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miracleonice87 · 3 years

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.��

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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29-pieces · 3 years

Text

A Spot of Breakfast -- Good Omens fanfiction

From the current WIP chapter of my fluffy piece Softly, Gently

~*~

For at least those first few moments, everything else faded from Crowley’s mind as he watched Aziraphale, his own pinched expression smoothing into a soft smile. Aziraphale’s hair was mussed, which would never be permitted normally. An errant curl dangled over one eyebrow and all the worry lines were, for the moment, gone. The angel was curled into a loose ball, the quilt still drawn halfway up his shoulders, and the couch was positioned just so to allow a beam of morning sunlight to cast its glow across Aziraphale’s face and hair.

In short, he was once again, quite literally, radiant. Crowley didn’t know if he could possibly love anything in all of creation more than this, right here, right now.

Not wanting to get up and risk making too much noise, potentially waking the angel when he desperately needed real rest, Crowley ignored the cramping in his long limbs. It was a small price to pay to let Aziraphale sleep, for a change.

Thusly, by the time Aziraphale finally stirred, the crick in Crowley’s back was enough that the resulting POP when he moved drew a sleepy “Good lord!” from the angel.

Crowley grimaced as Aziraphale blinked endearingly sleepy eyes open and looked over at him in half awake alarm.

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

“Ngk. Sorry.” Crowley shifted again, this time his bones settling back into his hip sockets with a satisfying CRACK. He smirked. “Must be getting old.”

Aziraphale’s sleep-dazed face eased into the softest, dopiest smile Crowley had ever seen, bursting with so much affection that every niggling fear he’d been harboring was banished far, far away.

“Never you, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied fondly, pushing himself up to sitting and stretching his arms as though Crowley wasn’t internally flailing at the simple knowledge of being loved. “Heavens, how long was I asleep?”

“All night,” Crowley said. “How’s it feel?”

“Smashing,” Aziraphale decided after a moment. “I can see why you enjoy it so much, Crowley. I’ve never slept like that before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of firsts going on now.”

He regretted it immediately, chagrined as Aziraphale bashfully looked away. Crowley didn’t want to push too hard. After all, even if Aziraphale’s feelings were positive ones, he very obviously wasn’t used them being out in the open.

But Aziraphale showed no hint of imminent anxiety. Instead, he took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I suppose there are. And I don’t want you to think for one second that last night was just wine and jocularity, my dear. I meant every word I said. I do love you, so you musn’t go worrying yourself that I was just being nice, or that I said something I wished I didn’t, or whatever else you might be over-thinking.”

“What are you on about? I don’t over-think!” Crowley protested, immediately starting to over-think last night’s conversation and if he’d given away any of those precise nerves Aziraphale had mentioned.

The look Aziraphale returned with was both knowing and fond and left Crowley to grumble under his breath as he felt his cheeks heat.

“I do know you, after all. Though I must confess, I, er… well, I don’t know quite what to do now.”

“Ngk, know what you mean,” Crowley agreed. “It’s a bit hard to find your footing, isn’t it?”

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” the angel decided abruptly, getting to his feet. “I’ve a hankering for pastries. Tempt you to some breakfast?”

Crowley smirked. “Alright then, yeah.”

Outside, the world looked much the same as it ever had. Crowley drank it all in with the same relish Aziraphale was drinking in his Danish. The bistro the angel had selected was one of his regulars, the kind that had patio tables outside with striped umbrellas and cushions that were always just shy of being fully dry from an earlier rain. Crowley pulled up a touch of hellfire, half to steam the moisture out of the cushion, and half to see if he even still could.

“Ah, marvelous,” Aziraphale sighed happily. “Dear me, that’s much better.”

It took Crowley a second to realize the angel was talking about his pastry, and not the fact that Crowley’s bum was now dry again. He turned his attention from the world passing them by to zero in on the world that was sitting next to him with a bit of jam on his lip.

Aziraphale was, as always when eating something delightful, entirely enraptured. Crowley could probably drop a stack of books behind the angel and he wouldn’t even notice.

It was times like this, Crowley reflected, that he was left to wonder how Aziraphale actually had hid his feelings for so long. When Aziraphale loved a thing, he was not exactly subtle.

Yet he’d somehow managed to keep his feelings about Crowley as under wraps as he was able. Probably because Crowley would be just as easy for an archangel to squish under his foot as that Danish would be.

“Absolutely scrumptious,” Aziraphale hummed, eyes closing against the decadence as he popped the remainder of the pastry into his mouth with a scandalous sigh. “Now then, it’s much easier to ‘find your footing’ as you would say once you’ve had a spot of breakfast. Do you suppose we ought to—”

He trailed off as he opened his eyes, regarding Crowley. It took the demon a second to realize it was because he was staring at Aziraphale with rather intense focus, leaning in a bit with his chin propped up on his hand.

“It’s nice,” Crowley said.

“Erm… what is, dear boy?”

“Watching you enjoy things. Missed a bit, though.”

Without planning, without thinking much at all, else he might not have done it, Crowley reached out and thumbed away the speck of jam still on Aziraphale’s lip. Aziraphale didn’t move, seemingly transfixed. It was perhaps the most bald-faced physical contact they’d made. For the last several thousand years he’d been too afraid to actually touch the angel, lest anyone else in Heaven be able to smell it on him later.

Touches were careful, never more than absolutely necessary, never when it couldn’t be excused away by a fight or feud between mortal enemies, and never, ever for the pure and simple joy of being able to. Crowley felt something in his chest close up. A lump grew in his throat and he knew he ought to pull his hand away, but…

A hand reached up to catch his own, Aziraphale gently guiding his arm to rest on the table instead, not letting go; the soft, somewhat sad smile seemed to agree with precisely what Crowley was feeling. After all, Heaven wasn’t known for doling out warm hugs, and Aziraphale was a creature who craved warmth and contact and love but had been given none of it.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #fanfiction #alloromantic asexuals #fluff #just... soft and gentle fluff #because i can

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the-writers-bookshelf · 3 years

Note

For fab Friday! I just started a new WIP (horror/romance) and I am obsessed with the main couple. Their names are Blair and Alex, and I haven't gotten a chance to write much for them yet (I'm only on page 46) but I did get to write a few scenes of them. This is my favorite so far :)

(Sorry it's so long)

It’s two weeks before Halloween, and I’m eighteen years old, frowning at the list of colleges on my laptop. The screen is too bright in my dark room, and there’s no end to the names and choices, and I don’t know if I’m smart enough for any of this. For any of these schools.

“Knock, knock.”

My head snaps up as my laptop screen snaps down. Force of habit. I don’t want my parents to know that I’m looking into college. Not because they wouldn’t let me go, but because I’m not sure I have it in me to disappoint them when I inevitably choose not to go.

The voice came from my window, though, not my door.

When I see him, grinning at me through the glass, I hop up immediately and yank the window open – because being cool is overrated and I’m glad for the distraction. “God, it’s cold out,” I say, pulling him inside. His fingers are chilly when I grab them. They’re always chilly. He has ice water instead of blood, I always say.

“Yeah,” he puffs, sticking one frozen hand under the hem of my shirt so the cold makes me jump.

“Dick!” I laugh.

He grins. “Wasn’t this song in Twilight?”

I pretend to listen to the music coming from my phone speaker, as if I’m not sure. (I am sure.) (It is from Twilight.) Then I shrug. “It’s a good song.”

He snorts and collapses on my bed, uninvited. “Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?” he asks, grabbing one of my pillows and stuffing it under his head.

“I’m team ‘don’t mess up my bed’, actually.”

“Ha-ha.” He looks at my laptop, then gives me an eyebrow. “What were you looking at?”

My pause is probably suspicious, but really, I’m just not sure I want to talk about college again. Not to my genius boyfriend who thinks I can do whatever I set my mind to – because I can’t. Some things just aren’t achievable, and that’s life.

Clearly, his big brain doesn’t automatically go to ‘college applications’ when he sees his boyfriend snapping his laptop shut. He bolts upright, a scandalized look on his face. “Blair Zachary David!”

“Oh, no – I wasn’t—” But before I can even finish my sentence, he’s got the laptop open. I cross my arms and wait for him to look at me. At least if I look mad, he might have the decency not to mention it.

When he does look at me, though, he takes in my frown and my folded arms, and the fact that I’m still standing here instead of crawling into the bed next to him, and he sighs.

“Can I just say one thing?” he asks, closing my computer and pushing it away.

I press my lips together but nod. “One thing.”

“If you do decide to go to college…” he says, enunciating the ‘if’ so I know he isn’t pressuring me. “It won’t change anything.”

I make a face. “Isn’t that what college is supposed to do? Change everything?”

He rolls his eyes and tugs at the bottom of my tee-shirt. “With us, I mean. It won’t change anything about us. We’ll still see each other. It won’t hurt us.”

“I never said it would.” Even as it comes out of my mouth, cold and clammed-up and far too angry, I know I’ve screwed myself. He reads me so well I might as well be one of the millions of books in his room. And that wasn’t exactly subtle.

He tilts his head down and looks at me from the tops of his eyes, like, ‘caught ya.’

“Blair.”

“What.”

“It won’t. It won’t touch us.”

“How do you know?”

He stands up and pulls my shirt again. He’s always doing that, doing these little pestering things. Pokes, and pulls, and touches. He’s all hands, I swear.

“I know,” he says seriously. “Because it’s us. You and me. And nothing touches us, Blair. We’ll be okay.”

I step around him and climb onto the bed, grabbing my phone and scrolling further down the playlist. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m not going,” I mutter. And it’s true. My fears about our relationship are only a drop in the ocean of reasons why I can’t go to school. In a way, I know he’s right about us. We’re time-tested. We’re fireproof.

“Then why not?” he asks, sitting on the floor by my legs.

“You said one thing.”

“Blair, come on…”

I shake my head and look at the ceiling, at the fake popcorn ceiling and the familiar crack that’s been there my entire life. If I look anywhere else, if I look at him, my resolve will crumble and I’ll tell him it’s because I’m not smart enough or confident enough to do this, and we’ll have to go through the whole argument again, and I don’t want to. I don’t want him to look me in the eye and say I’m smart, and talented, and amazing. And I don’t want to see how much he believes it himself.

I can’t go. And that’s that.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I say. “Please.”

He exhales deeply, and then I feel him climbing into the bed and laying down beside me. “Okay,” he says, giving in. (For now.) “Okay.”

“Thanks.” I grab his hand and squeeze it gratefully. Cold fingers.

He rolls over to face me. “Oh. What happened in gym today?” he asks, like he just remembered something. “I wasn’t there, but Cath told me you almost got into a fight?”

Ah, the other thing I don’t want to talk about. It’s like he has a gift for this. “Almost being the operative word.”

“Blair!” He pokes me in the rib. I swat his hand away and rub the spot where his bony, little finger jabbed me.

“What?” I huff. “Nothing happened.”

“Luckily. We’re eighteen, you know. Adults. Fights can be serious shit now.”

“Tell that to Jamie Buck.”

“Jamie Buck?” He wrinkles his nose like he just smelled something rotten. “The homophobe?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Oh. What did he—”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh.”

We lay in silence for a while, both of us pensive and frowning at the ceiling. The song changes again. Lana Del Rey. One of her slow ones.

Out of the blue, he blurts out, “I wish I had been there when Jamie opened his dumb mouth.”

I actually laugh. It’s probably rude, but I can’t help it. “What are you going to do, five-foot-five?” I ask, still giggling. “Bite his ankle?”

His mouth falls open in offence. “Et tu, Brute?”

“What?”

“Et tu brute. Julius Caesar?”

“What?”

“Julius Caesar, the—the Roman dictator? Got stabbed like a thousand times—”

“I know who Julius Caesar is.”

“Well, when he was dying, he said ‘et tu, Brute’ to his best friend, Brutus. Who also stabbed him. It means like, ‘even you, Brutus?’ Like, I can’t believe you, of all people, would betray me.’”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you even know that?”

He stares at me. “It’s—I don’t know! It’s a thing! Even if it wasn’t a thing, it’s a meme. How do you not know?”

I shove him. “I’m, like, two years behind on memes. You know this about me.”

“That’s because you spend all your time in here, brooding. And anyway, Julius Caesar was stabbed to death, like, two thousand years ago. So…”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He pauses. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” But he doesn’t say anything. Not until I turn to look at him. Our noses are almost touching. I wouldn’t even have to move to kiss him.

I’m seriously considering it when he says, “We would be okay, you know. If you decided to go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead then, and his lips are warm and soft. How can his lips be so warm when his fingers are so cold? “We could be that annoying couple everyone hates but is secretly jealous of. The ones who are always on video calls, even in class, wearing headphones so the professor doesn’t notice.”

“That’ll be easier for me than it will be for you,” I point out. “I wear hoodies every day.”

“My point exactly.”

It hasn’t escaped my notice that we are, most definitely, talking about it again. But I’m looking at him now, at his shaggy hair, and his button nose, and his pink mouth, and my resolve has crumbled. As I knew it would.

“Just think about it,” he asks. “Please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

When he smiles at me, I swear my heart is an electric thing trying to zap its way out of my chest.

HALLOWEEN???

HORROR/ROMANCE??

SIGN ME UP!!! TAKE MY FIRST BORN!!! I'M SO DOWN FOR THIS!! :D

fantastic job!!!!

#asks #fab friday writers #captain-kieren

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soul-write · 3 years

Text

The Birth of the Twin Deities - Sev & Lev

Notes: I'm finally back with some content. I've been working on a new wip lately. This story takes place in the universe of that wip but focuses on a particular story about the deities of the world. Hope you enjoy it ^^

TW: vague description of body horror for a few sentences

--------------------------

Sadall was hit with a deep urge to sleep as soon as she woke up. To others, this may seem worrying. Maybe they will go to a doctor to get it checked out. But for the god of fate and prophecies, this was just another day doing her job.

Shuffling around in her bed to find a new comfortable position, Sadall fell once again into a deep slumber. She didn't expect to see any interesting prophecies. Just simple, mundane ones she will pass onto her priests.

In her dream, Sadall was standing somewhere on the ground. The land was black and barren and the sky was a bright shade of orange-red. Everything looked right out of anyone's worst nightmare. This couldn't be a prophecy of the future!

"It is." A raspy voice said from behind her. When she turned around, she saw the tall form of Kovreb, the god of sun and moon. Their face, despite lacking facial features, was staring right at Sadall. They looked angry.

"How? Why?" Sadall questioned the deity before her. They knew more than she did in this situation. But Kovreb didn't say anything. They just stared right ahead, hands crossed behind their back. Sadall was getting impatient. "Kovreb, this isn't a game, this is a serious matter. If you won't help me, I'll go find someone else who will!"

"Everyone else is dead." Kovreb said nonchalantly. Sadall was speechless. 'So this really is an end of the world scenario' she thought to herself.

Kovreb continued talking. "My friends, my family, all the other deities, they forgot about me thousands of years ago. It's easy to forget someone stranded in the skies." They stopped for a few seconds and lifted the palms of their hands towards Sadall. "So I punished them by taking away their precious sun and moon." Their hands were covered in blood. Where the eye that represented the sun and the one that represented the moon used to be now was just a bleeding wound.

"You did all these because you were lonely?" Sadall whispered. She was confused. This was a very unlike Kovreb thing to do.

They chuckled. "You'll be surprised to see what loneliness can make of a person."

"You're not a person, you're a deity.

"This is the kind of flawed logic that caused all this!" They yelled, waving their hands at the crumbling world around them.

Before Sadall could say anything else, she woke up. She quickly got out her bed and pulled the long curtains from the window closest to her. Outside, the world was normal. No withering grounds. No orange red sky. She sighed in relief.

"Just a bad dream." She wanted to say, only she knew she didn't have normal dreams like the rest of the world had. For fucks sake, she was the god of prophecies! As terrifying as it may have been, what she just saw was the future. Or at least a possible future.

Look, Sadall wasn't generally one to mess with fate. If she started preventing all the little bad things that could happen, this could lead to terrible unpredictable stuff. But the possible destruction of the world by a fellow deity was a situation where normal rules didn't apply.

Sadall spent the next few days trying to figure out a solution. She couldn't just go and tell the other deities about the prophecy. They were unpredictable when it came to prophecies. She also couldn't just go and tell them to keep checking on Kovreb, that would raise suspicions. No, she needed a safe yet permanent solution.

She needed another deity stranded in the skies.

Ok, maybe it wasn't the best plan in the world. But it was foolproof! At least that's what she hoped…

After more days of considering what deity could logically be stranded in the skies, the night sky gave her the answer - the stars. There was no god of stars, Kovreb also taking care of them. It would make sense to create a new deity to help them.

Sadall grabbed a fresh piece of parchment paper, some white thread and a dragon bone sewing needle. Then she exited her chambers into a small garden. It was night outside - perfect for her plans. She carefully scooped a star from the black sky and gently laid it in the middle of the parchment paper. She then took the white thread and the bone needle and sewed the corners of the paper together to make a little bag. While softly chanting old prayers about the creation of the world, she stabbed the star through the parchment paper bag.

"Fate, you who control everything and all, allow me to fix the mistakes that we will make and change the future. Fate, you mighty power above us all, give life to the deity who will help us."

A blinding blue light surrounded the creation in Sadall's hands. She slowly put it on the ground and let the new deity be born. Only it wasn't one deity that emerged from the light - it was two. Two twin deities, one with stars caught in his hair and one with ink staining his fingertips.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. But fate worked in mysterious ways. "Sev, god of stars, and Lev, god of legends and stories, welcome to the world!" Sadall said with a smile.

-----

"So, let me get this straight." Kovreb said, one eye facing Sev and one facing Sadall. "Out of nowhere, you decided I need help with my job, a job I've been doing since the birth of the world. So you created a brand new deity? Without telling anyone else?"

"Technically two deities." Sev chimed in.

"Right, kiddo! Two deities! Sadall, I cannot understand your reasoning."

"Can't a deity help another deity just because?" She was trying to play it cool but miserably failing. Sadall didn't expect she would be questioned.

"Not without something in return."

"Kovreb-"

"Sev, can you go check on the stars? They seem to be very curious about you. Won't stop bothering me with questions"

"Sure thing, boss!" He said before leaving the older deities alone.

"Sadall, speak!"

"I just thought you may get lonely here and I wanted to help. Plus I can already see you like Sev!"

"I am a deity, not a person. Feelings like loneliness don't affect me."

"You can be a deity and a person." Sadall said, reminiscent of the Kovreb from her dream. "Now! Enough talking! Go train your new student! I gotta go to sleep."

#wip; talismans of power #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy #creative writing #funky deities i created and i love dearly

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drbibliophile · 3 years

Text

Sunday Romance 04-18-21

Prompt: What am I to you?

Word count: 1472

Tagging: @sunday-romance @sophiaroe @viawrites-andacts

I feel like I’ve done this before, but I’m always game to try again. Yes, there will be angst. How can there not be? This is not tied to any WIP. No names. Just a He and She.

“What am I to you?”

Her words had haunted him, burrowing deep under his skin and invading all the places of him he’d rather not know. They haunted him still, echoing in his mind over and over.

“What am I to you?”

She’d asked it without anger, without recrimination. He had been expecting it. Yet she still managed to disarm him with it. Somehow he managed to matter to her. He knew that fact in a thousand different ways, even if she never said it outloud. It was her way of asking if she mattered to him. Just a simple question, asked in the quiet time after he’d enjoyed her, wringing ecstasy from her throat and body, and hoping secretly it was enough. A question that should not have shook him.

So he had answered simply. That she was his prize, his reward for his loyalty and his work. Nothing more. She had taken the answer with grace, but he’d seen the hurt in her eyes, in the tightening of her hands against the sheets, and in the way she had turned her back to him to sleep. Her question had come from her hope that perhaps she did matter. Yet, how could she? She’d been a prize, a spoil of war. Men like him didn’t fall for their spoils. So he had reminded her of her place, her worth. She was a prize. Nothing more.

“What am I to you?”

Except that really wasn’t the truth, was it? He knew it then and he doubly knew it now. A master strategist undone by a simple question. So he’d evaded, not answer with the truth. One didn’t show the other side what one was thinking. That simply wasn’t done. One didn’t show one’s vulnerabilities. No. One kept it hidden, secret, quiet. So very quiet.

“What am I to you?”

He dropped his face into his hands. Now, though, if he had the choice, he’d have answered differently. He would have told her that she was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night. That her smile delighted him. That her laugh made all the rough and uneasy parts of him settle. That he’d know the touch of so many women and men, but that her touch was the only one that he craved, needed like he needed air. That when she called him by his name, his true name, he was home. That she mattered more than title, loyalty, or duty. That she was his very world. That however poorly or cruelly or wrongly he managed it, he did love her.

Yet, he hadn’t. Not a word as to how she had him on his knees before her. Not a hint that he’d have given everything for her. Nothing. He couldn’t afford to show the weakness. Not if he wished to keep her safe. Too easy for his enemies to take advantage of her and thus him. No one could know. He could afford the assumption that he was indulgent of his prize, but to actually care for her? To let her matter? No. He couldn’t. He had to seem to not care. It was the only way. Wasn’t it?

So he had helped her escape. Not that he would admit it, but it was time. She had to go lest he forget himself. If she wanted to stay, she could, but she’d taken the chance and run. She hadn’t even hesitated. She’d run and who could blame her? She was free of him, no longer his prize. He swallowed hard. She was gone and he felt the loss of her with every breath.

Which made today bitter beyond belief. His betrothal, a matter he’d managed to stave off and avoid for years, was today. A peace offering to cement the new treaty between his sovereign and another. He’d tried to beg off yet again, but there was no mercy this time. There was no one but him to marry, so marry he must, lest he risk even more royal displeasure. Marry to bring two peoples together. Bind himself to another and open himself up to the threat of children. No, not threat. The promise of children, but these children would not have her eyes nor her grin. He swallowed hard, dragged down by a multitude of memories and regret. He hated the regrets. They pricked him like he had kicked a hornet’s nest. No, his children would not have her hair nor her humor, but they would be his and he would love them. He could ado that.

He rubbed his hands over his face then through his hair. Best get moving to meet his future bride. He drained his goblet of wine then rang the bell to call his servants to dress him. He scowled at the formal coat he hated wearing. The embroidered cloth was stiff and stifled his movements. However, it was necessary. No point in antagonizing the other side by not looking his best.

He allowed them to fuss over him, dressing him as he ought to be dressed. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He imagined her commenting on it, likely saying that he cleaned up rather well or something else equally teasing. Sorrow flooded him before he pushed it away. His bride wanted to meet with him privately before the formal betrothal ceremony. Not the usual request, but also not beyond the pale. It did prick his curiosity about her.

He entered the room and stopped. His bride had her back to him. Yet he knew that back as he knew his own. He’d studied it enough to know it well. He struggled to breathe. It was her. How could it be her? How… the door closed behind him, causing her to turn to him. She studied him, her expression guarded. He wanted to say so much, needed to say so much, but nothing left his lips. All his words died at the impassivity of her look.

She sighed, a small noise. “You still do clean up well.”

That snapped him out of his shock. “Thought you’d say that.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. I…” He stopped, caught again by the sight of her here. “Why?” The word slipped out.

Puzzlement crossed her face. “Why what?”

He moved towards her. “You were free,” he rushed. “Free from me, free to do as you will.” He stopped within arm’s length of her. “Why come back and bind yourself to me?”

She studied him, her head tilting as she did. “You assume I have a choice.”

He winced. Of course. As he was compelled to this betrothal, so was she. Yet, would they do that to her? Force her to marry the man who’d taken her as his spoil of war? Would they really be so cruel to her? His heart ached again, now for the thought of her not wanting him. Why would she after all?

“We don’t have to do this,” he started.

Her expression hardened. “Not interested in marrying a spoil of war?”

Her words stabbed like daggers into his heart. “No, never. I…” He stopped, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He stared at the oak boards. “I’ll not force you into a marriage you don’t want.”

“But the choice isn’t yours nor mine.” She moved a step closer to him, drawing his eyes back up to her. “The decision has been made and we have to abide by it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not unless you want this. I can’t. I…” He stopped, defeated by her and not caring that he was. “I will not be the cause of your hurt again.”

“Thought I was just a prize.”

He looked away, almost not able to breathe because of how much pain crushed his chest. “I lied,” he confessed.

“Why?”

“It was easier.”

“Easier than what?”

He looked back at her. “Easier than admitting that you mattered.”

She straightened. “And what am I to you now?”

The question echoed through him. A simple question with a simple answer. “My heart.”

“Oh.” Her arms crossed over herself as she looked away from him. “There was a time I’d have given much to hear you say that.”

The pain in his chest sharpened. “But no longer.”

“Yes.” His heart shattered at the word. “No.” He stared at her in shock. “I don’t know.” She threw her hands into the air before gathering herself. “I thought seeing you would decide for me, but it’s only left me more confused.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “I could have said no.”

That surprised him. “Why didn’t you?”

She snorted, shaking her head as she did. “Because everytime I thought to do so, my mouth rebelled.” She sighed. “I chose this marriage. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Never,” he vowed.

#sundaylove #sunday romance #sunday love #my writing #really struggled with this one #still not sure I liked how it turned out #there's a whole lot going on in this #sometimes endings escape me

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xadoheandterra · 3 years

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Title: Kismet; Lacuna Fandom: Dishonored Chapters: I | II Characters: Billie Lurk, Daud, Thomas, Corvo Attano, Pieor Joplin Tags: Time Travel, unspecified throat injury, temporarily mute character, Post Death of the Outsider, WIP, AU, Present Dishonored, discussions of void powers Summary: He felt twisted sick, the air refused to stay in his lungs and his throat burned fiercely. He couldn’t speak when for so long all he had were his words. He couldn’t feel aside from cold familiarity that had been his life for so long…and his name–he knew it, it was there in the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his thoughts, and yet it was gone again. Taken from him. Stolen, yet not. The Void churned within him, but it was wrong. He hadn’t felt like this in two years. He hadn’t–this was all wrong. The Outsider was dead; he wasn’t the Outsider anymore. Wasn’t he?

Billie Lurk wakes up on her bed in the old Commerce Building ten days before her exile from the Whalers. She has a void eye and a void arm that only she can see, memories of events that haven’t happened, powers she can’t explain, and a connection to a boy who had once been an Eldritch whale deity whose name she knew but cannot speak, cannot think. Something had gone horribly wrong and the path of destiny irrevocably changed.

Thomas pulled Daud aside; Billie had been under Fisher's care for a few hours now and the man couldn't focus on the reports that a few of the Whaler's had brought in for the life of him. Thomas could understand it--Billie wasn't like herself at all, earlier. She'd woken late, which was unusual but could've been chalked up to having overworked herself the night before on some errand as Daud's second. No, the real kicker had been what she did, the words she said and didn't say--the way her magic felt so very off and different. It tasted more like stagnant water in the air, a salted sea gone sour with rot, instead of the sharp electric tang of Daud's Arcane Bond.

{she'd looked at him, said 'Thomas?' with such clear confusion, face twisted into a thousand little emotions and so bare that it shook him--she was never so easy to read; she was an unattainable goal of perfect professionalism mixed with snark and sass and not this)

"That wasn't Billie," Thomas said simply, mask off even though they were in the middle of Daud's study, even though the rules were clear for everyone. Thomas scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over the faint stubble on his face. Daud didn't look at him, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the broken window into the ruins of Rudshore. He didn't say anything, left Thomas to scramble for his words and explain. The silence was expectant.

Thomas' hands curled into fists. He said a short, "Daud--"

Daud breathed out slowly, head bowed down. "I would argue," the man said, voice gravel soft, "that that was more Billie than she's been in a long while."

The words drew Thomas up short; enough that his hands unclenched and he took a surprised step back. "What?"

Daud turned and looked him over, eyed Thomas up and down, and then turned back toward the window. He said a short, "What did you see." It wasn't a question, more of a demand for Thomas to explain his thoughts and it brought Thomas up short suddenly. How does he put into words how Billie acted that made him so assured something was wrong? Thomas went over the morning in his mind eye, the way Billie sat up bleary eyed so late in the day, her hair messed with sleep, bags under her eyes.

The way Billie's right eye drifted, ever so slightly from her left. How her right arm moved sharper than he was used to. The way she'd looked at him so unmasked, a thousand thoughts and a thousand regrets across her face in an instant. Thomas struggled to put into words what he saw, as Billie lifted her right arm and pressed it against her right eye and tilted her head back. The way she went suddenly stiff for all of a half second, and then settled back down into her skin. How she repeated the movement a moment later, incomprehensible, and then how the void just--took her.

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it again. The transversal was odd; Billie hadn't vanished into smoke and void ash, like burnt papers in the wind as they normally did. Instead rock and stone wrapped around her form, twisted about her, then dropped to the ground and Billie was gone. Thomas couldn't put into words the sudden panic that had gripped him--how terrified he was at the strange transversal and the thought of an intruder in Rudshore, wearing the face of Billie who was so trusted that Daud named her Second that--Thomas caught himself from his spiraling thoughts and looked to Daud.

"She was expressive," Thomas said, words clipped with near uncertainty. "She was tired. She looked exhausted, worn down, off. Her words had more--gentleness. Softer." Thomas paced. "Then she--she reached up to her face and tilted her head back. It was--Void it was strange, Daud. Like she--she was elsewhere for half-a-second and then back. She did this twice and after the second time she slipped into a transversal but it was--it was wrong."

"Wrong in what way," Daud's words were quiet, contemplative.

"It wasn't void ash and smoke," Thomas stuttered over the words. "It wasn't--it was like stone, black as night, sharp as a blade. It--twisted around her. Dropped to the floor heavy. Then...melted into shadow. She was gone by that point."

Daud hummed, then said quieter, "Not every transversal is the same," which brought Thomas up short. Daud traced a finger along the wood of the window, continued his words, "You have the ability to transverse through me--through the Arcane Bond." Daud gestured toward his left hand. "You share in my transversal." Daud looked to him then. "You've seen Attano?"

Thomas paused, then said slowly, "Yes?" He'd been part of a squad that had been out on the rooftops, keeping an eye out for Attano in Bottle Street over a week back. They'd caught sight of the man only after he knocked out two other Whaler's, oddly gentle against them given he had to have recognized the masks, had to have realized who they were.

"What was his transversal like, Thomas?" Daud asked, and it drew Thomas up short.

What was Attano's transversal like? Thomas had seen it; he had clocked it as weird at the time, but brushed it aside and now he couldn't quite realize as to why. Thomas brought his hand to his chin. He had to think about it--the way the light refracted by Attano slipped into that liminal space. The Whaler's vanished into ash and smoke and burnt papers of void shadow; Attano just--winked out of existence and appeared elsewhere, light bent around him void-dark and then he was just gone into smoke. There was a trail, but faint and it faded fast enough that you had to look to see it; dispersed away into air like smoke and light puffed from the end of a cigar.

Thomas said as much as he could, confusion coloring his tone as he spoke his thoughts aloud, and Daud nodded his head.

"It is different for each Marked," Daud said, eyeing his hand disinterestedly. "Whether the black eyed bastard chooses what to give us, or if it's defined by something else, I haven't got a clue. But it is different."

Thomas pressed his lips together, but nodded slowly even as he said a short, "Like how Aelolos can duplicate."

"Or Rinaldo can tether, or Finch can bend time," Daud nodded.

Thomas frowned. "But you can't duplicate," he pointed out. "Yet we--share your transversal?" Daud shrugged, and Thomas realized that this was something Daud didn't even know. How could those who did manifest such different secondary abilities, ones that even Daud didn't have, yet they all share the same transversal, the same inexorable link to the man who had given them this gift?

For a moment Thomas didn't speak, then shook his head sharply. "Are you saying you think the Outsider Marked her?" Thomas bit his lip.

"You are the one who said she was trancing," Daud replied, voice almost too quiet to hear.

"It was--" Thomas paused, then sighed heavily. "It was similar to how you get when he bothers to talk to you." He could see the way Daud's lips quirked up, the slightly bitter slant to them. "You think He Marked her."

"It is possible," Daud said, words even. "You said she woke late?" He turned to look at Thomas, who nodded slowly. "It might be His doing, then."

"But...why?" Thomas asked, confused, hurt. The Outsider decided to Mark Billie, decided to gift Billie with new fantastical powers--but not anyone else? Why Billie specifically? After being so silent to Daud all these years, then coming back only after the hell they'd created for themselves by assassinating an Empress, coming back when Attano had escaped, coming back to give Daud a name and nothing else. "What sick game is He playing?" the words came out rough, almost grief-stricken.

"Who knows at this point?" Daud said back, purposefully blank in his tone. Thomas knew it hurt; knew Daud would look at Billie and feel a sting of betrayal. Billie was Daud's, Billie was the Whaler's, and while they were all through Daud the Outsider's he didn't just get to take one of theirs so easily! "What's done is done. The rest is Void."

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. He ground his teeth together and bowed his head. He felt a sharp sting of bitterness and rage swell in his chest that he worked to stamp out. He wondered if this meant Billie would leave them. He thought to the way she looked, how the emotions--grief, love, sorrow, hurt--flashed across her face and Thomas had to turn away from the window and away from Daud.

"I want you to keep an eye on her," Daud said, suddenly, and Thomas jerked back. He opened his mouth and then closed it when Daud looked at him, eyes hard as steel. "Watch her, see what she does. No more solo assignments for information. You keep an eye on her back and her blade."

Thomas swallowed; Daud stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, face gentling for a moment.

"This can go one of two ways, Thomas," Daud said. "I want to make sure it doesn't bite us in the ass."

A moment, then a nod, and then Thomas transversed away.

Billie stretched as she finally escaped Fisher's clutches, rotated her right arm and sighed tiredly as she dug through her meagre belongings in her space. Blackened, void fingers rested against her red coat, folded up with the Whaler mask settled atop it. After everything that happened in Dunwall originally when Billie fled, she'd buried the coat and mask in the bottom of what little possessions that she had. She kept them for mere sentimental value, but she dared not don them. It felt strange to be in front of them now after everything and to look at them as more than mere relics of her past. These were part of her present now.

Behind her Billie could hear the sound of a transversal--the soft thwip-like sound that indicated a Whaler had moved between the realms, stepped into the void and back out again in the span of half a second. She didn't tense, didn't even turn around because she had a fair good idea who it was that stood here.

"Thomas," Billie said as she picked up the mask to set it aside so she can dress in her jacket. She'd felt so proud when Daud gave her the red coat. Later she found she couldn't stand the color, not for fifteen years as she lived as Megan Foster. Red made her sick then; even now she felt a vague sense of unease with the color, despite having taken on a sleeker form of the coat after she'd dropped Emily off in Dunwall.

"Billie," Thomas said, and Billie glanced to him. She was surprised to see he still didn't have his mask on; it was hooked to his belt as he watched her, hands behind his back. "Fisher finished with you then?" He offered her a faint grin, part of that old teasing moment.

Billie huffed and hooked her own mask to her belt before she began to work through her weapons. "Yeah. Clean bill of health." She didn't mention the way Fisher frowned as he checked her eyes, or her involuntary responses. She knew something was up with her right side--had known ever since the nightmares started after Stilton Manor. The Outsider's 'gift' of void artifacts to replace them had only made it more apparent that something had happened to them, although Billie never did get an answer as to what. Now that she was here, younger and yet not, she wasn't surprised to have some lingering side effects.

Fuck, it hit Billie then and she scrubbed a hand over her face, was she a walking fucking hollow? Billie fought back a shudder and resolved to look at herself deeply with the eye later. Not when Thomas was in her room, looking at her with all the professionalism he wore about himself like a cloak. In fact--Billie turned to look at Thomas with her lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown. Thomas had been one of the few people from her days as a Whaler that hadn't treated her with complete coldness. He'd cared after everything, despite everything, and Billie had kept her ear to the ground about the fate of her mess of misfits. She knew for a long while Thomas had tried to keep the Whaler's together, after Daud decided to fuck off to who knows where.

"Thomas," Billie said, decision made, "your with me."

Thomas seemed to start or a moment; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open before that mask of professionalism crossed his face again and made it bland, yet pleasant.

"For what?" Thomas asked lightly as Billie turned back to arming herself.

"I'm surveilling the Timsh Estate," Billie pointed out. She was Daud's forward scout, his first contact in matters that he took personal interest. Billie was the one who got him the majority of his information. She ground her teeth in the reminder that it was that job of hers that put her in Delilah's path in the first place.

"Oh, right," Thomas shook his head as if he'd forgotten. Billie quirked her lips. "Why do you need me?"

Billie looked at her wristbow. She wondered what she could say to convince him, then just shook her head. "Back up. Just in case." She'd tell him more when they were out of Rudshore. Thomas deserved that much--and maybe, if she got him on board, she could mitigate her own fucking mistakes. If she could limit Delilah's actions somehow against the Whaler's, manipulate the woman enough that she wasn't aware of how Billie planned to betray her and yet somehow come out of this without getting Daud to knife her again--well, it'd be good preparation for Thomas to take over her position. Better than being suddenly thrust into it after her betrayal at least.

Maybe Daud would even stay this time. Wasn't that a thought? Daud keeping the Whaler's together, instead of them drifting apart until they weren't a family anymore. Billie didn't doubt that she would leave; she couldn't stay here, with them. Not with--not when that tie between her and the former Outsider burned sick in her gut. She couldn't imagine leaving the kid in that hell hole again, to rot away asleep to the world at large, petrified in stone for four thousand years--no. Billie wouldn't stay here after everything was done. After Delilah was dealt with she'd take her leave, find out where the fucking knife was, and cut a bloody swath through those fucked up cultists until she could get to him in the ritual hold.

(it was in Tyvia, wasn't it? hadn't that been what the Eyeless implied? so Tyvia then Karnaca....)

There had to be some poor dead sap in the void that could be convinced to whisper his name, after all. Billie didn't want it to be Daud again, didn't want to wait the fifteen years for it to be Daud again. She couldn't live through it a second time, and fuck it if turned the whole world into a hollow. It couldn't be worse than what they were dealing with before she woke up here.

With that thought in her mind Billie tugged on her Whaler's mask and looked to Thomas, left brow raised behind the mask. "Well?" she asked, voice tinny through the filters.

Thomas' lips quirked up and he tugged his own mask off his belt and slipped it on. He gestured to Billie, said a short, "Lead the way," and Billie grinned.

"Catch me if you can," Billie teased, cast her gaze for a space to transverse to, and disappeared in a flicker of void stone and water.

Corvo snorted awake, blinked his eyes and stared at the cot and the unfamiliar ceiling. It took him some time to place the sight of Piero's workshop. He didn't remember drifting off, but apparently at some point he'd landed on Piero's cot in the workshop and off into the realm of dreams. Corvo looked around, tried to spot Piero and the--the boy. He couldn't see anything on the upper floor, so he rolled off the cot and stretched with a grimace. HIs muscles protested, the still healing injures and scars from his time in Coldridge tugged irritatingly along his torso. He rubbed a hand along the stubble on his face and started his way down the stairs.

"Oh, Corvo." Corvo paused in the middle landing and blinked at Piero who had begun his way up. The inventor looked dead on his feet, and he swayed the faintest bit. Corvo wondered how to get across his question without a means to, but then Piero continued in a hushed voice. "I've done what I can for your guest, but Corvo...he's not in a good way."

With a gesture Corvo motioned to his neck, face pulled into a grimace, and Piero shook his head. "No, no that I've stabilized. The cut was deep but it missed the vital vessels in the neck," Piero said shortly. "I've sutured what I could but I'm not a physician, Corvo." Piero scrubbed his hand down his face. "Give me a good technical system any day, but people? I can't fix people, Corvo."

Corvo nodded, slowly. He knew as much even when he brought the--the boy here. Piero gestured toward the stairs, and quickly Corvo shifted aside to allow the inventor to head up. He followed after with heavy steps.

"It took me most of the rest of the night to stabilize him," Piero said, words short. "You passed out about halfway through. It's midday now." Corvo tilted his head, lips pressed together. "If you really want to help him we're going to need help. Are you sure you don't want to tell Havelock--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, and Piero raised his hands in understanding quickly.

A part of Corvo wondered if Piero recognized the face. He'd read through Piero's journal--he knew that the slighter man had seen the Void. He knew the Outsider whispered in Piero's ear. Had Piero seen his face? Actually talked with him? Corvo couldn't ask, and he hadn't seen the God in his sleep this night. He wondered if he would see him, given the very human shape of that same God rested downstairs.

"I get it," Piero said into the silence, words bitter on his tongue. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on his desk as Corvo followed him silently. "Then I have a request of you, my friend." Piero took a sip of the liquid and Corvo watched, silently. "I need Sokolov."

Sokolov? Corvo cocked his head, lips pressed together. He knw Sokolov. The Tyvian was the Royal Physician after all; did good work, really, when he could be bothered to. Jessamine had him working on the Rat Plague before her death, but Corvo didn't know what happened after. He hadn't seen Sokolov since before his travel to the other Isles on behalf of Jessamine.

"The...others have been talking," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "I can't do much more for the Loyalists as I am. Sokolov is the only one who can really--the protections he's given the Lord Regent..." Piero sighed heavily. "I've done what I can without help. I'm not good enough." His hand tightened on his cup as he said the words, lips ground together. He relaxed his grip a second later. "I have no doubt they're going to ask you to retrieve him."

Corvo didn't hum--he didn't want to deal with the pain in his throat right now, although it was a close thing--instead he turned his head to the side and tapped his fingers against the edge of his pantleg while he thought. Sokolov would definitely be helpful--he could give Corvo an edge around the defensive technology Barrow's had applied liberally throughout the city. If he was in good standing with Barrows too--and given his genius Corvo didn't doubt Barrows kept Sokolov in good standing despite how Corvo wished Sokolov faced hardships like the rest of him--Sokolov could be a unique advantage.

Emily liked the man, too, for all of his annoyances. Corvo breathed out heavily.

"Knowing Havelock though they won't ask you to be gentle," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "And if you are determined to keep him secret--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, head instantly snapped back to Piero who made a placating gesture immediately. "I know, I know. But if you want to keep him secret then you need to be gentle, for all that Sokolov doesn't deserve it." Piero took another sip of his drink.

Corvo frowned, but nodded. He leaned over Piero's desk and dug around until he found a map of Dunwall the inventor had stashed away. After a second he laid the map out and made a short gesture to it, brow eyes narrowed intensely. Piero shot him a bitter sort of grin as he looked over the map.

"I thought I heard them talking," he said, voice soft and conspiratorial, "about Sokolov being holed up on the Kaldwin Bridge." Piero tapped the area on the map and then pushed up his glasses. "I know it'd be easier at night but do you think you--?"

Corvo huffed, but nodded. He traced his finger along the sweep of the Wrenhaven and then glanced back to Piero. It was the best he could get out to ask about the route, and it took Piero a moment to parse the unspoken question, but Piero jolted.

"Oh, yeah, Sam should be good to get you there," Piero nodded. "I hope you don't mind but I asked him earlier while you were resting. It's about...midday now." Corvo frowned. "I had gathered you wouldn't want to leave your guest in dire straights for too long. Given his--well, given everything. I know my strengths Corvo, and this? This isn't it."

Corvo ducked his head, then nodded once and turned to leave. While he disliked having the decisions made for him, Corvo knew in this instance that Piero was right. He wouldn't want to wait, or have to hunt down Samuel for a trip to the Bridge. Knowing where he needed to go, knowing that Samuel was already on board, was one worry to take away from his chest.

"I--I'll just keep watch of him then," Piero said to Corvo's retreating back, and Corvo gave a short wave of acknowledgement, already focused on how he was going to convince the Tyvian Menace of Natural Philosophy to follow him back from whatever cushy position Barrows and dropped the bastard into.

#dishonored #billie lurk #daud #corvo attano #the outsider #fanfic #fic: kismet #fic: lacuna #wip

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wordsmithie · 4 years

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@your-girl-is-lovely thank you for tagging me in the fanfic wip tag! i don’t really have a writing community on here, so instead of doing the tag properly i’m going to post a snippet of a wip that i think you’ll be interested in. 😁

this is the rose x dj wolfman au that’s been rolling around in my head. it’s going to be a gothic-steampunk hybrid. in this scene, rose has traveled to talbot manor in the hopes of enlisting the services of mr. monserrate rafael lawrence talbot (aka dj haha) to help with finding a cure for her sick sister. she finds the gate locked, so decides to climb it. fyi this is still very unpolished. sticking this under a read more, hope it works on mobile. 🤞🏾

Most of the stonework was hidden beneath a tangle of vines. They might be enough to hold her up. She gave one of the curling stems a tug. They might be enough to hold her up if she climbed fast. She slipped her bag off her shoulder. It would only add to the weight, and she could come back for it later. She tried out a few different possibilities for a foothold, before lifting herself up with a grunt. The vines were scratchy against her hands, and she tried not to imagine any of the insects that might have been crawling between them. She had reached a particularly unpromising looking spot where they didn’t seem to be any stems strong enough to hold onto, when a gruff question startled her.

“Who in t-t-the hell are you?”

Rose let out a cry, her hold slipping. She dropped to the ground, landing on her back. The good thing was that she hadn’t climbed that far so the fall wasn’t too great. The bad thing was that it still bloody hurt. She lay on her back, waiting for the air to make its way back to her lungs.

“Did you hear me? How did you g-g-get here?”

The grey clouds that hung over her eye line were blocked out by an irritated looking face.

“Scraggly” was the word that came to Rose’s mind when she saw the face. The face looked tired. It had dark circles under the eyes, and a jaw invaded by stubble. And even upside down, Rose could see the small scars on one of the cheekbones.

“I’m…I’m Rose.” It was still hard for her to breathe. She climbed to her feet. “Rose Tico.”

The scraggly face belonged to a scraggly figure. The man was wearing a dark, worn coat. He had the air of someone who had been through trials. Rose wondered if he was the manor groundskeeper.

“Wonderful,” he rasped, his expression flat. “T-T-That tells me absolutely nothing.”

“I’m - I’m Rose Tico,” she said again, taking quick steps forward and holding her hand out. “I’ve come to see Mr. Talbot.”

The man simply stared at her and then at her outstretched hand before looking back up at her. “You want to see Talbot?”

Rose frowned, dropping her hand. The rudeness of the man! “Uh, yes. I was hoping to have an audience with him.”

At that, the man laughed, a wheezing sort of crackle that left Rose feeling like she was the unsuspecting subject of the joke. “An audience with him, eh?”

Rose’s frown only grew. “Yes, I heard he was back in town.”

The man shook his head, his mouth crooked in a smile so smug that it irked her. “Oh? Where d-d-did you hear that?”

“I - well, it’s all over town. In the society papers. Everyone knows.”

“They do, huh?” The man sniffed and looked away, rubbing his nose with his knuckles. He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, but then he turned back, ire pooling in his eyes. “You never said how you g-g-got here.”

“Ah, the gondola,” Rose said, gesturing vaguely behind him.

“It’s out of order.”

It was increible, Rose thought, just how much the man managed to convey despite being so dead-eyed. For instance, she could tell that he thought her a simpleton.

“Not anymore.”

A frown accompanied his dead eyes.

“I - I fixed it.”

“You fixed it.”

“Yes?”

The man’s eyes narrowed.

Rose felt the urge to insist that she had, in fact, fixed the thing but held herself back. She didn’t have to prove herself to this stranger.

The man seemed to sense her resentment and his lips twitched, a smile hiding in them.

“It isn’t easy to fix,” he said.

“Well, I’m an electro-mechanic.” She shrugged. It was almost true. She had completed her studies and her apprenticeship after all. Any further details about her as-yet-undeveloped career weren’t necessary to this man.

His eyes narrowed some more, and she could see him assessing her. She held back the outrage and defiance that was unfurling slowly in her stomach. After all, all he saw was someone still fresh out of university, looking as if they lacked all work experience.

“Right.” His drawl implied that he didn’t believe her. “And what is it you need t-t-to have an audience with Mr. Talbot for?”

Rose could almost marvel at the fact that someone she had met mere moments ago had the capacity to spark so much irritation. Almost.

“I really would prefer to discuss it with him.”

The man let out a huff of laughter and had the audacity to roll his eyes, neither of which did anything to dampen Rose’s ire.

“I’m sure you would prefer it,” he said, eyes sliding back to meet her. “But Mr. T-T-Talbot expects all visitors to go through me. So if you wouldn’t mind -” he held out an arm with a mocking graciousness, dipping his head - “Miss Tic, was it?”

“Tico,” she ground out. Blast this man. He was proving to much more of an obstacle than the imposing gates had been. She supposed that Mr. Talbot must pay him well. Though if he did, the man clearly did not spend any of his salary on personal grooming. “Very well. I have - I come seeking Mr. Talbot’s assistance.” Now that she was here and forced to articulate her need she found that she didn’t quite know how.

“His assistance?”

“Yes. Well, his knowledge. His scientific input. My sister is - she works in the Llanwelly mines, or rather she worked in them. And she has been in a weakened state the past few months. None of the doctors know what the matter is, and nothing seem to hel-”

“And why do you s-s-suppose Mr. Talbot would know any better?”

Rose blinked.

“He has one of the keenest scientific minds in Llanwelly! Everyone knows that.”

“They do, do they?” His blank stare turned ironic.

“Well, yes, he has -” Rose stopped. The man clearly resented his employer, and nothing that she could ever say at this moment would change that. “Well, that is, I was hoping to seek Mr. Talbot’s advice.”

“And, what?” the man rasped, eyes flat. “You th-th-thought he would help you out of the kindness of his heart? That he’s some b-b-benevolent benefactor? You can’t possibly be as naive as you look.”

Rose’s mouth tightened.

“I have no such delusions, I assure you. I am willing to recompense Mr. Talbot for his efforts.”

The man’s eyes stayed on Rose, a small frown forming between his brows.

“It won’t be cheap.”

“I - I can appreciate that.”

“Can you? It will d-d-demand more of my time. I’ll need to learn the details of your sister’s illness - the state of her health before the illness, all of those details - before I can even begin to decode the problem.”

Rose knew she was gaping in what Me would say was a most un-ladylike fashion.

“And then of course who knows how long it might take to solve the problem. That is -” he turned to look at Rose from under his heavy brows - “if there even is a solution.”

“I - you - you’re Mr - you’re not -”

The man - Mr. Talbot? - sighed, looking away.

“Yes, I’m Talbot. Monseratte Rafael Lawrence Talbot, second son of Talbot Senior, and -” his words slowed to a scornful, staccato cadence, “heir - to - Talbot - Manor. Or whatever’s left of it,” he added, sucking on his teeth.

His head swivelled back to her. “You can close your mouth now,” he said, waving his hand at her, before turning around and making his way down the path that curved along the side of the property.

Rose snapped her mouth shut and made to follow him, then, remembering her bag, ran back, looped it over her shoulder, and turned around to run after him again.

“Right, so you’re - you’re Mr. Talbot,” she panted, as she tried to keep up with his strides.

He grunted. “You won’t have t-t-to get your hearing checked, I see.”

“Alright, alright,” Rose acceded. “Yes. Well, would you - would you be able to help?”

“That d-d-depends, Miss Tic, on what you’re offering.”

“Tico. I can - offer - three hundred pounds now,” Rose said between huffs. Trotting after him with her bag hitting her leg was proving difficult. “And another three hundred pounds later.”

He stopped, swerving on his feet with a suddenness that had Rose almost careening into him.

He gazed at her with his flat eyes. “Th-th-that’s not nearly enough.”

“That’s…,” Rose inhaled, “not enough?”

He shook his head, his mouth screwing up apologetically. Though Rose had the distinct impression that he wasn’t apologetic at all.

“Right, well…,” Rose frowned, thinking, eyes dropping from his face to his throat, to the faded buttons on his jacket - “well, I could…try and get some more, I suppose.” Her family’s savings might have grown a bit in the time it would take for Mr. Talbot to complete his work.

“My services would require a th-th-thousand pounds.”

Rose’s eyes jumped to his face.

“A thousand pounds?” Somehow her voice did not squeak.

He nodded, his eyes on her.

Ever since Paige had gotten sick that small, glowing spark - hope - had stubbornly lodged itself in Rose’s chest. With each doctor’s visit, with each pronouncement of failure, it had faltered, flickered at first, but then it had always burned again in Rose with a vengeance.

Now, looking into the steady, dark eyes of this man - eyes, which seemed to offer steadiness only because emptiness tinged them - who so carelessly made demands that couldn’t even begin to imagine meeting, Rose felt that hope slowly fade away.

She breathed through her mouth, trying to ensure she would have control over her voice before she spoke.

“Th-Th-There is another option.” His rough, staccato words cut through Rose’s thoughts.

She blinked up at him.

“In addition to your three hundred pounds, I would be willing to accept your services.”

Rose frowned, and then, as realisation dawned on her, her jaw dropped.

“My - ?!”

The man scoffed, his flat expression disappearing for once to make way for exasperation.

“S-S-Spare me the scandalised virtue. I have no interest in schoolroom chits.”

Rose slowly closed her mouth again, still rendered speechless as her mind tried to grapple with offense after offense. She had left the schoolroom after all. For quite some time now.

“You c-c-claimed that you’re an electro-mechanic?” He inclined his head in question, though it felt most certainly like a challenge.

Rose lifted her chin, ignoring the flush of heat that still clung to her face. “I am.”

“Mm,” he grunted, nodding, his eyes running down the length of her, stopping for a moment at her waist where her toolbelt hung.

The assessment made her want to growl at him. Lord, all her polite manners were going to be in tatters.

“If th-th-that’s the case, I could use someone like you in the manor.”

“What do you mean?”

He scratched at the back of his head. “It’s been in disuse for some time. N-n-no doubt all of the foot-droids will need some attention. And then of course there’s the household equipment. Would your skills be up to the task?” He watched her out of the side of his eyes, his head tilted to one side. His eyes were narrow, sharp like the tip of a dagger, curving to dangerous points.

“If I say yes, how long would I be in service?”

He shrugged, mouth curving down, his eyes suddenly looking a lot less dangerous.

“That all d-d-depends, of course, on how long my work will take.”

Rose nodded, absent-minded. She had known that would be the answer.

“Fine. Yes. I accept.”

He stared at her for several moments longer before inhaling. “Alright, then.” He turned on his feet and started down the path again without sparing Rose another glance. This time she didn’t run to keep up. She still wasn’t entirely certain of what it was that she’d agreed to. And she wasn’t certain that she wouldn’t regret it.

She looked up to see that he’d stopped by a small gate set deep into the stone wall. Overhanging vines spilled insistently over it making it easy to miss. She heard the lock click, and he shoved the door open with a grunt. He stepped back, turning to her with an outstretched, chivalrous arm. She ignored it and the resulting chuckle from him, and stepped over the weed-ridden threshold.

#rose x dj #dj x rose #rose tico x dj #dj x rose tico #rose tico #star wars dj #the last jedi #sw #benicio del toro #kelly marie tran #my fanfic #tag you're it

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jootsmcgoots · 4 years

Text

MBC Selfshipping Prompts #1: First Dates (Risotto Nero)

WOO BOY so Haley started a weekly Selfship Prompt event over at MBC, and I wanted to write it out! And so I did.

Mind you, this uses my self-insert, Niko, so it’s going to be using that name and female pronouns. This work got away from me, so it ended up being 2422 words (even when I meant for this to be less than 2k words......lmaooo...)

I will get around to posting my reader inserts soon, but not yet LOL I’ll get around to it when I get around to it. This blog is still very much a WIP because I still need to re-reblog a LOT of content from the old blog.

But for now, this is what I’m writing and I wanted to post it up. I may write another for Mista, but we’ll see (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

So as the title implies, this is the first of the prompts, and it’s “First Dates”.

Niko let out a yawn as she sleepily looked out at the busy street. Her eyes scanned the droves of people walking around, trying to scope out her target. Dark eyes blinked as she studied the faces of men nearing her, trying to determine if they were the one she was looking for. When they passed by her, she shrugged internally.

Her phone’s clock read 10:47 AM. She knew they agreed to meet around 11, but it never hurt to be early. “And anyways, better to be early than late, right? Right.” She still couldn’t help getting bored easily, and the anxiety and tension building in her chest continued to rise as the seconds passed.

“Calm down, calm down,” she thought to herself, “It’s just a date; you’ve been on dates before! Just treat it like you’re just hanging out with a friend.” Niko let out the breath she was holding and took her phone out, idly browsing it in order to distract herself. “Plus, it’s Mimi’s brother. There’s no way he’d be the bad kind of sort. She wouldn’t set us up if she thought we weren’t going to get along.”

Still, she had to admit she was surprised when her friend made the suggestion and arrangements. Niko recalled as her friend more or less pushed the aquarium tickets into her hand and snatched her phone to punch in her brother’s contact info.

“It’ll be nice, I promise! He’s a really great guy, and I think you two will hit it off!” Mimi flashed the smaller woman a grin. “Plus, he needs to get out more often.”

Niko’s mouth formed a slight line as she remembered how she had asked her friend for a photo of her date, but Mimi’s grin only grew with amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! You’ll know when you see him.”

A noise of annoyance escaped Niko’s throat. “Dude, what does that even mean?” Her brow creased as she tried to think on what that could have meant, but quickly gave up, deciding it was too much effort. Her eyes absentmindedly left her phone screen to scope out her surroundings again.

Except her eyes bugged out as they fell on a large, foreboding man in dark clothing who towered over most if not all of the other people walking along. Whether by his size or presence, people seemed to naturally get out of his way as he continued making his way down the street. Everything about him exuded a quiet kind of power, from the way he walked, his stern expression, his hulking, muscular frame…

Though she remained completely stock-still, Niko shook her head inwardly. “No, no, maybe it’s not him! Maybe it’s just your regular, big, muscular, scary-lookin’ dude with fucking black sclera and red eyes, just walkin’ down the street for a stroll! All decked out in black and has the kinda expression that says, ‘hey so if you piss me off, I’m going to rip your limbs off’! Totally normal! Yeah! Hahaha!”

However, despite the thousands of thoughts going through her head at miles a minute, Niko knew. Now she understood what Mimi had meant by “You’ll know.” When the man stopped in front of her, it was undeniable that this man was indeed her date.

She could feel red eyes roving over her, studying her. If looks could kill, Niko felt like she would have been smote where she stood from the intensity of his stare alone.

Risotto’s unblinking crimson stare studied the woman before him. She certainly matched the picture and profile his sister had given him. Petite and girlish stature, short black hair that swept to the right, glasses, gold studs in her lobes, everything matched. He noted how she was sporting a mint green frog backpack, just like she’d specified she would so that he could recognize her easier. How thoughtful of her to suggest that in the first place. He couldn’t deny that he appreciated the consideration.

He was an observant man and was well-aware of his perception skills. After all, it was an invaluable skill in his line of work. However even without his sharp senses, there was no missing the look of surprise, awe, and slight fear in his date’s flabbergasted visage. Her eyes were wide, brows raised to the sky and jaw slack, lips seeming to form the beginnings of “Oh my god.”

Risotto let out a nearly imperceptible huff of amusement. His sister was right; this woman’s face hid nothing. He couldn’t help but smile a little at that candidness.

Introductions were short and awkward, but they served their purposes. Once acquainted, the pair could proceed with their date. Their itinerary was rather basic, just go to an aquarium and get some food together. Simple enough.

However, conversation was rather sparse as they made their way to their destination. Without any prior knowledge or known common ground, Niko was unsure of what to talk about, and Risotto was a taciturn individual by nature.

He didn’t dislike the small talk that she was trying to make, asking him things like what he did, what his hobbies were, but it required him to think carefully about his responses. It wasn’t exactly appropriate to vent about how little you were being paid to kill people on a first date.

What were you even supposed to talk about on a first meeting like this anyways? It had been far too long since he had tried connecting with someone new, let alone someone not affiliated with Passione. Though Risotto’s face remained as placid as ever, worry and nerves began bubbling beneath the surface as he picked up on the traces of worry and discomfort on his date’s face, and he wracked his brain for more to say.

He wasn’t alone, though; Niko hardly ever met people like this, usually having some common ground with new conversational partners. Here, she had absolutely no idea. Inwardly, she cursed Mimi for putting them in this awkward situation, wishing a thousand poxes on her friend’s house.

=====

“Eh? You set them up on a date?”

“Yup!” Mimi replied cheerily.

“And it’s a blind date, you said? And she doesn’t know what he looks like?”

Mimi hummed an affirmative as she snuggled up against her boyfriend’s shoulder, black nails clacking against her phone screen as she browsed. Though Kakyoin’s eyes hadn’t left the screen and he had continued dutifully chaining combos, his brows raised in surprise as he made a considering noise.

“Oh dear. She’s in for quite the surprise then.” As the victory logo flashed on screen, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead and smiled warmly at Mimi.

“That’s evil. I love it.”

=====

Arriving to the aquarium was a relief and a salvation to Niko. At least now they could busy themselves with an activity, and that would give them something to do together. Slowly, their conversation became less stiff and stilted, as Niko began prattling off about the various exhibits they toured together. Bit by bit, she continued to come out of her shell as she pulled him from room to room, and by noontime she was babbling nonstop about the penguin feeding exhibit they had just been at.

“…and god, they were just so damned cute!” Her eyes glittered at the memory. “Fun fact, did you know that there was this one penguin that fell in love with an anime character? I’m not kidding!” Niko nodded as Risotto tilted his head at that statement. “Yeah, yeah! His name was Grape-kun and he uh…” Her words petered out, and her expression turned sheepish.

Risotto raised a brow, unsure of why she stopped. “Is something wrong?”

Niko fidgeted in silence for a moment before answering. “I…I just kinda realized that I’ve been dragging you from place to place, and I’ve just been rambling non-stop. It’s – it’s not that…it’s okay if you’re just not one for talking. I totally get that!” she said, waving her hands in front of her before wringing them worriedly. “I just wanna make sure you’re having fun too. Like, I just hope I’m not talking over you or only doing the things I wanna do, y’know?”

She looked up at him to meet his stare. Embarrassment was racking up by the second, and as she was going to open her mouth, he spoke.

“I’ve been enjoying myself.”

Relief flooded her senses. Niko smiled at him as she registered his words, her expression relaxing into something much brighter. He couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even though the corners of his mouth had barely turned upwards.

She clapped her hands together as a thought seemed to dawn on her.

“I know! Was there anything in particular that you wanted to do? Anything here that you were looking forward to?”

At that, Risotto’s eyes widened just the tiniest bit, but Niko had caught it. “There is, isn’t there?” she probed with a mischievous grin. “C’mon, tell me! I’m sure it’ll be nice.”

He averted his eyes, and she chuckled good-naturedly at his sudden shyness. “C’mooon, tell me! We already came all the way out here, so if there was something you wanted to do, let’s go and do it!”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t turn away from her expression, bright and shining like the sun, with no escape. Risotto let out a mumble, still unable to look her directly in the eye.

“Mm? What was that?” Niko tilted her ear towards him.

“…the manta rays.” He repeated himself, barely louder.

She made the connection in seconds. “Oh! The petting pool with the manta rays!” Niko threw him a grin as he nodded. “Yeah, I gotcha! Let’s go!” And at that, she immediately set off before stopping short and looking behind her, waiting for him. “Come on! It gets really crowded, so let’s head on over.”

The petting pool was a popular exhibit, and it was already full of people, children and adults alike, all fawning over the adorable manta rays that practically jumped out of the water for a petting. Though his face remained as stony as ever, the sparkles in Risotto’s eyes exposed his excitement as the sounds of splashing drew nearer and nearer.

Niko let out a giggle. How cute.

However, he just stood there, staring out at the pool that was so close yet so far. Maybe he felt put off by the number of people there.

Taking matters into her own hands, Niko tried to lead them closer to the pool, but found that the droves of people who were already there difficult to navigate. She managed to bypass a few of them, but soon found it hard to actually get near the exhibit. Her lips curled to the side in annoyance as she tried to think about how to get to the exhibit.

Then, she felt someone take her hand. Niko looked up in surprise to see Risotto by her side, taking her hand gently as he began to wade through the crowd with her in tow, people parting as a hulking 6’8” man strode over to the manta ray pool. No one there decided that it was worth getting in his way, especially as he occasionally let out quiet, polite “excuse me, pardon me”s as he made his way over.

As Niko followed him through the crowd, she had a thought. Throughout the date, he hadn’t tried to make contact with her at all. Now that she thought about it, he had kept a respectful distance from her the entire time.

She let that fact wash over her as they approached the pool. Manta rays were swimming serenely through the clear water, occasionally breaking the surface of the water, excited for more pets.

Risotto had already dipped his hands into the cold water, gently stroking the creature as it passed by. A soft smile graced his features, dimples forming on his cheeks.

The sight was something Niko wanted to commit to memory.

Noticing that she had yet to join him, he removed his hand from the pool to look at his date. What he was met with was a soft, nearly reverent look on her face, dust blushing her cheeks. Upon realizing that he was looking directly at her, Niko gave him an awkward grin, hastily kneeling down with him to start babbling about how cute the rays were.

“…sorry.”

That cut her ramble short. “Huh? About what?”

“I should have asked first.”

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he searched her expression for any change. She looked confused for the barest of seconds before realization lit her features.

“Oh. Oh! That!” Niko quickly took her hand out of the pool, but thought better of shaking her hands in front of her like she usually did. “No, no – don’t worry about that!” She laughed, the sound causing a tentative warmth to blossom in his chest. “I really didn’t mind. It was…it was nice.” She emphasized her point with a shy but honest smile that caused the warmth in his chest to go into full bloom.

His eyes softened at her gentle expression, the soft look on her face looking like the most natural thing in the world. Risotto grunted an affirmative, finding words to be difficult.

As they walked away from the petting pool and dried off their hands, Niko spoke up.

“You know…to be honest, I wasn’t so sure about this. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone on a date, and this was my first blind date. I was ready to kill Mimi!” she admitted with a laugh, miming strangling motions. “No offense.”

“None taken.” His chuckle was nearly inaudible, but she didn’t miss the amusement in his voice.

Her smile grew wide, toothy and easy. “But this was nice. Real nice.”

“It was.” Risotto returned the smile, however subtle the change in his expression was. “I’ll admit this was…an experience. But I enjoyed it.”

At that, Niko laughed lightly and reached out to take his hand. Risotto noted the hesitation in her actions, the pause lasting no longer than a second. But in the end, he could feel his hand in hers, warm and comforting, like that was where it belonged.

He smiled at the feeling.

“Let’s go get lunch?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

His hand tightened around hers, just so.

“Let’s.”

As they walked towards their destination, they discussed restaurants, going over their options and bantering all the way there, the sound of her laughter echoing down the street.

#my self insert #Niko #self insert #self insert prompts #first dates #Risotto Nero #Vento Aureo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #modern AU #aquariums #my writing #SFW #fluff #fluffy #risotto x niko

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