and Mikleo was helpless against it. He didn’t bother trying to keep his eyes open.

“I’m really glad you told me.”

Sorey’s voice was quiet once more, laced with a newfound grogginess. Even he was getting tired now. Mikleo didn’t want to think about how late - or early, more likely - they’d stayed up together, and definitely didn’t want to think about how annoyed Velvet would be with them if she found out about it in the morning.

He pressed his face further against Sorey’s chest, hoping it brought the same sense of comfort that the other had been lavishing him with all night.

“Me too.”

It must have. Sorey only shifted - carefully, doing his best not to disturb Mikleo’s head on his chest - enough to blow out the half-burned candle. He tipped back into his previous position and cradled Mikleo close like he was something precious. “Night, Mikki,” he mumbled.

With his head rising and falling in time with his prince’s steady breathing, Mikleo fell asleep, his magic humming beneath his skin.

The next morning, after he’d finished dressing, Mikleo was trying to get his hair to look some semblance of presentable when he realized his fingers weren’t bumping against the cool metal of his circlet. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten something that had been such an integral part of his morning routine for most of his life.

Silently chiding himself, Mikleo turned back towards the bed, only to find Sorey already standing behind him. The prince was dressed sans his cloak and had Mikleo’s circlet balanced between his fingers.

“May I?”

Mikleo nodded dumbly. Seeing Sorey so comfortably integrating himself into the magic world was apparently going to take some getting used to.

He kept his eyes trained on Sorey’s as the other came forward, stayed still as Sorey used one hand to brush his bangs out of the way and the other to guide his circlet back to its proper place. He fiddled with it for a moment, making sure it was settled firmly against Mikleo’s forehead, then swept his bangs back over it - hiding his deepest darkest secret away once again.

But now that Sorey knew, how deep and dark could it really still be?

“I’m glad it was something you didn’t feel like you had to bring up last night,” Sorey said suddenly, Mikleo blinking at the sound of his voice, “but I just want to make sure you know.” He reached down and grabbed Mikleo’s hands, clasping them and holding them between their bodies. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone, not even the others. Who knows and how they find out, that’s up to you. I’ll always be waiting right here if you need me. Okay?”

Mikleo could have cried. His magic sparked to life in his chest, and all he could do was croak out a simple okay even though there were a thousand things he wanted to say instead.

But somehow, Sorey seemed to understand every single one of them anyway. His smile was like sunlight and filled Mikleo with warmth just as fiercely as his kisses did - at least, that was what Mikleo told himself when he felt the burn in his cheeks as Sorey brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed them.

“You ready?” Again Mikleo nodded, and again Sorey took the lead, dropping his hands in favor of wrapping an arm around Mikleo’s shoulders. “Then let’s go. I’m sure the others are already up and waiting for us.” He guided Mikleo across the room, grabbing his cloak with his free hand as they passed it. Leaving the room felt like walking away from something sacred - something Mikleo wished he could keep forever and take with him because it was theirs and no one else’s.

But at least, he considered as he wrapped his own arm around Sorey’s waist, wanting to be as close to his prince as possible, that’s the only thing I have to leave behind.

And that something would stay behind in that room forever, waiting for the next occupants to share their stories and add to it.

Maybe, at least, it could help somebody else tell someone they loved their own deepest darkest secret.

Hopefully their ending would be just as good as his.

#talesoffanfic #sormikweek2020 #sormik #sorey #mikleo #merlin au

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

Text

Family

A/N: In which @arin-schreave meets the Bergs. Only 10k words this time. Includes bad hand puns because Anna made a typo that I thought was intention. In conclusion, I am a dumbass.

It was almost too easy to be swept back into old family rhythms as we chatted at the reception. Half the time, it felt like I had never even left, like I had just been away for a night or two, sleeping over at a friend’s house, but at the same time, it felt like I was meeting my family for the first time, as if they had just adopted me, and were filling me in on the family secrets.

“You’ve missed a lot,” Lydia informed me, her face dead serious, but filled with energy as she looked at me. Behind her, our mother nodded, folding her hands in front of her as she looked around the room at the other families. There was an interesting mix of people in the room, I had to admit, though it seemed like most families were keeping to themselves, just as we were now.

“So, fill me in,” I instructed, rocking back and forth on my feet from my heels to my toes once as I looked at my sister again.

“Okay, well,” she began, pointing at our father, “we know it’s early, but Father packed some birthday presents for you, so don’t let us forget that!”

I narrowed my eyes at my father, who stood to my side, completely straight faced. “You didn’t have to do that!” I knew that more likely than not, I was still going to be here for my birthday, but there was always the chance I would be sent home before then. I was painfully aware of that, especially with Christina bringing back more and more rumors about the other girls’ relationships with Arin each time she came to my room. Somebody saw him kissing Lady Jen last night. Well, I heard that he and Lady Clemence were pretty cozy today. Do you see the way that Lady Leana looks at him? Somebody saw Lady Regina in his office earlier. I still can’t believe that Lady Idalia touched his face at the ball. Did you hear that he and Lady Melissa kissed? I haven’t seen him with Lady Octavia recently.

Every time she said something, I couldn’t help but look at my phone. I was beginning to wonder if asking for his number had been a bad idea. I was so used to being the one to leave others on read, that having his number, but him not starting any conversations felt like a complete turn of the table to me. Maybe we really were never going to be more than friends. I’d have to accept that and move on, if that was the case.

Yet, that kiss we had shared last week, before I had attempted to sleep again, hadn’t felt like something between friends. That had been something more, something careful, something intimate. I had never kissed someone like that, and then called them a friend, and nothing more. I didn’t think I had ever kissed anyone with that level of emotion tied to the kiss itself, either.

I was in so fricking deep over my head.

Lydia forged on, completely unaware of my internal turmoil. Waving a hand through the air, she fixed her brown eyes on me, cocking her head to the side. “What, like we’d leave you presentless on your birthday? No way!”

“Presents aren’t everything, Lydia,” I sighed, offering her a small smile despite myself. She meant well, and I knew it.

“No,” she agreed, “but we put a lot of thought into these, so at least take two seconds to open them, will you?”

“Speaking of your birthday,” Gabriel chimed in, looking over at me from where he stood a bit off to the side, next to Sam, “I’ll be here for it, if you want to do anything.”

“That was my next piece of news. Thanks for spoiling it!” Lydia rolled her eyes at Gabriel, crossing her arms as she turned her body to face him more. I raised an eyebrow at the both of them, waiting for their staring match to end, and their explanation to come. Family week would have ended long before my birthday, so there had to be a pretty good reason as to why he’d still be in Angeles three weeks later.

It was Lydia who broke first, turning back to me as she pointed a finger at Gabriel. “He got that job he applied for, at the chemical testing facility here, in Angeles.”

“I won’t be returning to Knoxville with everyone else, once family week is over,” he confirmed with a nod. “I just need to finish furnishing my apartment, and then I am good to go.”

“Gabriel!” How was this only the first I was hearing of this? I knew he had applied for the job - he had done it while we were all still home in May - but nobody had bothered to tell me that he had heard back, or was even looking in to moving out to Angeles. “Congratulations!”

My oldest brother simply nodded, keeping his same neutral expression, despite the great news he had just told me about. Having Gabriel close by would be very nice indeed, if our schedules ever lined up in a way that would allow us to see each other. He was like a piece of home away from home, steady and constant no matter the conditions, like a boulder breaking up the rapids of a river.

Still, there were logistics to consider, even if we were close by, that had me shaking my head. “My birthday is on a Wednesday, though. You’ll be busy with your new job, and I’ll have classwork.”

He rolled his eyes at me, flashing a frown in my direction. “You’re not doing homework on your birthday. I’m sorry, but I won’t allow it.”

“And who put you in charge?” I raised an eyebrow back at him.

“Anyway,” Lydia interjected, now pointing her finger at Randall. I dropped Gabriel’s stare, and turned instead towards my younger brother, who was looking around the room, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Randall has a solo in his competition a capella group’s lineup this year, and is competing for music scholarships!”

“Randall!” I whirled around to look at my younger brother, holding my hands up in my excitement. “That’s amazing news! Congratulations!”

“He’s not actually going to pursue a career in music,” my mother chimed in from where she stood behind Lydia. Her eyes narrowed at Randall.

Lydia frowned for a moment, but then turned back to me, smiling once more. “Now, onto the biggest news - me!”

I rolled my eyes, watching still as my mother came to stand behind Lydia, placing one hand on each of Lydia’s shoulders. As she did that, Lydia thrust her hand out towards me, the ring on her finger catching and reflecting the light from the room. “I’m engaged!”

“To whom?” She hadn’t even had a boyfriend when I had left Carolina! I reached forward, grabbing her hand in mine. I was by no means an expert on wedding rings, but I was pretty sure this was a big one. Whoever he was, he must have a good deal of money, and a lot of charm to boot, to woo my sister in such a short period of time.

“Devon Judge,” was her answer.

My eyes went wide. “Devon Judge? The one who plays for the Braves? That Devon Judge?” A professional baseball player - a Two. The size of her ring was beginning to make sense to me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned my head around to see my father standing behind me, nodding. Holy crap. This was happening. This wasn’t an episode of Pranked! or an elaborate joke of Lydia’s. My sister was engaged, to a professional baseball player, after having known him for a maximum of three months.

“Congratulations,” I finally managed to stutter out, still staring at her hand like a fool.

There was another tap on my arm before I could say anything more. I flinched a little at first, startled, and looked up. Arin. I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face as I looked at him, taking in his own smile. “Arin! How are you?”

Around me, the chatter of the rest of my family members ceased, and they turned to face Arin, various degrees of curiosity evident on each of their faces. My father and older brothers kept their expressions pretty neutral, the most reactive being Gabriel, who simply raised his eyebrows. My sister, on the other hand, was now looking at Arin like she was at the supermarket, and he was an apple she was inspecting for bruises. Randall only glanced at Arin for a second before something else caught his eye and his attention wandered. My mother just smiled, ever the polite, well-mannered woman of the house.

Arin glanced at each of them in turn, still smiling as he did. “I’m doing well. I came over to check on you, and say hi.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied, still smiling as I gestured towards my family members, where they stood around me. “Let me introduce you to my family.”

Here goes nothing. I pointed to each of my family members in turn as I spoke, making sure Arin knew who was who before moving on to the next person. “This is my father, and my mother.”

My mother offered him a polite smile, while my father kept his face expressionless, simply nodding at Arin before I moved on. So far, so good. It was still early, though. There was plenty of time for someone to say something stupid, or for an argument to break out.

“This is my sister, Lydia. She’s the oldest.”

Lydia had withdrawn her hand, folding both of her hands together in front of her, and fixing Arin with a smile that looked a little too falsely saccharine for my own comfort. I had known going into this that Lydia was going to be the hardest for Arin to win over. The two of us had always told each other everything, and Lydia was also incredibly stubborn when it came to holding grudges. Already, she’d made multiple jokes about Arin’s behavior on our roller skating date, and she hadn’t even been at the palace for a full twenty-four hours. I doubted she would say anything outright, though. She was the queen of passive aggressive comments and backhanded compliments, her sweet words often so false in situations like these that they gave a new meaning to killing someone with kindness.

I moved on, not letting myself linger on my worries. Lydia would behave, especially with our parents around. I wondered if her new fiance could handle her as well as we had all learned to. He must have been able to, or else they wouldn’t have gotten engaged, right? I felt a pang of sadness as the realization of just how much I had missed at home while I was here washed over me like a wave, drowning out the rest of my senses for a brief moment.

I had been enjoying myself in Angeles, though. There would always come a point in life in which I would have to move on, and live without my family at my side every waking second. It was for the better that it had come sooner, rather than later.

I gestured towards my two older brothers, who stood a little farther away from my sister, my parents, and I, still facing each other, their heads turned towards Arin. “Then there’s Gabriel, and Sam.” Both just nodded once, their expressions almost a carbon copy of my father’s. Gabriel might be older than Sam by almost two years, but he still stood a full inch shorter than Sam and my father. Something about his build, the way he carried himself, still made it clear to me that he was the older brother, though. I knew it wasn’t something I had imagined, either. Many people often confused Gabriel for being the oldest out of all five of us, despite Lydia actually holding that title.

“And this is my younger brother, Randall.” I pointed over to the other side of my mother, where Randall stood, his head turned upwards as he analyzed something on the ceiling with apparent interest, seemingly having blocked out everything else that was happening around him. At seventeen, he was already a good four inches taller than me, and based on the broadness of his shoulders, which he hadn’t grown into yet, he still had a good few more inches to go. At the sound of his name, he looked over towards me, his eyes wide with confusion. Upon noticing Arin, he offered the prince a small wave, before turning back to whatever had captivated his attention before.

“Don’t worry if you don’t get all of our names right away.” By my side, Lydia inclined her head, smiling at Arin as if she was a lion sizing up her prey. “There’s a lot of us.”

I cut her a glance, but kept my mouth shut. Was this an insult - a jab at him, for having taken a while to remember my name, or where I was from, or anything about me, for that matter? If it was, she was being unnecessarily ridiculous. It had been months since I’d complained to her about that. Holding a grudge for that long couldn’t be healthy, and yet, I knew she’d hold on to all of his mistakes for as long as it took for him to own up to and apologize for them in front of her. Even then, she wouldn’t forget about them. Being the oldest hadn’t left her with the sense of responsibility and duty that many oldest siblings seemed to display, but it had made her extremely protective and defensive of the rest of us. It was a blessing, and a curse.

Arin didn’t waver under Lydia’s gaze. Instead, he kept his smile in place, extending his hand towards my mother. “Holly, right?” As the words left his mouth, he glanced at me for a split second, the question flickering in his eyes.

I offered him a small but encouraging nod, along with a smile. Where he had learned my parents’ names, I wasn’t sure, but at that moment, I couldn’t care less. He was going to make a good impression on them, at this rate. That was a good sign.

Lydia’s expression flickered towards one of surprise, her eyebrows darting up and down her forehead, but it didn’t last. As quickly as her expression had changed, it had returned back to normal, her sickly sweet smile finding its home on her face once more. A quick look at the rest of my family revealed that Gabriel was frowning, more at Lydia than anyone else.

My mother, bless her, commanded Arin’s full attention at the moment, the smile she was giving him genuinely pleased. “Yes,” she answered as she shook his hand, the motion light and delicate on her behalf. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I knew what her hands felt like without even having to touch them. Those were the hands that had held mine when I was young, cold yet soft to to the touch. Those were the fingertips, calloused from years of playing the violin, that had wiped away my tears when I was hurt. It almost seemed odd, now - the little details that stuck with me, despite being apart from her for so long.

I felt my father remove his hand from my shoulder, and I looked back up at him to see him wrap his arm around my mother’s shoulder, smiling down at her, his eyes alight with contentment, before he turned to look at Arin.

Arin inclined his head, turning his attention to my father and extending his hand to him. “Harald.”

I watched their interaction like a hawk, noting the way my father nodded once at Arin, and then shook his hand, his grip clearly firm. I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but Arin almost looked kind of short, next to my father. Then again, who didn’t? I always felt like I was tall, in comparison to many of the people around me on a daily basis outside of my house, but I was still the shortest one in my family by a good two inches. Giants, they were.

I caught my mother as she attempted to subtly elbow my father in the side, as if that would prompt him to say something. My father must have taken the hint, because within seconds, he pulled his hand away, replying, “Pleasure. I got your phone call to my work phone, the other day.” His tone was almost curious, like he wasn’t entirely sure how Arin would respond to that fact.

“Ah, yes.” Arin cut me a glance, before turning his gaze back to my father. “Sorry that I missed you.”

I shook my head at Arin, frowning as I considered what my father had said. Had Lukas told him about the call, or had he been there the entire time? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to me, either? The morning after Arin had called him, I realized that I had three missed calls from my father, but he had never left a message, so I hadn’t really thought much of it, figuring that if it had been so important, he would have at least sent me a text, asking me to call him back. I set my gaze on my father then, raising an eyebrow. We were owed an explanation, just for his last comment to Arin, at the very least.

“All calls to the landline are recorded for quality assurance,” he explained, fixing me with a frown. “I thought you actually read your contract when you got your internship.”

Did anybody actually read those contracts? I blushed a bit, answering, “I guess I skimmed over that part.”

“You? Not being thorough about something?” Gabriel’s tone was amused as he took a few steps towards where my parents, Lydia, and I stood with Arin. He shook his head, grinning ever so slightly as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Unheard of.”

My father turned his attention back to Arin, paying no mind to what Gabriel had said. “Sorry about Mr. Bernhardsen.”

It was almost odd, hearing him refer to Lukas by his last name. I knew that my father hadn’t been overly fond of him since day one, simply claiming that he felt something was off about Lukas, but he had never been outwardly rude, or even cold, towards Lukas, whenever he had been over at our house with me and June. He had always called Lukas by his name, or simply by, “young man.”

Looking back at it now, it was almost comical how right my father’s initial impression of Lukas had been, without him even realizing it. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all.

“If you’d like to file a complaint for the way he spoke to you, I could make sure it gets processed quickly,” my father offered, keeping his face carefully expressionless, not revealing how he felt one way or the other. I knew him well, though, and could hear the faint note or urging in his tone. He wanted Arin to do this.

Had he really disliked Lukas that much? He had said that he never liked him, after he had watched me push him off our front porch the night before I left for Angeles, but I supposed I had never really considered to what extent he felt that way. Why did he feel that way? My father was generally good at reading people, so perhaps it was just a vibe he had picked up from Lukas, but he normally didn’t develop feelings this strong off of something so small.

Arin was silent for a moment, looking as lost in thought as I was. Knowing what I had told him, what I was still trying to process myself, I couldn’t blame him. I swallowed, watching as he turned his head to look over at me, and murmured my name, the sound soft, but still loud enough that my family members could hear.

Where was this going? A quick glance at my family members revealed that their thoughts probably held the same question as mine, or something very similar, as they looked between Arin and my father, question marks written in all of their expressions. Gabriel’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and when I looked up at him, I noticed his jaw was clenched, his eyes focused only on Arin. What had set him off? Was it the way Arin had murmured my name? This was a mess, already, and we’d all barely said more than a sentence apiece.

I bit my lip, hesitating for a couple of seconds before swallowing my apprehension. “Yes, Arin?”

He stiffened, but his voice was soft - almost distracted - when he spoke. “It’s nothing.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that it clearly wasn’t nothing. He probably just didn’t want to say anything in front of my family. I didn’t know why that made me feel as relieved as it did.

I reached out, my fingertips lightly grazing his arm, my voice barely louder than a whisper, so that only he would hear. “Tell me later?”

He didn’t reply, so I forged ahead, a little louder this time. “I only heard half the conversation, so it’s your call.” Shaking my head, I looked from my father back to Arin, narrowing my eyes at both of them in turn. “Did he say anything bad?”

“He was pretty rude - not that that’s a surprise,” my father admitted, shaking his head a bit. “I don’t think many people would miss his presence in the lab.”

He did have a point there. Lukas has never exactly been popular amongst our fellow interns, but then again, neither had I, really. The professors and other staff had always seemed to like him well enough, though. How many times had they joked that he and I should get together, and become a couple? I swallowed as I thought back on it, coming to the realization that their seemingly innocent comments must have fed into his own desires. The lab’s Christmas party, the kiss under the mistletoe, stood out in my memory. Had he asked them to help orchestrate that? My father had been away for a conference in Waverly that week, meaning he wouldn’t have been able to put a stop to such nonsense. It was no secret in the lab that he was fairly protective of me, but I didn’t think anybody knew of his dislike for Lukas. They had probably seen it as an innocent, romantic gesture.

My mother’s voice snapped me back into the present moment, dragging me out of my thoughts before they could consume me whole. I had never been so grateful to see her glaring at my father. “This is no place for conversations about work politics, Harald.”

“I’d think this is the perfect place to talk about the political,” Randall argued, looking at the ceiling as he spoke, smirking.

Arin paid them no attention, instead glancing down at my hand, and then back to my father. “If it's alright with you, I'd like to think on it.”

“Of course,” my father replied, his eyes steely as they flashed towards me, and then towards the hand I had on Arin’s arm. I waited with baited breath for him to say something about it, but he only nodded. “You know where to reach me.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was my mother who made the first comment on my gesture. Her smile was polite, but there was something weary in her expression as she looked at my father. It vanished when she turned her attention to Arin, though, as if her curiosity about me placing my hand on his arm invigorated her. “It seems like you and Evalin have grown pretty close, over these months.” There was no malice in her tone, only genuine joy, as far as I could tell.

Arin had passed my mother’s test. That was the easiest one, though.

Lydia’s expression hadn’t changed throughout this entire conversation, and the smile that dripped with poisoned honey wasn’t going anywhere now. “Yes, it seems there’s been a big change of tune since your first date.”

“Lydia!” My mother frowned, and I couldn’t help but agree. Of course she would bring this up. Lydia would forgive, eventually, maybe, but she wouldn’t forget. Right now, she had yet to do either, on my behalf. I loved my sister dearly, with all my heart, and would be forever grateful to her for everything she had done for me, but it was times like this that I just wished she’d choose her own battles.

She looked over at our mother, her eyes wide, the picture of innocence. “What?”

I really hoped Devon Judge knew what he had gotten himself into.

A quick look upwards revealed that Gabriel was now frowning at Arin, as if he, too, was holding a grudge over this date that had happened months ago.

Was I going to make it through family week without losing my mind? I was skeptical. I shot Arin an apologetic smile, unsure of what to even say to smooth things over. Sorry for telling my sister about our horrible date, I was really upset at the time! I had a feeling that wouldn’t do anything.

His back stiffened again, but he still smiled at all of us. “Many things have changed over the last few months.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lydia replied, her voice lacking any ounce of genuineness.

“I’m sure it’s been a wild ride for you, as well,” my mother offered, looking at Arin with a polite smile.

Randall frowned, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s been quiet without Evalin - the opposite of a wild ride.” I could only imagine that it had been quiet, for him. The two of us were the last kids at home, and much of our time had been spent with each other, while our parents worked. There had been quite a few nights that we had stayed awake together, talking about everything from our worries about the future, to topics as simple as which childhood cartoon had been more entertaining. To have the house entirely to himself, now, when our parents were at work couldn’t be as fun as it sounded, I was sure.

“I hope there’s been some moments you’ve actually enjoyed,” Gabriel stated, his grip on my shoulder loosening a bit, though he kept his hand where it was.

Arin cut me a glance. “I can only speak to my experience.”

“I think it’s definitely been full of good experiences,” I offered with a reassuring smile, unsure as to whether in doing so I was saving him from my family’s questions, or setting him up for more. It was hard to tell, with my family. With there being so many of us, with very different personalities, it was easy for us to pull the conversation in separate directions, rather than working as a unit to move it down one path.

My mother beamed as she looked over at me. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but -” She turned to Arin, her smile a little more subdued now. I had seen her use that look before, when a student was arguing with her over whether or not they deserved points off on a test, and she didn’t want to upset them by just outright saying that they did. “We are quite interested in hearing what you have to say. We would like to get to know you better.”

“Yes!” Lydia echoed, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course we’ve heard the stories, but seldom do stories do reality justice.”

My mother frowned at Lydia, and I was inclined to do the same. Before either of us could say anything, though, my father swept in, turning to Arin. “Evalin’s told us almost exclusively good things. The only negative word I heard from her was after your first date, but well -” he cast a nostalgic look at my mother, and I knew immediately what story he was about to launch into “- I wouldn’t worry about that. Holly called me a Three with a savior complex when I first asked her out, and we’ve been married for thirty-two years now.”

He really had brought up marriage, after meeting Arin for the first time. Was this some kind of test that my father was giving him, to see what his true intentions were? The possibility didn’t seem unlikely, to me. I had never thought I’d be envious of a chameleon, but I wouldn’t have minded having the ability to fade away into the background of this room, camouflaging myself from both my own family and from Arin until I could escape this conversation, right about then. Lydia might be ready to talk marriage after three months, but Arin and I? We weren’t even close to that point.

Once again, Arin stiffened, glancing over at me. “I guess only time will tell.” It was a non-answer, sure, but it was one of his better ones, if I was being honest. It wasn't entirely untrue, either. Only time would tell if he was going to send me home, or if I was here for the long haul.

I felt my brother’s grip on my shoulder tighten once more, and looked up to seem him grimace, before he met my gaze. After a second, he looked over at Arin, pausing again before offering, “You survived a conversation with Lukas without yelling, it sounds like. Kudos.” With that, he nodded, as if that fact alone was enough for him to accept Arin into our family.

I had suspected that Gabriel wasn’t too fond of Lukas, but we had moved past that part of the conversation. I narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brows as I kept my gaze on him. I had expected more resistance, more push-back, from him, if I was being honest, especially given the comments he had made to me before I had left for Angeles. He had been the one to warn me not to be, “the royal rebound,” after all. Why the sudden change of heart?

“So.” Lydia’s voice dragged my attention to her. She was frowning, looking at Gabriel out of the corner of her eyes as well, a hint of betrayal tinging her expression. She must have expected the same level of antipathy towards Arin from Gabriel that I had, then.

Despite that, she turned back to Arin, her smile genuinely curious now. “What else have you and Evalin talked about, or done? Someone -” she narrowed her eyes at me, pouring every ounce of accusation she could muster up into that one word “- has been a bit too busy to call often, lately.”

I narrowed my eyes right back at her, a snappy comment already on the tip of my tongue, but the look on my mother’s face stopped me. I knew that expression. It wasn’t quite a death glare, but it was as close as you could get to one while still maintaining a pleasant, polite air. It was better for me not to start an argument with Lydia here, anyway. We were a family, a unit. We put each other before all else, even if we did tease each other incessantly, and bicker amongst ourselves often.

“Books, mostly,” I answered, doing my best to soften my expression, despite the frustration I felt coursing through me. “He also took me to the ballet -” I shot Arin a teasing smile “- and lived to tell the tale.”

He looked between my sister and I. “We did go to the ballet, and I survived - which I actually have some experience with.” He paused again, and then added, “But I’d say Evalin had been fairly busy with school.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lydia turned her attention to me, placing her hands on her hips. “Of course you would come all the way here, and choose to focus on school. Would it kill you to take a break?”

I elected to ignore her comment, opting simply to elbow her in the side instead. Turning to Arin, I raised an eyebrow. “You have experience with the ballet? You never mentioned that.” He had seemed rather familiar with the layout of the theater, now that I thought about it, though. I supposed that would come from experience, rather than anything else.

“Ah, so you appreciate the arts!” My mother beamed at him, and I knew that she meant to take this as a golden opportunity to brag about all five of her children. “I made sure all of my children were involved in at least one music program when they were in high school!”

Arin turned to me first. “It never came up,” he said, his voice soft.

Never came up? We were literally at the ballet!

I kept my mouth shut, though, as he smiled at my mother and said, “I appreciate them, but not as much as I could. My sisters are more into the arts than I am.” He motioned to some of the paintings around the room, which my mother looked at as if she was seeing them for the first time.

“What are you into, then?” Randall furrowed his brows, looking first at the ground, and then at Arin.

I couldn’t keep from snickering at his comment - something I’d often wondered myself, when I had first been getting to know Arin - though upon seeing the glare my mother shot Randall’s way, I covered my mouth with my hand. Behind us, Sam sighed, and then walked over to Randall, ruffling his hair a bit when he reached him.

“I’m interested in reading, when I have time,” Arin answered, looking at Randall. He paused for a brief moment, and then added, “and running.”

“Oh,” Randall responded, looking over at me. “You’ve found a new running partner, then.”

I frowned. I hadn’t even known that Arin liked to run, and I definitely had never seen him out running in the mornings, when I usually ran. It was pretty empty in general around that time, which was kind of nice. We could all use a little reprieve from the hustle and bustle of palace life, sometimes.

“Randall, I doubt anyone is awake when she runs,” Lydia argued, as if she could read my thoughts just by looking at me. “Miss I’ll-Wake-Up-Before-The-Sun.”

“Yeah, I tend to run alone, these days. We have talked about reading, though,” I admitted, turning to look at my father. “I gave him the journals I published under Proctor.”

That seemed to pique my father’s interest. He hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to Arin once more, and raising an eyebrow. “Any thoughts on that?”

I had never seen Arin look so in need of a rescue. Either he had never read them, or he had tried to, but couldn’t understand what they were about. I really couldn’t blame him either way.

“Would you mind walking with me for a moment?” I asked, looking at him. I saw my father raise an eyebrow at me from where he stood, but he kept silent.

Arin shot me a confused look, but nodded nonetheless, motioning off to the side of the room. “Sure.”

I turned to smile at him as we walked, before casting a look over my shoulder at my family. They had formed a huddle of sorts, chatting with each other in a small circle, with little gesturing or animation. It was like watching a jury deliberate. They had to be talking about Arin, I was sure of that, but part of me would have killed to know what they were saying. At the same time, I was kind of glad I wasn’t close enough to hear, as if any negative opinions of theirs would taint the rest of my time here.

“Sorry,” I began, turning my attention back to Arin after watching Lydia and Gabriel leave my family’s huddle, walking off to the other side of the room. I pushed my curiosity about their actions out of my mind, wanting to focus solely on Arin. “I just needed to get away from them for a moment. They can’t be a lot.”

Arin simply shrugged. “I’ve experienced worse. They’re not that bad.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, I felt someone link their arm through mine.

“Good,” Lydia declared, looking over at Arin from where she now stood beside me. She must have snuck up behind us by taking the long way around the perimeter of the room, allowing her to avoid our direct attention. It had been a foolish mistake on my part for me to stop watching her. “Because as the oldest, and as Evalin’s only sister, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Lydia,” I sighed. I didn’t need a protector. I could handle Arin just fine on my own. I had been these past three months, with my family on the other side of the country. This display of hers was dramatic, unnecessary, and wholly in character, and I was beginning to get really fed up with it.

“Hush up, it's my job!” She elbowed me in the side, and then turned to her victim. I relented, giving her the silent permission to make her own bed, hoping that she was prepared to lay in it, too. “Now, Arin, I’m not going to give you the whole, ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you,’ spiel, but -”

“Lydia, leave them alone.” Footsteps and a loud male voice sounded behind us, and I knew it could only be one person. I looked over my shoulder only to see Gabriel, his face a mix of apologetic and disappointed as he took in the scene before him.

Arin raised his eyebrows at my sister. “Then what are you going to give me?”

This time, I wasn’t going to give her the chance to respond. She’d done enough damage, as it was. “She’s going to give you nothing because she’s coming with me,” I grumbled, shaking my head and shooting one last look Arin’s way. “Sorry.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at me as I led her back towards where the rest of our family - minus Gabriel, now - stood. “He’s not good enough for you. You know that, right?”

“I could bring home a Nobel Peace Prize recipient, and you would still say that he wasn’t good enough for me,” I argued with a sigh. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate Lydia’s concern, but I was getting fed up with the way she was treating me as if I was a little kid who didn’t know what was good for her, or what she wanted.

“I’m just saying,” she began, coming to a stop in besides my mother. “You need someone who will help you lighten up, who will bring out that goofy side of you that we get to see when you’re with us. Arin -” she poked me in the side, looking over her shoulder at Arin, who was now deep in conversation with Gabriel “- is so uptight, and tense. Yes, you’re like two peas in a pod, but neither of you is going to help the other relax.”

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together as I considered what she said. There had been moments with Arin, though, where we had joked around - like in the car, after the ballet. There was a more relaxed side to him, it just took some time for it to come out. How was she supposed to know that, though, without simply taking my word for it?

“Two things,” I decided, looking up from the ground to meet her gaze, “the first being that maybe, he was so uptight because you were about to threaten him.”

My mother’s eyes went wide, her hand coming to rest atop her chest. “Lydia Reidun!”

“The second thing, and you’re going to have to take my word for this, is that there is a more relaxed side to him. Even then, though, I wouldn’t be able to live the rest of my days with someone who was all play, and no work.” I shook my head. “I need someone who understands what it's like to devote yourself to your work, and above all else, I need someone who is going to make me happy.”

“Does he?” Sam asked, his face expressionless. “Make you happy, I mean.”

I nodded, looking over at where he and Gabriel stood once more. A part of my was tempted to walk over there and drag Gabriel away, but something held me back from doing that. He and Arin were around the same age - only a month apart, actually. Maybe they would become friends.

I turned back to Sam, nodding. “Yes.”

“Then he’s good in my book,” Randall decided with a shrug.

The rest of my family exchanged glances, shrugging intermittently as they did, as if they were all reaching the same conclusion telepathically. Only Lydia refused to join in, still glaring in Arin’s direction. “There’s more to him than he’s letting on, in more ways than one.” She shook her head, looking down at me. “Mark my words.”

Gabriel watched his sisters go, tempted to follow after them. He didn’t know the man before him - the prince - and he wasn’t fond of the power the monarchy held as a whole, which only made him more uncomfortable as he forced himself to stay put. There was a long list of things he should have done differently these past few months. There was an even longer list of things he would have liked to change about the past year. Having this conversation, as rough as he predicted it would be, was only the beginning to making things better for the future.

“Sorry about that,” he sighed, not looking at the prince as he spoke. “Lydia is just a little protective. We all are.”

He cleared his throat, stalling for time as he figured out how to best phrase his next words. It felt like he was talking to someone much younger than him, even though he himself was only about a month older than the prince. It likely had something to do with the fact that it was his younger sister that the prince was dating, for lack of a better word. Even then, though, Evalin was only two years and nine months younger than he was. It wasn’t as if she was a child.

Mistake Number One: not trying harder to persuade Evalin not to apply for the Selection.

“Evalin seems to trust you a lot, and she’s a good judge of character, so I don’t want to think you’d do anything, but…” he trailed off, grimacing at his own inability to effectively voice his thoughts without potentially offending the prince. He was his father’s son, through and through, his grandparents often reminded him. He didn’t know how to mince his words, and his temper had run hot for all his life so far. His father must have learned to hide it better than Gabriel had, though, because Gabriel was of the conclusion that his father’s temper ran as cold as ice. That didn’t mean that either of them was better than the other. They both still had tempers.

Mistake Number Two: letting Evalin go to that fraternity’s Halloween party last fall.

“You’ve spoken to Lukas. He’s…” Gabriel trailed off again, not for lack of trying. He had a feeling he was going to have to add this conversation to his list of mistakes sooner rather than later. “He did something bad, with Ev, last fall, and I don’t even think she remembers it, but Lydia, our father, and I were the ones who saw her after, and just seeing her like that…”

Their entire family had been home that weekend, for one of Randall’s concerts. His group had been competing for the regional title that weekend. Gabriel couldn’t even remember whether they had won or lost. All he remembered from that weekend was Evalin, sobbing, almost incoherent as he had put his arm under her shoulders, practically carrying her up the stairs. He knew objectively she wasn’t tiny, but in that moment, she had felt like the smallest child in his arms.

Mistake Number Three: Not being there for any of his siblings when they needed him.

He shook his head. “I think it broke all of us, a little bit. I guess what I’m trying to say is, we never want to see her like that again.” Another shake of his head, and then he took a step back.

Lydia had been the only one really capable of calming Evalin down long enough for her to fall asleep that night. Then Lydia had come downstairs, and unraveled in front of him and their father. Gabriel hadn’t been able to sew the pieces back together. Lydia had done that herself.

The prince was silent, his gaze locked in on Evalin, where she stood with the rest of Gabriel’s family, shaking her head at something one of them had just said.

“Evalin remembers,” the prince said, finally. “She told me what happened.”

Mistake Number Four: Never talking about that night, again. Until now.

He blew out a breath, running his hand through his hair. He watched his younger sister throw her head back in laughter, the look so full of freedom, of light, as if she didn't have a care in the world. She jumped up, reaching for something that Sam was now holding over his head. What it was, Gabriel couldn’t tell. He was too focused on the fact that Evalin, Lydia, all of them - they all looked as if they had never known any darkness or suffering.

She remembers.

“Shit,” he sighed out, not knowing what else to say. “Okay. We…The next day, she told her friend June - who had driven her home, that night - that she didn’t remember anything from that night, so we assumed…” He trailed off, shaking his head. That was where they had gone wrong. They had made assumptions, instead of gathering all of the possible evidence and data, and then drawing a conclusion.

Mistake Number Five: doubting his younger sister’s sense of judgement, despite knowing how good it generally was.

“Thanks for letting me know. The fact that she opened up to you like that…” Evalin told him, but not us. Why? “She trusts you a lot. More than I thought she did.”

It hurt him to admit. That his own sister wouldn’t come to him with her troubles, and instead had confided in someone she had only recently met, stung, but he could understand why that was. He wasn’t a warm person. He didn’t offer solutions. He was terrible at giving advice, and was quicker to anger than he was to hug.

He was beginning to see the prince - Arin - in a new light.

Arin swallowed, his gaze still locked on Evalin. It was clear to Gabriel that Arin cared about his sister quite a bit, though whether or not he thought of her as a friend or something more, Gabriel was unsure. He didn’t really care to ask, either. That wasn’t his business.

“I didn’t realize,” was all Arin said by way of reply.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, looking at Arin as he spoke for the first time since they had started this conversation. “Did you think she would tell you something like that if she didn’t trust you?”

“I -” Arin paused. “I just didn’t know that she hadn’t told anyone else.”

Oh.

“So I guess I realize a bit more, now.”

Mistake Number Six: hiding his knowledge of that night from his sister.

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, almost not wanting to admit what he knew had to come next. “I’m not sure she knows that any of us know. She was in pretty bad shape, and it’s not exactly something you can bring up in conversation easily.” How did you even bring up a repressed memory to your little sister - the one who you were supposed to protect? Did you mention it around the dinner table? Did you sit her down after she had excitedly told you about her new project, or the A she had just gotten on one of her assignments? Did you wait until it was late at night and you were both still awake, reminiscing about childhood memories?

He exhaled through his nose, pressing his lips in a line and shifting his gaze back to the rest of his family. None of them had been able to answer that question. He, Lydia, and their father had lived with Evalin’s secret, and none of the others had been any the wiser. “I don’t know how our father manages to see him at work every day without doing anything.”

Mistake Number Seven: lying - often.

He knew how his father managed. His temper ran cold, icy, always latent. It made him a patient man.

Arin frowned, his gaze shifting to Gabriel’s father now. “He knows?”

Hadn’t they already been over this? Arin’s memory must not be stellar.

“Yes,” Gabriel answered, matching Arin’s frown with one of his own. “I did say that it was me, him, and Lydia who saw Evalin after, didn’t I?”

He shook his head, looking back at his family, at his father, who stood there, ever calm, ever quiet. Gabriel wasn't the only one guilty of lying, whether it was outright, or by omission.

“I think he almost can’t bear to tell her - like he can’t handle the thought of her being upset.” Evalin had been their father’s baby since the day she had been born. Their father loved all of his children, yes, but there had always been a little extra spark in his eyes when he looked at Evalin. It was the same spark their mother reserved for Lydia, and their grandfather for Sam. Gabriel and Lydia had always assumed that Evalin would remain the youngest, for that reason. Randall had been a surprise, though definitely not an unwelcome one. “It’s hard to be certain, though. He’s a very private man.”

Mistake Number Eight: not dealing with Lukas himself.

Arin pursed his lips. “And why is Lukas still around?”

It was a valid question, though it still left Gabriel frowning. “Let’s say, hypothetically, we filed a report. The victim tells her story when she’s highly intoxicated, and then doesn’t remember anything about it the next morning, and still actively wants to be friends with the alleged perpetrator. She’s not going to make a statement against him. I’m no lawyer, but a case like that doesn’t exactly sound like it’s going to hold up.”

There were other options, though, and he knew it. Gabriel sighed. “Alternatively, let’s say my father and I pursued a less legal route, and dealt with Lukas ourself. Where does that leave us? Jobless? Imprisoned? Plus, Evalin still liked Lukas as a friend, so she would be upset.”

A lot of it did come down to Evalin still keeping in contact with Lukas, as if nothing had happened. Despite being a sweet girl, she had never had many friends. She had always been a little peculiar. That was likely why. Still, that fact alone had left him hesitant to rip away the veil of friendship, to pull the rug right out from underneath her.

“In another scenario, let’s say we tried to tell her what she told us. Ev is stupidly stubborn, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and her mind was clearly repressing the memory for a reason. Either telling her breaks her, or she doesn’t believe us.”

Mistake Number Nine: not doing anything.

Gabriel pursed his lips, looking at Arin once more. “Believe me, I may be the world’s shittiest older brother, but I’ve given this issue a lot of thought.”

“But she already knows,” Arin argued, his frown deepening with each word that left his mouth, “and how can you know what she wants if you never talk to her about it?”

Mistake Number Ten: knowing he was in the wrong, but not allowing anybody but himself to tell him that.

He raised his eyebrows at the prince. “This is the first time I’m hearing that she actually remembers anything from that night. None of us knew that she remembered. You asked why Lukas was still around. That’s why. I think the fact that she continued their friendship after that night is proof enough that she didn’t remember until recently.”

The prince just nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t. Gabriel didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Arin knew that, too, but he was tired of arguing. He had done his job, and said his bit. He could make peace with that, whether or not Arin agreed with him. He had never been there for the prince. He was only there for the girl now walking their way, a small grin on her face. He was only there for his sister.

I was beginning to think that I had left Arin and Gabriel alone for just a little too long, judging by the frowns on both of their faces. It was almost comical watching them talk, though, even if I hated to admit it. The moment one made a facial expression, the other mirrored it, going back and forth for as long as I dared to keep sneaking glances at them.

“Hold on,” I whispered to my father, inclining my head towards the pair chatting by the wall, “let me go retrieve Gabriel.”

It didn’t take me long to make my way to them, grinning as I looked at their identical frowns. They were more similar than I had ever dared to consider, I realized, now that I actually allowed myself to ponder the thought.

I raised an eyebrow at Gabriel as I got closer. “Everything okay over here? It looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation.”

It took everything in me not to laugh at the tight smile Arin gave me as he nodded. “Your brother and I were just swapping opinions.”

Oh, how I would have killed to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

I narrowed my eyes at the pair, looking from Arin to Gabriel, taking note of the details as I did. Arin’s answer was a bit vague, as per usual, his smile one of the most uncomfortable I’d seen from him in a while. Gabriel had on his pensive face, from what I could tell, his lips pressed in a thin line, and his eyes somewhere far away.

“Well,” I began, looking at Arin as I motioned to my brother by inclining my head in his direction. “Lord only knows he’s got a lot of them.”

There was no shift in my brother’s expression as he nodded. “Guilty as charged.” He began walking past me then, patting me on the shoulder along the way. With one last glance back at Arin, he nodded, and concluded, “Nice talking to you.”

I waited until I was sure that he had rejoined my family before turning to Arin, channeling all my self control into keeping myself from laughing at his facial expression.

“Are you enjoying your family being here?”

I nodded, placing my hand on his arm. “Yes, but that look on your face says you might not feel the same.” I shook my head, casting a quick look in my family’s direction, before flashing Arin an amused smile again.

When I looked back, his gaze was focused only on my hand. “I’m fine.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, grinning a little. “This looking-at-my-hand-whenever-I-touch-you thing is becoming a trend - and just when you’d stopped staring at me.” I shook my head, my curiosity getting the better of me. One of these days, I was going to have to formulate a list of all of the things about him that still mystified me, and go through it one by one.

On second thought, maybe that’s a bit too much.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I hadn't noticed.”

I raised an eyebrow right back at him, the perfect pun popping into my head at that moment. “I guess you could say you’re a little out of touch.”

My joke landed on deaf ears, I realized, as his look turned to one of confusion. “Am I?”

Sometimes when talking to him, I couldn’t help but wonder how it was possible for someone to be so clueless. Laughing a little, I explained, “You seem not to notice a lot of things.”

In the silence that followed, it hit me, that my words might have been a little harsh. He had had the same reaction to my touch the night before, after I had told him about Lukas. Was he uncomfortable with having physical contact with me, now? No, that was absurd. We had kissed later that very same night, for crying out loud!

Still, it was only right that I ask. I hesitated for another second, then decided to go for it, keeping my voice as quiet as I could. “Does me touching your arm or hand make you uncomfortable? Is that it? You were so kind and understanding the other night, and I don’t want to mess this up either.”

“It's fine,” he reassured me, giving me a smile. “I promise.”

I promise. I didn’t take the weight of those words lightly.

I offered him a smile in return. “It was refreshing to talk as openly as we did then. Though, I -” I pressed my lips together “- I have questions, but now’s probably not the time or place.” A pause, and another smile, and then, “But thank you, for being a little more open with me, that night, and for handling my family.” I inclined my head towards them, laughing lightly for a second.

“No problem. It's what I do.” He followed my gaze towards my family, nodding once before adding, “and we can talk later.”

“I'd like that,” I admitted, smiling and nodding once, before inclining my head towards my family again, laughing a bit. “I should probably get back to them. You know, despite Lydia's thinly veiled threats, this is the most open I've ever seen them be towards anyone any of us have introduced them to.” There weren’t many precedents, but that didn’t make the statement any less true, or the sentiment any less real.

The news seemed to cheer him up a bit, as a small smile, genuine this time, flickered across his face. “Well, that's a good sign. I'm glad I made at least somewhat of a good impression.”

“You made a very good impression, I think. Not an easy feat, with that lot.” I chuckled. My family was big, and opinionated, and filled with strong personalities, but they were good people, truly. I could only hope Arin saw that too.

He chuckled a bit, as well. “You should see my family at Christmas.”

“That’s always the biggest holiday in our house,” came my immediate reply, accompanied with a smile as I thought about Christmases past. “It’s basically a month long affair - my grandparents always come over, and make enough Swendish Christmas cookies to feed an army, and Gabriel’s birthday is the day after Christmas, so that always becomes a celebration. My mother’s parents always used to come too, before…” I trailed off, wanting to stop at the happy memories. There was no need to dwell on the negative today. It was a good day. We were surrounded by good people.

“Some people are starting to stare I think,” he murmured, chuckling as he glanced around the room.

“Oh,” I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, even as I took a few steps back, folding my hands in front of me. “Sorry, I hadn’t noticed. I’d love to hear what your Christmases were like, at some point, though.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me, nodding towards my family. “You should go be with them.”

I hated the way he phrased that. He wasn’t going anywhere, of course not. This was his home. Me, on the other hand - well, he could force me out anytime he wanted to, maybe even after this week.

I didn’t let myself linger too long on the thought, nodding instead, and beginning to walk towards my family. “I’ll see you around, then.”

I hope.

#selectionoc

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vino-and-doggos · 4 years

Text

Cheers to the New Year

Read on AO3 | Written for @lilbreadbun

Rated: G

Words: 2201

Summary: Just returned from active duty, Roy Mustang is bartending his Aunt Chris's karaoke holiday party at the bar. A beautiful blonde takes the stage and her voice puts Roy under a spell. If only it weren't too good to be true.

Happy holidays, @lilbreadbun, from your Secret Santa!! This is something that I’ve wanted to write for a very long time, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy <3

Bah humbug, Roy thought to himself. Half his mind was joking, but the other half was dead serious.

It wasn’t that he hated Christmas — he used to love the holiday, in fact. It was more that he couldn’t enjoy the holiday anymore. Fake trees and pre-packaged holiday sweets reminded him too much of Maes, a man for whom even Ebenezer Scrooge would have emptied his coffers in pursuit of the perfect Christmas present. He sighed and put down another dry glass on the rubber mat behind the bar.

Roy looked at the dark wooden interior surrounding him and had to stop himself just short of rolling his eyes at the tacky — yet festive, his sisters assured him — decorations that littered the bar. Tinsel trees shoved into corners and ornaments hung from the ceiling left remnants of glitter on every flat surface. Lights were strung everywhere, casting the bar in an odd, multicolored glow.

Because of course, a bar called Christmas Cheers had to go out for the holiday of its namesake, right?

The biggest problem was, in Roy’s opinion, that it attracted the now-college age people that he went to high school with who were home on winter break. It was cute and kitschy and Instagrammable or Snapchattable. Life was not designed to be lived through the screen of a smartphone or viewed through filters. And those that desired to do so did nothing but grate on Roy’s last nerve.

There was a reason Roy lost contact with his friends from high school when he joined the military, and frankly, he had no interest in trying to reconnect. He would take the group chat with the friends he made while deployed over the flesh and blood frenemies who dropped him for enlisting any day.

Glancing at the clock, he let out a groan. Only half an hour until they opened.

“I don’t wanna hear that, Roy-Boy,” he heard a gravelly voice say from around the corner.

Roy really did roll his eyes this time, but now it was a gesture in quasi prayer to Someone-he-wasn’t-even-sure-existed to grant him patience. Because if he was given strength, he surely was going to hurt someone before the night was over.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Chris. I’m just really not looking forward to this. I can usually handle normal nights, but karaoke? It’s going to bring in every screeching college girl in the tri-county area. You’re lucky that you’re friends with the DA and that the cops don’t police this place for underage drinking, because this stunt is going to -”

“Cut it out, Roy,” Chris said exasperatedly. “Your melodrama isn’t going to help you get through the night. Yes, there will most likely be underage college kids here trying to drink tonight. Luckily, though, I have a really good bartender,” she emphasized while motioning to him, “who knows how to properly check IDs.”

He grumbled, “That doesn’t stop their of-age friends from buying drinks for them.”

“Seriously. If you’re going to be like this all night, go and wallow in your room, Roy. I understand you’re grieving, and you’re working through your tour overseas. I want to support you the best I can, but this is also my business. If you’re not going to be full of Christmas Cheer tonight -” Roy rolled his eyes again - “then I’ll ask one of your sisters to bartend.”

“No,” he replied, a tone of longing edging into his voice, almost as though he wanted her to do just that. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He turned back to the bar and began prepping lemons, limes, and oranges, but he couldn’t help but smile when he heard his aunt mumble, “Who knows. Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.”

Roy had to admire her optimism, if nothing else.

“Hey man, can I get two beers?” a kid with jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail shouted over the music. Behind him stood a short blond with long hair who had a smug grin on his face.

“Just need to see some ID first,” Roy said back over the dulcet tones of a curvy brunette with pouty red lips murdering “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Who the hell sings this at karaoke? Roy pondered.

“Aww, come on, we’re legal,” the blond said, his voice lilting with the cadence of someone trying to convince another of what they’re saying. And failing, miserably.

“I’m sure you are,” smiled Roy, “but I’m sorry, I have to see some ID for anyone who looks younger than 40.” He hesitated for a moment. “For both of you.”

“Oh, well, Ed. We tried!” the first kid laughed.

“Ling! You just busted us!” the one apparently named Ed yelled, smacking his friend on the shoulder.

“Listen,” Roy started, “I’m feeling especially festive tonight, so I’ll let you stay and drink any non-alcoholic drink you want for free.”

The boys weighed their options by silently exchanging looks before Ling turned back to Roy.

“We’ll take two cokes — but can you put them in lowball glasses with drink stirrers?” Ling asked with an air of conspiracy.

“Sure thing, kid,” he chuckled, pulling out the soda gun.

Right before he handed the drinks over, he stuck a lime on the rim of the glass. As he handed them over, the boys nodded in solidarity and thanks. Roy just smiled in return.

He turned to the far end of the bar, the end closest to the stage, to check on the patrons seated there. A few indicated refills, so Roy pulled out new glasses and started pouring. As he was pouring the perfect mug of beer, he heard the tell-tale clicks of a song with an a capella opening.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame, darlin’ you give love a bad name!”

Huh. This chick wasn’t bad.

Roy walked the beer to the end of the bar, taking a moment to catch a glimpse of the small stage through the crowd. What he saw caused his jaw to drop.

A stunning blonde in a deliciously tight, yet simple, black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked as though they were painted on danced about the stage. Her loose hair fell just past her shoulders and swung around her rhythmically as she whirled around. She danced in a way that made it obvious that alcohol flowed through her system, but Roy didn’t remember serving her. The impressive part is that she actually was on-key and hitting the marks without staring at the screen. Bon Jovi’s melody blasted through the speakers, and the audience was eating it up.

“Ohhh, you’re a loaded gun…”

Damn. Roy shook his head and went back to refilling drinks. She was a siren, and he was not immune to her call. Over everything else, he continued hearing her voice singing the upbeat rock tune. He had to ask another patron what their order was three times before he finally understood what they were asking for.

The song ended with raucous applause and cheering. Mostly male, Roy noted, but many females sounding out their appreciation, as well. The DJ had to shout the name of the next singer repeatedly through the system before they approached the booth to grab the microphone. It was the wildest the bar had gotten all night.

However, the excitement was short-lived. The next singer (Roy thinks he heard the DJ call him Alex?) decided to sing Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.” Why can’t this crowd — with the exception of one — pick karaoke songs that are worth a damn?

Despite the current song filling the bar, Roy couldn’t get her out of his head. Her song rattled around in his brain, her voice continuing to envelop him in strains of familiar melody. Just then, he heard a female voice from behind him.

“Hey!” it exclaimed brightly.

He knew that voice.

Roy turned on his heel to meet the amber eyes of the best Bon Jovi impersonator he’d ever seen or heard waving at him with a sweet smile on her face. Her beautiful blonde hair was now tied back in a low ponytail, bangs still draped across her forehead; it was darker than he originally thought it was, more of a honeyed blonde. He decided to play it cool and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, trying to make sure he was heard over the music, but also making sure his voice sounded smooth and rich.

“Just a water, please,” she responded, eyes shining in the incandescent holiday lights.

Roy chuckled deeply as he reached for a glass. “Singing take it out of you?”

“It always does,” she nodded, laughing in return.

“Always?” Roy questioned, barely registering that he had even spoken it aloud. “I’m sorry,” he started, waving his left hand and placing her water glass down with his right. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Nah, thanks though,” she winked.

He followed the head of blonde hair through the sea of people and sighed.

She was so out of his league.

Hours later, the crowd was winding down. Only a few were left, and hardly anyone left was singing. The DJ announced last call for songs and the bar, wishing all a happy holiday season.

Roy had already started to clean as best he could behind the bar — bottles in their proper place, the beginnings of labels for the cooler — when he heard that voice again.

“Hey!” that same exclamation; that same intonation. He smiled as he faced her.

“I’m surprised I didn’t see you again,” he said, smirking.

“I had someone grab me water when they came up for their drinks,” she explained.

Huh. So that’s why he didn’t see her for the rest of the night. Wait a minute.

“You got up there and sang and danced like that completely sober?” he questioned.

His tone was light and teasing but with an underlying tone of awe and surprise.She laughed in response. Roy could have sworn that she made the room brighter.

“Yup. My mother used to say that I’m a natural-born performer.”

“She was right,” he affirmed. “I’m Roy, by the way.”

“Riza,” she offered, extending her hand across the bar.

He took her hand, so soft and warm in his cold, calloused palm, and shook.

“I just wanted to say thanks for the fantastic service tonight. Many lesser bartenders would have lost their cool with the number of people in here, but we never waited long for drinks.” Riza smirked as she pulled a $20 bill out of her back pocket and slid it into the fishbowl that was acting as a tip jar.

“That’s way too generous; I can’t accept that,” Roy protested weakly. “You said just had water all night -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Riza interrupted, waving him off.

“Listen…” Roy started. “We have an event here on New Year’s Eve, too… Same kind of stuff as tonight, karaoke and drinks, but there’s also going to be a buffet with food… If you’re interested?” he trailed off hopefully.

“Oh, that sounds fun! I think I’ll still be in town then, but I’ll have to double-check. Will you be working?”

This was it. Take the chance, Roy.

“I was scheduled to, but I’m thinking about taking the evening off to enjoy the party.” Do it, Roy. Shoot your shot. “Would you be interested in coming with me?”

“Oh!” Riza said, a blush dusting across the bridge of her nose. “I - well, I’m - not really - um -”

The shot missed the target completely.

It was Roy’s turn to turn red.

“Forget I said anything, I was just thinking that maybe we could... Oh my god, please, I’m sorry, just -”

“Roy, stop, it’s fine,” Riza cut off his rambling. “I just didn’t quite know how to say…” She paused and inhaled. “I’m in a relationship.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and this much was true, in more ways than one. “I didn’t know.” Roy hoped that the earth would open up and swallow him. Right then.

“How could you?” she chuckled. “We just met.”

“Babe? Are you ready to go?” a voice sounded to Roy’s right. A decidedly feminine voice.

He whipped around to see another blonde with waist-length hair the color of cornsilk. She stood by the door with a group of four or five others.

“Riza?” she prompted.

“Sorry, Liv, I’ll be right there,” Riza smiled before turning back to Roy. She extended her hand to him once more. “Friends?”

Smiling, he agreed. “Friends.”

Riza walked to the door and grabbed her coat from Liv. As she was walking out the door, she shouted over her shoulder, “See you on New Year’s Eve, Roy!”

Friends. He could do friends.

He smiled and started humming. He was almost to the chorus before he realized the tune was “Auld Lang Syne.”

He might have been shot down, but at least he wasn’t shot through the heart as Riza’s song might have suggested. There was an odd sense of hopefulness about him, though; a new year was coming. Sparing the whole “new year, new me” nonsense, Roy truly felt like the next year would bring about healing, hope, and friendship.

Bring it on.

#fma secret santa 2019 #fma secret santa #vino writes fanfiction #for lilbreadbun

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bechloeislegit · 5 years

Text

BeChloe Week 2019 - DAY 1

SOULMATES

Eighteen-year-old Beca Mitchell continued to stare at the half-tattoos centered on each of her wrists, wondering how they would be joined together when she finally met her soulmate. According to The Higher Power, when you meet your soulmate the two halves would join together and become one single tattoo on your right wrist; your soulmate would be sporting the same, identical tattoo.

Not all tattoos were the same. The colors and shapes varied from person to person. It was one of the only ways to make sure you were with your true soulmate.

For Beca, her tattoos were one-half of a G-sharp musical note. For her colors, the top half of the musical note was red, while the bottom half was black. She thought it was appropriate for her since music had become a big part of her life. She also hoped that if she ever did find her soulmate, they would like music as much as she did.

Beca shook her head at that thought. She never believed the hype about soulmates before, and she didn't see any reason to believe it now. Her mom and dad found each other and fell in love without their soulmate tattoos becoming one. A tightness came to her chest when she thought about her mom.

Sarah Cooke met Benjamin Mitchell when they were both just twenty years old. Neither had met their soulmates.

The two became best friends before falling in love. They knew there was always the possibility their true soulmates were out there, but they didn't care. They loved each other and at twenty-two, they got married.

Two years later, Beca Cooke Mitchell was born and her parents were ecstatic. Things went well for the next five years; that was when everything went to Hell. And least that's how Beca felt about it.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Thirteen years earlier, when Beca was five years old, her father slowly walked into the house and looked at her mother with tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Ben?" Sarah asked.

Ben held up his right arm and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. Sarah gasped and put a hand to her mouth. His soulmate tattoos had joined together into one.

"When?" Sarah asked.

"At lunch," Ben said. "I met a visiting professor and it happened. She showed me hers and, and we matched. Her name is Sheila."

Sarah sat down on the sofa and put her head in her hands. "What are you going to do?"

"I, um, I don't know," Ben said as he sat next to Sarah and took her hand in his. "I do know that The Higher Power won't let us stay together. They'll force me to leave you."

"I love you," Sarah said.

"I love you, too," Ben said. "I don't want to lose you or Beca, but I won't be allowed to stay with you."

Sarah nodded her head. "We knew this was a possibility," she said and wiped at the tears on her face. "I hate this!"

"Me, too," Ben said, pulling Sarah into a hug. "To make this easier, I'll pack my stuff up and leave tonight."

"We need to tell Beca," Sarah mumbled against Ben's chest.

"I know," Ben said. "I'll pack and then we'll tell her together at dinner."

Sarah let out a soft sob and nodded her head.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Beca wiped the tears from her eyes. She didn't understand any of this when she was five, and she still wasn't sure she understood at age eighteen. Her parents married because they were in love. She hated her father since it was so easy for him to walk away from them both without looking back. She hadn't seen or heard from her father since the day he left.

She lost her mom when she was killed in a car accident two years ago. Her mom was thirty-eight years old and had not met her soulmate. This really bothered Beca. Especially knowing that her father was living a happy and fulfilling with his soulmate, without a thought or care for her or her mother. And it hurt Beca that her dad hadn't shown up for her when her mother died.

It bothered her more when her dad finally did show up. He came to her High School graduation and demanded that she go to college. Her Aunt Stephanie had no choice but to make her go as he was still her father. She was not looking forward to seeing him again.

The taxi stopped as close to the entrance of the Freshman dorms as he could, bringing Beca out of her trip down memory lane. Beca got out and went around to the trunk; she grabbed her computer bag and a guy with a cart grabbed her other bags. They made their way to Beca's dorm building and got in line to wait their turn for the elevator.

Beca had unpacked everything and looked around the room. This was going to be her home for the next nine months and she wanted to make it as comfortable as possible.

She placed the last book on the shelf and decided to head out to find something to eat. As she walked around she realized she was in the middle of the activities fair. She checked out a few booths and found herself standing in front of a white sign with a blue cursive B in the middle of it.

Beca looked up when a flyer was thrust in front of her. She looked up to see a pretty redhead with gorgeous blue eyes staring at her.

Before Beca could say anything she was knocked down by some guy rushing past her. He did have the courtesy to stop and help her up. The redhead also reached down to help her, as well as the blonde who had been standing next to her.

"I'm really sorry," the guy said. "I'm Jesse. Jesse Swanson."

"Um, Beca," Beca said.

"Aubrey, could you bring her a bottle of water?" the redhead asked her friend.

"Here you go, Chloe," Aubrey said as she handed Chloe the water.

Chloe turned to hand the water to Beca.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jesse asked

"Thanks," Beca said as she took the water. She looked at Jesse. "Don't worry about it, dude. I'm fine. No harm done."

"I'm glad," Jesse said. "I'm sorry but I really have to go. I need to sign up to audition for the Trebles."

"No problem, dude," Beca said. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," Jesse said and ran off.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chloe asked. "You did have a pretty hard fall."

"I'm fine, really," Beca said. "I'm going to go now."

"What's your full name?" the redhead asked.

"Um, Beca Mitchell," Beca said.

"Nice to meet you, Beca Mitchell," the redhead said, holding out her hand for Beca to shake. "I'm Chloe Beale, and this is my best friend, Aubrey Posen. We're the co-Captains of the Barden Bellas."

Beca took her hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Chloe. You, too, Aubrey."

Aubrey just sniffed and turned to talk with someone else.

"Here," Chloe said. "Take a flyer and, if you have time, come to auditions."

"Um, sure," Beca said with a small smile. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too," Chloe said as she watched Beca walk away.

Beca looked back over her shoulder to see Chloe still looking at her. She gave her a small wave and smiled at her. Chloe smiled back and watched as she got lost in the crowd before turning to return to her table.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Chloe reached to pick up more flyers when she let out a gasp.

"Brey!" Chloe called out, causing Aubrey to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Aubrey asked.

"Look!" Chloe said, holding up her wrist.

"Chloe!" Aubrey said excitedly. "You met your soulmate."

"So did you," Chloe said, grabbing Aubrey's arm and holding it up.

Aubrey gasped and looked around. "Who was it?"

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Jesse was signing up to audition for the Barden Treblemakers when one of them noticed his tattoo.

"Congratulations, dude," the guy said. "Is she hot?"

"What?" Jesse asked in confusion.

"You're tattoo," the guy said, pointing at Jesse's wrist.

"I'll be damned," Jesse said. "This must have just happened."

"Who is it?" the guy asked.

"I don't know," Jesse responded. "I met three girls just now. They were all over at the Bellas booth."

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Later that evening, Beca was in her dorm room reading one of her textbooks. She couldn't really concentrate because she couldn't get the redhead out of her mind. She decided to change into pajamas and get comfortable.

She took off her leather wrist bands and threw them on her desk. She reached to take off her shirt when she noticed something on her wrist. She looked down at her wrists and her eyes widened.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Beca cried. "When did this happen? Shit!"

Beca grabbed the door and pulled it open. She blindly started to run out the door, only to fall back as she ran into someone. Two strong hands grabbed her and keep her from falling to the floor.

"Beca," a voice said. "Are you okay?"

"Dad?" Beca said. "I, I, uh, I-" Beca couldn't speak so she held up her wrist to show her father.

"Oh," Ben Mitchell said. "I can't wait to meet him."

"I don't know who it is," Beca said, stumbling over to sit on the edge of her bed.

"What do you mean you don't know who it is," Ben asked.

"I was wearing wrist bands and never noticed it until just now," Beca said. "I met and talked to like six people today. It could have been any one of them."

"I guess you're going to have to do some detective work," Ben said.

"This is a huge campus," Beca said. "How am I supposed to find them?"

"Where did you meet them?" Ben asked.

"I met three of them at the Activities Fair," Beca said. "There was this guy, Jesse, who ran into me and knocked me down. Then there were two girls, Aubrey and Chloe. They were manning a booth for the Barden Bellas, and helped me when I got knocked down."

"The two girls should be easy to find," Beca said. "Did Jesse say anything to you? Maybe give you a hint as to where you might find him."

"He did say he was going to sign up for the Troubles or something," Beca said.

"Trebles," Ben corrected. "It's an all-male a capella group. What about the other three you met? Where did you meet them?"

"Um, two guys at the radio station booth," Beca said. "One was named Luke and I can't remember the other guy's name. And, the last one was a girl at the diner where I got something to eat. She was my waitress and her name was Nancy."

"Well, it should be easy to find the waitress and the radio station guys," Ben said.

"The others are part of that a capella thing and they have auditions in a week," Beca said. "I guess I'll have to wait until then to find those three."

"Keep me posted," Ben said. "This is quite exciting."

"I guess," Beca said. "What did you come by for anyway?"

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Beca wore her leather bands to cover her wrists so no one could tell she only had one tattoo. Two days after talking to her dad, she entered the radio station to begin her internship. As she was talking to the guy at the front desk, Jesse walked in.

"Hey," Jesse said with a big smile. "You're my soulmate."

"What?" Beca asked.

"My tattoos joined when we met," Jesse said. "So, you must be my soulmate."

Beca swallowed and looked at Jesse. "Let me see."

Jesse held up his wrist and Beca looked down at it. Jesse's full tattoo was of what Beca thought was a film reel. The top half was yellow and the bottom was orange.

"Sorry, dude. It's not me," Beca said and took off her wrist band to show him,

"Wow," Jesse said somewhat disappointed. "I was so sure it was you." Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he grinned. "That means my soulmate is either the hot blonde or redhead that you were with."

"This also means," Beca said. "That my soulmate could be one of them as well. Plus, two other guys that work here, and a waitress that works at the diner."

"Wow," Jesse said. "That's a lot of possibilities."

"Yeah," Beca said. "I can knock two more off my list as soon as I can find Luke and Brad? Bryan? A guy who works here at the station. I met all of you within like an hour of each other."

"Which one do you hope it is?" Jesse asked.

"I'm not picking one," Beca said. "What if I really like one and another is my soulmate. I can't live through that again."

"Again?" Jesse asked, intrigued by the statement.

Beca sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Fuck it, she thought and told Jesse about her parents.

After she finished, Jesse said, "Wow, that sucks."

"Yeah," Beca said. "So, I'm not going to allow myself to fall for someone who is not my soulmate. It's too heartbreaking when one of you finds your real soulmate."

"I'm sorry, Beca," Jesse said. "That has to be hard to take. Maybe we can help each other figure out which soulmate is ours."

"You want to hit up the diner after work?" Beca asked. "I can knock one off my list if Nancy the waitress isn't mine."

"Hey, Jesse," a guy called out as he entered the station.

"That's him," Beca mouthed to Jesse, once she saw the guy.

"Hey, Bryan," Jesse said. "We were just talking soulmates. Have you found yours?"

"Yep," Bryan said. "Met him last year. How about you?"

"I actually met mine two days ago," Jesse said. "The only problem is, it could be one of two girls."

"Good luck with that," Bryan said with a chuckle. "You guys here for your internship?"

"Yeah," Jesse said.

"Come on," Bryan said. "I have to talk to Luke and then he'll show you around and tell you what you'll be doing."

Beca and Jesse followed Bryan into the studio area.

"Wait here," Bryan said and walked over to the booth and knocked lightly. Luke stood and opened the door. He put his arms up to hold onto the top of the doorframe while he talked to Bryan.

"Beca," Jessed called to get her attention.

Beca looked up and Jesse nodded his head toward Luke. She looked over and noticed Luke's wrists. He still had two half tattoos showing on his wrists.

"I guess that leaves Nancy, Chloe, or Aubrey," Beca said.

"I guess we're going to the diner for dinner," Jesse said with a grin.

"I guess we are," Beca said.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Beca was walking back to her dorm with Jesse after leaving the diner. Nancy, the waitress, had already found and married, her soulmate.

"Well, that leaves me with two to go," Beca mumbled.

"You mean that leaves us with two to go," Jesse said. "So, how are we going to find them?"

"I was thinking we should wait until auditions," Beca said. "They're both co-Captains of the Bellas so they'll have to be there."

"Sounds like a plan," Jesse said. "We'll be soul-bros trying to help each other find their soulmate."

"Don't say that again, it's not a thing," Beca said. "And it just sounds wrong."

"Fine," Jesse said with a shrug. "But, we are going to be best friends. It's inevitable because our soulmates are best friends, too."

Beca couldn't help but smile. It might not be so bad having Jesse as a friend.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

"Have you seen Jesse or Beca?" Chloe asked Aubrey as they sat studying together.

Aubrey and Chloe had figured that they had met Beca and Jesse at the same time, so one of them had to their soulmates.

"No," Aubrey said. "We know Jesse will be at auditions. We'll have to wait until then to find out which of us is his soulmate."

"The waiting is killing me," Chloe said.

"I wasn't expecting my soulmate to be younger," Aubrey said. "And I wasn't expecting my soulmate to be a girl either."

"Beca may not be your soulmate," Chloe said quickly, and then blushed.

"I hope she isn't," Aubrey said, and seeing the look Chloe gave her, she continued. "I can tell how attracted you are to her and it would be awkward if she were my soulmate is all I'm saying."

"Jesse's cute," Chloe said. "But, I do feel more of a connection to Beca."

"I agree, he is cute," Aubrey said with a small smile. "And I feel a connection to him. Let's hope we both get who we want"

"Yeah," Chloe said as her thoughts went to a dark place.

"What if Jesse is my soulmate?" Chloe thought. "Will that stop the attraction I feel toward Beca?"

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Beca was making an effort to get to know her dad. Dealing with the idea of finding her soulmate, and being attracted to someone who may or may not be her soulmate, has made her better understand what her parents had to go through. And why her dad did what he did.

"Any luck on figuring out who your soulmate is?" Ben asked.

"Well, I've narrowed it down to two," Beca said. "And, I discovered that the guy Jesse I told you about and I could be possible soulmates of the same two girls."

"Did you feel a connection with either of them?" Ben asked.

"I did," Beca said. "But I don't want to say or do anything about it until I know for sure which one is my soulmate."

"I can relate," Ben said. He thought for a moment and then placed his hand over Beca's. "I want you to know that I will always love your mother. We may not have been soulmates, but we had you and you were born out of our love for each other. We both love you so much."

Beca smiled as a tear came to her eye.

"I also want to apologize for not being there for you when your mom died," Ben said, his eyes glassy with tears. "When I heard the news I felt like a part of my soul had died, too. I didn't take it well."

"I get it, dad. My five-year-old self hated you when you walked away from us. But, I'm older now and I'm beginning to understand that it was destined to be that way. The so-called powers that be would never have allowed you to not be with your soulmate," Beca said and smiled. "And, I love you, too."

Ben smiled and patted Beca's hand. "Good," Ben said and sniffled. "I can't wait to meet your soulmate. I hope she's worthy of you."

"More like, I hope I'm worthy of her," Beca said.

"You'll both be worthy of the other," Ben said. "As much as the soulmate process has its flaws, they seem to know what they are doing. Sheila and I are very happy together. She has accepted that I will always love you and your mother and that I love her, too."

"I'm glad you have each other," Beca said with a genuine smile. "You deserve to be happy."

"So do you, Beca," Ben said.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Beca went about her days waiting for the auditions. One day she left her dorm and made her way to her favorite diner for breakfast. It was mid-morning so they weren't crowded. Beca was surprised to see Chloe sitting at a table alone with her laptop sitting in front of her. She noticed Chloe had a couple of empty coffee cups sitting on the table around her. Once Beca ordered she asked for two cups of coffee and made her way over to Chloe's table with her tray.

"Hey," Beca said, causing Chloe to look up.

"Oh, hey, Beca," Chloe said with a smile. "What brings you here?"

"Late breakfast," Beca said. "I also got you another cup of coffee. I figured you were either studying or working on a paper and might need it."

"Oh, my gosh, thank you," Chloe said, taking the coffee off the tray. "Would you like to join me? I could use a break."

"Um, sure," Beca said and sat down with her tray.

They made small talk while Beca ate. Beca kept trying to sneak a peek at Chloe's wrist but she was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt that covered down to her hands.

Beca finished and stood to leave, but Chloe stopped her.

"Um, can we talk?" Chloe asked.

"Sure," Beca said and sat back down. "What's up?"

Not knowing that Beca knew it was possible they were soulmates, Chloe asked Beca what she thought of people who got together even without them being soulmates.

Beca scoffed, but before she could answer, Aubrey came rushing in and started complaining to Chloe about the Bellas rehearsal space or something.

"I'll talk to you later, Chloe," Beca said and hurried away from the table.

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

The day of auditions had finally arrived. Jesse was buzzing around the radio station like a kid who stayed up late on Halloween night and woke up with empty candy wrappers strewn around their room.

Beca, on the other hand, was trying to keep her breakfast from making a second showing. She compared her situation to her dad's, but then realized her parents fell in love before her dad even knew who his soulmate was. How do you go on if the person you already have deep feelings for is not your soulmate?

The two soulmate-less friends hurried through their shift and then made their way to the Auditorium. Just as they were about to walk in, Jesse grabbed Beca's arm.

"What if my soulmate is Chloe?" Jesse asked, suddenly looking a bit pale. "I really like Aubrey. A lot. What do I do if she's not my soulmate?"

"I don't know, dude," Beca said."I'm in the same boat."

"You want Aubrey to be your soulmate, too?" Jesse asked, incredulously. "I thought you weren't going to pick one and wait to see who your soulmate really is."

"I am," Beca said quickly. "I meant that I really like Chloe. I've only talked to her twice, but there is something about her. It's like we had a connection or something, and I already have strong feelings for her."

Jesse took a deep breath and let it out. "I get it. I find myself thinking about Aubrey all the time. This could be a disaster."

"Yeah," Beca said. "I guess there's only one way to find out. Let's do this."

Jesse and Beca walked into the Auditorium together. They signed in on the clipboard provided and were walking to find seats to wait their turn to audition.

"Beca!" a voice called out, causing Beca to look for who was calling her. She smiled when she saw Chloe walking toward her.

"Hey, Chloe," Beca said.

Jesse walked up and stood next to Beca. "Hi, Chloe."

"Oh, hey, Jesse," Chloe said. "I'm glad you're both here. Um, Aubrey and I would like to talk to you two. Can you stick around after auditions."

"Um, yeah, sure," Beca said, looking at a nodding Jesse. "We'll talk to you then."

"Great," Chloe said and skipped over to Aubrey, who looked at Beca and Jesse with a small smile.

"Is she smiling at me or you?" Jesse asked.

"I don't know," Beca mumbled.

"If Aubrey's your true soulmate," Jesse said with a grin. "I wouldn't mind swapping with you."

"I wish it were that simple," Beca said with a heavy sigh. "Let's find a seat."

~~ DAY 1 - SOULMATES ~~

Auditions went off without a hitch. Both Beca and Jesse were sure the other made it onto the teams they wanted to be on.

Chloe and Aubrey sat conferring over the auditions while the Auditorium emptied. They finished and were putting their papers in a file. Chloe looked over at the two and waved them over.

"I guess this is it," Beca mumbled.

Beca and Jesse walked over to Aubrey and Chloe. Aubrey indicated two seats next to them and waited for them to sit down.

"Hi," Beca said, smiling shyly at Chloe.

"Hi," Chloe said.

Aubrey cleared her throat, causing the two to jump and stare over at her.

"Thank you for staying," Aubrey said. "We aren't sure if you're aware, but we believe that one of you is my soulmate."

"And one of you is mine," Chloe added.

"We are aware," Jesse said. "We figured it out once we realized we had met our soulmates."

Beca looked down at her wrist and played with the wrist band hiding her soulmate mark.

"How do you want to do the big reveal?" Jesse asked with a boyish grin.

"Only one of us needs to reveal their tattoos," Beca pointed out. "After that, we'll know who we've been matched with."

"I can't wait any longer," Chloe said and quickly shoved her shirt sleeve up and showed her right wrist.

Beca and Jesse both looked at Chloe's wrist. Jesse looked at Beca and saw tears in her eyes. Chloe saw them, too, and tears formed in her eyes as she stared at Beca.

"Oh," Chloe said, sounding disappointed as she lowered her arm. "I thought that you and I, um. I guess not." A tear ran down her cheek.

Chloe looked at Aubrey and said, "I'm sorry, Brey."

"Why?" Jesse asked. "I'm a good guy. I promise I'll make her happy."

"What?" Aubrey said, brow furrowed in confusion. "You're my soulmate?"

"Yep," Jesse said and showed his wrist. Aubrey turned hers toward him and they both smiled at each other.

"What?" Chloe said. "Jesse's not my soulmate?"

"I'm, um, I'm your soulmate," Beca said, barely speaking above a whisper.

"Oh!" Chloe said excitedly. "You are?"

"Yeah," Beca said and tore off her wrist band.

Chloe squealed and grabbed Beca in a hug.

"I'm sorry for the tears," Beca said. "I really wanted, um, I really wanted you to be my soulmate and I was overwhelmed with emotion when I saw that your tattoo matched mine."

Chloe pulled back and looked at Beca. "Can I kiss you? I've really been wanting to since that first day we met."

Beca didn't answer, she just leaned in and crashed her lips against Chloe's. Chloe pulled her closer and the kiss continued.

Jesse kissed a smiling Aubrey. He then took Aubrey's hand and kissed the back of it. He held onto Aubrey's hand as he led her out of the Auditorium. They stopped at the door and looked back to see Beca and Chloe holding each other close as they continued to kiss.

#bechloeweek #bechloeweek2019 #Bechloe #bechloe fanfiction

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