#cresswell fanfiction

[impossiblesuitcase]

Hope In It

“The queen is dead! The queen is dead!”

Imperial Adviser Konn Torin’s hand paused mid-air from where it had been directing bodies to a bay of ships.

“The queen!” screeched the young woman, rushing into the crowd of diplomats. She was plainly dressed in a beige tunic—the rank of a servant, and Torin didn’t think he’d ever seen one of Luna’s maltreated servants acting of their own volition.

The clatter of Lunar aristocrats and frightened Earthen leaders filled the loading docks. Since the emperor had threatened to bomb the protective biodomes, the crush of people were practically clambering over one another to board the ships. They hadn’t heard any updates on the situation unfolding in the throne room since Kai had raced off to find Linh Cinder.

“What? What does she mean?” reverberated off the walls. People stopped on the ramps of the ships, watching on curiously.

“Queen Levana is dead! She was shot!” the servant choked out. Her cheeks were coated in tear tracks, her eyes manic. Torin wondered if this state of delirium had arisen from loyalty to the queen, or rather, disbelief that the tyrant could be truly dead.

“No!” cried an older man, whom Torin recognised as from one of the Lunar families. His age was only apparent from the startled slip into his natural, worn voice. Recomposing, he asserted, smooth and youthful, “This is just speculation!”

“Princess Selene shot her!” She circled aimlessly, recycling the news to every guest that would listen. “The queen was shot! She’s dead!”

A hundred murmurs repeated those words under their breath. The Lunars connected eyes in horror—and some—feigned sympathy. 

The Earthens barely held back raucous cheers.

Torin’s ears tingled. He was not a man wont to extreme emotional fluctuations, but this news almost stopped his heart. Could it be true?

Realisation swiftly cloaked him. Kai went in search of Linh-dàren. If the Princess did shoot Levana, what other blood might have been shed? 

Kai.

He abandoned his position as sentinel and reached a fellow Commonwealth representative. “Ensure that everyone remains here until you receive an all-clear,” he instructed. “We cannot yet substantiate this claim. I will go and locate His Majesty.”

“We will wait for your return,” the man replied, bowing.

Torin shook his head as his mind paced two, three, ten steps ahead. Leaving this dock now could very well risk his own life. “I may not be able to. Lend me your portscreen and I will comm Representative Li with updates.” 

The man nodded and unclipped the device from his belt.

Taking it, Torin marched ahead, ignoring the whirlpool of sentiments trying to suck him back in. The cacophony was barely distinguishable, but laughter and crying and cheers spoke much of its meaning. Fury. Rejoicing. Anticipation.

———

The trek to the throne room was much shorter now than it had been an hour ago. The once packed hallways were now absent of officials, flashy nobles, servants, even guards. It was almost ludicrous to imagine that the coronation had been on that very same day when so much carnage and destruction had occured in such little time.

Fierce shouting grew louder as Torin neared the throne room. He began to run, turning the corner to a swarm of bodies blocking his path. Doctors and nurses wearing bloodied scrubs were huddled, shouting, “Pulse is weak! We need oxygen, stat!”

He came to hover nearby but could not identify the victim past the doctors’ tight shoulders. His own pulse faltered as it led him to the worst scenario. Where was Kai?

“He’s inside.”

He spun on his heels towards the magnificent mahogany doors. The voice was heavily accented—American—and weary. 

Torin composed himself. “Thorne-jūn,” 

Carswell Thorne had not struck Torin as a serious or even responsible man in the brief time they’d met. Yet the man in front of him now looked broken and old. He was covered in blood, his clothes ripped. 

“He?” Torin ventured to ask.

“Kai. He’s inside the throne room.” Carswell’s heavy eyes scrutinised Torin—flitting from his white dress shirt down to his dark pants. Pulling an arm from behind his back he revealed a black suit coat draped over his elbow. “I think this is yours.”

Indeed it was. Torin had lent it to Kai’s young friend Crescent, hoping to calm some of her hysteria. But if the small, frightened girl was not wearing it, where was she?

“I had no intention of reclaiming it,” Torin said, taking the jacket into his hands all the same when proffered to him. It was damp and left redness in the creases of his palm. “Where is Darnel-mei?”

“She was hurt,” Carswell said, voice barely audible and tinged with…shame?

He chose to not enquire further as to what this implied. As Carswell’s hazy gaze attached to the retreating backs of the doctors, Torin wondered if the victim was Crescent. And if Carswell Thorne was somehow responsible for what had befallen her.

Partly relieved but not yet satisfied, he straightened. “Is the emperor all right?”

“Dunno. They wouldn’t let him follow her.”

His brow furrowed. Kai did seem to care for Cress, but not enough, he thought, that he would abandon his search for Linh-dàren.

The two exchanged a nod. Carswell staggered away in the same direction as the doctors. He may be in need of a doctor himself, or at the very least, a glass of scotch.

Once the young lad was out of sight, Torin cast the jacket to the ground and thrust open the heavy doors.

A figure lay sprawled on the marble floor. Getting closer, Torin’s blood congealed. It was Kai. Blood pooled around him and over the throne near where he lay, dark like the black strokes of a Japanese ink painting. The stone of the backrest was cracked in the centre.

“Your Majesty!” he cried, racing over and halting just before crashing into Kai. He slid to his knees, examining his body with burgeoning dread. “Where is it?!”

Completely dazed, shock written over his face, Kai murmured, “What?”

He seized his hands into his own. “Where were you injured?” 

Appearing confused, he squinted blearily before following Torin’s gaze to his own torso. His white coronation outfit was bright red, his skin slick with blood.

“Oh,” Kai answered flatly. “Not me. I wasn’t…It’s Cinder’s.”

Torin pursed his lips. …Cinder’s?

Kai tried, weakly, to wipe it from his arms.

Blood. Cinder’s blood.

Torin shifted his hands to the boy’s forearms, pulling him to his feet. “Where is Linh-dàren now?” 

“They just took her.” Kai’s empty gaze drifted to the doors. Ah. It was not Crescent that he’d seen being carted away.

He recovered his sensibility rather remarkably. “Shall we follow them, Your Majesty?”

Kai rubbed at his eyes. Torin hadn’t seen the boy this shellshocked since the death of his mother. “No…I don’t know if Cinder…they wouldn’t let me follow her.”

He scoffed, guiding Kai to the entrance. “You are the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth and the King Consort of Luna. You can go where you please.”

Kai dully shook his head. “Was King Consort.”

As they reached the doors, he retrieved the black dress coat from the ground and draped it over Kai’s stained shoulders. “If Princess Selene survives—as she will—you very well may become King Consort again someday. We will not let mere doctors stop us.”

Slowly, a light filled the boy’s vacant eyes, as if waking up from a nightmare. Without notice, he took off.

Torin fell into step, trying to match Kai’s steady pace. But Kai had transformed, emboldened by the promise of again seeing his princess. Flickers of a rowdy ten-year-old and then a slouching fifteen-year-old returned to Torin; along with his reminders to walk orderly, like a prince should.

But this determination was nothing childish. This was the gait of a man in love.

———

Blood had dribbled on the marble floors like proverbial breadcrumbs for their quest. Streaks dragged through it, suggesting fast footsteps. Neither Torin nor Kai knew where the medical wing was located, yet the second they saw that crimson evidence, Kai began running.

Slow down, Torin wanted to call for both their sakes, because the emperor would overexpend himself, and Torin was not a young man. But such a request would be cruel to him now.

They were not the only ones running. Servants fled the hallways while others huddled in trios with nervous murmurings. Just as Torin was about to reach into his pocket for his inhaler, Kai skidded to a halt. A crosspath emerged—to the left, a lavish hallway of purple carpets, ancient moon sculptures and a grand piano at its end. The right, stale white walls, dim lights and no such frivolities. In between these two was a large reflectionless window, slightly ajar. Cries of battle and howling slipped through from below.

“Your Majesty, should we perhaps—”

Kai chose right and sprinted. This time, Torin could not keep up.

As he bumbled after him, he passed Carswell Thorne, standing at a distance from a different mob of doctors. They surrounded a gurney, and when Torin saw a gleam of a shimmering orange skirt, he now knew where Darnel-mei was. Slumped against the wall nearby was a disorientated red-headed girl, cradled in the arms of one of those ghastly wolf soldiers. Torin choked on his tongue but then recognised the particular shade of green in the beast’s eyes. This was Kai’s ally, whom he had met when they concealed the Rampion in their ship on the journey to Luna. He reproached his own thoughts for the snap-judgement, especially when the man held the girl as though she were the finest bloom in a garden.

Turning the corner, Torin found Kai beside a flashing red operating room sign, motionless as a nurse explained the imperativeness that he do not impede their recovery efforts.

Resigned, he bowed his head. “Do your best, please,” came his weak voice. He watched—jealously, Torin thought—as the nurse whisked behind the large double doors.

The port at his waist pinged, an unfamiliar chime that reminded him it was borrowed. He punched in the override access code, opening to a comm from an Eastern Commonwealth officer.

“Kai,” Torin called, gently. “Her Maje–Her Highness, Princess Levana has been confirmed as dead.”

Staring at the closed hospital doors, Kai nodded. “I know. I saw her.”

And then, the memory of the throne returned to Torin. Certainly Cinder hadn’t been seated there. But it too was tainted with blood, and that pool contained much more than a single body could have produced. He drafted the cracks in the seat in his mind, the point of impact small and precise.

Princess Selene shot her.

Her body must have been taken away before Torin had arrived. But not before Kai had seen it.

The raging battle below their feet niggled at his thoughts. Hesitating, he recommended, “I suggest we declare temporary control, until Her Majesty The Queen’s status is known.”

Another slight nod. “Tell them…as King Consort, or…whatever. Just direct them to stop the fighting.”

He bowed and turned. He would first comm the Eastern Commonwealth officials to handle the loading docks, then contact their own fleet of security to instate control. Perhaps they could reason with the Lunar guards to help as well. The wolf soldiers would be impossible to restrain, but if they could at least remove the thaumaturges…

He compelled his muscles to contract, to walk forward, unsuccessfully. His feet were solid beneath him, his conscience arguing.

Torin heard a shaky exhale.

He could not leave Kai.

He spun back around and covered the distance. “Kai.”

Kai’s gaze arrived, weakly, in that of his mentor’s. It was the little warning he received before Kai buried his eyes in his wrists, sobbing.

“I can’t…” he choked. “I can’t…”

Torin planted stabilising hands on his elbows as they trembled with his shuddering breaths. 

Anyone in New Beijing Palace could have attested to the fact that Konn Torin was not known for having a propensity for affection. But Kai, he realised bleakly, guiltily, had hardly hugged a body since the late emperor’s demise. That was unacceptable.

The distance discarded, his shoulder offered, Kai collapsed into him.

“It will be all right,” Torin promised into his hair. “She will be all right.”

Shouting chased them from the closed doors; elevated alarm from hard-wearing professionals that made Kai gasp. Torin covered the boy’s ears. He needn’t know what lay behind those doors. Because none of them knew. There were no protocol-issued, well-worn documents assuring that Selene would live. They could only rely on her demonstrated stubbornness and talent of living to spite all naysayers.

But Kai’s father had been determined. Kai’s mother had been stubborn. And they were both dead. Torin had lost two great friends but Kai had lost his parents. If he let this spread to his heart, he may never awaken from this grief-stricken stupor.

“Kai,” Torin breathed, “You must live.”

“...What?” Kai whispered, confused.

He pulled back, hardened eyes peeling away to reveal softness. “No matter what happens to her, you must live.”

Kai looked to the ceiling. “I know…my people…”

“No. You must live for her. And for yourself. Only then can you have the strength for your people.” He wiped the tears away with his sleeve. “She needs you right now.”

“I can’t do anything for her right now, Torin,” he argued miserably. 

Despite it all, Torin smiled. “Do you really believe that?”

Kai’s sharp inhales syncopated with the beeps and clangs from within. Torin had always answered his questions. ‘Towin, why can’t I play with Daddy in his meetings?’ ‘Torin, why do I have to go to the gala?’ ‘Torin, why is Mama sick?’’

This question, only Kai could answer.

As those eyes had managed every time before, they reached a horizon point somewhere over Torin’s shoulder, and the determination crystallised. Torin masked a sigh of relief. For a moment, he truly believed this time might be so severe that there could be no return.

Another embrace, this one Kai initiated and pulled away from resolved. “Call off the fighting and order the thaumaturges back into the palace. I’ll collect the Eathern leaders from the docks and have them organise the crowds. We need to remove the wounded from the battlefield.”

“Shall I divert medical resources to those groups?”

“Yes,” he ordered, turning on his heel and his feet moved in step with his thoughts.  “Repurpose as many rooms in the palaces as needed. Send”—he paused, briefly, slipped a look at the closed doors, and righted himself—“Send our own medical staff as well.”

Torin followed dutifully. “And…you’ll leave Linh-dàren?”

“This is what she needs me to do right now.”

In this moment, Torin was walking beside his dear friend Rikan. This boy, this emperor, galvanised for a new purpose. To prepare Luna for its queen. To carve out a space for Linh Cinder to fill. To aid her as a friend, an ally, a partner.

The closer they got to the docks, the louder the shouting became. Frantic servants and muddled aristocrats still cried the refrain: “The queen is dead!”

No. The queen would live, and Torin dared to hope in it.

Bonus

Sometimes, Cress felt like she was getting the hang of this being around people thing. Sarcasm was becoming more obvious. Body language more telling. But then there would be a little quirk of human interactions that would demonstrate just how unaccustomed to everything she was. Today, she learnt about sneaking up on people.

Cress was halfway through closing the door to her suite when a voice purred, “What perfect timing.”

She gasped and flung around to the apparition.

“Captain!” she exclaimed, clutching her stomach. The jolt was not kind on her still-tender stab wound. 

Thorne grinned, all purple button-up and dimpled cheeks and bergamot cologne, materialised in the spot that was seconds-before empty. “Hey darlin’.”

Cress pried away her hand before he noticed it serving as an anchor and got that guilt-tinged frown. Any reminder of his (unwilling) role in her injury was a doleful experience for them both. Still, at least she could now walk without fearing her intestines would unravel.

“You scared me half to death.” She batted his shoulder.

A pleased look spread over his face. “Stealth is one of my greater qualities.”

She blinked at him. Repeatedly.

“Okay,” he relented, tone faltering. “Not necessarily.” He jutted a thumb at the door behind him. “But my room is just opposite.”

“So that gives you the right to near knock my soul out of my body?”

“I was simply coming out to say hello. I can’t believe that you’d accuse me of trying to catch a fright from you.” Thorne rested a hand on the door frame, pressing her back to the door as he craned his neck towards her. “I wouldn’t do that to my girl.”

His girl. Her heart began dancing an Irish jig for an entirely new reason. At least if she swooned from giddiness, he was in prime position to catch her. “Did you come to tell me something?” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he drawled. “I was checking out Cinder’s new place, all the bells and whistles. It’s not bad.”

“It isn’t bad,” she agreed. “It’s magnificent.”

“It’s no Rampion.” He retracted his hand from the doorframe to take hers. This time, she could look at him. “I stumbled into the gardens—nice, sure—but something was missing.”

“A waterslide?”

“Your hand in mine.” he corrected. He kissed that hand. “As long as you’re up to it, would do me the greatest honour and accompany me for a stroll?”

Her stomach throbbed. She shouldn’t walk for more than ten minutes at a time, and she’d already walked all the way to and from the dining hall for breakfast that morning. But her excitement rang louder than the ache.

“I know, it’s tough to think of an excuse not to go,” he said. “But I promise it’ll be fun. I even brought a token as a security deposit.” Reaching to his back pocket, Thorne procured a single rose, pink in its petals and tinged with brown at the base.

Cress pulled it into her fingers, awed. “It’s beautiful!” she cooed, burying her nose in the creation. “It’s a rose, right?”

He looked surprised, but only momentarily. “Indeed. You’ve probably never seen one before.”

“No.” She twirled it in her fingers, eyes fixed on the rich, fathomless colour. Oh, now she understood why roses were romance personified. She noticed that they were thornless, though she wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t. She happened to like Thornes a good deal. “Do they have more?” she asked, eyes gleaming.

“Hundreds, sweetheart.” He looked smug. His plan had succeeded beyond expectations. She was too happy to care.

“In that case, yes, of course.” She turned to the door, saying, “I'll just pull on a jacket,” when a knife twisted in her gut. She clutched her side, gasping as Thorne stole her shoulders into his hands.

“Cress! Are you okay?!” 

She gritted her teeth, hissing and attempting to take air into her lungs until the pain finally subsided. “I’m fine,” she said wanly.

He frowned. “No, no you’re not. You should’ve told me the pain was acting up.” He wrapped his arms around her sides supportively, sighing. “You need to lie down.”

“No!” she protested. “No, I want to come.”

He cast her a grim stare then pecked her cheek. “Tomorrow, okay?”

She scowled. Her injury was a poor wingwoman to her romantic life. “Okay,” she conceded, only slightly mollified.

“Here. I’ll help you get into bed.” Thorne pulled a hand away from her waist to push open the door.

Prickling erupted on her skin. She suddenly remembered what lay inside. “Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s not that bad—I can just—”

“Nonsense.”

She barely cried a “wait!” before the door swung open and the evidence spilled out in a rich floral perfume.

Thorne walked them both inside, gaping at the garden on the centre table. A mammoth bouquet of lilies, peonies, gazanias and foliage reached almost up to the ceiling. He plucked the creamy white card from the base and read it aloud:

In hopes of a swift recovery. Best Wishes, Konn Torin.

Thorne hadn’t yet blinked. Cress just about felt his token wilt in her hand. “I still love your rose,” she assuaged.

Thorne lowered the card, staring dejectedly at his intimidated rose. “I need to up my boyfriend game.”

She laughed. Cress tucked the rose behind his ear, giggling at his quizzical look. She leaned up, thirty excruciating stitches be damned, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. She pulled away. “Let’s start with that date tomorrow.”

Notes

This one's for me and @hayleblackburn, maybe the only members of the Konn Torin fan club. We're a small but loyal pit crew 😔✊

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @bakergirl13 @wassupnye @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21

#lunar chronicles #tlc #the lunar chronicles #konn torin #emperor kai #carswell thorne #linh cinder #levana blackburn #cress darnel #wolf kesley #scarlet benoit #emperor rikan #cresswell #kaider #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #lunar chronicles fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #cresswell fanfiction

[gingerale2017]

Only You Can Mend My Heart of Glass

Fluff/ Angst... mostly angst <3 Words: 8k (WOAH THAT SHOCKED ME) Pairing: Cinder x Kai Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles Setting: Modern AU where Cinder has already been traumatized once, and they are married and share a last name :)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, grunts of pain? (Oh, and very lazy editing, especially after Kai leaves!) AO3 Link <3

In recent days, Cinder had been waking up with a smile on her face. Nightmares of dead sisters and fake mothers with shotguns finally began to leave her alone. Now she was left with fantasies of suburban households with large playrooms and nurseries with comfy cradles.

Yet, the smile that warmed her face this morning was most likely a consequence of last night. She opened her eyes slowly, getting used to the minimal light the window covered by the blinds provided. Staring upwards, she could see the top of their bedpost, the white ceiling, and the modern fan. Kai was always hot and Cinder didn’t mind the temperature, so the fan was usually on, but it stayed still this morning. They definitely were too caught up last night to remember temperature preferences. 

She turned her head to face her husband who was still asleep. Her smile only softened as she traced the features of his face with her eyes. His face looked like a Renaissance painter’s masterpiece in her eyes, one that she had memorized, analyzed, and wondered at countless times. She interpreted his every expression, when he’d make them, and what they would mean. She wiped his tears and even wiped her own with his neck. She kissed every ridge and touched every bump on his body. If he was an unknown land, she was an explorer who discovered and researched every territory, reporting both the good and the bad. 

Yawning, she intuitively knew it was around five in the morning, just in time for the sunrise. Good, he needs his sleep. The bags under his eyes looked a little too deep to be healthy. Smirking to herself, she knew exactly what Kai would say if he found her awake in these hours. He’d have the same reason she had for him not waking up. Stretching as quietly as possible, she scouted the room for a shirt. Kai’s discarded button-up was the closest thing she could grab. Luckily, it was one of her favorite items of his to wear.

Cinder rolled out of bed without pulling and blankets and quickly put on his shirt. She stood up, smiling in success, and gave Kai a celebratory kiss. 

“Don’t wake up.” She whispered, but she knew he couldn’t hear her. He didn’t even stir.

Before she headed downstairs to watch the sunrise, she stopped by his wardrobe for a pair of boxers and sweats, and happily glided down the stairs. 

The aesthetic of the interior design of their little condo was created via the genius of Iko’s love for fashion, and Kai’s perfectionist tendencies. Though Cinder couldn’t offer much because of her horrible eye for fashion, she loved her home.

Following her routine for these types of mornings, she prepared hot water for Kai’s tea and made a coffee for herself. The sun continued to be stubborn while the water heated, so she paid a visit to Kai.

He shifted his position from his side to lying on his stomach while hugging a pillow, back muscles on full display. Cinder told herself not to ogle much on his gorgeous back and limited herself to one (only one?!) kiss on his shoulder. Maybe one more on his smushed forehead, but that was it. He continued not to stir. Triumph!

Finally, the first rays of sunlight revealed themselves through the humble windows. Already, she could feel herself waking up as her body yearned for the warming light. 

She raced out of their room and positioned herself on the ledge under one of the windows with a mechanic’s manual and another cup of coffee.

The beauty of the sky was enough to hush crying toddlers and bring an old man to tears. Colors danced in the sky, clouds worshipped the sun, and landscapes were heightened to their full beauty. No, she’d never get tired of witnessing this phenomenon, it was worth the lack of sleep.

And before she knew it, her mechanic’s manual was marked up and the sky turned baby blue. 

Her stomach rumbled, signifying it was time for a bowl of cereal.

As she poured milk into a bowl of honey nut cheerios. Her mind wandered to the surprises she had planned today. Excitement grew in her stomach as she went over the itinerary and schedule for today. He was going to love it, for sure.

As if on cue, arms suddenly grabbed Cinder’s waist and her feet left the ground for two seconds. She yelped, her pitch high enough for bats to get confused.

She felt soft, quick, little kisses moving along the length of her neck. She giggled uncontrollably as his hands squeezed her waist even harder. He began to exaggerate kissing noises as he tried to claim her neck with his lips as his mark as if he hadn’t already thousands of other times. 

“Good morning to my beautiful, genius, early bird, perfect, wonderful, pretty, petty, and I’m running out of adjectives to describe my amazing wife.” Her husband greeted her while very gently nipping the places he pecked. More of this and her neck will be glaringly red.

She laughed. “Kai!”

“How’s my lovely wife today?” He murmured, starting on the other side of her neck. She instinctively leaned into him, practically begging him not to stop.

“Mmh. Alright, I guess.” She couldn’t even remember his question.

He turned her around. Stars Above, was his smile not the most wondrous thing ever created? He was so cute.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he asked another question. “Aren’t you going to ask your husband how he’s doing?” His copper eyes were enough to awe even the most stubborn.

She barely formed her answer. Stars, she was surprised she could form audible, coherent words. “I was if my husband was a little more patient.” She challenged him back by refusing to look away. Sometimes, she was able to stun him, and it always felt like her greatest achievement.

“It’s quite a shame then because your husband is having a wonderful morning.” He pulled suddenly, smiling wider (if possible). 

“Today is going to be a great day, my love. I can feel it.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” She bit her lip, pulling him back to her again. “I have lots of surprises planned today.”

Kai’s gaze became a fraction more intense. “Oh? May I ask what kinds?”

“Then they wouldn’t be surprises, dummy.”

His small smile will be the death of her. “Can you spoil a surprise right now?” He lightly whispered against her ear, nudging her cheek with his nose.

He breathed her name slowly and pulled her waist tight with his. As soon as he kissed her, she felt herself unravel. She turned her head to his and kissed him fully on the lips, pulling at his hair. He grunted in pleasure and licked her bottom lip.

She whispered his name in between breaths and in response he sat her on the counter, somehow missing the bowl of cereal she had been preparing.

He dug himself into her, enveloping Cinder fully. Their breaths became more desperate as she kissed him harder. Caressing his cheek with her hand, she guided him to stay on her lips. He liked to linger down on her collarbone and neck often, and to be honest, so did she, but today she wanted the focus on her lips. They couldn’t get too carried away, not today at least.

Kai, however, did not take the hint and kept devouring her, as if last night wasn’t enough. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he nurtured her lips to flourish. The temptation to let him carry her away was much stronger than she expected, and she knew a little more of this would end her resolve. So she pulled away with a mocking smirk and pecked the tip of his nose.

He looked down, blinking the haze away and through the confusion. Only now did she notice his work attire was only half-put together. His tie somehow fell on the floor (she suspected it was never tied), his blazer was nowhere to be seen, and his button-up lacked buttoning. None of it was her fault, she was sure.

“It can’t be earlier than six thirty now and if continue on the path I think we’re headed on, then you will be late.” She let her hand glide up his chest as if to comfort him.

His face dropped as he continued to look at her desirously, not helping to cease her shivers. “This is a crime. You’re making me wait on my birthday.”

Cinder laughed. “What is a crime is your lack of patience.” She leaned in to tease him while brushing his chin and he fell for it. He sighed, closing her eyes and breathing her in, ready to kiss. She jerked away and stood up from the counter. Kai lost his balance and held onto her for support.

Cinder broke into laughter, digging her face into his neck. She kneeled to pick up his discarded (and decidedly unloved tie).

“That works,” Kai remarked. Flushing, she stood up immediately to glare at him.

“Trust me, tonight will be worth it.” She winked, wrapping the thin piece of fabric around his neck. “I made a couple of things for you to decorate your office with-”

“Aw, darling, I love it when you make me things.”

“-and our friends are gonna pay a short visit.” Once she completed the first step of tying his tie, she glanced at him to see a joyfully radiant smile. Cinder grinned to herself. He liked it.

“Will there be cake?” He asked. She resisted rolling his eyes as her husband was no better than a small kid. She continued her task.

“Yes, babe, there will be cake.” A big loop.

“And a party?”

“Right here, with all our friends.” Through the loop.

“And time for plenty of cuddling and kisses with my beloved wife?”

Cinder smiled softly. “Anything for my beloved husband.” Tighten the strands. “It is his birthday after all.”

“Hm. How is a pretty girl like you married to such an old guy?”

“Thirty is not old at all!” She pat his chest. “And I’m not pretty enough to be dating cougars.”

Kai huffed, scrunching his eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”

“Well, you know how the most gorgeous models are dating, like, practically dead men?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not that level of pretty for that level of decay to be attracted to me.” She had no clue what she was saying.

Kai smothered his giggle. “Oh, darling, I’m sure the most crusty, old, wheel-chair bound man will fall in love with your beauty. If I were in that position, I would.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Can we scrap this conversation? I don’t even know where we’re going with this.”

“Yes, please.” He agreed.

They stood in their small kitchen with their foreheads pressed against each other. She could’ve stayed there for a lifetime if he didn’t pull away.

“Hey.” He murmured, pulling away.

“Hey.” She smiled, pressing her chin to her chest. 

“Will you come with me to work today? I don’t know.” Kai whispered. She chewed her bottom lip. “I had this weird feeling all of the sudden, and I don’t want anything happening to you-”

Cinder him off with a soft laugh. She knew how these past few months had been hard on him. All of his anxiety centered around her and something bad happening to her. He’d been the primary one to care for her after her sister died and her stepmother accidentally killed herself. He found Cinder hyperventilating, trying to keep Adri alive by putting pressure on the wound. He scrubbed blood, dirt, and grime off her body. He coaxed her through panic attacks and nightmares. It must have been so hard for him to go through that, and he never told anyone that he was struggling. Cinder had to find that out by herself.

“Nothing will happen to me, I promise. I can’t go with you, love, I’m sorry. I’m stuck preparing your birthday surprises.” She reassured. 

Kai sighed, holding her hand to his cheek, and gave it a small kiss. “I understand. I’ll see you later then?”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you darling. You are my everything, don’t forget that.”

“Do you always have to out-love me?” Cinder whined.

“Stay safe.”

Kai left for work soon after, and Cinder was left alone. Usually, she’d go and work as a mechanic around this time, but today she had tasks to complete. 

She made sure the floors were crumb-less, and the windows spotless. Everyone confirmed their arrival time. 6:30. She had all day to finish everything.

Once she finished cleaning the house, she left for the grocery store. There was a nicely done charcuterie board for sale, along with sangria and red wine. She needed chips, non-alcoholic drinks, dessert, and of course, cake. After she grabbed everything save for the main attraction, she headed to the bakery.

It was here while watching the baker write Kai’s name on the chocolate cake that Cinder got the call that will haunt her forever. It was the third worst call she ever received, second being Peony’s death, and first being a much, much worse one.

She felt the dread Kai must’ve felt that morning, as if something horrible will happen. Recognizing the number from their company, she picked up. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Prince? Sorry to disturb you, but is Mr. Prince with you by any chance?”

She glanced at the baker in confusion. “No. Why?”

“It may be for a silly reason but we can’t seem to find your husband.”

The silence following was overwhelming. Cinder had to force herself to calm down because she could feel her panic start to spiral. “What?” She barked. “What do you mean you can’t find my husband?”

“Well, he isn’t picking up his phone, ma’am, and not even Torin can find him.”

She pinched her forehead with her fingers. “Hold on, let me try calling him.”

She hung up quickly and called her husband, but he never picked up.

“Miss? Your cake is ready. Is it good or do you want me to fix anything?” The baker said in a sweet voice.

“Thank you. Can you box it up please?”

“Of course.”

Cinder decided to check out as a way to convince herself this is just a big misunderstanding. Maybe he’s taking a nap and his phone died or something silly. Yet her fingers kept trembling and the strands of her hair continued to be annoying. She stayed in contact with the company the whole time and they kept asking her if she heard from him. Clearly, if she was asking them about Kai’s whereabouts, she didn’t know Kai’s whereabouts!

Their panicked Once she paid she flew to her car and called Torin.

“Cinder, stay calm.” He greeted in a baritone.

“Did you find him?!” She cried as she sped down the street.

“No, not yet-”

“What even happened?! How can no one find him?!” Her panic made were swerve through lanes. When a car honked at her she screamed: “Get off the road!” Strange since she was never the one for road raging.

“Cinder, please calm down!” She took the chance to breathe deeply at a red light. “He was in his office taking calls one moment and gone the next. I am quite shocked to his disappearance as well.”

“Any guessed as to where he could be?” She asked. Torin paused, and Cinder nearly drove her car into a tree.

“He either fell asleep in the storage room or..” He paused.

“Or what?” She pressed. He didn’t answer. “Torin, or what?!”

“I may be wrong, hopefully I am, but I fear your husband has been kidnapped.”

Cinder froze. Thankfully, she was already in her neighborhood or else she would have crashed into someone else. 

“Cinder, this is a reach. I don’t think anything bad happened.” He tried to comfort her.

“No, you think this is the most likely answer, or else you wouldn't have hesitated.”

He sighed, the stress obvious even through the phone. “Just stay home Cinder. Everything will be okay.”

Being left alone was not the right choice for Cinder. She drove herself crazy with horrible theories. Pacing non-stop around the condo, she told all her friends about Kai. Iko resolved to come asap, as did Thorne and Cress. The rest said they’d check in and try not to storm her. She was grateful.

Not even ten minutes later Torin called again. 

Heart racing, she answered. “Hello?”

His voice sounded dejected, heartbroken and tired. She knew exactly how he felt. “I think we need to get the police involved.”

Her heart dropped. Her mind spiraled, her hand shook uncontrollably, she even dropped to her knees. She rubbed her stomach in an attempt to calm herself. She spoke in an assured voice. “Ok. I’ll call them.” 

Even through shaking fingers, she dialed 911. “Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency.”

“Hi, my name is Cinder Prince and my husband is missing.”

Hours later there were lights outside the condo and people inside. This was not the type of gathering she expected tonight yet all her friends were here along with Torin and police. They questioned everyone there multiple times and no one had not one lead. Kidnapping, though, became the lead reason to his disappearence. Reasons: He’s the CEO of a major company with many loved ones and nor very skilled at self-defense.

Cinder sat on the couch with Iko rubbing her back and Scarlet offering her water.

“Breathe, Cinder. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Scarlet assured. 

Cinder hunched over with her hand buried in her hair. Slowly rocking herself, she cursed and sat up. Scarlet and Iko shared a look, no doubt noticing how eerily similar this situation to the one a couple months ago with Peony.

“I’m fine.” Cinder assured, taking a swig of Scarlet’s water. “He’s fine. We’re all fine.”

Iko gave her a worried look and hugged her. “We should go to a club after this all passes. Dance the shock off.”

Cinder laughed but there was no humor in it.  Winter and Jacin walked up to the girls.

“How are you feeling, dear cousin?” Winter inquired.

“Horrible, but managing.” How she managed to not break down screaming, she didn't know.

Jacin grimaced. “Winter and I need to go check on something very important. We’ll be right back.”

She blinked, feeling like a jerk for not caring about whatever mini emergency they might have. “Take your time.”

The smiled and left.

Scarlet excused herself to go to her husband. Now left alone with Iko, Cinder felt herself start to crack.

“Iko,” She murmured, focusing on the corner of the TV. “I can’t do this again.”

Her friend knew exactly what she meant. “Nothing is happening again, ever.”

“I barely survived the first time. If I lose K-” Cinder’s voice cracked. The surge of emotions that she had ignored all morning came bursting forth like a geyser. Iko tightly pulled her close as  she sobbed in her shoulder. “If I lose him, I lose myself.”

“You won’t lose him. If I have to go track him down in the sewers like a bounty hunter, I will. He’ll be back soon, you’ll see.” Iko’s words always brought comfort to Cinder’s pain. They spent years comforting each other through Adri’s abuse and Peony’s pain that they knew the best methods of making the other feel better.

This time they did little to calm Cinder’s panic. “You don’t understand. When Peony died, I died. He brought me back to life. So did you, of course, but he was there for me the most. If he dies, I die. There’s no one to bring me back to life again. I live for him. I work, and I clean, and I laugh, and I breathe for him. I love you, Thorne, and everyone else for him. Because of him. If he dies, I die.”

“Listen to me Cinder. No one is dying tonight.” Iko squeezed her hand but she continued.

“He’s probably lying in a ditch, window glass everywhere, stuck in his car, bleeding out right now. On his birthday!” She began to sob. “He asked me to go to work with him and I said no because I wanted him to have a good birthday, especially after everything he’s done for me. This is cruel. Evil. And it’s all my fault Iko. I- I killed my husband, the only person who would put up with me-”

“Cinder! Please snap out of it!” Iko cried. “You’re overwhelmed and spiraling, enough.” Iko gave her a moment to calm down. Once her breaths became more even, her friend spoke. “Your mind is causing you to say false things. Kai isn’t dead. I have a feeling you’d know once he passes. Do you know?” Cinder shook her head. “Good. Two, he isn’t the only one capable of resurrecting you. I will try hard as hell to pump your heart again and you know how relentless I am. Besides, there’s a room full of people who love you who would do anything to bring you back to life, am I wrong? Exactly. Three, if anything, stars forbid, happens, it will not be your fault. We aren't going down this road again. Promise me you won’t blame yourself. Promise me, Cinder.”

Cinder hesitated. “I promise.” She murmured, barely audible.

“Good.” Iko hugged Cinder tight again. “Everything will be okay. I’ll be here for you no matter what, okay?”

“Okay.”

Just then Cinder felt a vibration in her pocket. Frowning, she pulled her phone out. Little did she know she’d receive the worst call in her entire life.

She answered the phone on speaker. “Hello?” Her voice shook.

“Is this Mrs. Prince?” A deep voice greeted her.

“Yes, this is she. Who are you?”

“I suggest you go somewhere private.” She gave Iko a weird look. Her friend nodded. 

After settling herself in a small corner of her condo, she spoke. “Okay. Tell me who you are now or I’m calling the police.”

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Why not? Who are you?!”

“Because your husband wouldn’t agree, isn’t that right Mr. Prince?” The entire world froze. She felt ice climb up her veins, overtaking her whole body.

There was movement on the other end of the line, a sound of someone choking and then a voice she loved more than anyone else’s.

“CINDER?! CINDER!!” Kai cried.

She couldn’t even sob. Dread filled her body and strangely enough, so did relief. He wasn’t dead. She hasn’t lost him yet. Her voice trembled. “Kai?”

“CINDER! Whatever you do, don’t listen to them, they’re lying-” He was stopped abruptly by a sickening, flesh-sounding noise. She gasped, in shock. They struck him. They hurt the love of her life. Kai groaned in pain, causing rage to replace everything she had been feeling before.

“KAI! Touch him again and I swear I’ll kill you!” She screamed. Everyone in the room ran towards her but she could only focus on what was on the other side of the line.

The police motioned something to her but she couldn’t interpret them.

“Now, let’s not make empty threats, Cindy.” There was a grunt and cry of pain. She suspected they were pulling his hair or something. Quickly that rage submitted into desperation.

“STOP IT!” She wailed. “Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’re absolutely right, Cindy-”

“Don’t call me that. Let him go. I’ll find you.”

There was a loud slap and a sharp whimper. Her heart shattered out of her chest. She could almost see her broken, beaten down expression from the shards of her glass heart.

“Mrs. Prince!” The officer barked. “Tell us what is going on!”

Cinder continued to push out the world. She choked on the sound of his cries. Another punch and Kai gasped for air. She imagined him breaking down, bleeding, murmuring her name. Her guts twisted in agony, her throat uttered in pain. It should be her in that chair, not him. It never should have been him.

“Whay do you want?” She pleaded. “Money? We have money, just stop hurting him.”

“No, my mistress wants something more valuable.”

“Anything, just leave him alone.” There was a clatter in the background.

“Nah.” He said lightly, as if hurting another human brought him delight What a sick, twisted man. “It’s for the video I’m making you. I’m sure it will liven up the bedroom, if you know what I mean.” A kick to Kai’s body, another grunt in pain

She shut her eyes so tight they might have ruptured. “You’re messed up.” She murmured.

“It’s why I have this job. I love torturing entitled bitches like you. I love watching your fake ‘tough’ outer skin break.”

There was a muffled yell in the background followed by another gut-piercing slap.

“Tell your husband to shut up or I will.”

“What do you want?” She asked again. “Tell me that and I will give it to you.”

He laughed. “Simple. Your inheritance.”

She scoffed. “My inheritance? Is this a joke?”

“You are a Blackburn, are you not?”

“A disowned one. The wouldn’t give me cent.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Cindy. In your mail, which I doubt you checked, you’ll find a contract listing all your holdings in Prince Organization, and anything you have in Blackburn Industries.” 

She forgot about Blackburn Industries. After her mother died, she owned quite a bit of the twisted business, but like that horrible part of her life, she blocked it out. She remembered her aunt Levana needing her part of the inheritance to take control of everything, but at that point, she was long gone. What she did know, though, is that if her aunt took control of the whole company, lot’s of innocent people will suffer.

She held the phone away and asked one of the officers to check the mail. They left right away. “The Prince Organization is not my inheritance, I got some of it when I married Kai. Marital rights and all that.”

“I know, it’s not on the contract. I just wanted a tip.”

Cinder couldn’t do this for much longer. S

Even breaths, in and out.

“If I sign this, you’ll let him go?”

“As long as you personally deliver it, you have my word.” 

The man hung up, leaving Cinder a void of a human. Once she got the energy to speak, she explained the situation to everyone.

The officer who checked the mail came back with the contract that contained everything the man said it would be.

“Don’t sign anything yet.” The police instructed. “Let us investigate everything first. If they call again, tell us.”

Cinder nodded as Iko and Cress guided her to take a seat.

“That’s absolutely disgusting.” Cress remarked. “How is it possible for anyone to be that cruel.”

Cress blinked back tears while Thorne comforted her. “Kai’s a strong guy, he’s been through a lot. He’ll endure, I’m sure.” He said.

“Hey.” Scarlet said, seating herself next to Cinder. “Why don’t you take a short bath or shower, fresh yourself up. You’ll feel better afterwards, trust me.”

“What if they find something while I’m gone.” Cinder protested. “I can’t just leave.”

“You won't leave, we’ll come and get you right away.” Argued Scarlet.

After some protest, Scarlet and Wolf hauled Cinder to her bathroom.

“Try to relax your mind. Anxiety won’t help the situation at all.” Then her friends left. 

Baths were Kai’s method of soothing her. That horrible night when both her sister and step-mother died, Kai had singlehandedly bathed and took her of an unresponsive Cinder. The trauma had left Cinder in a state of shock for several hours and Kai had to drive her home, up the stairs, and in the bath. Blood cakes her entire body and every time she looked at herself she’d freeze and recount everything that happened step by step. That loop replayed in her mind for hours and the next thing she remembered was Kai in the tub, fully clothed and wrapped around her. That was her first crack of the night. She seemed to sob in his chest forever.

He did a good job with scrubbing all the blood out. He managed to wash her hair too, though she didn’t remember it. He’d talk about his job, the nice old secretary he hired, their finances. He made jokes, not good ones but the kind that are so bad you have to laugh at it. It took her a while for her even smile again, and when she did, it was with him. She was happy again because of him.

Cinder dunked her head in the water and screamed. She let frustration, anger, desperation, depression, and anxiety fuel her throat. She couldn’t think about Kai anymore, she’s supposed to be relaxing. She and him had picked up bathing as a calming process following panic attacks, stress, anxiety, or even just a bad day. Though they bathed separately, it was always more effective when together.

Sighing, she quickly started to wrap up the bath when she got a call. Though it didn’t make her top three of worst calls, it was still up there.

A cold ominous feeling seemed to replace the warm water in the bath tub. Cinder dried her hand and slowly picked up the phone. Somehow she knew this call was important. 

“Hello?” She answered with a shaky breath.

There was a pause then a sigh. “You’ve taken your time getting back to us.” Replied a smooth feminine voice. “I take it you want to negotiate?”

The voice sounded horribly familiar. The voice that haunted her life. The voice she had pushed so far down that she couldn’t remember who it belonged to.

Fear seized her body. She gripped the edge of the tub to steady herself. “What do you mean?”

The woman laughed. “Don’t act stupid, Selene, er- Cinder is it?”

She squeezed her eyes out of her forgotten birth name. Had this woman checked her medical records? Who is she? Why would she go to such lengths.

“What do you want?” Cinder demanded. “Give me back my husband!”

The woman tittered. “You’re not in the right place to negotiate that kind of stuff, girl. I could have my men hurt your dearest even more?”

“Why are you doing this?” Cinder panted.

“I’m running out of patience and I need your finances. This isn’t the worst thing I’ve done, so don’t worry.”

Cinder paused and recollected her thoughts. “You said you wanted to negotiate. All I want is my husband back. What can I do to achieve that.”

“You know what to do, yet you’re reluctant to give it to me. I don’t want you to negotiate, I want you to do as you’re told.”

“My inheritance? It’s practically useless once my relatives find out I’m giving it away.” This conversation only solved to further her confusion.

“I just need your signature, then it will be out your my hands.” The voice sighed. “If you need my word, it shall be yours.”

“I’ll think about it.” Cinder mumbled, unsure of to say.

“Well, make your decision fast because in thirty minutes we’ll move to harsher punishments on your husband. I’ll have my men call you so you won’t miss out on anything. Goodbye, Mrs. Prince.” The woman hung up with a laugh.

Dumbstruck, Cinder sat in the tub with a slacked jaw. Once again, she could not believe this was happening. Soon enough, she’ll wake up, right?

Once reality became clear again, she hustled out of the bath and tried to get downstairs as soon as possible.

“Cinder, what’s wrong?” Scarlet stopped her frantic run. Her caring friend must’ve notice the desperation on her face. “What happened? Did they call you again.”

“Yes.” She breathed. “I think is was the person in charge this time. She said in thirty minutes they’re gonna hurt Kai with more painful methods, I can’t let that happen. I have to save him.” 

Cinder rushed to the kitchen island where she had last seen the fateful papers.

“Where’s the contract?!” She yelled.

“The police took it when they left like two minutes ago.” Iko explained.

Only then did she notice there were no blue uniformed officers around. She spun. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was about to knock when you came rushing out.” 

“Where’ they go? And why?” Cinder asked, voice rising again. Her anxiety and fear were moving too fast in her head to keep up with.

This time Thorne walked up to her and steadied her shoulders. “They said they had a lead and ran out to pursue it.” 

“And they didn’t tell me?”

“They wanted to but they had no time.” Thorne frowned and pulled her close. “All you need to do now is breathe and to have faith that they will find him. This is hard for all of us too, Cinder. We’ll get through it together.”

She leaned against his chest, hiding tears from her friends. They were so good to her and so calm. They must think her crazy or overreactive. They were correct, of course. What she needed was to get her mind straight and collected. She need to swallow one worry at a time instead of swallowing all at once. That way, she won’t do something stupid and make this situation worse.

Once she gathered herself, she pulled away. “Ok. You’re right, Thorne.” Then she smiled and turned to her friends. “Thank you guys for being here, I don’t know how crazy I could’ve gone without you.”

Crests smiled reassuringly back and walked up to grab her hand. “C’mon, everybody, let’s go sit down.”

As they settled around the living room, Cress went to make some calming tea. Scarlet sighed, pulling out a metal flask. “I fear I might need something stronger.”

Cinder couldn’t help but snort as Thorne agreed. “Ditto.” She wasn’t much for drinking but when Cress handed her tea, she motioned for Scarlet to pour some in.

“Oh crap!” She slapped her head. “I forgot I can’t drink.” She put the mug down and Cress walked back to refill it.

“Why not?” Scarlet asked. But Iko’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t tell me you’re-” Iko started but Cinder cut her off with a nod. Hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my stars, Cinder.”

“What? You’re what?” Wolf said leaning in.

“I’m not following.” Cress said, sitting down.

“Well, I only found out two weeks ago, which was really convenient because his birthday was so soon and I planned to surprise him now in front of everyone.” Cinder smiled go herself. “He would’ve been so happy. That was the biggest surprise I had in stock for him.”

“Aces and spades, Cinder. You’re pregnant.” Thorne concluded. Cinder only nodded in agreement.

Scarlet sat up to hug her. “Congratulations, Cinder. I know how hard you guys worked to do this. Oh, I’m so proud.”

“It’s bittersweet, you know. He should be here.” 

“He will soon enough.” One by one each of her friends congratulated her and tried not to be over excited. Cinder was happy she remember the good news in spite of the bad.

“Good luck with the newborn years.” Thorne cautioned. “Especially if you get two like us. Expect no sleep.” Cinder laughed.

“I’d say the toddler years are worse. You’re not exactly there yet, Thorne.” Wolf argued.

“I say it all depends on the baby. Thomas was a fighter as a newborn, but Michelle stayed consistently feisty. Mara is very quiet.” Added Scarlet. “The twins are somehow natural opposites.” She laughed to herself.

“Yes, I’ve notice how Michelle is so social but Mara very kept to herself.” Cress agreed. “My twins are like that, but they love being near each other.”

“Well, my girls love their older brother and their father.” Scarlet said with a quick look at Wolf. “They go wherever the men go. Which is such a shame because they get spoiled to death.” 

“Aw.” Iko squealed. “How could you not spoil them with those faces.”

Scarlet smiled warmly. “Believe me, it is very difficult to say no to them sometimes.”

“But they need character, Scar.” Wolf muttered, kissing Scarlet’s forehead. She looked at him as if they shared an inside joke. 

“Yes, they do, hun.” Scarlet murmured back.

After watching the couple’s intimacy, Cinder felt her heart begin to slice apart. She wished Kai’s arms were around her neck right now, kissing her cheek and telling her what a great surprise this wd. And his reaction to her news? Stars above, he would’ve not been able to quit bouncing off the walls. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she imagined them holding each other in bed after everyone had left storming up names. After they’d come up with something serious, he would say Matchia or Matchi which would we short for matcha green latte. Oh, aces and spades, she loved him. Oh, stars, she missed him. Oh, on her poor torn-up heart, please let him be okay. Please let him come back to her, or, at the very least, let her go to him.

At that moment, in the midst of her inner plea, Winter and Jacin stormed through the door without knocking. The group stared at them with confusion, and desperate curiosity. The lot hungered for news about their friend, and based and the couple’s expressions, it looked like they had an answer.

For a while, they took each other in. Winter’s usually never pulled back hair. Jacin’s blond locks in pure chaos. Cinder’s disheveled posture. A broken heel. A bottle of rum. A stack of papers in a flushed pale hand. 

At last, Winter broke the analyzation. “Cinder.” She breathed. At once, Cinder felt goosebumps create ridges all over her body. Whatever her cousin was to say next was going to destroy her entire existence, or prevent her world from ending. “There’s a lot I need to share with you, but first, Kai is okay.”

Cinder felt the pressure of her body tighten in disbelief. She stared at Winter in shock. Then, with a shuddering chin, she spoke in a vulnerable, haunted voice. “He’s okay?”

Winter nodded encouragingly and wrapped her arms around Cinder. They couldn’t stop the tears that flowed through in each eye. Around the two, their friends got up and hugged each other in relief. As Cinder quietly sobbed in Winter’s clothes, her cousin whispered in her ear. “We know who did it.”

As she blinked tears away, her nerves revived and turned more aware. “Who?” She whispered, her voice hungry for an answer.

“The same person who murdered your stepmother.” Immediately, Cinder pulled away with a furrowed brow.

“What happened to my stepmother was an accident.” She asserted.

“No, it was quite intentional. We found proof of the whole situation being set up. In Adri’s mind, she was going to pretend to attempt suicide in front of you so you could be rattled up enough and easily taken advantage of in that state. The death of your sister only doubles your trauma and weaken your mental strength.” Winter looked at her intensely.

“Why would she do that?” Cinder murmured.

“She was offered quite a lot of money.”

“Enough for her to settle peacefully for the rest of her life.” Jacin butt in. His interruption made it clear that the whole room was listening to their conversation. Cinder didn’t mind though, and motioned for Winter to keep talking.

“But the safety on the gun was malfunctioning on purpose. She was meant to die to shake you up even more. And to get rid of evidence I suppose.”

Cinder rose up from the couch, mouth agape. “I don’t understand why someone would do something like this. What do they want from me so badly?” She rambled.

“I’m afraid it is had to do with some laws my stepmother cannot tiptoe.” Winter said.

She whipped her head to her cousin frighteningly fast. “Levana?” Her aunt’s sinister voice hissed like a snake in her head, the same rattle as the woman in the call. How could Cinder be so dumb, of course it was her aunt?! She needed time to think to put two and two together, to recognize the sliding voice.

Instead of diving herself into the new information, she chose to push it down and focus onto more upcoming matters.

“Where is Kai?” She urged suddenly. Winter blinked from the sudden change in subject but answered quickly.

“He should be at the hospital by now? I warned the police to his location before I got here.”

“Thank you so much Winter.” She hugged her friend tightly. “And Jacin too. You’ve done me the greatest thing imaginable. You found him. Oh stars, I’m so glad he’s okay. Thank you so much, for everything.”

After the hugs and relieved conversations, Jacin drove Cinder and the group in their respective cars to the hospital. 

She raced through the sliding doors, ignoring the familiar scent of the wallowing walls. Her fingers gripped the white counter as she asked for Kai. 

“May I have some form of identity, please?” said the front desk lady. Cinder was shaking so bad, Thorne had to help her pull out her license. 

“He’s in room 102. And two to three visitors at a time, please.” She said, casting a sideways glance to her friends.

Cinder nodded and jogged away, not really knowing where room 102 was. Jacin, being familiar with the hospital, dragged her from running to the opposite end of the building. She was too drained to argue the tight grip on her arm.

Finally, she stood face to face from room 102. The door was the only thing standing in way from her and the love of her life. Scarlet suggested she go in and have a moment alone before the rest of the lot come in. She hesitated when her fingers gripped the handle. Thorne nodded at her to go on in. They shared a reassuring look that gave her confidence. 

Taking in a deep breath, she opened the door.

He was sleeping. Of course he was sleeping. Her whole body was trembling as drunk him in. She did her usual hung she did when he slept: analyze. And it broke her heart.

The masterpiece she gazed upon every morning without fail was tainted, torn, and unloved. It was as if someone spilled a can of tomato soup on it, or stabbed with a fork. Like it was purposely stomped on or kicked around, ignoring it’s value and love that went into it. Ignoring that he was a person too.

His nose was bandaged up. His left eye was covered by gag-inducing shades of purple, blue, and green. His lips were painfully open and a cut on his skin was covered by two staples. The hair she ruffled this morning was matted and lost it’s depth. Even as he slept, his eyebrows were tight as if he were disturbed. He can’t find peace even in his dreams.

Horrified, Cinder covered her mouth with her hands. A wave a fury washed over her again, and she wanted to fish for a scalpel and cut each villain for every time they even breathed near Kai’s body. She didn’t even know what they did to him below his collarbone. Instead, she calmed down and forced herself to approach he beloved, one step at a time.

She had always ben a fan of running. Saving the harder problems for late or, even better, for someone else. Part of her wanted to wait outside and call Torin to wake him up. By the time she reached Kai’s bedside, she nearly completely swallowed the urge to leap over the bed and run away screaming or chase after those evil men.

Once she made contact with his skin, though, she found it impossible to leave. Her fingers traced his name across his palm, like a plea. She would wait for him to wake up on his own violation, not on hers. But she had also always been impatient.

“Kai?” She finally voiced the one thing she wanted to ask. “I’m here my love. Be with me now.”

Because the stars loved to mess with her, he did not wake up instantly like his favorite cheesy movies. Instead, she watched his chest move up and down while their friends waited outside. She felt a little bad for her friends, but Kai needed rest.

After tracing and kissing his arm for the twenty-fifth time, Kai woke up.

His eyes fluttered like small butterfly wings. She froze, not wanting to scare his fragile body away. She watched his lips form her name. His beautiful voice felt miles away from the sheer power of his eyes. He held so much control over her, she’d do anything with one glance.

He was here. With her. He didn’t die. He’s alive. She didn’t die. 

Before she knew, she was crying. Kai noticed and reached out to her with a bandaged hand. Her breath choked at his wounds but he ignored it. All he wanted was to touch her.

Cinder leaned towards his outstretched hand and let it caress her face. Closing her eyes, she felt him wipe away her tears. Kai softly wrote poetry on her face, as if she were his favorite poem and it had taken him years to write. As if he almost lost her before she could complete her. He didn’t want anyone else to write her ending, only him and her as his muse.

He drew in a shake breath, causing Cinder to open her eyes and focus on his tears. Like a catalyst, she sprung from her seat into Kai’s arms, wrapping herself around his broken body, promising to fix it. She guided his head to her shoulder and told him to cry. She told him to give all his pain to her, she can take it. His hands gripped her hands, although they felt much weaker. His whole body was trembling. What did they do to him?

“Oh, Kai, I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought-

I really thought you were going to-.” She spoke through her tears.

“I know, my love, me too.” His confession only made her cry harder. 

They laid there for while, sobbing in each other’s arms, basking in their presence, not taking this moment for granted. They kissed, they hugged, they talked, and they finally agreed to let their friends in.

The ton came in with a rush. Iko was first who grabbed the rails of his bed and asked him if it was okay to hug him. He said yes. The rest embraced him one by one and gave a remark. Lastly, Torin and Nancy, came in (she didn’t remember if she called them or not) holding the birthday cake she planned to surprise him with. 

Laughing, she wiped her tears and walked over to the pair. “Torin, you didn’t need to do this!” She hugged him.

“Kai always got cranky when he didn’t get cake on his birthday.” He said. Then he walked over to Kai and said some words that made her husband cry.

Nainsi placed the cake in the table Cinder pulled out from Kai’s hospital bed. She invited all her friends in, surely no staff would know for a second. 

Kai’s eyes gleamed with joy, despite his wounds. They sang to him but his eyes stayed glued to hers. He mouthed ‘I love you’ in the midst of his song.

A single tear fell from her eye. She didn’t die. He didn’t leave her. Feeling the power of the unyielding vow she made at their wedding day, she mouthed. “I love you too.”

Kai was released the next morning. He had a bad concussion that they wanted to watch him overnight. He was fine.

During the car ride, though, he was silent. He had a fractured ankle so he had to wear crutches, and stitches over his left arm and hand. At red lights, she’d steal glances at his form, how hurt and broken he was. 

Once they arrived home, she helped them to their room and settled him into their bed. Once he was comfortable, she plopped right next to him. 

His head turned to her with smirk. “What?” Cinder asked with a smile. She tucked her elbow underneath her head so she could talk to him better.

“Nothing.” He murmured. “You’re going to be a good mom.” 

Her eyes widened, she had forgot about their brewing child. How did he know? Who told him? “What?” She said in shock.

“Sorry!” He murmured, turning his head to the ceiling. “I know we just started talking about kids a couple months ago, but when I was in that room, I kept thinking that I didn’t want to die without raising a kid. And seeing you again, of course, but I really want a baby.” He sighed. “Sorry if I scared you off.”

She unsuccessfully smothered a giggle. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just timing.” She explained. “You only got to wait nine months to raise a kid.”

Kai nodded. “Okay. In nine months, we’ll try for a kid.” 

Cinder knew she shouldn’t but she laughed at his concussed brain. “No, I mean your kid will be born in nine months.” 

Kai looked at her confused. “We’re adopting.”

She smiled, kissing his cheek. “Bless your heart, my love. I’m pregnant. Due date’s in December.”

He only blinked at her slowly until it sank. “Oh stars, we’re having a baby. You’re cooking it right now!”

He started to get up, but she put him down. Her smile grew wider at his excitement. His face was pure wonder and endearment. “Don’t get up, baby, you can celebrate from here.”

“Cinder, you’re gonna be a real momma!” He reached out to her face, laughing. “Should I call you momma?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “If you want to.”

He started shaking his head excitedly. “It’s the best nickname ever! I love you, momma.”

She ticked her head once to the side. It sounded weird, but whatever helped his healing brain.

As they lay there, laughing, kissing, and holding each other, she vowed to never let anything happen to him again. Now that their family was growing, no one will hurt any member of it. They will never get close. She was shutting the door on that chapter of her life, making sure no one will come knocking ever again. They were going to start a happy life, and raise a happy family. No one will ever come between them again.

A/N: One, I wrote 8k words?!!??! No wonder this pic was haunting me. Anyways, I made this on a whim but have no fear, I have a raider takeout fit that will follow up this as soon as I feel like publishing it. Two, the editing is so bad, the story has SO many holes, I just got tired of explaining. I'm sorry if it bores you, skip to the end if you like, whatever, but show some love if you want that makeout fic. Three, I have nothing else to say. Goodbye for now!

Tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @notjacinclay @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #kaider #lunar chronicles #linh cinder #emperor kai #tlc fic #tic fanfiction #Kaider fanfiction #Kaider fic #UGH #jacinter #wincin #wolflet #cresswell #torin #sorrows sorrows prayers #get out of my swamp #my fic #love it up guys

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

@greenalmond @shellyseashell

#y’all…….. WHERE ARE THE FICS #you really slept on their potential #tlc #the lunar chronicles #kaider #wolflet #cresswell #jacinter #winlet #tlc fanfiction

[carewyncromwell]

“Tell me, what has become of my rights? Am I invisible ‘cause you ignore me? Your proclamation promised me free liberty, now... I’m tired of bein’ the victim of shame -- They’re throwin’ me in a class with a bad name! I can’t believe this is the land from which I came! You know I really do hate to say it... The government don't wanna see, But if Roosevelt was livin’, he wouldn’t let this be, no, no!”

~“They Don’t Really Care About Us” by Michael Jackson

x~x~x~x

The day before Valentine’s Day 1996, Mia Flume finally came to grips with the horrible thought that Cornelius Fudge -- Minister for Magic and leader of the British Wizarding World -- was actively trying to cover up the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, all for the sake of his own personal ambitions. As the year wore on, Mia became more and more convinced that it was true...and to make matters worse, Fudge’s chosen representative, Dolores Umbridge, was making life hell for the students of Hogwarts.

Mia first heard about Dumbledore having to flee the school for supposedly organizing an illegal student “army” to rise up against the Ministry from Madame Rosmerta. It honestly sounded like the most outlandish thing in the world -- something that she couldn’t believe anyone sane would believe. Yet Fudge sure seemed to believe it -- and so Dumbledore was now on the run, a wanted man, and Dolores Umbridge had been named Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And one of the things she did first was punish the students who had supposedly joined “Dumbledore’s Army” -- one of whom, Mia was horrified to hear from her older sister Tia, was her fourteen-year-old nephew, Olin!

Both Tia and Mia sent Olin several letters questioning the validity of what they’d heard, but to their dismay, they received no letters in response. Instead Umbridge went to paid a visit to Tia and Dirk herself, where she asked them many pointed questions and even made some vaguely threatening comments.

“Your son is very bright, Ms. Cresswell,” Umbridge said in honeyed tones. “It’s not unlikely to presume he wishes to join the Ministry like his father someday, yes?”

Tia tried to keep her head high, but Umbridge’s overly sweet attitude was making her uneasy for a reason she couldn’t quite explain.

“...He hasn’t quite decided yet,” she confessed. “He’s always wanted to play Quidditch professionally, before...but recently, he’s expressed some interest in working in the Being division as an advocate...”

Something oddly cold flickered through Umbridge’s eyes. Knowing immediately that his wife had said the wrong thing, Dirk quickly brought a hand onto Tia’s and gave it a supportive squeeze.

“We shall support our son in anything he chooses to do with his life,” Dirk said very firmly, his eyes narrowing.

“Not aligning himself with traitors, I hope, Cresswell,” Umbridge said, her sweet tone twinged with something much more poisonous. “It would be a shame to see a man like you lose the Minister’s good graces, the way your son has his new Headmistress’s.”

Umbridge then put on a much more fake smile.

“...Fortunately your son has been diligently working to re-earn my favor in his detentions with me. I’m certain he’ll completely overcome this rebellious phase...especially with your guiding influence, as his parents.”

“We might guide Olin more easily if we knew our letters were getting through to him,” Dirk said, a bit of temper squeaking out of him despite himself.

Tia squeezed her husband’s hand, her face much more anxious upon Umbridge. “We haven’t heard from Olin in over a week now...please, Headmistress, I just want to hear from my son...”

“Of course, Ms. Cresswell -- of course you do,” said Umbridge. She gave Tia an insincere pat to the shoulder. “That’s something any mother should want. But sadly, children are very selfish creatures -- prone to keep things to themselves...especially any misbehavior. Sometimes they just go quiet, rather than admit they’ve done wrong...”

Dirk opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge silenced him with a look.

“Not to worry,” she said with another sugary sweet smile. “When your boy is ready to speak to you, I promise you, I’ll make absolutely sure that his letters reach you.”

When Umbridge left, Tia actually burst into tears. Dirk ended up contacting Mia and Callie himself via Floo Powder, and when they met up at the Cresswell home, he was clearly beside himself.

“Olin would not just go quiet like this,” he said fiercely. “He would never worry his mother this way...”

“Worry us this way,” Mia interjected in agreement. “Olin always writes back to me, when I write to him, and always on the same day. This is not normal.”

Dirk slid his pipe into his mouth, giving it an anxious puff.

“His mail must be getting intercepted before it can reach us,” he muttered, “but if so...Merlin, what state must he be in now? Hogwarts was always safe, with Dumbledore in charge...”

He whirled on his youngest sister-in-law. “Callie, you have contacts at the radio station -- surely one of them knows what the deal is behind this ‘Dumbledore’s Army?’”

Callie looked unusually gloomy as she bowed her head. “Not really. No one who was in Dumbledore’s office that day has been very open about it...and everyone else...well, they’re just following the party line Fudge has been circulating. The whole Ministry’s really clammed up, lately.”

"Because of that interview you did with the Junior Undersecretary?” asked Mia.

Callie crossed her arms moodily.

“The boss even brought me into his office yesterday to scold me,” she grumbled. “Said I was too ‘hard-ball’ with Weasley, when I asked him about that rumor that Umbridge made Potter write with a cursed quill, during one of his detentions with her...”

The idea that Olin might’ve likewise been put through that in his detentions with Umbridge made Tia cover her face again, trying to hold in a fresh round of tears. Dirk’s jaw clenched as he brought an arm around his wife and squeezed her against his side.

“The broadcast was cut short, but trust me -- Weasley looked like he’d seen a ghost,” Callie said resentfully. “I don’t know whether it’s because he didn’t know about it at all or he just didn’t know I’d know about it...but either way, he didn’t even try to deny it or defend Umbridge’s character. I frankly don’t think he can.”

“How could he?” said Mia. “From the sound of it, not even the Ministry was aware Umbridge had quills like that. Where did you even hear that rumor in the first place?”

“A new informant of mine,” said Callie lightly.

When Mia raised her eyebrows, all traces of humor from Callie’s face faded immediately, and she crossed her arms.

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare ask!” she scolded her older sister in a tone rather akin to a huffy teenager. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Mia recurred, her features creased with suspicion.

“Of course,” Callie said defensively. “I mean...he’s got contacts at both the Ministry and Hogwarts. The staffs of which I’m quite sure have no idea he’s been sending me messages.”

“True,” said Dirk. “Any Ministry employee could face severe consequences for being so open with the press...the professors too, now that Umbridge is in charge...”

Mia had to admit Dirk was right. She nodded in agreement.

“Well, if your new informant can tell us what really happened, Callie,” said Dirk, as he squeezed Tia gently against his side, “we would both be very grateful.”

Tia sniffled miserably.

“My son wouldn’t cause trouble for no reason,” she whimpered. “He’s a good boy...”

~*~

In May, at long, long last, Mia finally received a letter from Olin. The minute she received it, she ripped the envelope open so roughly, she almost tore the letter inside too. The letter didn’t hold any of the explanation she’d wanted -- instead, it seemed almost painfully restrained, talking only about the upcoming Quidditch Cup Final between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When Umbridge was brought up, it was written in such flowery, over-the-top language that Olin’s sarcasm seemed to be bleeding through the page.

Don’t know if you heard, but we have a new Headmistress! Dolores Umbridge, you know -- the High Inquisitor I told you about? She really is marvelous -- a perfectly upstanding woman. I’d gush more, but...well, she’s just such a kind and sweet lady, I don’t think my testimony could do her justice!

Dirk was right, Mia thought. His other letters must’ve been intercepted before they could reach us. That’s why he’s saying all this now -- he must know Umbridge is reading any letters he tries to send, and she won’t let them reach us unless he says what she wants him to say...

The thought of a fourteen-year-old boy having to lie blatantly in his letters just to have any chance of getting through to his family was absolutely horrid to think about. Even worse was the thought that the person now censoring her nephew and preventing him from writing to her and his mother had been selected by the Minister of Magic himself, supposedly address the “falling standards” at Hogwarts promoted by Albus Dumbledore...

With a heavy heart, Mia put Olin’s letter away in her robes and set about trying to busy herself with the work of the day.

And of course, right in the midst of this -- right when Mia was feeling so miserable and worried about her nephew and trying hard to distract herself with some medicinal normalcy -- this just had to be when Jacob Cromwell had the audacity to show his rotten face in Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop for the first time in five years.

When he’d first come in around mid-day, Mia had had her back turned, arranging inventory on the shelf in the far corner of the shop. Her mother Jenie was busy ringing up customers at the desk while her father Ambrosius pecked away in the kitchen, so Mia had rolled over a whole cart full of brightly colored boxes across the shop, which she was now levitating onto the shelf.

It was while doing this that she suddenly realized dozens of boxes were flying up onto the shelves around her, rather than just the ones she’d actively levitated.

“What -- ?”

When she turned around, she found herself immediately face-to-face with a man exactly her height, who had not one but two wands -- one made of white aspen and the other of black ebony -- raised, enchanting the rest of Mia’s stock to arrange themselves neatly on the shelf. His dark curls cascaded down his back and shoulders like a waterfall and his blue eyes were so darkened and sunken-in, they resembled a skull’s, especially when juxtaposed on such a pale face.

When Jacob Cromwell looked down at her, he offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry -- I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working,” he said.

Jacob wordlessly enchanted the last few boxes he’d lifted up onto the shelves to dance around each other so they were in the proper order.

Mia immediately flicked her wand around, catching the one box that she’d still been levitating in her non-wand hand so she could turn her wand’s focus onto Jacob. Before she could cast any spell, though, Jacob brought both of his wands up, crossing them in an “x” shape around Mia’s so as to force her to lower it.

“Easy!” he said quickly. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“That’d be a first,” spat Mia. “What do you want, Cromwell?”

“To talk to you, actually,” said Jacob.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Now get lost -- ”

Mia yanked her wand arm back and turned her back on Jacob. He seemed to have predicted this move, though, for within seconds, he’d stepped in front of her.

“Wait -- I’ve been talking to your sister,” Jacob said seriously. “Your younger sister, Callie.”

Mia’s dark eyes flashed. Callie? Mia knew full well that her sister was one of those who’d taken a stupid liking to Jacob, so she’d interviewed Jacob rather often, but had she actually told Jacob to seek Mia out? When she knew how Mia loathed Jacob Cromwell and would for the rest of his sodding life? The chocolatier felt the strong urge to throw her shoe at something.

“I gather you don’t like me, for whatever reason, but please, just hear me out,” said Jacob. “For Callie’s sake, if not mine.”

Mia glared at Jacob. Glancing around, she took note of several customers who’d started to eavesdrop -- upon being noticed, they all immediately looked away.

“What do you want?” Mia repeated lowly, as she put down the box of Peppermint Toads still in her hand down roughly on the shelf.

Jacob likewise glanced around the shop, taking stock of the people around them. He seemed to be thinking hard, for it took him a moment to conjure up a response.

“...Callie’s told me that you’ve...been looking for new things to read, lately.”

Mia’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What?”

Jacob kept his blue eyes dreamily aloft, dancing over the highest shelves, as he slipped his hands idly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Newspapers are lovely and all, of course...but their content just gets kind of stale, after a while. Same boring, feel-good stories, over and over again. Sometimes it’s good to read other kinds of fiction, just for a change of pace...”

He shot another furtive glance around before glancing at Mia out the side of his eye.

“...Even the Quibbler gets a bit old, after a while.”

Harry Potter’s interview flitted through Mia’s mind, and it made her stiffen.

“You read the Quibbler?” she asked.

“Not all the time -- just when they’ve written something interesting,” said Jacob with a grin. “Like that article about Stubby Boardman and Sirius Black? Those photos! Almost had me believing their wacko theory, for a second...”

Thoroughly unamused, Mia tried to move past him. “I don’t have time for this -- ”

But Jacob once again seemed to have predicted her movement before she made it and cut her off.

“Mia -- may I call you Mia?”

“It’s either Hermia or Miss Flume to you,” Mia spat. She did not want to be on nickname terms with Jacob Cromwell.

“Hermia,” Jacob took this in stride, his voice going down a full decibel, “if you want me to get to the point...I know what you’ve been worrying about. What a lot more people have started worrying about, lately....”

Jacob glanced around the shop again, which prompted Mia to do the same. Once again, she could sense many of the shoppers there looking away quickly, so as to pretend they hadn’t been trying to listen in.

Oh great, Mia thought irritably, they’re probably looking at this whole exchange and thinking it’s some sort of lover’s spat.

The thought -- and Jacob’s seemingly obliviousness to how their physical proximity made them look -- made Mia glare at Jacob and take a marked step back as she started busying herself with arranging inventory on the closest shelf.

“And I suppose you’ve been worrying just as much yourself?” she growled disbelievingly under her breath.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Jacob asked, his mouth turned down in a confused frown.

“You forget, I remember your arrogant arse at school,” Mia said vindictively. “You’ve never worried about a damn thing in your life, Jacob Cromwell.”

Despite the lingering bewilderment in his expression, Jacob’s brows came together over his eyes in intense seriousness as he stepped closer to her again. 

“Look, Hermia,” he murmured so quietly only she could hear him, “I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you so much...but this thing is a lot bigger than us, than all of us. However much you might not like me, there’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon. And with how close you are to Hogwarts, I reckon you deserve to have some better reading than the stuff you’ve currently got.”

Very abruptly Jacob had pushed a pretty blue leather-bound book into Mia’s hands. She looked down at it, startled.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“I would hope you’d have seen this on stage, given your name,” he said with a slight wry smile. “But even if you’ve only read it...I think spending an evening reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening.”

With this cryptic remark, Jacob turned on his heel and swept off toward the door. Mia looked up from the cover, mouthing angrily before finally being able to conjure up a response.

“Wha -- what in the world is that supposed to mean?! Cromwell! Get back here!”

But by the time she’d pulled herself together enough to chase after him, Jacob had already disappeared from Hogsmeade with a CRACK.

~*~

Mia was left stewing in her juices for the rest of the day. There were points she didn’t even want to look at the book Jacob had so unceremoniously gifted her -- after all, she already had her own worn copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as well as all of Shakespeare’s other plays. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny that however annoying Jacob had been -- as annoying as he always was to her, quite frankly -- his word choice seemed way too pointed to not mean something.

“ -- you deserve to have some better reading -- ”

“ -- reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening -- ”

And so, later that afternoon on her lunch break, Mia opened the book and idly flip through the pages. Nothing seemed particularly special about the book, though -- it was the same text she’d read countless times when she was little, trying to entertain herself without leaving Honeydukes or her father. She used the Revealing Charm on the pages to see if any hidden text would appear, to no avail. There weren’t even any notations or markings of any sort on the pages that could hint to some sort of code.

You would think that a guy who runs around cursebreaking all willy-nilly would know the benefit of a proper code, Mia thought scornfully.

With a scoff, the chocolatier shut the book with a loud snap, leaving it behind on the counter in the kitchen as she returned to work.

~*~

Within a few days, Mia had completely forgotten about Jacob’s “gift.” It wasn’t hard to lose track of it, given the state of things both in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts. As OWL season began up at the school, Honeydukes and the other shops became busier, and Mia heard even more more bad news. It seemed that Umbridge had ordered several Aurors to help her forcibly evict Rubeus Hagrid from the grounds, only for them to fire several Stunning spells right into Minerva McGonagall’s chest when the Deputy Headmistress tried to intervene, sending her to St. Mungo’s and sending Hagrid running off into the forest. However much Mia hadn’t spoken much to Hagrid at school, considering how fond Hagrid was of Jacob Cromwell, she’d still always found him sweet in his own weird way, and Minerva McGonagall -- how anyone could dream to attack her, Mia couldn’t even fathom.

The worst news of all, though, was the one Mia received through an owl from Callie in the wee hours of the morning of June 19, 1996.

The eagle owl had woke Mia up out of a sound sleep with the amount of noise he made tapping against her closed window. No matter how tired and irritable the chocolatier was at being awoken so abruptly, however, her mind bolted awake with alarm when she took in the first few words.

Mia,

The Evening Prophet has just confirmed our worst fears.

You-Know-Who is back.

Mia felt like her heart had stopped.

No. No, no, no --

Her mind racing at a million miles a minute, she tore through the rest of the letter.

He and his Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries last night, supposedly getting all the way to the room that holds a series of prophecies. Nobody knows exactly what he was doing down there or what he was looking for, but the report says that Potter and Dumbledore and a couple of others were there to stop him. One of those people -- which confirms Harry Potter’s testimony about Peter Pettigrew somehow surviving! -- was Sirius Black, who died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange while fighting the Death Eaters. You-Know-Who and his people fled after the Minister and his support staff arrived.

I’m sorry if this is hard to read -- I’m having a lot of trouble not shaking. Oh, Mia, Mia, what are we going to do...?

Please stay safe. Please, take care of Dad and Mum.

Your Loving Sister,

Callie

Mia felt like her throat had clenched up, making her unable to breathe. She collapsed back into the chair in front of her desk, Callie’s letter fluttering down onto the floor.

So it was true. All along, the terrible feeling she’d had, the outcome she’d feared, but had so desperately, desperately didn’t want to be true...

The Dark Lord was back -- really back. The terrifying Dark Wizard that had been a bogeyman for Mia and her sisters, while they were at school -- the man who terrified the Wizarding World, while the Flumes huddled together in the safety of the shadow of Hogwarts...was back, and back at full strength. His army had been restored, thanks in large part to the Azkaban breakout and the dementors turning against their guards...and if the reports of giant activity could be believed, that army was soon going to be a much bigger one.

And worst of all...the Ministry of Magic had lied to them. They’d lied! They knew the danger, they knew how bad things were getting for both wizards and Muggles, and they’d lied! They’d sent representatives to Hogwarts, not to improve its failings or promote higher education, but to persecute anyone who didn’t crow the party line, all in an effort to cover up the fact that everything coming out of their mouths was a LIE!

Mia felt herself shaking with both terror and righteous fury as she cupped her hands over her face.

“...There’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon.”

The memory of Jacob Cromwell’s words were like cold poison in her blood. Tears spilled loose from Mia’s eyes as she gave a mad kick to the back of her desk, unable to hold in the violent emotions beating at the inside of her heart.

Mia had always been the sort to have faith in authority. Even despite all of the failings of the Hogwarts staff while she was at school, she at least always had faith that they cared about their students. But now...now she was forced to accept that the only thing the Minister had truly cared about was himself. And that was a truly bitter pill to swallow.

For the next hour, all Mia could do was sob at her desk. It wasn’t until she heard a CRACK outside of someone Apparating in the street that Mia shot out of her daze.

Her entire frame stiffening with irrational fear, Mia catapulted over to the window. When she looked out, though, she didn’t see a Death Eater standing in front of Honeydukes...but Florean.

For you see, Florean Fortescue had just received word about the Dark Lord’s return as well, and in an impulsive decision decided he had to make sure Mia was all right. It was only when he arrived that he realized just how early it was and therefore just how insensitive it would be to wake the whole house up, just to ensure Mia’s well-being. As fate would have it, though, Mia had been awake and seen his arrival -- and so within a minute, she’d come running downstairs in her oversized T-shirt, pajama pants, and slippers, right out into the street, to try to prevent him from leaving.

“Florean!”

Florean turned, startled. At the sight of Mia’s tear-stained, emotional face, though, he instantly melted. He swept right over to her, throwing his arms out and pulling her into his arms.

“Mia,” he breathed against the top of her head.

Mia clutched at the back of his shirt. “Florean...”

His arms should’ve been warm -- they’d always been so warm -- and yet now, in this moment, all she could feel was a numbing, paralyzing cold.

A War...what could she or her family hope to do, in the face of a War? Sure, Mia herself had been in the Dueling Club, but going up against Dark wizards? She’d never have thought she’d ever have to do that in a million years! And her sister and mother didn’t even have that distinction. And with her father’s condition...if Ambrosius turned into a dog, he’d be helpless against the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...

Mia hadn’t even realized how much she’d been shaking until Florean had fully descended upon her, securing her head in the crook of his neck and cradling her against his chest with his much taller frame like a blanket.

“Mia,” he whispered.

It was just her name, nothing more -- and yet the sound of it on his lips said so much. She could hear him wanting to comfort her, to reassure her, while also feeling as though he didn’t fully know how. She could hear his anxiety about the world: the heartbreak, seeing their whole peaceful world come crumbling down around their ears. She could hear his fears -- his fear for his grandfather, his shop, for her...the longing he felt, wishing that they’d be able to face this together as husband and wife, rather than just as associates and friends.

And what he said next, in such a soft, yet firm whisper, only seemed to make these feelings bloom into a blossom of understated, yet blazing courage.

“It’ll be okay.”

Mia choked. Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes as she clung to him more tightly than ever. Florean rocked her back and forth like a child, murmuring beside her hair.

“It w-will, Mia. I promise. He fell once before -- he will fall again. I p-promise you. ...I promise...”

Florean was never so articulate in words as he was on the page, but his sincerity rippled through every word all the same. And in that moment, all Mia could do was wrap herself up in his modest, understated courage, desperately longing to have the same kind of faith that he did.

#hermia flume #olin cresswell #hestia flume #dirk cresswell #callisto flume #jacob cromwell #florean fortescue #my writing #my fanfiction #cornelius fudge #dolores umbridge #yes olin wants to work as an advocate for beings #he was inspired after meeting and learning from remus lupin in his second year :) #so yeah of course 'half-breed' hater umbridge really doesn't approve of that :I #and yeah obviously jacob's 'gift' is more than it seems...but what...?

[fogfeather]

GUYS ITS FINALLY HERE (chapter one at least)

#ao3 #fanfic #the lunar chronicles #carswell thorne #cresswell #cress darnel #tlc #fanfiction #the rampion crew

[kiminicricket]

Masks Bonus Chapter

The following chapter is a bonus chapter I wrote of a story that my friend @moon-mirage is writing and I have been Beta-ing. It is the story of super-hero Thorne and Cress and their adventures with secret identities and superpowers, and it's so good, it inspired me to write for the first time in forever!

I think this was the most fun I have had writing a fic in a long time! And even more fun was being able to send it through to Moon Mirage for her reaction!

Hope you can take a moment to read and enjoy, and if you're feeling generous, leave a review, and be sure to check out Moon Mirage's fic, it's well worth the read!

Snippet:

He had to get back to her immediately. If he didn't- he refused to finish the thought. He sped back through the air as fast as he could go - faster than he had ever gone, even when running from Red, or the Mechanic. He promised himself that if he could just get to Cress in time, he was done with the stealing. He'd go full hero if he could just get to Cress in time. Hell he'd give up the gig altogether and go off to live on a farm in the country if it would keep her safe...

#the lunar chronicles #tlc #cresswell #cress #thorne #fanfic #my writing #superhero au #fanfiction #tlc fanfiction

[justminawrites]

Summary:

Six years after the Lunar Revolution, everything has changed for Crescent Moon Darnel. Now a top notch Lunar government official, Cress spends her time sifting through Lunar databases identifying the millions of people who went missing during Levana's reign, when she comes across a glitch that holds the fate of the entire country in its code. With the help of former lunar guard Jacin Clay, Cress races against time to uncover a dangerous plot that could change the increasingly volatile tensions between Earth and Luna forever.

#tlc #lunar chronicles #crescent moon darnel #jacin clay #cress #jacin #tlc cinder #cresswell #jacinter #carswell thorne #kaider #tlc scarlet #tlc wolf #ze'ev kesley #wolflet #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #tlc fanfiction #tlc fandom #ao3fic #angst and fluff #assassination plot #family drama #hurt/comfort #winter hayle blackburn #linh cinder #garrison clay #marissa meyer #action

[sparkygurly227]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Crescent Moon "Cress" Darnel/Carswell Thorne Characters: Crescent Moon "Cress" Darnel, Carswell Thorne Additional Tags: Fluff, Romance, 100 ways to say i love you Series: Part 13 of SparkyGurl's Multifandom 100 ways to say I Love You Summary:

Multifandom 100 ways to say I love you

#13 - Cress x Thorne - Sorry I'm Late

#cress x thorne #cresswell #the lunar chronicles #tlc #fanfiction #100 ways to say i love you

[professorlegaspi]

#libby cresswell #galena zwingle #celias journey #zwell #although I never got to the juicy relationship part #fanfiction

[stardustto-dust]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @the-ever-flowing-styx @doppel-dean-er and @pillowpetbee Thank you!

Three Ships: Trobed, Lumity, Eleanor x Chidi

First Ever Ship: probably a bit niche but Cresswell from The Lunar Chronicles.

Last Movie: My Little Pony A New Generation

Last Song: music just changed from It's Called Freefall by Rainbow Kitten Surprise to Little Dark Age by MGMT

Currently Reading: I keep starting books and not finishing them and I haven't read anything other than fanfiction in a few weeks, but the last book I read was a few short stories from a book called The End of The World is A Cul-De-Sac. I didn't like them that much, but I think that's just me and my preferences. I'm going on a very long trip soon and I always read a lot on trips, so I'll probably bring Lord of the Flies, which I started in September, read a few pages and forgot about.

Currently Watching: I think I'm watching Neon Evangelion Genesis. I watched the first episode a few days ago and liked it so I'll probably continue, but there's also a chance I'll forget about it now.

Currently Consuming: Just finished having lunch, which was crackers and hummus, a protein bar, grapes and a carrot.

Currently Craving: water ( i have water but I am too writing this to drink it) and ibuprofen (ow ow ow)

Tags: @labyrinthinemole @treesandpebbles @scottiedoessknow @rainbows60 @thepencilsnameissteve @teawithastrangerr @kittycatra-6881 (I think a lot of the rest of my mutuals have already done it!)

[impossiblesuitcase]

Acts of Service

The five love languages are five different ways of expressing and receiving love: words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. 

Carswell likes coffee.

Cress knows this. He always wakes up earlier than her—when one lives in a satellite, keeping track of day and night is unnecessary; Cress would wake and sleep by her natural body clock, except for those times Mistress Sybil would force her to pull all-nighters tracking down some unsuspecting Earthen politician. Thorne has evidently not rid himself of his military training and wakes up at 6 a.m. sharp despite all claims of needing his beauty sleep. She’s more of a quarter-past-8 kind of gal.

At least, that’s on the days he lets her sleep in. When they are on duty for an antidote run, he knocks on her door and calls her name sweetly at 7. It’s never a rude awakening.

No matter the time she finally rises, Cress comes out into the galley rubbing sleep from her eyes, inhaling the aroma of coffee that he has already drunk for the morning. Even when she has a cold or allergies and can’t smell a thing, she can always taste it on his lips.

———

“Stardust, it’s starting!”

Cress’s sleepy mind startles at the nickname. Somehow the resounding pops and crackles of fireworks painting the sky are not enough to keep her awake, but Thorne’s crisp voice can jolt her upright.

Maybe it’s the way he says it so excitedly. Maybe it’s the way she still feels giddy that—a tentative four months into their relationship—he’s already come up with names reserved just for her. This is her favourite—arising from when they’d been marvelling at the view of the stars from the Rampion’s orbit and he’d traced his thumb over her cheeks and told her that her freckles looked like a constellation.

Cress peers past heavy eyelids at the 9 p.m. sky. Blues and reds and oranges explode above her. It’s her first fireworks display. She’s been bursting about it all day.

She can’t keep awake.

She yawns for the umpteenth time and Thorne’s chuckling reaches her ear. He takes hold of her shoulders and guides her down to the grass. This is nice grass, cool and pillowy, she thinks as she lets herself be laid. Her thick coat cuts the breeze, and she’s so, so warm. It’s a poor view of the fireworks—only tails of the bursts are visible in the bottom left corner of her vision. Then none at all as she closes her eyes contentedly.

Thorne hovers over her and something warm settles on her lips. He pulls away. “Is that how you wanted it to go?”

“Mhmm,” she hums.

Cress told Thorne of one of her most treasured fantasies aboard the satellite, back when he was a mere crush: the two of them on a river bank, fireworks above and violins around and lips joined together. Tonight, the absence of swooning violins or singing rivers cannot steal the magic of his kiss. Now with her goal achieved, it seems her mind can finally rest.

“Wolf? Make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped while I’m gone, will ya?” says Thorne, voice drifting as he stands up high above her.

A grunt, and rustling as feet move behind her head. There’s lighter movement in the grass as more follow; Scarlet calls after Thorne, “You work her too hard with those shipments, Captain.”

Thorne doesn’t respond for a long, long time. Cress gives up on waiting for his answer. It will be a twenty-minute walk back to the Rampion, except Cress doesn’t have the energy to pick up even a butterfly. I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thinks vaguely, two minutes and I’ll be stronger.

Something nudges her arm. She’s pulled upright.

“Hey, Stardust,” Thorne whispers, husky and low. “Drink this.”

He puts something to her lips. It’s warm and steaming. She opens her mouth and sweet liquid pours in as he tips up her chin.

She wills her eyes to open. He’s right before of her, crouched on the grass. The sky has darkened.

“Weren’t you going somewhere?” she murmurs between gulps.

“I already went.”

It takes a while for the coffee to kick in, even longer to realise that she’d been asleep for at least twenty minutes. Though the firework display is long finished, the afterimage lingers behind her eyes. Stunning, vibrant and infinitely better than in the netdramas. 

She offers him the rest of the coffee, but he wraps an arm around her shoulder and pushes it back into her hand.

———

“Which one?”

“You choose.”

“Carswell.”

It’s 8 o’clock, and rather than enjoy his morning caffeine from the comforts of his ship, Thorne decides to venture out for his fix. New Rome is the perfect place for breakfast. It’s bright and dazzling with its winking fountains and fathomless ancient buildings. It’s more spacious than the claustrophobic streets of New Beijing or Los Angeles, but populated enough to tell them that they’re in the right place.

Every café is crooning their names in a soprano’s aria.

Cress can’t enjoy it. Six months post-revolution, Cress and Thorne are now under a contract beyond the American Republic to distribute the Letumosis antidote. They had an extra large shipment order in Manilla yesterday, and right as they were packing for a leisurely trip to Italy, Thorne Shipping Inc. was summoned for an emergency outbreak in Shanghai. They could handle a short detour.

It took six hours. Neither slept until 3 a.m. And yet Thorne decided to wake her up at bright and early 7:15.

“Crescent,” he mimics her reprimanding whine, “You decide.”

They’re situated in front of two cafés. They’ve stood here for a good three minutes mindlessly arguing their points. It’s an hour later than he likes his coffee, and Cress isn’t used to a grumpy Carswell.

(She isn’t used to getting annoyed with him, either.)

“I always pick! You’re the one who dragged me out here so early—you decide!”

“I want you to.”

Cress balls her fist. Glares up, up, up at him—is he straightening his back just to make her seem shorter?

“I’m serious, ba–” she catches herself before she calls him ‘babe’ as an insult. She’s attempted all manner of endearments—dear, babe, darling—but they all turn into popping candy on her tongue. When Wolf calls Scarlet ‘dear’ it sounds so tender. From Cress’s mouth, she worries she’ll sound like an old granny berating her curmudgeonly husband for tracking mud through her kitchen. 

One thing is for sure, she won’t let the first use be in anger.

Thorne must interpret her pause for something sinister. He raspberries his lips, turning away from her, muttering, “It’s not like I’m asking you to leave the crown jewels on my doorstep…”

Her distraction slips back to irritation. “The last three places I chose, you hated!”

“I didn’t hate them—”

“‘An abysmal attack on my innocently-underserving palette,’” she air-quotes. “I don’t want to sit through another meal of your complaints.”

“Oh come on! You made bad choices!”

“I chose you, didn’t I?”

The ire flees his expression. “I’m tired, Cress." He rubs at his eyes, frustrated from this ongoing pull and slack. “Aces, and here I thought this would be a nice morning activity…”

Cress reels back on the stone pavement. She is ruining this nice morning? What about him? He woke her up when he knew she’d be exhausted. And when she agreed to come along even though she didn’t want to, because she loves him and chooses to look past his indiscretions, he’s nothing but difficult! All he had to do was choose one blasted café and—

Murmured Italian breezes past her ears. A posse of locals is seated under a pavilion ten paces ahead, witnessing the whole spectacle. They hide behind ceramic cups and focaccia and conspicuously gossip about the “lovers’ quarrel in the street.” These are the only words said in Universal; clearly intended for the lovers to hear.

Cress refocuses on Thorne, who has folded arms and bags under his eyes and an etched-in scowl.

Stupid. They are so stupid. They’re standing on public street in one of the most beautiful cities in the world nicking each other over coffee.

Without warning, Cress seizes his elbow and yanks him away from the onlookers, blindly crashing through the closest door. 

Thorne almost bangs his head on the awnings. “Cre—!”

“Two large coffees, please!” she yells.

The door chime tinkles, the only other sound in the establishment. Her voice is much, much louder than she’d realised.

Only one table is in use. The patron snarls a condescending, “tourists,” and returns to his port and cappuccino. The green-haired, bored-eyed barista glares at them.

“Uh, two large coffees, one black, one with milk and sugar, per favoure,” Cress stammers. She all but drags Thorne to a quaint corner table and collapses into a chair, hiding her face behind her hands.

The netscreen is quietly murmuring a morning newsfeed. Thorne sits opposite her with a heaving sigh, apparently not pleased to have won the argument.

Or, now she’s thinking about it, maybe he is just tired.

Cress lowers her hands. Breathes deeply. Her exhaustion sloughs away to make room for embarrassment. Yes, she had been irked to be woken so early. Now his intention—“a nice morning activity”—makes her heart ache. She scavenges her mind for something to say to ease this ludicrous tension they’ve boiled up as Thorne stares blankly at the netscreen.

Part of her wishes Scarlet and Wolf hadn’t left the Rampion to return to their farm. Scarlet would’ve straightened the two of them out by now.

Minutes pass in contemplation. Shaking her head to clear her inhibitions, she begins, “Carswe—ah!”

Cress gasps and clutches a hand to her chest. The barista has materialised beside her.

“Your drrinks-ah,” she says, her accent heavy and laden with apathy. The cups are dropped carelessly onto the table.

“O-oh,” Cress emits shakily. “I didn’t see you.”

A slight curve to her lip makes Cress wonder if the woman did that on purpose.

“Thanks,” Thorne says before sticking into his drink.

Cress reaches for hers, sips, and hisses at the heat. The barista stares at her.

“It’s lovely,” Cress compliments. Another scorching sip. The barista knocks the table with her leg. “Y-yes?”

The woman holds out an ID scanner. “You pay?”

“Oh!” Cress places down her cup and flashes her wrist under the scanner. After double-checking the transaction, the woman raises an eyebrow and clips away. 

Cress leans over, whispering: “Don’t you pay after?”

Thorne chuckles, already brightening with only a few sips. “At restaurants, yes. Cafés, you usually pay before.”

“Oh.”

Steam wafts up to her face. Cress tentatively blows on her coffee and risks a gulp. The heat paralyses her tongue. Frowning, she returns the cup to the table and leans back in her chair.

A beautiful, lilting voice reaches her; the woman on the netscreen is showering them in an operatic solo. If Cress closes her eyes, it’s just like her time in her satellite. L’amore mi fa dimenticare ogni cosa brutta, she sings.

“Too hot?”

Her eyes flutter open. Thorne has his thumb pointing at her cup.

“A bit.”

Thorne takes her hand; she entwines their fingers, but he laughs, says, “Hang on,” and pries away. He ties her fingers around the creamy beige handle of his cup. “Mine’s cooler.”

There’s at least half left. After a cautionary sip, it is indeed a safe lukewarm. She expects him to take hers in turn. Instead, he holds the corners of the mahogany table with his hands.

“Look, Cress,” he says suddenly, anxiously, “I’m sorry I woke you up. I just thought…I don’t know. I was thinking with how excited you were to come here, I figured you’d want more time to explore before we’re sucked into antidote runs. It was inconsiderate of me.”

Her feet curl in her open-toed flats.

The singer is reaching the crescendo, her words muddied with vibrato and indistinguishable. One word, though, pierces through—clear as a firework in a cloudless night sky.

Like stars from her satellite but brighter. He’s here, with stubble on his chin and milk foam in the corners of his mouth. 

Heart blazing, she leans forward, forgets the exhaustion, forgets the petty arguing, the onlookers' scrutiny or the massive shipment to deliver after lunch.

“Thank you,” she tests, and with a breath to prepare, “amore.” 

His hands fall. He’s startled—a raised brow, a slight gaping. Where has that smooth man of hers gone, who can match any cliché flirt with a money note that will ring in the lucky woman’s head for years to come?

(She likes this version better.)

A breath later, Thorne grins. He takes her hand under the table, squeezing.

In all her favourite Italian operas, there are only a few words she can recognise or translate. But always unmistakable is love.

He’s pretty unmistakable to her, too.

———

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!”

All their friends are laughing, but Cress’s laughter has a head-on collision with her heart.

It’s their first reunion on Luna since the revolution ended—all nine of them here. Everyone except Cinder and Iko is heavily jetlagged. That, and gorging themselves on Scarlet’s decadent chocolate cake has done a number on their solemnity. Exhaustion and sugary drinks and dancing and party games makes them all act like a litter of five-year-old’s.

Thorne is the worst of the bunch. He ties Jacin’s shoelaces together and writes ‘Captain is King’ on Cinder’s dining table for the maids to discover tomorrow. But he focuses most of his efforts on his sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend. Stealing food off her plate, balancing coasters on her head. It’s once he picks her up and tosses her onto his shoulder during her delightful conversation with Winter that she knows to exact vengeance.

She whines until he sets her down and races over to the drinks table, grabbing the slippery cubes from the ice bucket. Then she approaches him all nonchalant and taps his shoulder, and when he leans down to meet her, she shoves the ice down his shirt.

His girly shriek makes them all howl with laughter. And then—staring at her, something indiscernible but strong on his face—he says it.

You’re so annoying.

A day later, Cress pulls Iko into her guest suite.

“How do I fix this?”

After five seconds of observing her anxious pacing, Iko takes Cress’s wrists and eases her onto a futon. “Fix what? You were messing around, Cress. He isn’t mad at you.”

Her hands come up to claw through her hair. “He said he hates me!”

“He didn’t say that.”

“He meant that.”

“Not in that way. It’s an expression. I tell Cinder I hate her when she switches the stilettos I chose for her to boots. I don’t mean it literally.”

Of course. Even Iko, an android, is better at deciphering human interactions than Cress is. Her formative years of total isolation are becoming less and less recurrent in her memories, not when she has skyscrapers and thunderstorms and kisses and best friends, but in moments like these, one thing is certain. She is a total dunce.

“Hey,” Iko says as if hearing her thoughts. “I didn’t think he was upset. He was smiling and laughing!”

“That could be a sarcastic smile,” she grumbles. “A ‘what did I get myself into?’ smile.”

Iko’s sympathetic look is definitely a ‘you’re overthinking it’ smile. “Why don’t you just ask him? I don’t think your relationship is solely contingent on you not putting ice down his shirt.” 

Ask him. Yeah, because Iko probably thinks he’ll tell her that he didn’t mean anything by it. That he’ll say he still loves her. But a creeping vine of insecurity grows around her heart. What if this event is just part of a build-up of little things, quirks and idiosyncrasies that a socially inept, awkward satellite girl can’t rid herself of and a reasonably-minded Earthen can’t become accustomed to?

You’re so annoying.

Iko fists her hands on her hips, surveying the pristine suite. “Listen Cress, I know I’ve sold myself as a relationship expert. ‘Truth is, my romantic education is mostly from netdramas.”

“Mine too.”

“And so you would know how often characters have misunderstandings that are blown way out of proportion. Can you say that you’ve never said anything to him that he could have misinterpreted?”

She wants to snap a “No,” but her conscience brings one remark to mind.

“I chose you, didn’t I?”

Iko sighs (which is apparently something she can do). “I don’t know what Thorne meant. I don’t live in his head—don't want to; I imagine it’s a lot of ‘Rampion, Cress, ‘I’m amazing’.’ But maybe he’s meaning something different than what he’s saying.”

Cress buries her fingers in the plush futon, willing this hopelessness to leave her. “Like what?” she asks, voice small.

Iko crosses the room and plucks the singular pink rose from the vase on the windowsill. Thorne brought it along from Earth so Cress would have “something from home” while on Luna. How peculiar that her place of birth has become foreign soil. Thorne knows that about her. He knows a lot of things about her.

“Maybe the meaning is lying right in front of you,” says Iko, twirling the flower between her synthetic fingers.

You are so annoying, Cress tells her brain. Why can’t you figure this out?

———

Netsearch: which napkin does one cough up their stomach into when fine dining—the left or the right?

“Are you all right, Cress?” Kai asks, brow furrowing.

It doesn’t matter how sweet and sincere he is, those words are arsenic coming from emperor-high-spice-tolerance. Lunar shells didn’t get flavourful food. They got nutritious sustenance necessary for continued existence. Spice was a luxury.

Her response is something akin to a wheeze, frantically shaking hands and blind grasping for liquids.

Something lukewarm and heavy is placed in her hand. The green tea, fresh and steaming from the pot mingles poorly with her already burning mouth. She downs the entire stock anyway.

“Pace yourself,” Thorne coaches. He’s ready with the teapot when she relinquishes the china cup and refills it.

“Could’ve used that warning earlier,” she croaks out, wiping her mouth with the satin napkin. 

Kai is genuinely apologetic, if a little amused under that congenial placidity. “We can get you some ice water or milk if you’d like.”

Don’t mock me further.

With a terse, “No thank you,” she picks up the noodles with her chopsticks and dumps them into Thorne’s bowl. She’s only a little comforted by the fact that it’s only the three of them in the dim yet stunningly ornate dining hall. At least her dignity will die quietly.

Thorne returns the pot to its setting. “You should really consider changing your menu, pal. My girlfriend will forgive you for burning her guts ‘cause she’s so nice, whereas your girlfriend…” 

“Cinder is”—a cough—“lovely,” Cress reprimands. Thorne nudges her hand towards her cup. She dutifully takes a sip, placating the embers in her throat.

“I will take that into consideration,” Kai acknowledges regardless. His hands fold over one another a little uncertainly and he mumbles, “I don’t want to scare her off…”

Thorne darts his attention away from watching Cress drink to watching the emperor. A glint forms in his eyes. He flagrantly leans across the immaculate place settings, wrinkling the tablecloth and asks, “So when is the lovely lady coming here?”

Kai picks up a prawn and sheds its shell. “Next month.” 

Thorne picks up a prawn in tandem, but tears the shell away with his teeth and spits it onto his plate. A little snark towards Kai’s perfect etiquette, maybe to establish himself as Captain and therefore the one in charge, though he isn’t the one seated at the head of the table.

When Kai isn’t around, Thorne is the paragon of proper prawn etiquette.

Cress giggles at Thorne’s little power play but plays it off with a, “I’m so excited! We haven’t seen her in so long.”

Thorne swallows loudly and wipes his mouth on his white sleeves. “Are you excited, Kai?”

Kai tenses, just briefly. The nearby servants approach the table and remove the dishes, even those untouched. A new line of servants set delicate sashimi before them. The pots of green tea are whisked away and replaced with fresh ones.

“Your Majesty,” Thorne drawls, hands cupping his chin. “I’m waiting.”

Mr. Immune-to-all-levels-of-Scoville is furiously red at the mention of the moon queen. He unhouses the pot of jasmine rice and forks up a large bite, eating it too quickly for an emperor. He swallows and grumbles, “That’s one way to describe it.”

Catching Kai’s notice, Cress picks up her tea and tosses an indicative look between him and the drink as she sips. Kai blushes further, seizes his own cup and swiftly downs it, tempering the redness. Well, sort of.  He then becomes remarkably interested in spearing salmon onto his fork.

She tries to hide her grin. Something tells her that Kai is as desperate to see Cinder as she is to see him. It’s never voiced, but when Cress and Thorne go to-and-fro from Earth and Luna to drop off and pick up the Letumosis antidote the first thing out of either monarch’s mouth is to ask about the other.

And Thorne is plucking the teapot from the table and…refilling her cup again.

———

Carswell does like coffee, doesn’t he?

He consistently orders a large, even an extra large, wherever they are in the world. Cress sticks with a small because too many jitters make her stomach roil.

Soon a pattern emerges. He orders these drinks this size and drinks half, a third, sometimes even just a quarter, and then he’ll set it in her lap and ask her to finish it for him. It absolutely stumps her that he doesn’t just order a medium. One time, she offered to swap her small with his large just to see if he could get through it. Even then, he saved most of it for her.

(She begins to ask waitresses for sugar packets in advance because there’s only so much bitterness she can take.)

And it’s not just coffee! At restaurants the rim of his cola glass gets smudged with her lip-gloss when he insists he’s quenched. At his parents’ house his favourite maid Janette tells him that she still stocks the raspberry lime cordial that he guzzled in his childhood. He drinks it with nostalgic reverence and then insists Cress tries it. She can’t fight the disgusted pinch in her nose when she dares a sip, yet the proud look on Janette’s face guilts her enough that when Thorne leaves it to her, she gulps down the rest.

She wants to tell him it’s an egregious waste of money. It has to be a leftover earmark from his abundant upbringing. Cress wants to ask and starts to ask and doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to think her ungrateful—after all, he’s giving them to her, not throwing them away. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. As they pass the seven month threshold of their relationship she gains more confidence; she’ll tell him off for his shameless humour, or his attempts to evade responsibility, yet this never manages to leave her tongue.

How can he read her as easily as his favourite net-toons, and yet he’s illegible to her?

———

Thorne is beet red. That’s what Cress would say, although she’s never actually seen a beet before.

She can hear his feet scraping along the rocky terrain. The path was smoother at the start of the hike—now, two hours in, only the most intrepid explorers attempt this winding, steep route.

Her satellite workouts hadn’t prepared her for the desert, but the desert prepared her for this. She’s in better shape than she thought if the lack of wheezing and steadiness in her calves means anything.

Laboured breathing travels behind her. He’s given up trying to disguise it.

Cress glances back. Thorne is watching her each step carefully.

“Amore—” she begins.

“I’m fine,” Thorne pants, rough and breathless.

“At least let me take the bag—”

“It’s heavy. It’ll tire you out.”

His curtness makes her face forward again, pondering over some other excuse she could use to get him to take it easy. Looking ahead allows the scenery to recapture her attention.

Yosemite National Park is the most awe-inspiring breath of nature she’s ever seen. Every blink of the eye is too long; she just wants to stop and paint canvases of every angle of the towering peaks and glittering lakes. The high-definition panoramas that used to spread over her satellite walls are pathetic when compared to the plant-perfumed air and rich soil.

Thorne set a whole day aside for it. They’re well prepared—caps and full-length clothes to cut the glare, hiking boots and nutritious snacks for the journey. Thorne had reminded her repeatedly that morning to fill up her water bottle and had done it for her while she busied herself applying sunscreen.

“Did you fill up yours?” she’d asked, meeting him in the galley. She caught her reflection in the mixing bowl on the counter and jumped. The white cast of the sunscreen rendered her a ghostly geisha.

Thorne had been busy stuffing a third muesli bar into her rucksack. “Last night. It’s already packed.”

She scrubbed at her cheeks. “Where’s your bag?”

“In the podship. I’ll carry both of them.”

His backpack had been in the podship, and he was carrying them both. But thirty minutes into the hike, they’d taken a pit stop and he found no drink bottle at all. It had fallen out of his bag in the podship dock. 

They are nowhere near a store of any kind, passing travellers have no extra bottle to spare, and their podship is parked a forty-five-minute flight away from the Rampion. 

He refuses to drink any of her water. It’s a four-hour round-trip, and they’re only just halfway through.

Cress fiddles with the buckles on the straps as they crest a hill, thoughts overtaken when a trickling catches her ears. She screeches to a halt. 

“Whoa!” Thorne lurches up behind her, arms spread out to catch her. “It’s steep, Stardust,” he warns. “Don’t go stopping that quickly.”

Cress beams, too distracted by what lies ahead. At the bottom of this bend is a sparkling blue river. 

She darts her eyes back at him again. Drops of sweat are joining the redness. 

“Time for a break?”

The river is cool and rapid under her hands. She uses the drops to slick back the strands of hair annoying the side of her neck. Thorne quickly dumps the backpacks onto a tree root and falls to his knees by the river. He cups water to his hands and splashes his face.

Cress nudges him with her water bottle.

“It’s yours.”

“Amore,” she intones, “I’m not thirsty. I’ve been drinking as we walked. You, on the other hand, haven’t had a drop since breakfast.”

He sighs deeply and sits up. “How much do you have left?”

“Half.” Actually, more like one-third.

“And we’re halfway through. Save that for the rest.”

She scoffs, disbelieving. How could it be so frustrating for him to be so considerate? Why couldn’t he just take her drink when he obviously needs it more than her?

Cress unscrews the lid and holds it up to his mouth. “Carswell.”

He bats it away sternly. “I won’t have you getting heat stroke again.”

They hold a staring contest for several seconds. Three. Four. Five. 

“Fine.” She stands, brushing twigs from her knees. “I think I heard a spring up that hill. This water is muddy, but it’ll be clean up there.”

The water sloshes around the bottle as she trudges away. She realises, with a start, that the lid is still unscrewed and now some is spilling onto her fingertips. She hastily seals it.

Can’t waste a drop.

The spring is hidden behind a tree and requires a rather impressive uphill jump past a boulder to reach. She crouches by the burbling stream and tips the bottle to it. It’s clear and cold and she crosses her fingers that it’s not full of parasites. Their water bottles have in-built filtration, so she doesn’t worry too much.

Questions hound at her. Despite his stubbornness, she’s always known Carswell to be self-preserving. His skincare products are all fragrance-free, paraben-free, alcohol-free. He drinks soy milk because it’s better for his digestion and he only buys high-grade 90% cocoa chocolate because the cheap stuff is “for weaklings, Cress.” He cares about his body, he takes care of his health, so why won’t he now?

The water overflows in her bottle, trickling down her arm and soaking her long-sleeved shirt.

“I won’t have you getting heat stroke again.”

She still remembers it. Out in the desert, consciousness slipping away, the burning soles of her feet and unshed tears from his rejection. He’d given her all the water, and that was truly the only reason she was still breathing today.

Drink it all.

I’ve had my fill.

Her knees sink to the mossy ground.

He asked Wolf to guard her while she was off-guard. He carries both backpacks so it’s not heavy on her shoulders. He walks behind her in case she trips and falls.

He always gives her his drinks, even when he’s in desperate need of water.

Cress screws on the lid and scurries down the hill, not even taking caution on the boulder manoeuvre. Thorne is still by the river, flushed even to his neck.

“Carswell!”

He startles. “What’s wrong? Did you trip?”

She collapses in front of him, one leg drawn into the water. It takes a moment of panting to catch her breath. “Thank you.”

It takes him a moment to process her words. “For what?”

“For always taking care of me. For always making sure I’m safe. But, Cars—you can’t take good care of me if you aren’t taking care of yourself.” She picks up his hand and holds out the bottle in the other. “I’ve had my fill.”

Recognition flits past his eyes, and finally, finally, he accepts the bottle and drinks.

Cress leans forward, resting her head on his sternum. His free arm encircles her. They’re still both hot and sticky. They don’t separate.

He polishes off the bottle. “I just…” he starts, voice smoother than the parched before. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I know. And I am.”

Her hands curl into his, tightly intertwined. She presses a kiss there. “You’re still hot.”

A surprised snort. “Um, when have I ever not bee—”

Steadying her core, Cress springs to her feet, gripping him fiercely and using all her well-watered strength to fling him forward. He cries out as he somersaults right into the water.

“Wha—Cress!”

She jumps right in after him.

———

Cress stands behind the countertop in the galley, humming as she breads chicken and sliced eggplant. She dips them first in the flour, then the eggs, smothers them with crumbs and lays them on a baking tray.

Arms wrap around her waist. “Dinner?” Thorne enquires.

“Yep!” she chirps. “Scarlet’s recipe. You know, I never knew cooking could be so fun and rewarding!”

“Mm. Remind me to teach you how to make my world-famous L.A. sub.” 

A scoff. “You have a world-famous recipe?”

“I am famous, and therefore any dish I make is—by relation—famous.” Then he cranes his neck, peering over her shoulder. “Wait, eggplant?”

“I like it!”

“The chicken is right there.”

“Eggplant is a great meat alternative, it’s healthy and low in calories,” she parrots, remembering Scarlet’s detailed instructions. Some notes on the recipe she had to translate from French—Michelle Benoit’s cursive script.

“You’re so weird.”

She glances up at him. His nose is scrunched in disgust, but—seeing the shift in her eyes—softens.

“Hey, I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re weird and I love you, and I love that you’re weird.”

Her mouth parts in an o. Then he’s pecking that mouth, squeezing her shoulders and trotting off to the cockpit. “Here—let me switch Darla to standby. I’ll come help.” 

She returns to her work, trying to recall the process. Was it eggs first, then flour? No, flour first and…

Maybe the meaning is lying right in front of you.

Cress smiles. 

(Loved, 

Loved, 

Loved.)

———

Cress likes coffee.

They’ve synchronised their body clocks and now both wake at 7:45. On weekends, he’ll sleep in well past 10 and she gets to be the one doing the waking up. They have their morning coffee together, and she’ll stick with water and tea for the rest of the day. Carswell still brings her refills, but he now orders medium-sized drinks and finishes them himself.

She thought him impossible to read, yet Carswell, more often than not, speaks through his actions. She learns that when he rests his hand on the bench next to her thigh he wants her to hold it. Realises how needlessly grateful he is when she restocks his hair gel without him asking.

Maybe he’s starting to understand her a little better too. He starts to explain why he does things. He tells her now that he wants her to choose the restaurant even if he won’t like it because Sybil never let her have any control over her life. He tells her that he’ll say things sometimes by instinct that he doesn’t mean, and sometimes, the things she says hurt him too. He tells her he doesn’t regret a second of being with her.

It’s an equal rate of exchange: she’ll take a sip from his cup because it puts his mind at ease, and he’ll assure her that he loves her because she craves the reminders.

Cress loves coffee, and more importantly, him.

———

Notes

Thanks for reading. Just a note: I have adjusted Cress's age in this fic so that she is 18.

Read a deleted scene from this here

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @wassupnye

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #carswell thorne #cress darnel #cresswell #prince kai #emperor kai #linh cinder #tlc fanfiction #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #cresswell fanfiction

[midnightsnapdragon]

Oops I’m bad at tumblr. I think I’m supposed to use this thing lol: Yayyyy! I’m a huge fan of all your stuff on Ao3 and have been dying for more good Cresswell fic lately :) How about: “It still surprises him, sometimes.”

...

“Carswell?”

Thorne bites back a swear word and swivels around in his girlfriend’s office chair, grinning widely. “Cress! You’re back early!” With one hand behind his back, he tries to close the program he’d been snooping in.

Cress leans against the doorway of her office and gives him a shy look through her hair. “You know we have security cameras in here, right?”

Uh-oh. Thorne forces himself to keep grinning. “Yeah?”

“And I keep an eye on my office 24/7.” She waves her phone at him, where a little app shows him a bird’s-eye view of himself, seated at her computer.

A drop of sweat creeps down the back of his neck. Shell Tech is a top information security company, and Cress is known to be its secret weapon. That’s why he was sent here in the first place. Carswell Thorne is six months deep undercover trying to get Shell’s secrets out of this five-foot-tall, twenty-four-year-old nerd, and if he just blew his cover because he forgot to disable one camera, he is never going to hear the end of it from his bosses. “Right,” he says, tilting his head with a quizzical smile.

Cress laughs. “So if you were planning to surprise me, this kind of isn’t the best place to do it!”

Thorne relaxes. “Oh. Yeah, you got me. Kind of dumb, huh?”

Her eyes widen. “No!” She steps closer, her fingers knitted together in front of her stomach: a bashful gesture that he’s starting to see less and less as their relationship progresses. “No,” she says again. “It’s really sweet of you. I was actually thinking we could go out for drinks after work, if you’re not too ...” Then she sees the computer screen Thorne is trying to shield with his body. “... busy,” she finishes, frowning. “Is that ... the beta?”

He glances over his shoulder, as if in surprise. “Oh. I guess. Is that what you were working on?”

“It’s kind of an important project.” She lets her hands fall. Crap. She’s not in bashful mode anymore. “What were you doing here?”

If he doesn’t come up with a really, really good cover story in the next five seconds, he can say good-bye to both his mission and his career.

“Okay, full disclosure? I was trying to see your calendar,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish way. “I know your birthday is coming up, and I’ve always wanted to throw someone a surprise party. But you can’t exactly do that if the person is already busy, right?”

Cress’s face lights up. Without preamble, she throws her arms around him, and he catches her and hugs her close. With him in a seated position and her standing, there’s not even much of a height difference to deal with. In fact, he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a few minutes. But only because she’s warm and soft and smells nice. No one ever said you couldn’t find pleasure in your work.

“You were going to throw me a party?” The words are muffled against his neck.

Thorne smiles into her hair. “Yup. And invite all your coworkers who hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” she says unconvincingly. “I’m sure if they just gave you a chance ...”

“Well, then this is the perfect opportunity.”

Looks like his cover is still intact. Carswell Thorne, devoted romantic partner and thrower of parties. It still surprises him, sometimes, how utterly naïve this girl is, how trusting, and so tragically gullible. This isn’t even the first time she’s caught him trying to snoop on her tech conglomerate’s projects. Next time, he promises himself. Next time, I’ll get her secrets. I just need a little more time.

“Carswell?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you.”

Thorne becomes aware of a warm, expanding feeling behind his ribcage. He shuts his eyes and lets out a breath into Cress’s hair. “I really like you, too. But you already knew that.”

She pulls away. For a moment he’s afraid that she’s detected something in his voice, that he’s somehow given himself away, but her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks turning pinker every second.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling down at him. “I already knew.”

...

“Jeez, Cress. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Cress says, and pulls something out of her pocket. It’s a cell phone, smudged with fingerprints and locked with a measly 8-character code. “Here. I got something for you.”

Linh Garan, founder and CEO of Shell Tech, frowns at her across his desk, but he takes the phone and turns it over in his hands. “Is it his? The agent’s?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How did you even get it?”

“I ... picked his pocket.” She feels unsure of herself just saying it, like she might be boasting or lying. But she’s not. She went through hours and hours of YouTube tutorials and even got Cinder, Garan’s adopted daughter, to practice with her. Which wasn’t hard, seeing as Cinder would have signed up for anything that made “that idiot American” look like a chump. In the end, Thorne hadn’t felt a thing when she slipped the phone from his jacket. Of course, she was hugging him at the time, and he was already flustered knowing he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Guilty people never consider the possibility that someone else might be deceiving them.

It still surprises her, sometimes. How easy it is to play someone who thinks they’ve got you wrapped around their finger.

Garan raises his eyebrows at the phone, clearly impressed. “Well, this is obviously Rikan-issue. We’ll do a full scan and decryption and have it back to you before you leave for drinks. If it’s his work phone, odds are we can get a lot of intel out of it. Good work, Cress.”

“Thanks.”

"And you know you don’t have to do this, right? Rikan’s the one that planted him here. We’d be well within our rights to fire him. Don’t feel pressured to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Cress bites her lip. “I know. I won’t.”

“Good.”

When she leaves the office, she finds Thorne chatting up Michelle Benoit, co-founder of Shell Tech, who’s holding a coffee cup and nodding along politely to everything he says. Michelle has been twisting the necks off of farm chickens since she was a little girl, and she’s currently looking at Thorne like he’s a very noisy, very juicy chicken. Cress wants to be a grandma like her when she grows up.

“The work day’s not over yet,” she tells Thorne, sidling up to him in an apologetic sort of way. “You should probably let Michelle get back to work.”

Thorne makes Michelle an elaborate little bow. “Au revoir, Madame. Until le next time.”

Michelle smiles indulgently. “Ton français est franchement abominable. Je me demande quel bête t’a enseigné.”

Cress walks him to the exit, and as they walk he whispers, “What did she say? I didn’t get the last part.”

“She said your French is pretty good and you should come by again soon.”

“Ah,” he says, relieved. “Well, I’ll have to brush up on my Italian next. I hear it makes a very good impression with the ladies.” And as he opens the door, he leans back down to murmur lowly in her ear. “Non vedo l'ora di vederti stasera.”

Cress has no idea what that means, but her face goes tomato red anyway, and Thorne twinkles his eyes at her before disappearing into the street.

She’s going to have to wear something really distracting when he realizes who has his missing phone.

...

send me a prompt and I’ll write a quick(ish) drabble!

#the lunar chronicles #cresswell #cresswell fanfic #tlc fanfic #cresswell fanfiction #the lunar chronicles fanfiction

[carewyncromwell]

“Now is the time to seize the day. Stare down the odds and seize the day. Once we've begun, if we stand as one, Someday becomes somehow, And the prayer becomes a vow, And the strike starts right damn now!”

~“Seize the Day” from Newsies (musical)

x~x~x~x

referencing a code later used by the Phoenix Resistance @kathrynalicemc​

x~x~x~x

On June 19, 1996, Hogsmeade village was notably quiet. No one seemed to have the heart to do any shopping after the blockbuster Evening Prophet reporting the true state of affairs, and truly, none of the Flumes had much heart to push their wares that day either. Mia had never seen her parents looking so pale and withdrawn in her life -- all she could do was quietly mix up some spiced hot chocolate for them, in an attempt to bring some color back to their cheeks.

Mia wrote dozens of letters over the course of the next week. Most of them were to Florean -- they’d mutually agreed to write to each other every morning and evening, just to “check in” and make sure the other was safe both before going about their day and going to bed.

Dad “forgot himself” again today. Fortunately he was back to himself in a few hours, after sitting with Mum and me on the couch listening to Callie’s broadcast on WWN. He said hearing Callie’s usual sign-off -- “Until next time, keep your head up, a smile on, and your hand on that dial” -- helped bring him back to earth.

Diagon Alley was very gray today here as well. I can hardly recall a time when my neighbors looked upon me with so much distrust. But then again, even during the First War, the Ministry merely tried to urge calm, not actively promote disinformation. It’s hardly a wonder that people don’t know who they can trust now...

Mail-order sales of chocolate have been skyrocketing lately. I suppose people want something sweet to distract themselves from everything, even if they still feel too unsafe to come into shop themselves.

Your old “friend” Jacob Cromwell stopped into my shop today for some chocolate chip ice cream. I know you dislike the man, but truly, he seems to have really grown up since you knew him at school. He even suggested I could use Muggle glow-in-the-dark ink to write letters in, if I was afraid about my letters getting read by the wrong people.

The other person Mia received lots of letters from, though, was Olin. With the removal of Umbridge, his mail wasn’t being actively watched anymore, and Olin took full advantage of it, writing more emotionally charged letters than ever to his aunt.

Dumbledore came back as Headmaster today! Oh, Aunt Mia, I’ve never been more happy to see him in all my life!

That rotten toad Umbridge has been stuck in the Hospital Wing for the last few days, supposedly in a state of shock after a confrontation with the Forbidden Forest‘s centaur herd. Given her disgusting attitude toward “half-breeds,” I’d be tempted to say she had it coming, if it weren’t for how much I know Mum wouldn’t approve of me saying so.

First of all, to reassure both you and Mum, no, Dumbledore’s Army was not an actual army. (How anyone could really think that is beyond me!) It was an organization Potter and his friends made so that we could really learn how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts, since Umbridge wouldn’t teach us anything useful in class. “Dumbledore’s Army” is just the name Ginny Weasley suggested for us, kind of as a backhanded joke against old Minister Fudging-the-Truth. We never thought Dumbledore would use it as an excuse to shield Potter from getting expelled or arrested!

As for Umbridge’s quills...yeah, it’s true. Please don’t tell Mum and Dad, though -- I don’t want to upset them.

Aunt Mia, I hate to ask this, but could you send along some murtlap essence, with your next package? My hand is still hurting from the last detention I had with Umbridge, but I really don’t want to worry Mum and Dad.

I’ve always loved school, but...Merlin, the end of this term truly can’t come soon enough! Not being able to talk with you openly, or talk to Mum, Dad, and Skylar...it’s been so hard.

It was this sentiment especially that worried Mia. Sure, with Umbridge gone, Olin wouldn’t have anyone actively censoring his mail at Hogwarts anymore...but like or not, anything they tried to send each other could still be intercepted. This was made all the more clear to Mia when Callie fumed to her later that week about one of her WWN broadcasts being halted before it could make it to the airwaves.

“I sent in a report about Brockton Bridge being blown up specifically to try to warn the public, but our oh-so-wise Ministry leaders apparently decided that it’d be best not to discuss it until they could put out a proper press release about it!” Callie said heatedly. “‘Proper press release,’ my foot -- they just wanted to protect their own image by making it look like they’re doing something -- ”

In the past, Mia might’ve tried to defend such a decision with the justification that the Ministry didn’t want the rest of the Wizarding World to panic. Now, all the knowledge did was make her angrier and more worried than ever.

She needed a way to make sure any more sensitive messages she might send would get through, to the people she cared about. But how?

Mia contemplated this matter for a long time while mixing some murlap essence into the Cauldron Cake batter she was working on for Olin. Sampling it off the mixing spoon, she frowned and added in a cup of milk and some sugar. 

Florean had brought up glow-in-the-dark ink in his letter -- admittedly because of an interaction with Jacob Cromwell, Mia remembered sourly. Even so, though, the idea of hiding a secret message inside a fake one sparked an idea in her, all the same.

It’s a lot like these Cauldron Cakes, she thought, glancing down at the cakes she was making. They look just like ordinary, delicious Cakes on the outside -- but in truth, they’re mixed in with murtlap essence, to promote quick healing alongside the invigorating benefits inherit to chocolate.

Some gears started turning in Mia’s brain as she considered the Cauldron Cake molds she’d left beside her on the counter. Then, very slowly, her mouth curled up in a broad smile, and she summoned a new mixing bowl, partitioning out some of her batter so that she could then change it a bright shade of red with a flick of her wand.

When Olin unwrapped his aunt Mia’s package of eight Murtlap-Essence-spiked Cauldron Cakes the following, he was startled to find -- when he bit into each one -- a word, or fragment of a word, hidden inside each one in bright red letters.

See. You. At. Hogs. Meade. Sta. Tion. Mia.

And that was how Hermia Flume started hiding messages in custom-baked treats.

~*~

Mia didn’t think about Jacob Cromwell’s out-of-place “gift” again until her father actually came across it one evening, while stuck in dog form. He’d been trying to reach a glass jar of peanut butter brittle on the kitchen counter when he’d knocked the book over, only to decide to pick it up and dutifully carry it over to his wife in his mouth when Jenie caught Ambrosius in the act.

“I reckon he thought to apologize to me, for trying to eat something he shouldn’t,” Jenie said through a faintly miffed smile as she shot Ambrosius a significant look.

The gray-and-brown whippet merely bowed his head, wagging his tail lightly. With a sigh, Jenie handed the book back to Mia.

“Anyhow, best get that back on your shelf before your father decides to tear it up...”

Reluctantly Mia took the book and headed on upstairs to bed. Feeling too restless to sleep, she instead collapsed down onto the bed, idly rifling through the pages of the pretty blue-covered book.

DEMETRIUS

O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?

Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

HERMIA

Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,

For thou (I fear) hast given me cause to curse.

Mia gave a faintly irritable sniff, recalling Jacob’s pointed words while giving the book to her.

“I would hope you’d have seen this on stage, given your name...”

Mia had in fact not seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream on stage. How could she, when it was a Muggle play that would have no reason to be put on at Hogwarts, or the Three Broomsticks, or anywhere else within walking or Floo distance of her home in Hogsmeade village?

I’m not the sort to abandon my family for a night, just to go see a play, Mia thought resentfully.

That resentment was curdling into something much more like envy, though, despite herself. Stamping that feeling dead before she could dwell on it too long, Mia made as it to close the book.

It was as she flipped through the pages, though, that she suddenly noticed a faint glow peeking out from under them.

Blinking in surprise, Mia quickly brought up a hand and brushed the pages aside. Etched into the inside front cover was a cluster of strange letters scrawled in shiny ink, framed by a messy half-circle --

Mia’s eyes widened.

Glow-in-the-dark ink! Muggle glow-in-the-dark ink!

Of course -- she’d used a Revealing Charm before, but that was designed to reveal messages hidden by magical means. That was probably why Jacob had suggested glow-in-the-dark ink to Florean that one time -- because a non-magical method of hiding a message wouldn’t be so easy to crack!

Mia hated to admit it...but Jacob Cromwell really was brilliant.

The chocolatier stared down at the letters for a long while, trying to make sense of them. She tried to find some pattern to them, but there wasn’t one that she could easily see. They certainly didn’t seem to be an anagram for anything...

Thinking to check this, she got out of bed and headed over toward her desk next to the window so she could take out some spare parchment and a quill. She then wrote the letters down on the parchment and set about trying to rearrange the letters into something decipherable, but sure enough, it wasn’t an anagram.

Undeterred, Mia tried out to find a correlation between the letters on the page and page numbers in the book. But if there was a key anywhere in the text, she couldn’t seem to pinpoint it. Before Mia knew it, it was morning, and she was forced to work an entire shift at Honeydukes after not sleeping a wink.

The following night, Mia sent a note to Florean asking if he knew any codes she could try. He suggested the Caesar cypher, which the famous Roman emperor had apparently used to send covert military messages. Unfortunately, even after shifting the alphabet backwards and forwards multiple ways, she still couldn’t seem to crack it. Feeling at a loss, Mia sent a note to Callie, asking for her advice, before setting about skimming through a book of codes Florean had sent to help her.

The following day, Mia received Callie’s response.

Mia,

Why didn’t you TELL me Jacob had given you something?! Merlin, Mia! If I’d known he was sending you messages too, I would’ve come clean about him AGES ago!

Oh, Merlin, just forget it! You really are impossible! Anyway...

Yes, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, Jacob was the one who told me about Umbridge using a cursed quill on Potter. He sent it to me in a coded message he’d Transfigured into a record, so as to avoid prying eyes. I forget the name of the code he used -- I think it’s something Transposition? Whatever it’s called, it involves writing out a word; writing numbers under each one that correlate to the order they fall in, in the alphabet; and then writing out the letters you’ve been given under each number based on that order. He doesn’t always use the same word each time, though -- the last word he gave me was “Hogwarts.” Maybe you should try that!

Mia...I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Jacob being my informant -- but with how hostile you’ve always been toward him, you can hardly blame me for not wanting to tell you. I doubt you would’ve believed a word he said, if I’d told you...and well, he did turn out to be right after all, didn’t he?

I know you hate him, but...please, if you find out what Jacob was trying to tell you, just hear him out.

Love you,

Callie

Mia read and reread Callie’s letter several times, her frown creasing her features a bit more each time.

‘Something Transposition...’

“Accio,” she said, waving her wand toward her bed.

Summoning the book of codes Florean had sent her into her lap, Mia cracked it open and brushed through the index. When she did, she found something very promising --

Myszkowski Transposition Cipher.

Flipping through the page in question, she read up on it.

The Myszkowski Transposition Cipher is a variant of Columnar Transposition in the way it deals with recurring letters in the keyword. It was proposed by Émile Victor Théodore Myszkowski in 1902.

The same methodology as for Columnar Transposition is used, where the plaintext is written out in rows under the keyword. The only difference is that when there are repeated letters in the keyword, rather than number them from left to right, all letters must receive the same number. One would then read across columns which have the same number in the keyword.  

Start by writing out the keyword, and the alphabetical order of the letters, remembering to give repeated letters the same number. Next, divide the length of the ciphertext by the length of the keyword to work out how many rows you need to add to our grid. Then insert the ciphertext back into the grid. Start at number 1, and continue to the highest number. If the number only appears once, fill down the column. If the number appears twice, move from left to right across the columns with that number heading them.

The description matched Callie’s explanation -- this must’ve been the code Jacob had used!

But if it is, what’s the keyword I need to read the coded message?! Mia thought irritably. Damn it, Cromwell -- you put a code in this book, and then you make it bloody impossible to crack it!

With a loud, aggravated sigh, she glared down at the inside cover of A Midsummer Night’s Dream again. She moodily poked at the letters etched into it with her wand, trailing it along the half circle at the bottom.

There’s got to be some sort of clue about the word somewhere, she thought stubbornly. Could it be part of the title? ‘Dream?’ Perhaps ‘Night?’ These markings only appear at night...

It was as Mia trailed her wand along the half circle at the bottom that something clicked in her brain.

This wand movement... she realized. It’s just like the one for Reparifarge -- the untransfiguration spell!

Callie had said Jacob had transfigured his coded message to her into a record. Was this book actually -- !?

Feeling a strange burst of energy she could hardly explain, Mia pointed her wand right at the book.

“Reparifarge!”

In an instant, the book was tossed up into the air with a flash. It snapped shut, dropping back to the desk with an odd thunk -- more like a wooden box, rather than a book.

Her brows knitting together, Mia tried to open the book...and instead found that it was a faux book, with a folded letter inside its interior chamber.

Deliver the message to Hogwarts as soon as you can. Send it to the proper recipient through a third party, if you have to -- I believe you have at least one.

The word needed to unlock the message is “Phoenix.” C can explain the proper method to you.

If you want any more book recommendations in the future, I’ll pass them along.

JC

Mia’s heart was pounding against her chest. Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, she sketched out a grid and immediately set to work on the code --

P H O E N I X

6 2 5 1 4 3 7

T E L L P O T

T E R T O N O

T G O T O H A

L L O F P R O

P H E C I E S

Mia's heart stopped.

“Tell Potter to not go to Hall of Prophecies.”

~*~

The following day Mia sent an owl to Callie, telling her to tell Jacob that she needed to talk to him about his “book recommendation.” She was not expecting him to show up to Honeydukes within the hour, looking faintly disheveled as ever in his ripped jeans and birkenstocks.

“You knew,” she confronted him as soon as he walked through the door.

Jacob offered her a cheesy grin.

“Not to brag or anything,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I know a lot of things...”

Seeing the lack of amusement in Mia’s face, Jacob immediately turned serious.

“Let’s talk somewhere more private,” he said under his breath. “I’m not the only one who thinks your chocolate’s incredible.”

He glanced significantly over at the witch wearing the balaclava in the corner, who immediately looked away so as to not be caught eavesdropping. This time, though, Mia wasn’t sure it was just for the potential gossip material -- with the truth of the Dark Lord’s return coming to light, everyone suddenly seemed more suspicious...

Mia pursed her lips, but nonetheless gave a clipped nod.

“Come on.”

She led Jacob up the stairs and then up a ladder into her family’s flat above the shop. Once she’d closed the trapdoor securely behind her, Jacob pointed the left of his two wands at it.

“Muffliato.”

A puff of light yellow light burst from Jacob’s wand, dissolving away like smoke into the wood.

“There,” he said. “Now we shouldn’t be overheard.”

He turned to Mia as he slid the wand back into his left pocket. “I suppose you got my message, then? Surprised it took you so long...”

“Well, I didn’t exactly know that you were my sister’s ‘secret informant,’” Mia said accusingly.

“Hey, I didn’t tell your sister not to tell you!” said Jacob defensively.

He strolled over to the window so he could look out, his hand sliding halfway into his pocket as he went.

“Not that I’m not touched she thought to keep my secret, mind you -- I wasn’t exactly following Dumbledore’s orders, when I leaked that stuff...”

“Dumbledore?” Mia recurred, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Wait -- so that’s where you got your information from? You were working with Dumbledore?”

“Somewhat reluctantly,” Jacob confirmed with an airy sigh. “But as much as I hate to admit it, that shady old geezer is the only person who could stand toe to toe magically with the likes of Voldemort.”

The sound of the Dark Lord’s name made Mia flinch.

“Don’t say that name,” she said tersely.

Jacob raised an eyebrow as he considered Mia through the glass.

“What? Voldemort?”

Mia flinched again, glaring at him. Jacob, however, merely crossed his arms as he turned back around to face her.

“It’s just a name -- nothing more,” he said simply. “No more than Bob, or Jane, or Rick, or Sandy.”

“No one named Bob, Jane, Rick, or Sandy has slaughtered hundreds of people and threatens to kill even more,” Mia shot back.

“No, but I reckon old Moldy Shorts had a name just as plain and unremarkable too, before he set about terrorizing people,” Jacob said coolly. “And as much as I’ll respect anyone who prefers to be called something other than their birth name, his name is still just that -- something to be called. If he didn’t want anyone to call him Voldemort -- ” Mia tried to fight back another flinch, “ -- then I’m sure we’d still be calling him Ike or Joe or whatever the hell he was before.”

“It’s not about what he wants,” spat Mia. She was fine with Florean using the Dark Lord’s name, but he at least did it sparingly -- Jacob’s flippant repetition, as well as his open mockery of the most dangerous Dark Wizard in the world, was grating on her. “People are afraid of him and his name...so stop being such an insensitive clod and respect other people’s feelings, for once!”

Jacob frowned, looking faintly bewildered. He couldn’t conjure up a proper response before Mia railroaded him.

“Why did you give the message to me? Why not just leak it to Callie, like you did before?”

“Because Callie isn’t working in Hogsmeade village, favorite gathering spot of both the Hogwarts school staff and its students,” Jacob said plainly. “I figured you’d be much more able to sneak a message into the school itself than Callie could -- if nothing else, I gather your nephew and you are close, and he was one of those rounded up with Potter as part of Dumbledore’s Army. I just thought we’d have more time to get the message to Potter...until the end of term, at least. I mean, it took me years before I was able to use my Legilimency to connect to someone mentally inside Hogwarts’s walls...and the only reason I was able to do it was because it was my sister’s mind I’d connected to. Plus she had strong Legilimency as well. And even then, I could only keep contact with her for a very short amount of time...”

Mia did not know what Jacob was talking about. Rather than going down that rabbit hole of questions, though, she decided to stay on topic.

“But how did you know that Potter would try to go to the Hall of Prophecies?” she demanded.

Jacob’s arms tightened a bit around his chest as he once again turned to the window, his eyes drifting away up toward the cloudy sky.

“Because it’s what Voldemort -- sorry,” he added quickly, upon noticing Mia flinch again, “it’s what that mad bloke wanted Potter to do. Only he or Potter could’ve fetched what he wanted down there...and regardless of how valuable it might’ve really been in the end, old Voldie saw value in it...and he was ready to do just about anything, to get it.”

Jacob’s jaw clenched, making his expression that bit more righteously angry.

“That’s why Dumbledore, and the people he’s recruited to help him, worked so hard to try to protect it, this last year.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “...So that’s how you knew what was happening in the Ministry? You were helping Dumbledore guard whatever You-Know-Who was looking for, down in the Department of Mysteries?”

Jacob nodded. “Pip -- my little sister, I mean, Carewyn -- was able to keep me out of trouble a lot of the time I was down there. She works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you see. We used to touch base with our Legilimency throughout my ‘shifts,’ so that she’d know I was okay. After what happened to Sturgis and Bode, we couldn’t be too careful...”

Mia’s ears perked up. “Sturgis Podmore, you mean? The man who got caught sneaking into a secret room at the Ministry?”

“The man who got caught while trying to break into the Department of Mysteries under the Imperius Curse,” Jacob corrected grimly. “Just like Broderick Bode was, not long after. Lucius Malfoy’s doing, most likely -- at least, in the first’s case. The second’s, I’m not sure, though Pip said something about Rookwood once being an Unspeakable...maybe it was his idea...”

“But Dumbledore expelled you,” Mia pressed him, forcefully rerouting their conversation to where it had been, rather than letting Jacob get too off-track. “Sure, he let you take your NEWTs later, but he still expelled you. Why would he want you to join him? Why would you choose to join him, when you clearly don’t like him yourself? Why would you believe him, when almost nobody else did?”

“Why wouldn’t I believe him?” said Jacob.

His gaze drifted up onto the sky outside the glass.

“Dumbledore and I might not see eye to eye on a lot of things,” he murmured, his voice very serious despite the marked detachment in his eyes. “Quite frankly I think it’s disgusting, how he seems to think he’s in any place to make life-altering choices that affect so many people without their consent or knowledge. That’s why I wanted to tell Potter not to go to the Ministry -- because I know first-hand how hard it is to make good choices, if you don’t know what people want from you. But as soon as he said Voldemort -- sorry -- that old loser was back, I knew he was telling the truth. For all of his machinations and concerns about ‘the greater good’ over individual lives...Dumbledore would never lie, about something like this. And if old Morty was really back...well, I’m old enough to fight him this time. May as well.”

Mia was left stunned. Was this really Jacob Cromwell -- stupid, cheerful, arrogant, airhead scholar Jacob Cromwell -- talking about going off to War against the greatest Dark wizard of all time with such conviction in his voice?

“You...you really mean that when you dropped everything to return to London last year,” she said slowly, “it wasn’t just to reconnect with your family, like you told Rosmerta...it was because of this? Because you immediately knew that the Ministry of Magic had to be lying to all of us, and that You-Know-Who had to really be back?”

Was this berk really that brilliant that he could see through it all, right away? Even though this is someone stupid enough to think the best way to get me to help him smuggle a message into Hogwarts was shoving a Transfigured book into my hands and walking away?

Jacob shrugged. “Well, sure. I couldn’t leave my Pip and Mum to deal with all this on their own. I reckon you’d do the same thing, if you’d been in my shoes.”

Mia’s lips twitched with a frown.

“If I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have left my family’s side at all,” she said bluntly. After a pause, she added, “...Even so...you’re right, I wouldn’t have left my family to deal with all this alone.”

Jacob smiled at her through the glass.

“I figured. Well, if you want me to keep sending you more ‘books,’ I’ll be happy to do it. We are kind of on the same side now, in all this.”

Mia crossed her arms with a huff. “Hardly.”

Even as she thought this, though, Ambrosius’s words from before Valentine’s Day came back to her.

“I’m not sure…but, well, we can’t be the only ones, to not believe the Ministry’s narrative. Who knows? Maybe if we can find those other people who see the dark clouds overhead and want to do something about it, we can put our heads together. Then maybe we’ll find some way to be of use.”

Jacob Cromwell had pointed out how much bigger the War was, compared to all of them as individuals. It was truly massive -- terrifyingly so. It had thrown Mia’s whole peaceful world out the window -- thrown the entire Wizarding World’s, sense of safety into chaos. Even Florean had said it himself, in one of his letters --

It’s hardly a wonder that people don’t know who they can trust now...

And yet Jacob had told Callie about what Umbridge had done to Potter, which also ended up being what she’d done to Olin, as well. Jacob had tried to give Mia a message for Potter himself, warning him not to go to the Department of Mysteries -- even if Dumbledore apparently hadn’t wanted Potter to know about it or about Jacob and his other supporters guarding it...

“That’s why I wanted to tell Potter not to go to the Ministry -- because I know first-hand how hard it is to make good choices, if you don’t know what people want from you...”

Mia couldn’t fathom how strange of a world she had to be in, to be in a position where she’d have to trust the likes of Jacob Cromwell...but she had to admit -- even at his most pigheaded, obnoxious, annoying, violent, and clueless, he was smart, and he was never a coward. Not like Fudge. 

Jacob did see the dark clouds overheard, and he did want to do something about it. Just like she did.

“So? What do you say?”

Mia looked up at Jacob. His posture was faintly stiff and uncertain, but his eyes were locked on his face through the glass, despite the odd tilt of his head. He seemed to be watching her with a bizarre kind of interest.

Mia's lips curled up in the very slightest, cynical smirk.

“...All right. I’ll accept your ‘book recommendations.’ But don’t think that means I like you anymore than I did before.”

Jacob grinned, thoroughly unfazed by this, as he turned around to face her properly.

“Hey, at least I won’t have to worry about you chasing me out of your family’s shop anymore!"

#hermia flume #florean fortescue #olin cresswell #jacob cromwell #callie flume #carewyn cromwell #albus dumbledore #harry potter #my writing #my fanfiction #YAAAY these two are allies! ...sort of #it's really as the second wizarding war heats up that these two really end up helping each other out more #and in the process become closer #I may or may not have unfinished art of these two in my sketchbook hence why I'm really itching to finish more of this stuff for them >> #so that the art being posted will actually somewhat make sense XD

[fogfeather]

can someone bully me into writing so that this chapter will come out before monday

#ao3 #fanfic #heathers #the lunar chronicles #cresswell #cress darnel #carswell thorne #thorne tlc #tlc #wattpad #fanfiction #writing #poets on tumblr

[cindersnightmare]

masterlist

the lunar chronicles:

slow dancing in the dark (kaider au):

part one (prologue)

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

heartless:

i choose you (cath x jest au)

a deal with time (cath x jest au)

#the lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #kaider #wolfet #cresswell #jacinter #cinder #scarlet #cress #winter #kaider fanfiction #wolfet fanfiction #cresswell fanfiction #jacinter fanfiction

[everyone-has-a-nightmare]

Out of Some Play || Cresswell

Ever since the revolution, Carswell Thorne became determined to show all the joys of the universe to the joy of his life.

He’d thought about landscaping, stargazing, and even going to the beach to write out their names on the sand. He wanted to do all of them, but what he really wanted was to do something that Cress would never forget. That’s how he’d gotten into the whole tickets-for-her-favorite-musical fiasco.

Thorne once promised that he would be a better guy for Cress, and that is why he worked extra hard on the Letumosis antidote deliveries. He got up earlier, and made as many deliveries as he could in twenty-four hours. Cress picked up on this behavior, and when she asked about it, he only said: “I figured the more deliveries we make, the more areas we’ll get to visit. Besides, how could I deny dazzling blue eyes to the world?” She assumed he’d been talking about his own, but Thorne’s eyes weren’t the only blue ones aboard the Rampion.

Another thing he had to figure out was which play Cress was dying to see. Of course, he couldn’t be blunt about it and risk to give away his master plan. This meant he had to pay extra attention to every song Cress sang. This was perhaps his favorite part out of the planning phase.

He picked up on certain lines and looked them up, figured out if it was from a play, and if there was a current production.

Cress enjoyed numerous plays, and he had to choose almost randomly. He just hoped that she would enjoy it.

A few weeks passed, and the day of the surprise was finally here.

“Captain?” Cress’s voice was uncertain, something that, as time passed, wasn’t normal for Cress. “Weren’t we supposed to go to France today? This says we’re heading to the American Republic.” She pointed at the screen that showed all the control panels.

“I’m sure it’s just a glitch, ” Thorne said quickly. “Nothing to worry about, darlin’.”

He hugged her to distract her from the screen, but Cress persisted. “Well, if it’s a glitch, then I’m sure I can fix it.” She started going on and on about glitches, using terms that Thorne did not understand.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he reassured while watching her already sitting at a computer, trying to figure out the nonexistent glitch. “And if we end up heading to the American Republic, there might be nothing to worry about…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“There might be a little something planned out for you.” She smiled up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her temple.

***

Needless to say, Cress was over the moon when Thorne took her to the theatre. She kissed him and kept thanking him over and over.

Thorne was actually pretty excited to see this production. After doing the research, he’d actually been hyped about seeing it in person. Not only that, but seeing Cress’s eyes light up and the way her lips parted slightly when a number that she particularly liked came on.

During intermission, she seemed to be in a complete trance. Thorne might’ve been in one too, by the incredible play, and by his adorable, and also incredible, girlfriend.

Once the play ended, they both couldn’t stop talking about it. The costumes, the voices, the orchestra, they both went on and on until they were asked to leave because the theatre was now empty except for the two enthusiastic lovebirds.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Thorne smiled at their intertwined hands as they strode through the empty, star covered streets.

“I loved it! This has all been amazing, actually.” Her lips twitched upwards. “And what makes it even more amazing is the fact that this perfect day will end like this, in a perfect night.”

Like when the curtain closes, and one is unable to take in all that has been lived on stage, this night would end in something similar to that.

It was going to be a while before Carswell Thorne could get all those theatre related metaphors out of his head, for sure.

The couple reached a street that overviewed a river, and when he turned to look at Cress, his heart did a little jump.

Her hair was glowing the brightest gold under the street lamps, and when he pulled her into a kiss, he was reminded too well that this all appeared to be out of a movie. Or a play, perhaps.

#i also like to think that eventually the whole rampion gang would go to see a musical #and all of them quoting lines from it #ahhhh i love musicals #this is just some of the trash i forgot to take out #cresswell #cress #crescent moon #thorne #carswell thorne #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #cresswell fanfiction