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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 4 years

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We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

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shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction

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ifwallscouldtalkkkk · 3 years

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Lost connections

Ashton Irwin x female reader

Warning: insinuation of alcohol ingestion, emetophobes tread lightly

Cheesy angst, psa at the end

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Ashton wakes up after a painful night, having to process a bittersweet conversation with someone he can't let go of.

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Ashton sharply inhaled through his teeth as the throbbing headache pushed him awake. The cold air directly on his enamel sent a sting of pain through his teeth, which seemed like a cruel addition to his already present suffering. He slowly sat up, and ran his tongue over his teeth to dull the pain. Today was gonna be rough, but at least it wasn't yesterday. Just recalling last night was a monumentally challenging task. He didn't really need to remember what happened per se though, because he could feel what had happened just by his current emotional state anyways.

He slowly rummaged around for his phone where he sat, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He could blame it on the autumn day sunlight beaming in, but he knew it was just as much the mental anguish of having to confirm what he already knew that kept them closed. When his fingers finally grazed plastic, he held up his phone to his face, hoping that the facial recognition would still work with the current contorted grimace of his face. As soon as that unlocking click sounded though, there was no longer any rational reasons left not to open his eyes, and although he surely wouldn't mind keeping them shut, it just wasn't possible.

The lit screen presented him with several easily ignored notifications; Instagram, Spotify, a mobile game that he had completely forgotten he installed weeks ago... All uninteresting and disposable, but swiping them away would take too much time right now. What mattered was the "recently used apps" screen. One quick swipe verified his suspicions - the app used last showed an instant messaging conversation. He expected to feel his stomach drop, but instead, it knotted itself tightly.

It had been over a year since their last interaction, despite several attempts at a friendly chit-chat on his part. Those months long unanswered messages haunted him, but unfortunately, these rare instance of a reply was almost worse. Scrolling through didn't take long. It hadn't been a lengthy talk, but she seemed warm and casual in the messages. It was a relief to see that she at least didn't show any signs of annoyance at his pestering, but it didn't extinguish his forever smoldering worry that she was just being cordial from sheer pity.

He wanted to keep reading, to masochistically torture himself by pouring over and analyzing every last word. But instead, he leapt up and took a running for the bathroom.

He only just barely made it to the toilet bowl before his stomach contents spewed out his mouth, leaving an agonizing acidic and vaguely peach-y taste in his throat. Sitting clumsily down with a thud on the tile floor and leaning against the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut again, wishing fruitlessly that the act would prevent his mind from flicking back to the texts.

Maybe this time it’s meant to be.

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PSA

Uh, hi guys. So... this one is a bit different from my usual stories. The truth is that I just needed this personally. Every few months, a former lover of mine contacts me, subtly trying to build up to ask if I would like to hang out sometime soon. I want to say yes every time, but the timing just is never right, and I know I need to work through some other stuff before letting myself be that vulnerable. Ironically, the whole story of us reads like a cliche fanfic in real life (the guy is even literally a professional musician, I mean come on, I can’t even make up a more cliche situation if Í tried). Someday, I might be able to tell the full story, but for now, this blurb was my way of trying to make sense of my emotional state after receiving one of those rekindling texts today, by imagining his feelings and perspective of it. His personality fits quite well for Ashton, so it only felt right to therapeutically turn my mental processing into a fic. Hope you guys don’t mind the angst and cheesiness of it.

ifwallscouldtalkkkk MASTERLIST

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP. But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster. Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr. See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story. When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”. If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is. The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events. I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus. Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip.

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile. No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering. Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services. The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day. Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial. She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor. I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down... aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye? Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here. Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting. What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly. Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.” At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal. Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever. If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass. He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent. Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped. “Wee Jamie? Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew. I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny. Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday. I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance. She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston. Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie. I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself. As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class? My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche. Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck. My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning. I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left. A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips. Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy. She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?” At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day. I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body. He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch. I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures. “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe. Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation. Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others. I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time. The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan. I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast. First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands. To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind. My pie crust! Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan. Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class. We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke. With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water. A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls. I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision. She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking. It looked like a magazine cover. Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better. She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness. Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion. Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated. She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair. “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty. They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended. I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment. Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire. After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama. Will ye be joining us next week? We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk. “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook. It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity. “Tis an art. Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is. But in that case, I may as well give up now. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly. Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree. Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting. He knew about Frank. He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake! Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft. Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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for-the-ninth · 3 years

Note

It's Friday Egg! Prompt time! How about “You probably shouldn’t touch that.” “What harm could this trinket possibly do?”

FINALLY answering this one, it's been on my mind for a while and I just needed some inspo. Been thinking a lot about young Shielan, before she became Inquisitor, out adventuring with her best friend, Zevriel. @dadrunkwriting

***

“Where the fuck are we?” Zevriel’s amber rasp echoed off the dank, glistening walls of the cave. He lowered his hood and plucked a tiny glowstone from his pocket, rubbing it between his palms until it lit up. One held the stone and the other rested lazily in his pocket as he shuffled along the wall, scanning the stone for glyphs and old drawings.

Shielan answered him with a disinterested grunt, golden eyes narrowed to slits as she hunched over a jagged cluster of stones, mumbling to herself. “Obsidian, but brighter…awfully sharp, this bit. How strange…” She ran her fingertips across the tallest points of the cluster, pressing them into her flesh and pulling back to examine the resulting marks.

Zevriel looked over his shoulder and cocked one brow at her, a knowing half-smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He lowered his voice to a lilting whisper. “Oh, Ripperrrrrrr…,” And when she did not answer: “My liege, my dearest comrade, my knight in shining leatherrrrrr…”

“Hm?” Shielan answered without looking up. She’d already moved on to a second cluster of rocks, which, as far as he could tell, was no different than the first, brows furrowed as she poked and prodded.

“Just so you know”—Zevriel’s half-smile turned to a grin as he leaned against a misshapen column of stone, one ankle crossed over the other—“my ears aren’t half as good as yours, but I could swear I hear a rock wraith shuffling about just down that way.” He gestured vaguely with one hand while the other plucked a cigarette from behind his ear and stuck it between his teeth. “Gnarly old fuckers, they are. Though I suppose it’s more likely to be a squatter, a disembodied spirit, or—ooh!—maybe it’s a little family of deepstalkers, and wouldn’t that be just a delightful little rendezvous?”

Shielan rifled through her crowded satchel, sending a cacophonous jangle of clinking glass bouncing off the stone, and pulled a leatherbound book from its depths. Zevriel winced at the sound, but she paid him no mind. Her fingers were already flipping through the pages, occasionally pausing to trace the outline of a drawing—presumably of rocks, though he couldn’t see clearly from his vantage point. She’d squint at the page, then squint at the rocks, then squint at the page again, as though waiting for something to be revealed.

Zevriel was, in part, a little envious of his friend’s stellar focus. While he flitted from place to place, searching for something to dazzle his senses, Shielan approached every inch of her environment with a curious eye and a hungry mind, like she were a blank slate ready to be carved up for posterity—and when something really got her attention, nothing and no one who could draw her away. He knew this because he’d tried (twice) and had both his ego and body bruised for it (twice). Her single-mindedness was at once remarkable, infuriating, and wholly endearing.

“Perhaps I should speak louder, so as to draw them near,” he said, hands searching his pockets for a light. “Might as well get the battle over with, you know?” He raised his voice only just, figuring he ought to tread lightly in case his jest came to fruition.

True to form, Shielan ignored him entirely. She’d pulled another book from her bag—the one that could seemingly hold an unending well’s worth of miscellaneous shit—and was silently scribbling away in it, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Her gaze darted from the rock to the page, then back again, and after watching her for a few moments, Zevriel realized she was sketching the rock formation. He shook his head and sighed, both hands rummaging through any part of his outfit that’d ever been used as a pocket, cursing under his breath. “Andraste’s wet knickers—where did I put those fucking—”

Shielan snapped her fingers together and he looked up. She’d moved the pencil to her other hand and continued to draw as she extended a glowing thumb and forefinger in his direction. “I don’t know why you bother with matches when fire is readily available to you.”

“But that spell hurts my little fingers,” he whined, in a way he hoped would pluck her nerves.

“Huh,” she said flatly, “I would’ve thought your fingertips void of sensation considering how many times I’ve burned you.” A cheeky smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, despite her obvious effort to repress it.

“Indeed”—Zevriel sighed as he moseyed over to her, shoulders slumped—“you so regularly set me ablaze with your rapier wit, my dear Ripper. I worry I may never return to my former self.”

“Reflect on what an asinine reconnaissance mission that would be and get back to me.” Shielan tossed her sketchbook to the ground and rummaged through her bag, sending another piercing wave of clangs and clatters through the dank air. Her smile deepened as Zevriel moved closer to her—adorable, he thought, the way his proximity was the only thing impactful enough to poke holes in her resolve—and bent at the waist, resting his cigarette between her flaming fingers.

“Remind me, if you would”—he took a hefty drag and continued through a cloud of smoke—“how it is I came to be friends with someone who tears me down at every turn?”

“I don’t know about every turn,” Shielan replied, chuckling, “but I believe the answer you’re searching for is: ‘because no one else would take the job.’”

Zevriel’s grin turned to a scowl as he watched her face fall for a moment so short it would’ve been imperceptible if he hadn’t seen it coming. Her words may have been directed at him, but the sentiment wasn’t.

He crouched next to her, taking care to lean his head back as he blew clouds of smoke, so as not to provoke her ire. “I know you’re real focused on this little rock situation over here—”

“They’re stalagmites, fool.” She scratched her head, lips pursed. “At least, I think they are. It’s just…they’re so small, and not at all like—”

“Right, the mysterious miniature stalagmites are just titillating, I’m sure—”

“It’s as if you want me to stab you, Zev.”

“—but Keeper Istimaethoriel sent us looking for shit to sell. Somehow I doubt these will fetch a fair price in the markets of Hasmal.”

Shielan threw her head back and sighed, though it came out more as a raspy groan. “You never let me have any fun.”

“All things in moderation, dear Ripper.” Zev yanked her up off the ground and threw one arm around her, nudging her stubborn feet along as he strolled deeper into the cave.

“You forgot the glowstone,” she muttered.

“And you have fire hands,” he replied, grinning. It was too dark to see her face, but he knew her eyes couldn’t be far from rolling out of their sockets in exasperation.

She shrugged him off and spawned a flaming orb between her palms, then sent it floating up toward the cave’s ceiling, flexing and twisting her wrists until it loomed large enough to light the whole cave. Tiny sparks crackled and popped from its center, and with its glow came a slow, steady heat that soothed the damp darkness as it settled into their bones.

Zev stared up at the orb with wide eyes as he walked. “That spell never gets less impressive, you know.”

“Flattery is of no use to me,” Shielan said, arms folded stubbornly over her chest. He elected to ignore her grumpiness, opting instead to surge ahead of her sulking pace, eyes peeled for shiny objects the shem would be stupid enough to pay for.

They didn’t have to walk far before stumbling upon a forgotten cluster of odds and ends, arranged haphazardly around a bedroll and an old pair of boots that looked as though they might crumble to dust if touched. Zev crouched down and sorted through the pile, lips pursed around the pitiful remains of his cigarette as he scratched at a layer of rust on a piece of silver cutlery.

“Junk,” he muttered, and chucked it across the cave. It clinked against something that definitely wasn’t stone, and his ears perked up at the sound. By the time he’d gotten to his feet, Shielan was all but sprinting toward it.

She hunched over the object, obscuring his view. “It’s a locked chest. Rather small; it could fit in the palm of my hand.”

“Oh, you know those fuckers just love random little bullshit that fits in the palm of their filfthy rich hands,” Zev said as he scrambled toward her. He reached for the chest’s lid and Shielan threw her arm out, slamming it into his belly.

Zev clutched his stomach and groaned, but soldiered through the pain, slamming his shoulder into hers. “I wanna see!”

“Then look with your eyes,” she hissed. “It could’ve been sealed with an enchantment.”

“Exactly,” he wheezed, and threw up his hands. “And the only thing they love more than random little bullshit that fits in the palm of their filthy rich hands is enchanted random little—”

“For fuck’s sake, you can’t just go around touching whatever the fuck you want in a place like this!” Shielan threw her hands up in return, eyes wide with exasperation.

“Pffft.” Zev rolled his eyes as he zipped around her, scooping up the tiny chest before she could react. He held it in one hand, gesturing vaguely with it as he spoke. “I mean really, what harm could possibly come from simply touching a—”

The chest vibrated in his grasp, so violently that he yelped like a kicked dog and threw it across the cave. As soon as it landed, a piercing white light filled the cavern, accompanied by a sustained shriek that shook the walls.

“Mythal’s ass, Zev!” Shielan made a futile attempt to shield her eyes, peeking out from beneath her arm at intervals to see what lay behind the light.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected,” he shouted over the din. There was a boyish excitement in his voice that could’ve driven Shielan to murder.

“Is it really now?” The light dimmed, but the scream remained, only it came in staccato intervals that plucked Shielan’s nerves even more than before.

Zev bounced over to her with his daggers drawn, hopping from foot to foot and grinning like a fool. Loathe as she was to let go of an opportunity to chastise him, Shielan knew he had the right idea—whatever busted out of that chest was pissed. She flexed her fingers and started running through a catalogue of barriers and glyphs in her mind.

The absence of light revealed a collection of wisps in shades of blue and silver, some more translucent than others, writhing together in a formation unlike anything she’d seen before. They grew in size, and the staccato scream turned into a chorus of horrifying moans that reverberated through the cave at a piercing volume.

“It’s a mass of spirits,” Shielan shouted. “Whoever lived here must’ve bound them to the chest and died. They’ve been trapped for too long, and now they’re corrupted.”

“Fucking Nevarrans.” Zev sighed dramatically and shook his head. “You got a plan?”

“For this?” Shielan snorted. “Fuck no.”

#dadrunkwriting #my writing #inquisitor shielan lavellan #my ocs #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic

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hoodwinkd1 · 4 years

Text

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 11-13

Ch 8 - 10 here. Ch 14 here.

Chapter 11: morning, her place

Eris jumped out of sleep the next morning, waking suddenly to the pressure of someone attempting to break down his wards. His body tensed immediately, an instinctual growl rising in his throat at the perceived threat. His mind reacted a moment later, recognizing the scent currently trying to break down the front door.

“RHIANNON HARMONY OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” Interesting. Eris had made it this far without ever asking Rhia for her last name.

He waved a hand, removing the additional wards he had placed on the house last night. Grabbing his tunic from the chair and throwing it over his head, Eris strode downstairs just in time to watch Sofine burst into the front room.

She gave him such a ferocious glare that he froze in place without meaning to. “I suppose you’re the reason Rhia left town mysteriously for two days?”

“I, uh, yes.” Eris really wasn’t used to anyone scolding him. “Rhia helped me out with a...situation at the palace. Coffee?”

He vaguely remembered Rhia owed him a thought from last night. All this relaxation and peace had done some damage on his sharp, cunning mind.

Sofine’s eyes widened momentarily. Whether she was surprised at the gesture or suddenly remembering who she was scolding, her tone calmed considerably. “She keeps the beans above the stove, if you didn’t know.”

Eris nodded, accepting the small olive branch she offered. He lit the front burner with a flick of his pointer finger while filling the kettle under the tap with a flex of his other hand. The movements came quickly, naturally, and some of the tension left his body at the small expulsions of magic.

Quick footsteps skittered to a stop at the bottom of the stairs as the love of his life took in the scene in front of her. Shit. Eris’ thoughts had become pathetic and obsessive without his permission. He would have scowled if the sight of Rhia treading into the kitchen nervously hadn’t been so damn endearing.

“Shit, Sofi, I’m sorry.” Rhia embraced her friend tightly. “I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly; you must have been so worried.”

Sofine laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh I was very calm. Other than yelling at the High Lord first thing this morning.”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Rhia hummed. She then made her way towards Eris, who finished steeping the beans at exactly the right second, handing her a steaming cup of coffee as she reached him. “What did you do?”

“Other than drag you into my mess?” Eris inquired, repressing the bolt of guilt that shot through him at the idea of Rhia in danger at the palace. “I placed additional wards up last night.” He looked over her head at Sofine. “I’ll make sure to include you in them next time.”

Rhia raised an eyebrow. “Who gave you permission to place them in the first place?”

Eris noted her light tone and twinkling eyes. “You tried to break into the most heavily guarded building in the Autumn Court yesterday and branded yourself as an enemy to the crown. What if someone tries to arrest you for that again?”

“Rhia,” Sofine gasped. “You tried to break into the palace?” Swiveling her glare to Eris, she demanded: “Why didn’t you let her in?”

At least she was scolding them both now. Eris held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know she was there!”

“And I didn’t try to break in, I actually did break in,” Rhia grumbled. “You should really upgrade the security on the eastern external wall.”

Sofine huffed. “Will you both disagree on every little detail? I want the full story.” She sat herself down at the kitchen table, making a big show of getting comfortably situated. “I have time.”

Eris sensed that now would be a lovely time to retreat and leave Rhia to her own devices. “I have to return to the palace and the horrors of bureaucracy.” He leaned forward, giving Rhia half a second to adjust to his closeness, before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Her mouth upturned into a small smile, one he wished he could spend hours exploring. “I’ll come back when I can, good?”

“Very good,” she replied. “I expect a full report of our Court’s political situation when you return.”

Eris sighed dramatically. “If you insist.” He waved to Sofine. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed in my abilities after hearing the full story.”

“To be determined.” Her face flushed lightly, a female still unused to the High Lord’s presence, but he only felt gratitude at her attempts to treat him as normal as possible.

Eris blinked and appeared in his chambers, taking a minute to change his clothing and wash his face. He uttered some choice words at the pile of paperwork littering his desk, rifling through the to-do lists, save-the-dates, business contracts, and personal correspondences to see if any of it required his immediate attention.

One of his spies, Jyn, had sent him a list of potential candidates to fill the vacant adviser roles that Eris skimmed quickly. He had a half-baked plan forming in his mind to let people vote on the Fae listed on the sheet, maybe even ensuring that each region had specific representation. Gerwin had helped him draft a few new pieces of legislation that Eris would announce during the Autumnal Equinox ball, so one more shouldn’t cause any additional havoc.

“Fuck,” Eris swore again, remembering that his Court’s largest annual celebration was only a fortnight away and he had no idea what the hell was going on with the event.

He already wanted to check on his mother and Liang would know the most about the upcoming celebrations. Two birds, one awkward acknowledgement that they shared a bedroom.

Eris walked down the corridor, stopping to chat with one of the servants to make sure everyone on staff last night had received additional pay for working through an attempted coup. The slender male named Yuri had confirmed that the throne room was completely cleaned of any body parts and that to his knowledge, everyone had gotten the money before heading home.

The Lady of the Autumn Court lived in a different wing of the palace than her husband and sons had, a different wing than where Eris now lived basically alone. As he approached the white double doors, he ignored the urge to open the door automatically and knocked instead.

“Yes?” His mother’s tone was curious and wary, until she laid eyes on him. “Oh, darling! Come in, come in.”

Eris followed her inside, observing how much lighter and joyful she seemed in the glow of day. Her decorations had always used softer colors and more patterns than typical Autumn design; even the gold that adorned the soft blue curtains looked brighter than the gold that detailed his traditional red decor.

“How are you?” he inquired. “Did the healers take a look at you last night?”

She herded him over to the seating area. “Yes, and you have nothing to worry about. I wasn’t harmed by the Night Court.” Eris let out a deep exhale. He hadn’t known how to delicately ask what she’d experienced in captivity, and her warm gaze confirmed that she hadn’t been tortured. “I might not be feared or even respected by the other Courts, but Keir knows exactly who my allies are. And who my family is.”

“If Rhysand hadn’t finally taken care of the trash ruining his terrority, there would have been a list of us ready to kill Keir for him,” Liang grumbled, joining them from the bedroom. “Eris.”

He returned her nod. “Thank you for insisting on the healers.” Eris turned his body to face her more directly. “I actually had a question for you, as well. The Autumnal Ball is supposed to be in two weeks and I--”

“Hadn’t planned anything for it?” Liang teased. “Not to worry. The High Lord typically shows little to no interest in the event planning.” Her words had a bitter edge to them, and Eris knew he wasn’t the High Lord she spoke of. “I can send details to your rooms later today for your approval.”

Eris held his hands up. “I trust your judgement much more than my own. I would be interested in seeing the plans, though, just for my own knowledge.”

“Of course. I’ll at least want your opinion on the guest list, make sure I didn't’ miss anyone important.” Liang sat next to his mother, who raised an eyebrow.

“Is there anyone she wouldn’t have thought to invite, darling?” she asked innocently. “Do you have any new friends we don’t know about?”

Her words made him feel like an adolescent. “You know I don’t have friends. But I might send invitations to the other High Lords; see if they’d like to send a delegation.”

“Just let me or my assistant know if anyone needs to be seated separately to avoid a fight,” Liang offered. “We have over a thousand guests confirmed, so a few more won’t require much adjustment.”

Eris’ eyes bulged out of his head. “A thousand? Where did you find that many fucking people?”

“Language,” his mother admonished. “And we’ve always had a large attendance, though never quite this large.” She grinned at him. “I believe the host might be a bit more popular this year than in previous years.”

He fell into his thoughts as the two females ordered tea and went through some of the other details with him over the next hour. The annual ball was one of the only events that sent out a certain number of tickets to each regional capital, instead of inviting specific Fae individually. During Beron’s reign, only the required attendees who sat in governing roles showed up, but almost all of the optional invitations had been reserved this year with family members, friends, and colleagues. Eris hoped that meant his Court felt more comfortable with him than his father, and not that they all wanted a front-row seat to his inevitable failure or demise.

Liang sent him off with a few blank invitations, spelled to deliver themselves immediately after being addressed. He stopped by his rooms and scrawled out all the High Lords’ names, except for the Night Court’s which he addressed to Carina. She probably wouldn’t throw his letter directly in the fire. He also added a personal note, letting her know that he still owed her a very fancy dress for her help in finding his mother, offering to send his best tailor her measurements if she wanted to call in that deal.

Either through a simple mistake or a stroke of ingenuity, Liang had handed him 7 invitations, leaving Eris an extra blank one. Inspiration hit him like a brick. Rhia.

Would she want to come? See him in his role? Watch the entire fucking island scrutinize him? Normally, Eris would have let his thoughts swirl in a self-deprecating river until he’d talked himself out of the idea. He chose to stop himself this time, however, and practice healthy communication by just asking her.

Would they be able to hide their bond at such a large event? Any daemati would know, if they didn’t maintain their mental shields perfectly the entire time. The thought of hiding his feelings for Rhia, avoiding her gaze and looking at anyone else when perfection was right in front of him, drew a low growl from his lips. For her safety, though, he would do anything. Even if acting like he didn’t care felt so uniquely miserable.

Carina’s response drew him out of his thoughts. Cauldron, he was getting irrationally dismal in his old age. Maybe that was a side effect of patricide.

He snorted internally at the bleak joke.

Of course I’ll be there, idiot. Bryce is coming too. Something about how I never have any regard for my own safety blah blah blah. I’ve attached detailed instructions for your tailor, and I’ll be bringing a backup gown in case it’s not up to my standard. I have a reputation to uphold.

Eris let relief wash over him that he’d have at least one ally present. At the mention of Carina’s mate, he considered asking her for help with the whole mess of emotions that he went through daily. At the very least, she was one of the very few people in Prythian who understood the dangers of power, the sharpness of panic that came with putting loved ones in danger from enemies that normally wouldn’t spare them a second glance.

Hours of meetings and too many decisions stood between Eris and sitting in his favorite chair in a too-small kitchen. He gave himself one minute to hope that the violent chapters of his life had closed permanently, gave himself one minute to dream of what happiness and peace might actually look like, before re-entering his role as High Lord.

Chapter 12: spent their whole lives trying to put it into words

One small TW for abuse (past, nothing graphic). I've put the usually XXX before and after, but as always please let me know if I can make these warnings better and if you want a summary of that section.

“Hold that position. Yes! Exactly like that!” Rhia gasped. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement

Her student’s tiny arms began to tremble slightly at the exertion. Aliar’s face remained focused, however, as he used his leg muscles to push the wave of water higher and higher, until it touched the ceiling.

He dropped it suddenly. “Was that good?”

Rhia grinned. “That was wonderful . Did you see how much higher you raised it using your entire body instead of just your arms?”

He nodded quickly, a slow smile building on his face. Much quieter than the other two students he trained with, Aliar’s smile was equivalent to jumping with joy.

“Go grab some water, then you all can stretch and go home.” Rhia herded the trio of younglings toward the counter dividing the studio and her kitchen, where she always laid out a pitcher and cups. Raquel immediately stole Aliar’s attention, bestowing compliments and advice all in the same breath, at a speed too fast for anyone to follow along. They had a few more weeks before they would master water, all three of them did, but had made good progress nonetheless.

Rhia shuffled past Leyora carefully, from where the female had begun stretching in the most inconvenient spot, towards the dining room table. She eyed the blank parchment sitting there. The memory of the last time she had been waiting for a message from Eris while teaching this same trio hurt to recall, but she shook off any negative thoughts. Today had been good, her sleep undisturbed and her breathing easy.

It’s only been a day, she chided herself mentally. Give him time to respond, you needy wench.

“What is that?” Raquel demanded. Rhia barely stopped herself from jumping at their voice and shoved her hand away from the parchment. “Are you being sneaky with something?”

“What?” Rhia replied. “I’m an adult. I don’t have to sneak anything.”

Leyora raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like something a sneaky person would say.” Alair humphed in agreement.

“You’re all menaces. Raquel, finish your water.” Children could be eerily perceptive when they wanted to, usually when adults didn’t want them to.

As they grabbed their coats and ambled out, weather already turning gloomy before the Solstice, Rhia watched them go with a strange bittersweet feeling. Would she continue teaching if she became Lady--

Shit. That was not a road she had ever gone down and certainly didn’t need to go down. As if she would ever officially court Eris, nonetheless marry him when they hadn’t done anything more than kissing yet. When they still hadn’t talked through their pasts, their hopes, their darknesses.

Still, the thought lingered.

Rhia busied herself with making dinner as the sun set, drawing graceful golden designs on the walls. She sensed Sofine coming up to her door, grabbing two wine glasses as the Fae burst into the room.

“You read my mind,” she purred. Her gaze turned flirtatious as she noticed the wine Rhia had selected. “Feeling fancy tonight, are we? Expecting special guests?”

Rhia clicked her tongue. “You’re special enough for a nice bottle of wine. Sit, sit.”

Telling Sofi the full story, including how the mating bond had shared the agony of Eris’ stab wound, hadn’t been fun. Rhia had let her friend scold her, had let Sofi get out all of the frustration and worry she felt. Of course they both hoped that being Eris’ mate wouldn’t put Rhia in harm again, but the ordeal had created an entirely new set of anxieties.

So tonight, they stuck to pleasant topics. Rhia’s students, Sofine’s attempts to make a new kind of bread (Rhia secretly wondered how one could create a new kind of bread, but didn’t question it). The roasted vegetables turned out perfectly, a lucky feat when one’s best friend could cook better than anyone for miles.

And of course, the parchment glowed at exactly the wrong moment when Rhia had turned her back to bring the dishes to the sink. She heard Sofi’s gasp and whipped her head around, groaning when she saw her reading whatever message Eris had just sent.

“I’m a bit scandalized.” Sofi winked. “Is he always this dirty?”

Rhia gaped. “What the fuck? Give me that!” She moved at the speed of light, snatching the paper.

May I stop by tonight?

“Ugh, you’re such a bitch,” Rhia grumbled.

Sofine shrugged. “You should’ve seen your face. Maybe you wanted it to be a dirty message.”

That was the problem. Rhia would have loved a dirty message. Or she would have run screaming for the hills and never spoken to anyone ever again. It was a toss up.

“Do you mind if he crashes our plans?” she asked, stopping her perilous thoughts once more. Eris had never looked at her that way, at least not that she had noticed.

Sofi waved her glass of wine like a queen would her scepter. “Please. We hang out every other night. The male presence spices up the evening.”

If you don’t mind Sofi and I after two glasses of wine, Rhia wrote back.

Excellent. Shall I bring something from the royal cellar or do you have more than enough alcohol?

Oh definitely bring something. A fruity red, if you really want to win her over.

She couldn’t have counted to thirty in the time it took for Eris to appear in the kitchen.

“How did you possibly grab wine and winnow here that quickly?” Rhia demanded.

Eris shrugged. “I’m incredible like that.”

“Or he was sitting in the wine cellar, waiting to drown his sorrows if you said no,” Sofine piped up. Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I’m still not sure if I’m allowed to treat you normally and such.”

“Please,” Eris smiled. “Put me through all the shit you would normally put a male through.” With a mischievous look at Rhia, he added: “And feel free to tell me about those males while you’re at it.”

Rhia snatched the bottle from him. “Absolutely not.” She checked the label. “Cauldron damn me, this is 600 years old! Wait -- Eris, when exactly were you born?”

“I will not be age-shamed after procuring some of the finest wine in Autumn tonight,” he growled. “You know damn well how old I am.”

Sofine sighed. “I hope I’m not that grumpy in four hundred years.” She raised her now-empty glass up to Rhia, who gladly filled it.

---

Eris flicked his wrist and pulled out a glass for himself, then threw his body into the unoccupied chair. He let out a mock sigh at the females’ teasing, hiding his genuine joy at the playful conversation and quick remarks that flew across the room.

XXX

“I’m never throwing myself a birthday party again,” he insisted. “It’s just depressing at this point. I would’ve stopped throwing them years ago, if we hadn’t been...required to.” Eris trailed off. He’d almost shared the darling fact that Beron had forced all of his sons to host birthday galas, as an excuse to demand gifts and promises from various lords and nobility. Beron also loved nothing more than to use the annual occurrence as an excuse to run through the boys’ failures that year. The harsh words stung, but the sharp blows that followed drew a special kind of agony.

XXX

Rhia’s brow furrowed slightly at his sudden change in tone. “I throw too many birthdays for my students anyway.” He appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, and appreciated the warmth of her hand on his that followed.

“That reminds me.” Eris squeezed her hand quickly, the other darting into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you. Both of you.” Inspiration struck as he handed the ball invitation to Rhia.

Her eyes danced across the sturdy parchment. “The Autumn Solstice Ball? In two weeks?”

Sofine jumped up. “What? Give me that!” She squealed as she read what Rhia had just spoken. “By the Mother, Eris!! Oh, you are such an improvement on anyone Rhia’s brought home.”

“Sofi’s always wanted to attend a ball,” Rhia shared. Eris tried to judge her expression, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“And you? Would you be interested in attending?” he probed. “I, I know it might be complicated for you to attend with the whole...situation.” He gestured between the two of them. “We can do this any way you’d like.”

Rhia worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want to, I really do.” Eris had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her forehead until the skin relaxed. “I’m worried people will know, but I’m also exhausted already at the thought of hiding it all night, but I know it’d be strange for you to pop up with a mate randomly, and I--”

“I have an idea,” Sofine interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as her brain doubtlessly worked out some scheme that Eris would either detest or fancy. “It would save you both some trouble. You wouldn’t have to hide your feelings, but you wouldn’t have to come up with a backstory about how you met.”

Oh, Eris would definitely love or hate this.

Sofine took a sip of her wine. “Spit it out, you dramatic tart,” Rhia complained after a moment.

“Write your own fairytale.” Sofi let a smirk play on her lips. “Pretend like you’ve never met, as if Rhia and I just received the invitations through some mistake or some administrative process. And then at the ball, poof! The bond.”

Eris let her words run through his mind once, twice. “You think we should act like the bond clicked into place...at the ball?”

Shrugging, she defended her plan. “I can’t say whether or not you both want to bring your relationship into the public domain, but it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Eris would have snorted at the dreamy look in her eyes if he hadn’t gotten the same look whenever he thought about a future with Rhia. “The new High Lord...hosting an extravagant ball...seeing the most beautiful woman grace his presence...falling love with her-”

“Cauldron, Sofi, are you a writer now?” Rhia stopped her friend from writing an entire novel aloud. Her gaze darted to Eris. “It feels a bit over-the-top, though.”

“I hate to even say this, because you know it isn’t a priority for me, but Gerwin would murder me if I didn’t consider how good of a public relations boost this could be.” Eris winced. It felt unbelievably shallow and inconsiderate to worry about his reputation while discussing his most intimate relationship.

Luckily, Rhia waved off his concerns with a hand on his arm. “Well maybe that’s something I care about.” She turned to her friend. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”

“I’ll give you all night,” Sofi smirked. “Take all the time you need to...talk. Bye!”

Her joke left them both groaning. However, Eris did take advantage of Sofi’s absence to pull Rhia away from the table and towards the much comfier couch across the room. She sat facing him, tucking her legs underneath her as she always did.

“Can I?” Eris stretched out his arm. Rhia gave him the softest smile and nodded, pulling herself closer until they were properly cuddled up next to each other.

“We obviously don’t have to this,” Eris began. “There’s ten other ways you could attend, not attend, whatever you want.”

She scrunched up her face. “Don’t ever repeat this, especially not to Sofi, but I’m completely in love with the idea,’ Rhia confessed. “It’s so silly, I know, but it feels nice to create some fake story. We could keep everything else private.”

Eris loved the idea for entirely different reasons, pretty much of all of them that he would get to dance with the most delightful Fae in this world in front of everyone without having to explain himself to anyone. However, he could work with this.

“So then? Should we do this?”

Rhia rolled her eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m signing my life away to some top-secret mission? Yes, let’s do it.”

He stayed over again that night, except this time they stayed awake talking until an obscene hour. Eris fell asleep with images of their future lulling him into peace.

Chapter 13: your eyes whispered (have we met) take 2

Eris threw himself on his bed, letting out a dramatic sigh that no one could hear. It had been a week and a half of pure stress that saw every kind of crisis, from interviewing potential advisers that ended up having criminal backgrounds to finding out the ballroom floor had somehow deteriorated and needed a fix immediately. Now, the day before the Solstice, Eris found himself wishing Auster had succeeded in his coup, if only for the fact that dealing with these logistics seemed a fitting punishment for treason.

His thoughts, as always, drifted to Rhia. They’d only had a couple nights together since, and Eris had to run back to the palace both times after a couple hours. The last interruption came at a particularly inopportune moment, right as he finished telling her the story of his darkest moment.

“Fuck,” Eris swore. Gerwin’s note made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he had to come deal with a fight that broke out between some of his people. “I--”

“Go deal with it,” Rhia commanded, her voice unnaturally calm.

Eris let out a loose breath. He had literally just told her about Mor, about leaving a dying woman alone in the woods rather than offer her any aid because she had dared defy their fathers. “I don’t want to leave like this.”

Rhia hadn’t dropped her gaze at any point during the conversation and held his stare even now. “Are you worried that you’ve upset me beyond reproach? That this conversation is my breaking point?”

“Maybe.” He broke first, using the excuse of throwing on his coat to look away. “It’s what isolated the Autumn and Night Court permanently; why the precious Inner Circle will never tolerate me beyond my usefulness as an ally.”

Rhia snorted. “If we had more time, I’d spend all of it convincing you that this most certainly is not my breaking point. But we don’t.” She moved closer into his personal space. “So go deal with your drama and I’ll prove to you that the bridge between us is unbreakable another time.”

She always complained about his cheesy one-liners, but that sentence had carried him through the entire evening and subsequent morning. It wasn’t until that night, until he lay in his bed alone, that doubt began creeping in.

Eris’s mind raged a violent battle. The logical, rational part of him argued that Rhia had insisted they were fine, insisted she wasn’t upset at him. The dark, twisted part of him sneered at that optimism, insisted that she would never look at him again. Why would she, after hearing about his tragic engagement? After all, Rhia looked up to the Inner Circle as if they were deities, the same people who declared Eris a mortal enemy.

Sleep finally stole him from his painful journey through his memories, but his dreams offered little comfort. They swept him from memories of kisses and laughter to visions of tragedy and heartbreak at terrifying speeds.

---

Rhia finished her cup of tea. Sofi stood in front of her, buzzing with excitement, as they both eyed the sheer bags in front of them.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Sofi declared, throwing her hands up in an overly dramatic gesture. “I’m opening them.”

She untied the lovely ribbon keeping their gowns wrapped in the protective shields before Rhia could protest. “Oh my goodness, Rhia, look .”

“Treya outdid herself,” Rhia agreed. One of her student’s guardians had offered to make them dresses for the Ball for a heavily discounted price, claiming that she had overstocked on specialty fabrics that weren’t selling.

She ran a hand softly over the gold silk. It felt luxurious, obscenely so, and Rhia found herself questioning if she deserved this. Not just the dress, but the entire situation. After so many years stuck in one place, doing one job, with basically one friend, the thought of changing her life overnight seemed beyond daunting. For Eris, though, she would try to step out of her comfort zone.

If only I could step far enough out of my comfort zone to jump his bones, Rhia thought to herself, half-humorously and half-miserable.

Sofi played with the straps of her sparkling red gown. “Where did you go just now?”

“Just wondering how the hell I got here,” Rhia answered. They played this game whenever either drifted too far into their own heads, a way to mindfully reenter the present. “It’s like a fantasy, isn’t it? Finding true love and prince overnight.”

Her tone must have struck bitter, because Sofi stopped admiring the fabric and looked her dead in the eye. “What are you worried about? That you don’t deserve this?”

“Yes, but it’s not...” Rhia fiddled with her gown once more. “We’ve talked a lot about what our life after tonight will look like, and it’s not like we’re about to get married or anything, but is it strange that I wish we were further along in our relationship? How can we just declare ourselves to the entire damn continent at this point?”

Sofi raised an eyebrow. “I would say this is a completely normal stage to tell your circle of people about a relationship. Eris’ circle just happens to include the general public.” She refilled her own mug, then froze. “When you say further along, you don’t mean sex, do you?”

“And what if I do?” Rhia challenged. Her cheeks flushed a bit. It’s not as if Sofi hadn’t seen her at her worst moments and through every failed relationship since, but this admission felt more embarrassing, for some reason. “I’m about to meet his mother and we’ve barely felt each other up.”

One beat of silence, then:

“I’m sorry,” Sofi cackled. “What is your logic here?” Her laughter grew as Rhia frowned, making her words difficult to decipher. “‘Hey Eris! I know everything’s just peachy emotionally, but I can’t go public with you until we’ve fucked!’ Rhia, you’re smarter than this.”

Rhia was smarter than this. “It sounds worse when you say it like that! I just...I’ve never waited this long before and it feels like I’m failing somehow.”

Sofi stopped giggling. “Hey,” she said softly. “You can’t compare relationships, or males, or even yourself in different situations. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” Rhia agreed. She took a deep breath, letting her thoughts settle. “I am, and you’re right.” Saying it out loud had helped calm the tornado of insecurities, helped her realize the fallacy of her worries. “Honestly, I think it’s a good sign we both overthink every tiny thing. As if we’re both terrified to damage what we have.”

Her friend clicked her tongue. “As long as that overthinking doesn’t create any damages itself.”

---

Eris was definitely overthinking their plan. Rhia had written him a short note about an hour ago, letting him know that her gown was perfect and she couldn’t wait. Somehow, her simple positivity had sent Eris into a swirl of anxiety that led him to interrogate Liang about every last logistical element.

“You’re hovering,” she snapped, as he followed her down the hallway. “Why are you asking me about the greeting line? You’ve done it a hundred times.”

Eris usually found her temper refreshing. Not today, though. “Yes, but we don’t normally greet everyone. How long will I be in line?”

Liang gave him a bemused look. “I don’t know, thirty minutes? How chatty do you plan to be? And it’s only for the appointed representatives from each village, like every single other time.” She turned sharply, narrowly avoiding a group of Fae carrying large trays of food to the main hall.

“Don’t follow me,” she called out, not bothering to turn her head to look back at her High Lord. Eris stopped walking, but still heard her mumble several profanities under her breath.

He ran a hand through his hair. Somehow, he had to conclude official introductions and make it into the main party before Rhia showed up, so their “first-glance” would seem authentic, without offending any local politicians by cutting their discussions short. If dinner began too soon, they’d have to wait for dancing, but would it even make sense to lock eyes after two hours at the Ball?

“Pull yourself together,” he mumbled to himself. Eris hated feeling out of control, but he simply couldn’t force a thousand people to move exactly how he wanted.

The plan stressed him out immensely, yet would provide political protection for their relationship. Technically, the law required Eris to disclose any “personal liaisons” to the palace staff and advisers, for security reasons and to allow advisers to approve any potential marriages. He obviously hadn’t done that under Beron to protect his lovers, and really didn’t want anyone saying a damn thing about his future spouse. Luckily, Prythian held mating bonds in the highest regard, and no one would dare say shit about him and Rhia, especially if the bond seemed to appear at an auspicious time of year.

“Talking to yourself now? I heard that’s a sign of mental exhaustion.” Eris turned to face his brother. “Why aren’t you up in your chambers getting pampered and prepared?” Lucien asked.

“I’m going there now,” Eris grumbled. “I was checking on any last minute issues.”

Lucien placed a hand on his shoulder. “How dedicated. Funny story, though, I had only just stepped into the entrance hall when Mother accosted me and demanded I send you back to your chambers.” He let out a small chuckle. “I believe the words ‘nuisance’ and ‘in the way’ were used.”

“It’s my party. I think I’m allowed to help out-”

“You don’t give a shit about event planning,” Lucien interrupted. “Go do your hair and make yourself pretty for your...special guest.”

Eris started. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his brother about Rhia. “What are you talking about?”

Lucien stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. The prick had spent way too much time in the Night Court. “Only that Carina seemed a little too excited for you. Anyways.”

Eris watched him walk away. Of course she had blabbed to his brother, probably immediately after Eris had confided in her last week. She was dogmatically good at keeping secrets when necessary, but notoriously good at gossiping about personal matters.

Still, he winnowed to his chambers and started a bath. His hair did look a bit a shabby, now that Lucien mentioned it.

----

The trees lining the cobblestone path twinkled with golden light, leading the way to the palace. Rhia and Sofi did their best not to gape at the scenery, at everything from the decorations to the masses of people. While they both had visited cities before Amarantha’s reign, the influx of sounds and sights overwhelmed their small-town sensibilities.

Rhia craned her neck to observe the massive double doors that were flung open to allow entrance. “Do they truly leave the doors open all night? Seems dangerous with all these crowds.”

“The only Fae who might break in has an invitation tonight,” Sofi snorted. She nodded at the thick parchment in Rhia’s hand. “Don’t even think about scaling the west wall.”

“East wall,” Rhia corrected automatically. Her heart had begun to race as they neared the doors, the entrance hall now visible over the other guests’ heads. The guards worked efficiently, splitting the crowd into three lines to check their invitations and scan for weapons.

The duo exchanged no further words until they reached the checkpoint. The guard let them through with no hassle, and Rhia let out a small breath. She didn’t expect to be denied entry or thrown in a prison cell, but her last encounter with palace guards had tainted her memory. Hopefully none of the members on staff tonight had arrested her previously.

“He certainly has taste, you think?” Sofi commented as they swept down the spacious hallway. Rhia nodded, enjoying the bright colors of the Autumn Court represented on ornate curtains, plush carpet, and detailed murals. On another occasion, she might have taken her time to admire the artwork like the other guests, but Rhia dragged Sofi quickly through them, with only one beautiful thing on her mind.

An extremely tall Fae stood at the end of the hall, in front of another set of large doors. Unfortunately, these were closed shut.

Rhia frowned at the sight. “Did we have the time wrong?”

“Oh, they just have to finish up the greeting line.” Rhia and Sofi jumped at the sudden comment. “They should open them shortly.”

Rhia grinned when she recognized the Fae next to her. “Gerwin! What are you doing out here with the rabble?” She placed a hand on Sofi’s wrist. “This is my dearest friend, Sofi. Sofi, this is Eris’ weapon master and all-around savior, Gerwin.”

He bowed slightly. “May I get that glowing compliment in writing? Pleased to meet you.”

Sofi laughed. “Likewise. I always think it’s good to know someone who knows where all the weapons are, in case of emergency.”

“The doors are now open,” droned the lanky Fae. Indeed, they swung open slowly behind him, revealing orchestral music and overlapping conversation. Gerwin shot them a quick wink and entered first, careful to act like a friendly stranger rather than an insider on the biggest secret of the year.

“Are you ready?” Sofi whispered under her breath. She slid her hand into Rhia’s, giving it a quick squeeze. “Last chance to run for the hills.”

Rhia scoffed. “Keep walking.” She forced her breath to come out evenly, slowly, hoping her body wouldn’t betray her by fainting before she even saw him.

The lights seemed even brighter, the music swelling to unprecedented volume, as she took those final steps into the ballroom, her eyes darting across all the irrelevant people and things. She only wanted to look at one person, only wanted to think of one thing tonight.

And then her eyes met his.

---

“Do you think you’ll make a trip to the Southern cities this winter? I spoke with the company maintaining your Milton estate, and it couldn’t be in better condition.” The dark-skinned representative beamed.

Eris attempted to return his enthusiasm. “Possibly. There’s still quite a bit of work to do around here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, my Lord. Have a wonderful evening.” As the Fae moved towards the dance floor, Eris dared to look back at the closed doors behind him. The official representatives had been let in forty minutes ago, and finally, he could see the end of the greeting line. If he could get through the next two conversations without screaming in frustration, he’d treat himself to the largest drink he could physically hold. Unless she arrived before he made it to the bar, then he’d settle on treating himself with a dance with the love of his life.

“The doors are now open.” The doormale’s voice sent a shot of adrenaline through Eris’ blood, grabbing his attention from the last group of dignitaries from the Dawn Court. His mother’s smile tightened, but her face remained diplomatic as she took over the greeting from her distracted son.

Eris strode away from the politicians and foreigners, away from his role as High Lord. As he walked, his prior thoughts and insecurities rose like a cloud of poison, choking him with doubt. This was the last time he could dream about what would happen when they saw each other’s faces again, the last time he could wonder if she’d come to brighten up his dull palatial life. The last time he could hate himself for offering her a choice to stand by him publicly, as if that wouldn’t put her in danger of scorn and harm.

Eris could barely breathe as he approached the edge of the dance floor. The string octet transitioned to louder music, meant to pull the crowds to their feet and into the arms of a partner. The first line of general guests darted in, chatting excitedly about the extravagance and the notable Fae already in the room.

He truly did stop breathing the moment he saw the tail of a silk golden gown. His eyes raked up the flowing skirt, small sections twisted into rose-like shapes until they reached the tight bodice. Then, his eyes devoured the low neckline and bare shoulders, stopping to note the one sleeve slipping down a smooth, brown arm, mocking the hand he wished to brush down that same arm.

Finally, after several seconds or an eternity, his eyes locked in on the most beautiful face he would ever see. Eris prayed to the Mother that he wouldn’t slip out of consciousness in that moment, when he looked his unbelievably perfect mate in the eye.

Rhia offered him the smallest smile, her hands rising to sit delicately at her stomach. She took a step towards him and--

Eris held back a snarl when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gerwin mumbled an apology.

“You were standing so still that even I believe this was the moment the bond clicked in,” the weapons master remarked. “I think about half the room has noticed so far.”

“Good.” Eris turned back towards her, towards the angel he would never deserve. And yet, his doubts had completely vanished in her presence, leaving behind only the desire to hold her immediately. “I want them all to see this.”

With a final grin to his best friend, Eris walked across the floor. Fae jumped out of his way, and the gossip increased by a tenfold at his determined pace.

Sofi stood proudly next to her, failing to hold back her grin. She leaned over to whisper something in Rhia’s ear that Eris barely managed to catch. “I think you’ve caught someone’s attention.”

He was now close enough to inhale her scent. Cauldron, he must look like a besotted fool. Luckily, that was his role to play.

“My Lord.” Sofi bowed. Eris shot her a glance that might have appeared disdained to onlookers. She pursed her lips to hold back laughter.

“Have we met?” Eris asked. His tone came off light, casual, hiding the turmoil of love and desire flooding him. “You are absolutely enchanting.”

Rhia blushed and he almost gave in, almost kissed that blush right off her cheeks. “I haven’t had the honor, my Lord.”

“Eris,” he breathed. “To you, always Eris.”

“Rhiannon,” she countered. “Rhia, if you’d like.”

He held out a hand. “Will you do me the honor?”

She took it, and the warmth of her skin blazed across his body. Eris led them out to the dance floor, which had emptied in his journey across it.

The musicians changed their tune mid-note, slowing the tune down until a sweet, romantic song claimed the room. A few cautious couples stepped out from the edges of the crowd, but most of the room stood completely still and held their breaths, straining to figure out who had stolen their High Lord so abruptly.

Eris pulled Rhia close with one hand on her waist, keeping the touch gentle for her comfort. Their intertwined hands rose as their feet moved.

“Why aren’t they dancing?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Eris urged. “It’s an old Court tradition, letting the highest ranking nobles have the first dance. They’ll join soon.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

He smiled at the question. She was still playing the game. “You must know that you’re the most flawless person in this room. I was wonderstruck.”

That beautiful blush appeared again. “I’ll guess you didn’t pass any mirrors on the way down here, then. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” The hand on his shoulder flexed as Rhia dared to let one finger brush his neck. He shivered.

“Please tell me you felt it too.” Eris’ instincts kept them from crashing into other dancers, since his eyes couldn’t be bothered to leave her face. “Tell me I’m not alone here.”

Passerbyers heard that one. His words spread across the crowd, the gossip faster than his flames ever could.

“Everything vanished when I saw your face,” Rhia replied. Her tone softened, her head tilted. “Yes, I felt it.” She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You’ll never be alone again, my love.” The words were murmured too softly for anyone else, an admission that was for him alone.

Gerwin would never let him forget it if he cried in front of everyone, so Eris swallowed back the rage of emotions in his throat. “Thank the Cauldron. Literally, since you’re my-”

A roar of thunder shattered the room, followed by a flash of darkness right in the center of the floor, several feet from where they stood. Some guests screamed, and the guards surged, but Eris merely sighed and held up a hand.

The night black vanished, leaving behind an unfairly attractive couple. The female waved to the crowd, flipping a lock of her raven hair over her shoulder. Her partner stood impassively next to her, his Illyrian wings marking him as obviously other.

Eris inclined his head. “Thank you for coming, Carina.”

#acotar #sjm #eris #eris vanserra #acosf #autumn court #ballgowns #dancing #all the good stuff

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lilfellasblog · 5 years

Text

Lights Out

Summary: Logan's job consisted of many important things critical to Thomas' life. There was no room for error. He cannot make mistakes.

Until he makes a big one.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. This is a Tumblr ask! Thank you to the anonymous asker who waited patiently for me to write this, and then continued to be patient because I was trying out the queuing thing on Tumblr and accidentally made it so this posted here the next day. WHOOPS!! Sorry anon! You’re amazing and so kind and I REALLY hope you enjoy this fic!! I decided that since Virgil is usually the one getting hurt and needing comfort in these fics (esp in mine LOL), I wanted to switch it up for you so you could have something unique! And I figured that the central conflict in this story would also make it a little more unique for you! I hope you enjoy!

TW: crying, insecurity, self-doubt, negative self-talk, power going out and being left in the dark, mention of panic attacks, very vague allusion to a probably unsympathetic Deceit. If I missed any let me know!

Word count: 1864

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Logan was hunched over his desk, in a posture admittedly not the healthiest but he could hardly be bothered. Thomas had three projects with outside channels and he had to update his Sanders Sides web series soon, even with the deal with Marvel. That, on top of meetings with his company, planning a video schedule for the second channel, and managing household necessities and bills, and one might find Logan rather frazzled.

(Thankfully, Patton had helped take over grocery shopping, meal planning, and cooking, only corresponding with Logan on the budget. It was one less thing Logan had to worry about.)

His forehead and back were tense, his eyes were terribly dry, and his mind was racing. His hands were shaking as he jumped from one task to the other, adrenaline flooding his system. Normally, he wouldn’t get to this point. However, with how scheduling with his company and outside individuals and companies for meeting and filming had gone, he’d been on high alert for almost two weeks now. Logan desperately hoped that the schedule would come together and Thomas would get a small break from filming and meetings; he’s seen the strain it’s taken on his Host and on the other core Sides, and they were running ragged as well.

Logan checked over the schedule Adri had sent them and compared that against the rest of the crew’s schedule.

Yes! Finally! This can work, I just need to mark this down and-

Suddenly, panic sweeps through the mindscape along with shock. Logan quickly rose up into Thomas’ realm to see… nothing. It was completely dark. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he heard Virgil rattling off possibilities that would inevitably end in their demise, Roman declaring he’ll slay any intruder that dares threaten them while offering to serenade everyone, Thomas trying to calm him and Roman down while he looked on his phone to see what was going on, and Patton tripping over things in the dark while he tried to comfort Virgil.

Logan was frozen stock still, realizing instantly what had happened.

I forgot to have Thomas pay his electric bill. The website was taking too long to load, so we were going to work on it another time when the website wasn’t so slow. This is my fault. They are upset and panicking because I have failed in organizing Thomas.

His heart shattered as he listened to Patton lead Virgil through breathing exercises.

I have caused my boyfriend unnecessary distress due to my incompetence. Such a simple oversight on my part. A foolish oversight. One that would not have happened were it another Side.

Roman was checking the perimeter of the apartment for intruders, hand on his sword while he sang Make a Man Out of You under his breath. Normally, he’d be belting out songs at the top of his lungs, which only went to show his level of distress. Thomas was realizing what had happened and looked at Logan, with only the light from his cell phone screen to see.

Thomas, Virgil, Patton, and Roman deserve a better Logic. I am clearly incapable of managing the simplest things, and now we have had our power turned off. Food will begin to rot, and we just went grocery shopping. This has impacted the budget. The increased stress of not having electronics will be incredible, and the lack of air conditioning in the Florida summer may cause health concerns. This is my fault, and my fault alone. I am incompetent.

Logan sank out to his room to figure out how to survive until the power came back on. He didn’t hear Virgil calling his name.

/////

Logan had been staring at his desk morosely for a half hour, shoulders hitching and silent tears dripping down his stoic face as he observed the chaos his desk had become.

I cannot manage Thomas’ schedule. I cannot manage his bills. I cannot manage his household needs. I cannot focus to even begin to help Thomas manage while the power is out. What good am I? I am no good. I am useless. A useless, dysfunctional Side who only makes Thomas’ life more difficult. I make him unhappy. I make the others unhappy.

Logan’s felt his chest tighten and a painful lump form in his throat. His face began to crumple despite his best efforts. Just then, several tentative knocks sounded at his door.

“Come in Virgil,” he called, managing to keep his voice mostly calm.

Virgil opened the door and walked in slowly, assessing the situation. He knew Logan rarely got this upset over something, and to tread carefully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asked lightly.

“Your knocks are tentative, compelled by your concern to make sure you’re not interrupting someone. Regardless of how upset you may be or your level of need, your first concern is always the convenience of others. It is admirable to a point, though foolish after that point.”

Virgil huffed out a laugh. “Thanks L.”

“You are welcome.”

Virgil’s face softened at Logan’s factual response and his complete overlook of sarcasm. That was always one thing that could calm Virgil; Logan wouldn’t keep anything from Virgil or misunderstand something he said. Logan took what Virgil said at face value and spoke to him in a direct manner. There was no guessing his intent or the “true” meaning of his words, no chance to get it wrong, no chance to accidentally upset him because he didn’t read between the lines correctly…

Virgil shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind. There was no use dwelling on the past, and it wouldn’t help Logan now.

He cautiously walked closer to Logan. “I saw how fast you got out of there. Couldn’t see your face too well though. How are you holding up?”

“My spinal column is intact.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Talk to me babe.”

Virgil patiently stood next to Logan in silence for several minutes, letting Logan gather himself and his thoughts, breath still hitching with the occasional sniffle. Emotions did not come easily to Logan, so processing them and figuring out how to express them were two challenges that required his full attention without interruption. And as much as Virgil wanted to comfort his boyfriend already, if Logan felt he didn’t express his feelings properly or felt that something was unresolved, there would be no making him feel better.

Finally, just as Virgil’s anxiety began to grow, Logan spoke.

“My job encompasses many things. I am the language center of Thomas’ brain, I manage his work schedules, and I assist in the management of household chores. Notably, this includes ensuring bills are paid on time.”

Logan paused, and Virgil didn’t dare say a thing.

“If Thomas had a more functional Logic, he would not have forgotten to pay his electricity bill. We were in the process of paying it, but I decided that the website was taking too long, and therefore we would return to the task at another time. Not only did I fail to notate that in our budget, I also failed to set a reminder to check the website at a later date, and I did not remember to ensure we paid our bill.”

Logan’s voice began to wobble as he stiffened his back, attempting to control his expression. “As a result, Thomas’ health may be at risk, we may have to throw out food, which will impact our budget, there will be a late payment and reconnection fee which will also impact our budget, there is increased stress on all of you, you nearly had a panic attack, Thomas will have to work exclusively at the office, and his sleep will be disrupted.”

Logan choked back a sob, his voice coming out thick. Virgil felt his face growing hot and pressure building behind his eyes, threatening to make him cry. “I am an incompetent, useless, harmful Side. I do not perform my job adequately, and as a result you all now must suffer for it and attempt to successfully think of how to survive until power can be restored.”

Virgil waited a moment to see if Logan would continue, audible sobs choking off in Logan’s throat. When Logan didn’t continue, Virgil put a hand on the back of Logan’s chair.

“Can I give you a hug Lo?”

Logan sniffled and nodded as a sob finally escaped him. Virgil pulled Logan up out of his chair and had to catch his intellectual boyfriend as he collapsed into Virgil’s chest. Logan was letting out heart-wrenching sobs, self-hatred and grief echoing around the minimalist room. Virgil held onto Logan tightly, rubbing his back and swaying them, his own tears flowing down his face at hearing his boyfriend so anguished. They stood there for 10 minutes, until Logan’s sobs began to peter off.

The genius pulled back slightly. “M-my apologies, I did not mean-”

“If you apologize for needing to cry, I am going to physically fight you!”

Logan let out a watery laugh, which mended some of the cracks in Virgil’s heart. Virgil wiped away his own tear tracks, then reached up and gently swiped his thumb over his lover’s sharp features before returning his hands to Logan’s shoulders.

“Babe, how many times have you helped me come down from a panic attack?” Virgil asked rhetorically.

“Since I’ve known you, 867 times.”

Virgil was stunned into silence for a moment. “...holy shit. Okay, and how many times have you helped redirect the three of us so we could actually be useful for Thomas?”

Logan smiled wryly. “I believe that number is beyond my reach.”

“Smartass. How many times have you helped Roman refine a script?”

Logan frowned and tilted his head. “I’ve done so for every script, you know this.”

“I know. And how many times have you helped Patton work through and accept his feelings?”

Logan hummed in thought. “309 times.”

“Logan, we’ve all fucked up on our jobs and needed your help. You’ve managed to carry that, plus your own responsibilities, really fucking well. You’re allowed to fuck up every now and then. Let us help you for once. Please.”

Logan sighed in defeat, unable to resist the pleading look in Virgil’s eyes. “Very well.”

“Hey, L.”

“Yes, darling?”

Virgil stepped closer to Logan, their chests nearly touching. “You do so much for us. One mistake doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human. And no one's mad at you. Not Thomas, not Roman, not Patton, not me.”

“Technically, I am a metaphysical human.”

“It makes you a metaphysical human. Come on, you’ve been working yourself to death lately. Let me take care of you for once. How does a back massage, some tea, and some cuddles sound?”

Logan smiled softly at Virgil, the smile meant only for his boyfriend. “I would love nothing more than to spend this evening with you.”

Virgil smiled back and kissed Logan, slow and sweet. He didn’t stop until he felt some of the tension melt from his boyfriend’s shoulders. And he didn’t stop taking care of Logan that night until he was asleep, fully relaxed, on Virgil’s chest.

#sanders sides #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fanfic #thomas sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #unsympathetic deceit #tw deceit #crying #kissing #fic #fanfiction

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vgckwb · 4 years

Text

ML: Isolation Chapter 8: Deals

Arien walked into class the next day to see a crowd had gathered around Ivan. He decided to follow suit. The reason why became apparent, as Ivan had some scars on his face. “Ivan, what happened?”

Ivan smiled and said “Buster did it.”

Adrien was confused. “Allow me to explain,” Mylene said. “See, Ivan asked to help volunteer with me yesterday. I was going to the animal shelter, and I thought I had a good idea. See, some of the bigger dogs get a little too energetic, so I thought Ivan could play with them for a bit to help calm them down. And he was doing a great job, but Buster, one of the biggest ones, got too into it and scratched him.”

“I see,” Adrien said.

“It was a complete accident, and Buster even felt sorry about the whole thing,” Ivan said.

“Yeah, Ivan’s been really forgiving about this whole thing” Mylene said.

“Why don’t you show them the pictures?” Ivan asked.

“Pictures?” Alix asked.

Ivan nodded. He looked at Mylene. “Oh, alright,” Mylene said. “I was worried because they were all from before the scar, but since you say it’s OK…” she took out her phone and everyone gathered around her. Mylene showed off a series of photos of Ivan playing with dogs. It was completely adorable.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Alix said.

Ivan blushed. “I wasn’t sure I had it in me either. But honestly, it was a lot of fun.”

“It’s all thanks to Adrien here,” Kim said.

Adrien blushed. “Who me? I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not true,” Ivan said. “Your talk inspired me to help, and I want to thank you for it.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” Adrien said.

“You’re a natural,” Kim said.

“Yeah” said Alix. “I mean, Lila’s been great and all, but I’ve never seen a result this dramatic this fast. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from you.”

Lila was surprised. She blushed, rubbed the back of her head, and said “Maybe.”

“We’ll see,” Adrien said. “I mean, I imagine we’re both pretty busy. From what I’ve heard, after school, your life is an adventure!”

“I’m sure we can make the time,” Lila said. “I mean, you’ve gotten to know the class, and you’ve only been here for a week or so.”

“That’s true. A lot has happened” Adrien said. What would happen if Lila and I were alone? She can’t know I’m on to her, can she? If she doesn’t know, I don’t think she would cue me in on her goal just yet. It’s still too early. Still, I should be on guard for that meeting. “Well, if our schedules allow for some one on one time, I guess we could talk.”

Lila blushed. “I’d like that.” Shortly after class began for the day.

During break, Ivan met up with Adrien alone. “Hey, thanks again man” he said.

“No problem” Adrien replied.

“I mean it” Ivan said. “I know I only asked to try and get closer to Mylene, but the whole experience was rewarding.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Adrien said. Ivan then grew concerned. “What’s up?”

“Well… If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell anyone else?” Ivan asked.

Adrien smiled. “Of course.”

Ivan smiled back. “Thanks. ...It’s just, you kind of remind me of Marinette. You know, before she...well…”

Adrien was surprised. “Huh.”

“It’s just, she used to be so helpful,” Ivan said. “I guess she was, even when she was jealous of Lila. Don’t get me wrong, she shouldn’t have bullied Lila, or stolen from her, but if you were to talk to her outside of Lila, it was like talking to you right now.”

“I see…” Adrien said, pondering this.

“I mean, Lila’s been helpful,” Ivan said, “it’s just...uh...how do I say this? She is a nice person, but she’s not as good at it?”

Adrien smiled. “It’s OK. Remember, this is staying between the two of us.”

Ivan smiled. “Thanks. Well, we should get going.”

“Alright,” Adrien said. Ivan left. Adrien looked around and saw Lila standing by herself. He decided to walk over and say “Hello.” Lila looked at him curiously. “Looks like we’ll get that chance to talk sooner than we thought.”

“I guess” Lila smiled. She looked sad. “So, how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Adrien asked.

“Well, you heard the class today,” Lila said. “How do you help people so well?”

Adrien had to tread lightly. I don’t want her to undermine me on any future attempts to deconstruct her web. I still don’t even know how big it is yet. It would be foolish to make it bigger before my eyes. I just have to give a vague answer. “Well, I just listen and give positive reinforcement,” he said.

“I try to do that too,” Lila said. “But you’ve helped Ivan in a way I couldn’t. Why is that?”

She’s trying to get a more specific answer. Just keep it vague, and we should be fine for now. “Well, I guess that’s just because we’re different people,” he said. “We have different experiences, and as such, we would have different ways of helping people.”

“Huh” said Lila. “That wasn’t what I was expecting, but I guess that makes sense.”

Adrien smiled. “Tell you what. If you’re helping someone out, why don’t you text me or something? That way, we can work together! You showing off your strengths, and I showing off mine. I mean, two heads are better than one after all.”

Lilai was taken aback. She blushed and said “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” Adrien said.

“Well, we should get back to class,” Lila said.

“OK” Adrien said. He started walking when he noticed Lila grabbing his arm. “Um, Lila?”

“Huh? Oh” Lila said. She let go. “Sorry. I just get nervous easily. You know, ever since the incident. And you just seem so brave. So, I just kind of…”

Adrien smiled. “I understand. Just make sure to ask. I’m not great with people touching me unexpectedly. Between my fans and Chloe, it started feeling uncomfortable.”

“Oh no,” Lila said. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a nice chat with Chloe about this.”

“You don’t have to,” Adrien said. Lila was surprised. “What I mean is, I’ve already talked to her about it, and she’s gotten better about it.” Lila smiled and nodded and the two walked off.

OK, I don’t think she’s on to me, and I’ve laid a trap. Sure, it’s double edged, and whether or not she’ll spring it is up in the air, but it’s still worth trying. Still, she knows one of my weaknesses now. It’s not a weakness she can use well, but I should be careful regardless.

After school that day, he hung out with Nino at the dance club. They taught each other more about the dancing styles they knew, and had another good time all around. However, when it came time for Adrien to leave, Nino rushed him out again. Once could be coincidence, but twice now? Something’s up. I just need to find a good time to ask about it.

He then got out his phone. He was going to message his bodyguard but decided to do a quick check of Noir Notes to see if there was anything new. He had now got in the habit of bringing his costume along, so if there was something he could do, he could do it.

Nothing around him looked like he was needed, and anything new on the site was more speculation, which was wildly varying, and more requests. Again, most of these requests were trivial in nature. But there was a new one that caught his eye due to how odd it was.

“Hello? Cat Noir? Um, I have a note I want to deliver to someone, but I don’t know how. Could you possibly do it for me? I’ll be in the TV station lobby tonight until 6:30. Thank you.”

Adrien was puzzled. He checked the time stamp. Today. And it’s about 5:45 now… He realized the Kids+ TV studio wasn’t too far from here. Well, let’s just hope this is the right one… He messaged his bodyguard saying to pick him up there at about 6:25, and went on his way.

Once he got there, he hid on the side of the building and dressed up, leaving his bag behind. As Cat Noir, he walked into the building. He approached the receptionist and rang the bell. The receptionist looked up confused and surprised.

“Pssst! Over here” said a voice. He looked over to see a young girl waving at him. Adrien was now the one who was confused and surprised. He walked over. He saw she had a lot of paper and some crayons for drawing. “I knew you’d make it!”

Adrien smiled. I love her optimism Although, she is a child, so she probably doesn’t know it was dumb luck that brought me here. I won’t tell her though. He grabbed some of the paper and a black crayon and decided to write his statements, stylizing them like a child. “How did you get onto Noir Notes?”

“Um, I saw mommy doing some research on there. She’s a news reporter! She gave me this” she said, holding up a tablet, “to watch some videos on, but I really needed to get this note out” she now held up her note. “So, I logged on and tried my best.”

Adrien smiled for her. “You did good kid. What’s your name?”

“Manon” she said. “Anyway, can you deliver this?” She held up the letter.

“Who’s it for?��

Manon looked sad. “It’s for my old babysitter,” she said. “I don’t know if you know her, but her parents run the bakery you went to.” Adrien was surprised. “Mommy said she did something bad, and that she’s not allowed to babysit me anymore. I know she didn’t do it though! She’s so nice! I wanted to deliver it to her, but I don’t know how to get there without getting a ride, and mommy won’t help me mail it. So, please?” She held out the note again, this time with her baby-doll eyes.

How could I say no to that face? He wrote “Do you need to get it to her ASAP?”

“A...SAP?”

Adrien silently chuckled. “As Soon As Possible. It means does she need it right away?”

“Oh. Well, I would like for her to get it right away, but as long as she gets it, I’ll be alright.”

“OK. Thank you. I will pass it along to her.”

Manon’s face lit up. She was so giddy she was just about to charge in for a hug. She then stopped herself and asked “Um, can I give you a hug?” Adrien nodded. Manon rushed in and hugged with vigor. Adrien hugged back.

Adrien hadn’t even considered something like this. I promise you, the two of you will be reunited. It may take some time, but I will do it. He let go and took the note. He did a two finger salute to say his goodbye and left.

He went to the side of the building to grab his bag. However, he bumped into someone. He looked up to see that it was his bodyguard, holding his bag. The two looked at each other for a little bit. Adrien surmised that he came by and saw the bag on the ground and went to investigate. Despite his appearances, Adrien knew his bodyguard wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t really a lot he could do in this situation. He sighed. “Can you at least not tell my parents and only talk to Nathalie about this?” The bodyguard was confused, but nodded. Adrien changed out of his disguise, and put it back in the bag. The two went to the car and headed home.

On his way back, Adrien messaged Marinette. “Hey, we have a bit of a situation. I got caught as Cat Noir by my bodyguard. I managed to convince him to only tell my family’s assistant, but I can’t lie to them. Could I just tell them about you? If that’s alright? Please get back to me ASAP.”

Later, Adrien was meeting with Nathalie. Adrien’s costume was on the table, along with his phone. Nathalie was rubbing her eyes. “Adrien. Please tell me you have an explanation for all of this.”

“I do,” Adrien said.

Nathalie put her glasses on and glared at him. “And?”

“Oh. Oh you want me to TELL YOU my explanation” he said. “Well...um, this is gonna be difficult.” Marinette hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I don’t know if I can keep this up.

“I can’t in good conscience hide this from your parents,” Nathalie said. “Please explain to me what possessed you to do any of this.”

“Ummmmmmmm...”

Suddenly the phone rang. Adrien reached for it, but Nathalie grabbed it first, as if her hand was as fast as hurricane winds. She noticed it wasn’t a registered number. She answered “How did you get this number?”

“Um, Adrien gave it to me” Marinette said timidly from the other line. “You’re the secretary right?” Nathalie was alarmed. “You’re talking about him being Cat Noir… Well, that’s kind of my fault.”

Adrien was worried about what was happening on the other end. He tried reaching for the phone, but Nathalie blocked him. She continued to listen to Marinette. “I see...Thank you. Have a good day.” She hung up. She sighed. “Adrien. I know you can be a bit of a problem child.” Adrien remembered several times in which he attempted to sneak out or run away just to be on his own for a little bit, causing his parents, his bodyguard, and Nathalie to worry. “But THIS just takes the cake.” Adrien looked worried. “I’ve heard what your friend Marinette had to say. Now let’s hear you explain it.”

Adrien was puzzled. “Well, so, you know how Ladybug is my favorite designer for father’s company?” Nathalie nodded. “Well, I’ve been wanting to meet with her for a while now. I figured out her name, but not much else. Then, when I went to school, I caught her catching a glimpse of me. I learned that Marinette was considered a bully, and then later, I was told by father that Ladybug had new designs for me. I knew then they were the same person.”

Adrien explained the rest of the story. How he couldn’t be seen going to the bakery, and how he felt so desperate to meet with her. The origin of the disguise. The whole Lila thing. He hoped that it got through to her.

Once he was finished, Nathalie composed herself. “Well, at least the two of you are good at corroborating, if nothing else.”

“But it’s the truth!” Adrien said.

Nathalie smiled. “I know. I can tell when you’re lying.” She sighed. “Alright, I won’t tell your parents about all of this, at least for now. But I want you to promise me something.”

Adrien was confused. “What?”

“I want you to talk to your parents more about what’s going on,” she said. “You don’t have to explain everything, at least not yet. Don’t get me wrong, I want you to, but I understand why you won’t for now.”

Adrien looked sad. “Adrien,” she said. He looked up. “They’re your parents. They care about you. They want to hear about how you’re doing. Perhaps they can even help you. Of course, I’ll be willing to help you too.” Adrien looked excited. “If what you said about this Lila person is true, then I wish to help you. I know a thing or two about behind the scenes work. Your bodyguard will also be able to help. Isn’t that right?” She looked at the bodyguard, and he nodded. “Just be sure you’re keeping up with school, and all of your other stuff.” Adrien nodded. “You’re going to be really busy. Are you sure you can handle it?”

Adrien grinned. “When you’ve had nothing to do for most of your life, there’s a lot of pent up energy to do all of this.”

Nathalie smiled a silly grin. Adrien was perplexed, because that smile was rare. “You know, I sat in on some of the meetings where your parents were discussing you going to school. Your father was worried about all sorts of things. I thought he had run through every possible scenario. I guess I was wrong.”

Adrien smiled. “Oh yeah” he said. He took Manon’s note out of his pocket. “Um, I’m supposed to deliver this to Marinette. Is that alright?”

Nathale smiled. “Don't worry Adrien, I’ll take care of this. Your father wanted me to investigate the bakery anyway. You know, after your little stunt.” Adrien blushed. Nathalie grabbed the note. “Alright. Just do whatever you were going to do when you got back before all of this. And remember what I said.”

Adrien nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

Nathalie smiled. “Let’s go!” she told the bodyguard. The two of them headed out.

Nathalie and the bodyguard had managed to get to the bakery before it closed. Nathalie walked in alone. Sabine and Tom turned to her. “Um, hello. How can we help you?”

“I know this is a bit sudden,” Nathlie said, “but I work with Gabriel Agreste. Because of the recent attention brought upon you, he wants to know about his place. I know that you’re closing now, but is there a good time to set up a meeting?”

Tom and Sabine were shocked. “Um, what would this meeting be about?” Tom stammered out.

“Mr. Agreste likes to consider a lot of possibilities” Nathalie said. “He was wondering about using your bakery as a set. Or barring that, using some of your goods for a baking motif.” Tom and Sabine looked at each other, not sure about what to do. “I will tell you, a lot of this goes nowhere. But, if you’re interested in the possibility, here’s my card,” she said, handing it to them. “Also, I found this outside your door. It’s addressed to a Marinette.”

“That’s our daughter,” Sabine said. “I’ll make sure it gets to her.”

Nathalie smiled. “Thank you. Also, if it wouldn’t be any trouble, could I get a box of cookies.”

“Oh, it’ll be no trouble at all,” Tom said. He left to get them.

“You know, Mr. Agreste’s son came in and he also got cookies,” Sabine said.

“So I’ve heard,” Nathalie said. “He told me they were delicious. I’m curious.”

“Here you go,” Tom said.

Nathalie paid for them. “Thank you.” She left the store and got in the car. They pulled off. Nathalie started eating the cookies. “Want one?” she said, offering one to the bodyguard. He rejected. She continued eating them.

The bodyguard then gave her a stern look. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “Look, I know it’s crazy, but I really want to help Adrien here. Was he foolish? Of course. But being young is all about making mistakes. I’m just here to make sure he’s making the right ones.” She smiled. “Besides, can’t you tell?” The bodyguard raised his eyebrow. “Our little Adrien’s in love.” The bodyguard thought about it, and then nodded. “I’m just not sure he knows it yet.”

Adrien went back to his room as soon as the meeting was over. He headed to the computer and saw Marinette messaged him. “Adrien! Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m still trying to process that myself,” he replied. “But basically, not only has Nathalie agreed to not tell my parents, she’s willing to help me.”

“...? Why?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m glad she is.”

“Well, I’m glad things worked out for you.”

“Sorry about dragging more people into this…”

“It’s OK. This was sudden. I get it.”

“By the way, the mission I was on as Cat Noir involved you.”

“Me?”

“Yup. I was to deliver a note to you. But Nathalie’s taking it to your place.She said she needed to scout it anyway. You should be getting it soon.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Good night.”

“Good night Adrien” she typed. She saw Adrien log off. She then spoke to herself. “What could that be?”

“Marinette!” her mom called. “There’s a letter for you! I’ll just slip it through the door as usual.” Marinette rushed over and opened the hatch door. Sabine was surprised to see her. “Marinette?”

“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to get this from you.” She took the note. “Thank you, mama!” She kissed her mom on the head, and closed the door.

Sabine was surprised. “Well, it’s good to see she's getting better.”

Marinette went up to her bed and looked at the note. “Manon?” she said, recognizing the handwriting. She opened it up.

“Marinette, Mommy says you did something bad, and you can’t be my babysitter anymore. I don’t think that’s true though. You’re so nice and kind. I can’t believe that you would do something so mean.

Mommy says you haven’t left your house much since got kicked out of school. You taught me that sometimes people just need to be alone sometimes. But I do want to see you again. I want to show you how much I’ve grown since the last time I’ve seen you. Please come out soon. Once they realize you didn’t do it, I’m sure they’ll forgive you. -Manon”

Underneath was a drawing of the two of them. Marinette was impressed, and at the same time heartbroken. Manon still believed in her. She couldn’t believe it herself. Manon looked up to her so much, and wanted her to leave. Meanwhile, here she was wallowing in self-pity. Marinette began crying. “I’m sorry Manon.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #adrien #ivan #mylene #lila #Kim #alix #Manon #adrien's bodyguard #nathalie #Marinette #Tom #sabine #no kwami #nice gabriel

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years

Text

Shut Up And Kiss Me [1/?] | Tom Hiddleston x reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: Multichapther

WC: 3062

Warnings: cursing, passive aggressiveness, pettyness

Summary: You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with.

POV: reader

A/N: I’m so excited to finally post this and actually get a start to the story.

If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know ^_^

Prologue | Series Masterlist | Part Two

Thomas William Hiddleston Creative Writing

Dear Professor Y/L/N

I am writing to enquire about how to best teach our respective classes. I believe that we should be able to find a solution that will make sure no students feel as if the class does not benefit them because of our disagreements.

I have three options for you:

You let me have the whole class and need not be bothered with me for the rest of the semester nor the next

We teach classes at different times

If you see the schedule we were granted you will notice that there are two open slots for the class

It is one hour and fifteen minutes two times a week, making us able to have it every other day the weeks the classroom is available.

We can teach it together as one collective group, which could lead to the students getting more out of the class

With those options in mind, I hope you will reach out before we both meet today for the first class. This way we can instruct the class on how the semester will continue on from today.

Sincerely, Professor Tom Hiddleston 020 **** **** twhiddleston@*****.co.uk

Y/N Y/L/N Re: creative writing

Professor Hiddleston

Your inquiry is well placed. I, too, believe we should figure out a solution that best suits the needs of our students.

In regards to your options;

I will not give up teaching the class. Despite our disagreements I do enjoy teaching and am in dire need of the money I get from taking on this class

As I understood it, teaching at different times is not an option.

I checked the open slots for the class and it is not possible to have a different time than the one we will meet today

The room is not available to our use more than the times we were given―I checked

You were worried about our disagreements coming in the way of teaching. In this case, teaching the class as one collective group will be a bigger problem than a solution, at least long hand.

In addition, I would like to add a fourth option you didn’t include

4. I teach the whole class and your request to not see me for the rest of the semester or the next will be granted.

I hope you take your time to figure out what you would be most comfortable with. I’ll be looking forward to hear you let me teach the whole class.

Y/N Y/L/N 020 **** **** Y/I/Y/L/N@*****.co.uk (First letter of first (and middle) name + last name)

The paper feels like a brick in your hand. It weighs down as more students filter in through the doors. You look down at it, scanning over the names. Some you recognize as students taking history or philosophy, but most aren’t familiar.

Hiddleston has still not appeared and the class is supposed to start in five minutes. You silently hope he doesn’t show, despite the clear answer to your email stating that him not taking the class was not an option―basically he hadn’t answered.

You lean back against the teacher’s desk and let the paper hang loosely by your side. The room continues to fill, nearing the number of thirty you expect. You count to twenty-eight.

Twenty-nine. Another comes in through the door. Thirty. You take a last glance at the door, still no Hiddleston. Thank Go―

He comes through the door with fast steps. “You have big balls for a woman,” he hisses as he puts down his bag on the teacher’s desk. You raise a brow at him. “Oh, sure,” he says, “you weren’t the one to call and make me go all the way around the building on a detour? You weren’t the one thinking you could make me come late and you could start without me?”

You try to push back a smile by pursing your lips. “Unfortunately, no, that wasn’t me.” The smile treads lightly through. “It almost helped, but I want to win this the right way.”

Hiddleston scoffs. “Win it? This isn’t a competition.”

“Keep telling yourself that and I already have this in my pocket,” you reply and stop leaning on the desk. “Makes this thing a whole lot easier.”

Before you turn to face the students you notice him roll his eyes. You shake your head, not letting him get to you―at least not at the same level as he usually does.

You clear your throat, gather the students attention and shoot a last look at your colleague. “Hi, everyone. I’m professor Y/L/N. This is professor Hiddleston.” You point to Hiddleston. “Welcome to creative writing.”

A chorus of chatter spreads through the room. It quickly dies out.

“Before we start any actual lesson, we would like to go through some information. This is for your benefit and ours.” You look down at the paper still clutched in your hand. “As you may have noticed, we are two teachers and one classroom. In fact, you all are two classes of fifteen and not one of thirty―unless, of course, professor Hiddleston decides to leave it to me.”

The male at your side lets out a huff.

“Unfortunately, we have not been able to agree upon the best arrangement for the course. I have taken the liberty to decide that you will choose, as the two of us will not be able to come to an agreement. We have three options for you.” You walk around to the blackboard and make a list of three. “One; I teach the class alone and Hiddleston is free to do other needed work in this time instead. Two; we divide the room into two parts where we use one each and teach each class to our own desires. Three―and with this one you should note that professor Hiddleston and I do not enjoy each other’s company―we teach the class together, giving you the possibility to hear both our thoughts. And no, Hiddleston teaching the class alone is not an option.”

Professor Hiddleston sighs as you finish writing the third option on the board. He shakes his head and turns to face the students. You turn back around and see the numerous hands in the air. Hiddleston points to one of them, causing the rest to fall down.

“Uhh, why can’t there be two classes in two different rooms?” The boy frowns at the two of you.

“Because there are no available rooms. We both requested the class and it is easier working with a smaller group to better reach each student,” replies Hiddleston. His answer is as vague as McHallan’s when he tried to explain the problem.

Another hand shoots into the air. You nod at them to speak. “How do we vote?” asks the girl the hand belongs to.

You gather up a stack of blank papers. “You write your option on this piece of paper. After everyone hands one in we count up what got most votes.” You hand half the stack to Hiddleston, who reluctantly accepts. “Please think through what you would most benefit from and vote with that in mind.”

The stacks are each handed to a student on the first row who passes the blank papers to the next person from row to row. As they all hunch down over the paper, you find a small box you brought where everyone can put their paper. Already, some have decided and meet your eyes to signal it.

After a few minutes, everyone has handed in their paper. As Hiddleston picks out two students to read the votes―so you both know the choice isn’t altered to one of yours’ liking―you make a table on the blackboard to place the results in. Then, as a boy and a girl walk up to the blackboard and find a piece of chalk, you lean back against the first row desks.

Professor Y/L/N alone | III

Two classes, one room | IIII III

Both teach one class | IIII IIII IIII I

Professor Hiddleston alone | III

The results stare back at you with a resounding note. Your heart shoots up into your throat, you purse your lips to hide the imminent anger and take a deep breath. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll work out… maybe…

You meet Hiddleston’s look from across the room. He looks no happier than you. At least that’s reassuring. You clap your hands together and turn to the class. The two students who helped sit back down and you give them a smile as they do so.

“That was… interesting.” Your voice comes off as disappointed as you predicted. “We will grant this wish, though I want to warn you of disagreements that might come from this arrangement.”

Professor Hiddleston nods. “Despite our differences, we will do our best to make this enjoyable and a learning experience for you all. Now that we have that settled, shall we start?”

An agreeable murmur stirs through and you nod with a small sigh. This can become every level of interesting.

“I don’t understand your problem.” Your best friend sits on your kitchen countertop, carelessly stuffing their mouth with food. “You share a class with one of the hottest men I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Not only that, but he’s fucking nice, too.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know him like I do, okay?” you tell her. “He’s a huge asshole. He always thinks he’s better than people and smarter and what not.”

Y/BFF/N scoffs and gives you an amused look. They hop down from the counter and to the fridge. “I don’t know,” they say and pull out a box of grapes “Remember when you first started working there and you met him.” They shut the fridge with their butt and speak with grapes in their mouth. “You told me there was this really hot professor there, prospects for dating and everything, despite clearly saying that dating someone you work with seemed a bad idea.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I did not say that, and if I did, I didn’t know he was a prick yet.” You snatch the box of grapes out their hands. “His personality makes him ugly. I’m sorry but it has something to say.” They snatch the box back as you take out a handful.

“Sure,” they say, their voice layered with irony. “Just do a one night stand. He’s hot, you need to get laid, maybe it’ll work out the conflict between you two, which has become such an annoyance. You say you don’t like him, but you can’t stop talking about him.”

You ignore their words. It’s clear they have some delusions. In fact, you remember the day you met Hiddleston very clearly.

“Here’s your office.” Dean McHallan unlocked a door into a small room. “You’re wall to wall with the English Literature teacher so you’ll probably meet him soon. Other than that, if you have any more questions feel free to ask.” He handed you the key to the office and slipped out the door.

The room was small, but not constricting. The far wall was lined with a cabinet consisting of two longer shelved cupboards. The middle was designed more as a bookcase, with some room for pictures as the wall was visible in the middle. In front of the cabinet stood a desk with what looked like a rather uncomfortable office chair. And to the left wall, right under a window staring out at the parking lot, was a couch that actually looked rather comfortable. By the right wall, there was an extra chair.

You sighed and dropped your backpack on the couch. Despite the rather tacky interior, it was a huge upgrade from your last job.

Knock. Knock.

Unpacking―meaning going to your car and taking with you some of the things you liked to have in your office―would be saved for later as you turned around and found a tall male in your doorway.

The male smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You must be the new professor. I saw you walk here with Dean McHallan.” He held out his hand. “I’m Tom Hiddleston, the English Literature professor.”

You took his hand and shook it. “Y/N Y/L/N. New history professor, yeah.” You let go of his hand and pursed your lips.

This was the male that had an office right next to yours. Well, maybe not too bad. He gave a nice vibe, reliable even. Based on his choice of clothing he was rather sophisticated, too. And well, the British Accent helped a lot. But everyone had that, you were in Britain after all.

“If there’s ever anything you need, I’ll do my best to help.” He pulled away from the doorway. “Welcome and I hope you find yourself at home here.”

“Thanks,” you replied and gave him a small smile.

During that first year, Hiddleston hadn’t seemed too bad. There was something with him, but it wasn’t until the Christmas party the next year you realized what an asshole he was and ever since, the two of you had had this disagreement going on.

You shake yourself out of the thought. “Okay, but instead of standing here all day, wanna watch a movie?” you ask.

Y/BFF/N nods. “Can we watch something Marvel? I’m in a mood,” they ask.

“Of course,” you reply. “What about Spider Man? Or Black Panther? They’re both on Netflix.”

They smirk and open the fridge again. You frown, and let out an exasperated sigh as they close the fridge with two wine bottles in hand. “Let’s watch both and have some fun. We’re nearing forty and I am in dire need of seeing you drunk before we get there.”

You raise your bows at her. “I’m thirty-five. I got five more years.”

Y/BFF/N sticks their tongue out at you. “Yeah, but I’m thirty-seven so fuck off.” Then their annoyance turns to a smirk. “What about your enemy? He’s not forty yet, is he?”

“I don’t know his exact age, Y/BFF/N, nor do I care.” You roll your eyes and snatch one of the wine bottles out of their hands. “Please, let’s watch some goddamn movies and get a little drunk, and maybe we can find out where your enemy hides the embarrassing photos, videos and more.”

They glare at you. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“What? Did they leak on instagram? Tumblr? Oh, shit that’s on twitter now. Out of my hands.” You shake your head with a that’s-just-how-it-is smile, enhanced with a half shrug and pursed lips slightly tilted upwards to show the joke.

Y/BFF/N shakes their head. “Fuck you. Let’s just start the movie.”

You laugh at them and smile. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

“―and my thoughts are to―”

You rush into the classroom, interrupting the professor you are certain is to blame for your late coming. Everyone’s gaze turns to you, you can feel their eyes on you, but yours are set in one place.

He frowns as you move towards him, past him and try to calm down. Don’t shout at him, you chant to yourself as you put down your backpack on the teacher’s desk.

“I’m sorry I’m late, but I had a flat tire,” you say. “Keep going.”

Hiddleston does exactly that and the students turn their attention back to him. As he talks, you tune out his voice and try to figure out how to get revenge. The reason you believe it’s him; the tire was slashed, at campus, before an appointment you had which you would have made on time had it not been for the tire, and because you didn’t make that on time, you didn’t make class on time.

The man was an idiot.

“―please take half an hour to discuss with each other and write a paragraph or two.”

The anger inside you doesn’t subside. You can feel your nostrils flare, feel the rage boil in your veins and the urge to just jump your colleague is not far from taking over.

Hiddleston comes up at your side. His lips are pursed, though you notice a hint of a smile. “You’re tire was flat?” he asks.

“Oh, please.” You look at him incredulously. “You had nothing to do with it, is that so? You expect me to believe that?”

“How could I possibly have done it? You were off campus.”

Proof. He knew.

You purse your lips and swallow to keep your voice low. “It was slashed before I left. And yeah, it was slashes. Foul play.”

He scoffs. “And why would I do it?” Hiddleston sounds curious, as if him being petty is something he doesn’t have a reason for―he doesn’t, but you’re pretty sure he believes he has one.

“Because you didn’t want me to make it. You knew I was off campus. You probably knew I had an important appointment as well, and I believe you did it on purpose to make me come late because that’s the type of idiotic thing you do.” You say it through gritted teeth, no longer masking your anger.

“You’re delusional, Y/N,” he says. “If you want to make every little detail regarding your life about me, I won't stop you.”

You clench your fists. “Every little detail? Because I believe you want to make my life miserable? The thing you have done since I started working here?” An annoyed huff leaves your lips. “Sure, yeah, totally. I’m obsessed.”

He takes a step back and turns half way around to face the students. “It’s flattering, I don’t mind,” he says, winks and fully turns around.

The desire to jump him comes back. You close your eyes and count to ten. Some of the anger fades away, but the need for revenge stays. The need to get him down a notch. The need to ruin his reputation and set a small fire to his career.

The side of your lips draw up in a smug smile. All you need is a plan. All you need is someone to help you. All you need is to make him taste his own medicine.

And you know exactly how to do that.

Taglist: @plooffairy @inlovewith3 @mindlesschicca @bookgirlunicorn @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @devilbat @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck

Bold in the taglist are people tumblr won’t let me mention, DM me and we’ll try to fix the problem ^_^

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missjanjie · 5 years

Text

Must be the Summer Heat (That Gives Her That Glow) | Branjie

Summary: This is a continuation of this drabble that ended up being a oneshot. There were six individual requests for a follow up and also a recent prompt for Nina playing Vanjie in snatch game. Enjoy!

The All Stars Six cast had entered the workroom for the first day of the third episode. Everyone was in good spirits, relieved to have survived the first two eliminations.

Brooke Lynn and Vanessa, specifically, were happy to have narrowly avoided outing their relationship. It would have been embarrassing to have blown their cover in week one, especially since their official reconciliation was – as Vanessa had put it the first time around – fresh out the womb. In fact, they had only concretely confirmed their status to each other a week before arriving on set.

Maybe they would have better luck convincing literally anyone that they were ‘just friends’ if they had time to work out a story beforehand – they were as bad at improv as they were at any other type of acting. Winging it, they supposed, was all they could do.

This week’s challenge was the Snatch Game – something everyone saw as either a chance at further success or, for people like Brooke Lynn and Vanessa – a chance at redemption. It didn’t take long after the announcement for everyone to rush to their stations and get right into preparations.

“Who are you gonna do, Nina?” Brooke Lynn asked as he brushed out the wig that he was planning on wearing.

“Well, I’ll tell you who I’m gonna do…” Nina spoke in her ‘Vanjie’ impression, immediately making everyone laugh, “You know, hopefully it’ll go over better than Roxxxy’s Alaska impersonation, but I think my Vanjie-isms are on point,” he explained in his normal voice.

Vanessa arched his brow and laughed. “Ima be watching you, bitch. Tread lightly,” he warned, scribbling potential jokes and one-liners for his own character, shifting nervously as he tried to prepare. Clearly his stress was starting to show as he realized Brooke had made his way to his table with a concerned expression.

Brooke Lynn put his hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “How’re you holding up, Vanj?” he asked gently, sitting beside him. “You feeling more confident this time around?” he asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Not as much as I should be,” Vanessa confessed quietly, resting his head on Brooke’s shoulder. “This is the shit I still struggle with, you know? I know Ru and everyone else are gonna be looking at me to see how I do. Guess I’m preaching to the choir, but you got some redemption already,” he mused.

He wasn’t wrong, Brooke Lynn knew that as much as Vanessa did. “I know, believe me, I get it. Last time was rough for both of us. But you’ve grown so much, and everyone’s rooting for you no matter what,” he told him. “Besides, you’re too much of a fan favorite to go home this early,” he teased.

Vanessa laughed, sniffling a little. “Thanks, Brooke. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he hugged him before Brooke Lynn returned to his station. He could do this, he thought. He just needed to get out of his head.

When it came time to play the game itself, everyone’s nerves appeared to have subsided for the time being – the most important thing was making RuPaul laugh however they could get him to.

One act that stood out, unsurprisingly, was Nina, who was able to mimic Vanessa’s mannerisms and vocal inflictions almost to a T. It was almost enough to make Vanessa break character at a few different points.

At one point in the game, RuPaul asked Nina in character if he had been staying in touch with the other season eleven queens, to which he answered, “Yeah, you know, I still got my Dream Girls. And between you and me mama, I ain’t been kicking Brooke Lynn out of bed either.”

Ru and the two contestants laughed heartily at that. “Oh really?” he egged him to go on – this was almost as good as getting a confession from Vanessa himself.

“Listen, what happens on tour stays in the hotel rooms. And the dressing rooms. And sometimes the bus when we thought everyone was asleep,” Nina continued, having all but forgotten that Vanessa and Brooke Lynn were both on the same panel, staring at him incredulously. ----------

“Hey Nina,” Asia called out to him while they were getting ready for the runway. “If you get into the top two and win the lipsync, are you gonna split that ten grand with Vanjie? You’re profiting off of her likeness,” he asked with a light laugh.

Vanessa bristled at the question even without being directly addressed. “It’s the least she could do after blowing up my spot like that. She knew she didn’t need to go for that low blow,” he chimed in as he did his makeup.

“Nina, girl, you know I love you, but it would’ve been just as easy to do a funny Vanjie impression without having to drag our personal lives into it like that,” Brooke added in a much more calm and gentle tone.

Asia looked between the three of them oddly. “Wait, so she was telling the truth? I mean, I had my suspicions, but…” his voice trailed off as he gestured vaguely, “I just figured y’all discussed what was gonna go down beforehand,” he shrugged.

Nina looked taken aback, but it was clear he did feel guilty. “Vanjie, I had no idea it would be a sensitive subject for you. We’ve all been joking about it, so I thought it would be fair game. But Asia’s right, I should have asked you for confirmation regardless, and I’m so sorry,” he apologized emphatically.

“I forgive you,” Vanessa replied curtly. He knew Nina’s apology was sincere, and he did accept it, but he did still feel tense and uncomfortable in a way that only time could heal.

“Are you alright, Brooke?” Nina asked with a hint of awkwardness in his tone, knowing that Vanessa was still upset.

Brooke nodded, doing his best to seem poised and unphased. “I’m not mad, I understand that you got carried away,” he replied even though, in reality, he was just doing his best to stay strong so neither Nina nor Vanessa felt any worse.

That had been the end of their storyline for that episode. All of them survived to the next week, and the pressure was building even more. They were all starting to feel the heat. Perhaps that was why after they got to a challenge that they were both safe in, Brooke Lynn and Vanessa managed to sneak away while the focus stayed on the winners and losers.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa confessed. “It was one thing to compete when everyone knew we had our thing going on, it’s different when we’re trying to hide it. It’s just another fucking thing we gotta worry about, like we don’t fucking have enough to deal with,” he vented.

Brooke frowned sympathetically and wrapped an arm around him. “Baby, I get it. It’s hard for me too. I’d much rather be able to hug and kiss you whenever I want. But this is what we agreed to do if we didn’t want to have that narrative again. Then when all is said and done, we can pick up where we left off and love each other on our own terms.”

Vanessa sighed and curled up against Brooke Lynn. “You say shit that’s smart and makes sense, and I want it to change how I feel, but I just…” in an impulsive act, he suddenly sat up and kissed him deeply, cupping his face with both hands and pouring out every single feeling of longing and need over the past few weeks into that one kiss.

And Brooke couldn’t have fought his feelings if he tried. His arms wrapped around Vanessa’s waist and pulled him close. He had missed this – missed him – more than he realized. He wouldn’t go so far as to say love was more important than winning, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t ignore Vanessa’s feelings, let alone his own. If he was going to give in to their desires, he was glad they could do it alone, sequestered from their friends and the harsh eye of the camera.

“Anyone see where Brooke Lynn and Vanjie went?” Asia asked offhandedly, looking around without realizing he was in earshot of the couple.

As nonchalantly as possible, Vanessa and Brooke returned from their impromptu reconciliation-slash-makeout session and joined the group. “What happened?” Brooke asked as casually as he could. All he received in response, however, was a bunch of confused stares. “Is there something on my face?”

“Other than most of Vanjie’s lipstick?”

#branjie #branjie fic #on screen #featnina #featasia

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alphacygni · 5 years

Link

The one with the interdimensional snogging.

****************

Crowley’s Flat

The Night of the (Not) End of the World

Evil, it had been established, never sleeps. Crowley himself indulged, of course, but otherwise, on the whole, the maxim stood.

The question occupying Crowley at the moment, however, as he watched Aziraphale circle his flat like a jumpy mouse dropped into a maze, was the inverse proposition: does Good sleep?

Given that Evil is boundless and ever abroad, Good would have to keep up, wouldn’t it? Good couldn’t be seen slacking. There was a whole deadly sin for that: one of Crowley’s favorites, in fact[1].

Metaphysics aside, however, Aziraphale did look tired. The first yawn had been understandable enough, coming as it did while Crowley tried to explain, with little success, the purpose of a wireless router.

The second yawn had burst through the angel’s admiration of Crowley’s tropical orchids[2].

The third came just as Aziraphale’s circuit brought him to the statue, where it battled a puzzled smile and a lean in for a closer look. “What the deuces are they—“

“Fancy a lie down?” Crowley interrupted, directing the angel away. “The bed’s through there if—”

The look on Aziraphale’s face told him he’d been dangerously misunderstood.

“If you want to rest.” As if to illustrate, Crowley stretched his arms theatrically. “I’m knackered myself. Could do with another century-long kip, probably.”

The mouse in the maze appeared to have gotten an electric shock. “Oh…well. Yes. I suppose I wouldn’t say no to a rest. Tiring business, the Apocalypse. I’ll, uh…I’ll take the sofa.”

They both looked at the black sofa skulking in the center of the room. Corners glinted and pristine leather menaced. It looked as inviting as a metal bench in a heatwave. When Aziraphale finally worked up the courage to sit, the cushions growled resentfully.

“Modern furniture,” Crowley explained. “Not really about comfort.”

“I should have known modern design was one of yours.” The angel gave him a small smile.

It bolstered him. “We could…I mean, if we’re both going to lie down, I don’t see why we couldn’t…?”

A swallow. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Your virtue’s safe, angel. Besides, we’re about to spend Devil knows how long wearing each other’s faces and bodies around. I think we’re past the point of blushing about lying in the same bed.”

As it turned out, however, they weren’t.

The moment they were lying beside one another, the angel blushed furiously. It was uncomfortably charming[3].

They stared at each other, as far from sleep as two beings—celestial, infernal, or otherwise—could possibly be. Neither suggested sobering up. Alcohol, at the moment, was a marvelous ally.

“Well,” Crowley said unhelpfully.

“Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. “Rather.”

Sheets whispered as they turned away from each other, back to back, Crowley on his side, the angel on his—a miniature cosmos on thousand thread-count silk.

“G’night, angel.”

“Um…yes. Good night.”

Silence.

The first few minutes eked past, and Crowley was sure he’d never been less relaxed in his life. Each shift registered Richter-like; each sound poured through a funnel into his ear.

One of the nice[4] things about linear time, however, is that it just…moves on, continues, end over end, until a person can grow accustomed to even the most unnerving events. And so, eventually, as time ticked forward, the strangulated muscles in Crowley’s back loosened, the whites of his eyes faded. Shoulders rounded forward, and he let himself stretch: all of him, corporeal and non-corporeal bits alike. It was a hellishly good feeling. Manifesting in a physical body wasn’t terrible, but it was irritating: something like walking around with a pebble in your shoe except, in this case, his body was the pebble and the shoe was a radiant form of demonic energy that permeated all that had been or would be from the beginning of creation to the end of time.

Beside him, the angel’s breathing stopped, which Crowley took for a good sign. He’d relaxed enough to give up the illusion of oxygen-carbon dioxide exchange and had even begun to release his corporeal hold a bit. In the space at their backs, reality slackened, fluttering between this world and beyond.

It was in this way that Crowley got a peek.

It wasn’t the sort of peek one got, say, through a lit window from behind bushes. This was in a mirror, darkly, and had nothing to do with eyes. Crowley stayed turned away, but he saw it nevertheless: the angel, Aziraphale—all of him, dazzling as a beam of sunlight might be if it could multiply itself infinitely and blaze across every wavelength and color at once.

Had Crowley been pretending to breathe, the sight would have taken his breath away.

So rapt was he, in fact, that he startled stupidly when the angel spoke.

Spoke is, perhaps, an inaccurate term. What Aziraphale said was not aloud nor in any language that has ever sounded on the Earth. It was a celestial tongue—one Crowley had not heard in more than six-thousand years and one no human could ever hope to comprehend. To human ears it would sound like nothing so much as Beauty shaped around Truth: the cool whisper of wind on a spring morning. The ache of bowed strings. The ecstatic crash of waves on a still and empty shore.

The closest translation into human English, however, would be in the decidedly less transcendental vicinity of: I’ll show you mine…

Crowley forced a useless breath. And another.

He was vaguely aware of the spot where he gripped the sheets.

He wanted to throw open the curtain and let the angel look—yearned for it in a way that had 6000 years at its back. He longed to show and to be seen as he hadn’t been seen since Before. Since his wings had burned black.

But he knew better. He had to measure it. Tread lightly.

He didn’t want to go too fast.

A fraction—as titillating a fraction as he could manage—Crowley released his hold on reality, too. Between their backs, matter bucked and waved as if caught in a breeze. For the first time in his corporeal existence, Crowley felt the prickle of hair on the back of his neck. The uncanny thrill of being watched by a hundred eyes.

When the angel’s wing touched his in that space between it was soft and almost. Feathers and light slid for no more than a held breath. Nothing to see.

But to feel…

Crowley still remembered—still relived often in the pit of his stomach—the sensation of his Fall. The pull and the terror, the blistering heat that that gave way to creeping cold and to the gleam of amputation.

This was the opposite—not a Fall but an Ascent, electricity pinging to both poles at once. It worked down his spine like a teasing finger, stroked up his leg like a wanton hand. It grabbed him, firm, about the middle and filled him until there was nothing left but surrender and a hunger too hot and immediate to name.

It was warmth. That warmth of the Beginning, before everything else.

Around them ions rattled, every atom singing, echoing in those hollows between electrons.

He was panting (uselessly), he was sweating (uselessly), and he’d cried out, he was sure, whether in this reality or the one beyond he didn’t know. A moan, a prayer or both at once.

How does a demon say hallelujah?

At the sound, the angel startled, and the curtain drew taut once more.

Another fall.

A diz z y pop and

a lack.

“I…I don’t know if this is a good time to…”

Everything settled back into the mold of reality, sliding around the angel’s tiny, earthly voice. Crowley became aware of his eyes again, sight and color returning in patches as if he’d stared too long at the sun. When he touched them, he found them damp.

“There…there’ll be a lot happening tomorrow.” The angel’s voice juddered as he stood, renewed breaths uneven. “I’ll, um, I’ll keep a watch.”

But Crowley heard the words behind—a different sort of unspoken language.

It was that same question again.

What if I did the wrong thing?

And Crowley wondered, as always, if there was ever a right one.

Alone again, he rolled over until he was on the other side. It was still warm.

He breathed in that familiar scent and tried, desperately, to rest.

**************

[1] In the same way waiters at posh restaurants are asked to try dishes so as to make recommendations, demons are required to indulge in each of the deadly sins in order to more effectively tempt humanity. Crowley had spent much of the doldrums of prehistory trying them out one by one. For his money, sloth had the others beat by a country mile, though lust could come a close second when the timing was right. He’d never quite got the hang of acedia, so he was glad when they knocked that one off and replaced it with a proper, respectable sin like envy.

[2] Tropical orchids did not typically thrive in London, but Crowley’s orchids knew what was good for them.

[3] Crowley was, in fact, briefly tempted to rearrange his rank ordering of the deadly sins.

[4] And terrible.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my fic

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tabbyclaw · 5 years

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Before season four comes along to utterly break our hearts, I wanted to have at least something of this idea posted. Please enjoy the first -- and very rough -- bit of what will eventually be a bit of Hamid/Sasha fluff.

Hamid looked around the small crowd that had gathered in the dining room for breakfast and couldn't help feeling a little uncomfortable. Everyone here was someone he was happy to be in the company of, of course, but the combination of them was somehow unsettling. His friends seemed out of place in this room where he had grown up, and their presence made the absence of some of the people he'd grown up expecting that he would always see here all the more glaring. There were empty spaces where his parents should have been -- his father gone and his mother in no state to deal with visitors -- and Aziza, and Saleh, and nether Azu's gently looming presence nor Grizzop's bubbling energy could fill them. It was as if parts of his world had collided imperfectly, the pieces colliding and breaking and trying to spin off into a new combination that didn't fit anything that had come before.

He wasn't the only one who seemed to be feeling this tension. His friends -- at least, the two who were present -- were treading as carefully as could be expected in the home of near-strangers who had been recently bereaved, Grizzop clearly trying to keep his usual impatience in check and Azu appearing distraught that there was so little she could do to help. Of Sasha there had been no sign yet, which Hamid didn't think was cause for immediate concern even if her absence seemed to make the rest of the scene even more dissonant. But on his family's side the twins were being the twins, now in these uncertain times even more so than usual, and it seemed to have fallen to Saira to take on the role of both hostess to their guests and babysitter to her two littlest brothers. It was a role Hamid didn't envy, although he doubted there was much else he could do to help.

She did seem to be doing a fairly decent job of it, though, whatever worries she might have. She kept the conversation... well, not exactly flowing, but she was accustomed to making people feel welcome and at ease, and she was doing that for their guests now. She let out a polite laugh at something Grizzop said, and then she turned to Hamid with a questioning look. "And will your other associate be joining us this morning?"

Hamid tried to look as if the question hadn't caught him off guard, nor had the way that his little brothers immediately perked up at it. "Yeah, is Sasha coming down for breakfast?" Ismail asked eagerly, leaning across the table to catch every bit of Hamid's response.

Ishak was right behind him. "Do you think she has any more knife tricks to show us?" He was closer to Hamid, and bent forward to jog his elbow. "It's about time you got some cool friends," he said.

Hamid batted him away impatiently. "Far too cool for you," he shot back, almost a reflex. As much as he'd missed his family, he had to admit that it was far easier to be an older brother at a distance, where he could just stick to his vague, hazy memories of a pair of wild little children who had looked up to him and wanted his company without the actual pestering of their wanting his attention. Saving the world didn't seem like such a chore when the other option was putting up with them.

"'S a good question, though," Grizzop added. "Where is Sasha, anyway?" He glanced around the room as if he half expected to see her lurking in a corner, which was probably not the most improbable thing. "We've got things to do today; has anyone seen her?"

It seemed that all eyes were turning to Hamid at this, for reasons he couldn't fathom, and he couldn't help an absurd desire to shrink from them. It felt a bit weird, the way they all suddenly seemed to think that he was going to be the person who would know where she was. But also a bit pleasant, somewhere in the back of his mind, that other people would draw that connection between them, be aware that he was the person here who'd known her the longest and thus might well know her the best. He couldn't help hoping that that was an accurate thought. "I don't believe she's feeling up to any social interaction at the moment," he said, as tactfully as he could manage. It was a guess at best, but knowing Sasha he felt it was probably the closest one. "She'll probably join us a little later, when she's ready to get on with her day."

There was a knowing silence that passed between the members of LOLOMG, obvious enough that Saira raised an eyebrow. "I do hope she's all right," she said, still in hostess mode and being careful not to pry despite what Hamid knew must be a burning curiosity about this strangest of the strange people he had brought home. "Is there anything she needs, do you think? Obviously we want her to be comfortable here, and if there's anything the household can provide..."

There most definitely wasn't, Hamid could tell her that right off. His mind was still burning with the last time he'd seen Sasha in the early morning, even more pale and ashen than usual, the blood pooling through her shirt. It was why he hadn't pressed her today, only knocking on her door to reassure himself that she was there and alive -- for whatever value of 'alive' she was currently occupying, not that he wanted to dwell on that -- without actually trying to get an answer. He'd told her that they were all going down to breakfast and she was welcome to join them, there was a muffled, mumbling grunt of acknowledgment from the other side of the door, and he'd left it at that. Left her at that, to deal with things in her own way and in her own time, as he generally tried to do no matter how much it worried him not to have a more complete understanding of her current situation. "I don't think she does," Hamid said as lightly as possible, not trying to think about how much help she did need and how powerless he and his friends were to do anything but intercede on her behalf with a higher authority and pray that it saw fit to grant her assistance. "But she knows that help is here for the asking," he added, while also reminding himself in his concern that she was still unlikely to ask for it even if she was confident it would be granted. "Right now, I think the best thing is just to leave her to herself for a bit."

Saira was looking at him curiously, and he suddenly felt as if everyone else was, as well. As if he'd said something weird without realizing it, or maybe all the worry he was trying to hide about her was writ large across his face. Saira could always spot his tells, no matter how cool and collected he tried to be, and it seemed that that particular sisterly superpower hadn't diminished with time and distance between them. "Of course," she finally said, breaking the strange tension that had come over the table before turning her attention to the twins. "And that means the two of you, as well. I expect you to be on your best behavior with all of our guests, no matter how unusual the circumstances around them may be."

Ismail rolled his eyes for the both of them. "All right Mum," he sighed.

"Don't be unkind to your sister," Azu scolded gently, and her calm and clear voice cut through the other conversations with surprising, gentle effectiveness. "You're family, all of you, and all of you have gone through a difficult time of it lately. The last thing you need is to be bickering among yourselves." She inclined her head towards Saira. "Although I beg your pardon for speaking out of turn," she added.

"No, you're absolutely right, thank you," Saira said, looking at her little brothers with amusement. "It's always wise to listen to a paladin," she observed to them, and they seemed to have come to the same conclusion as they both settled down a little further into their chairs. Azu might not carry the same fascination for them that Sasha did, but a woman over twice their size and dressed in glowing pink armor was still enough of a spectacle to make them sit up and take notice. Hamid hid his own smile at that, feeling just a bit smug at having been defended from the minor irritation that had been haunting him, but Saira fixed him with a look just as firm as the one that Azu had aimed at his brothers a moment before. "And that goes for all of us." He sank down just the same as Ishak and Ismail had, feeling about six years old under his older sister's inexorably watchful eye.

The conversation continued, bobbing off in a different direction with Saira giving them an overview of some of what was going on in the city and surrounding areas, as well as updating Hamid on some bits of local gossip and notable events that had occurred during his long absence -- and dodging revealing more than was necessary about the family's affairs even more deftly than she dodged revealing anything about the more secretive parts of her job -- while on his other side Grizzop and Azu tried to work out what their next move was for the rest of the day and beyond. Meanwhile Ishak and Ismail appeared to have taken at least part of Saira's warnings to heart, although the only part seemed to have been 'not in front of the guests.' They continued to chatter between themselves, but very quietly and in Arabic. The few snatches of conversation that made their way to Hamid's ears sounded like the standard grumbling and slightly rude jokes of any kids stuck bored at the breakfast table while the adults were talking. They were at least making some effort not to interrupt anyone else, and they weren't saying anything directly insulting -- except occasionally about him, and he knew it was because they knew he could hear -- so he figured that there was no real point in scolding them further. Let Saira deal with it if she felt it was necessary, but he didn't think she would. There was also a little amusement to be derived from the way Azu's eyes would occasionally flicker in their direction as a word or two caught her ear, and the questioning looks she would throw at Hamid as she debated whether or not she should interfere again. His brothers had apparently forgotten -- or just never noticed in the first place -- that one of their guests was just as fluent in Arabic as they were. Just don't believe a word they say about me, all right? Hamid thought silently at her, giving a faint smile at how interested she seemed to be in their conversation.

By the time the second course of breakfast was being laid out on the sideboard and Sasha still hadn't made an appearance, Hamid was starting to worry in earnest. Grizzop had begun tapping the table impatiently, one eye fixed on the door as he awaited her appearance, and even Saira was beginning to falter a bit in her pleasantness as she noted their distraction. "She does know we're all down here, right?" Grizzop finally asked, fixing Hamid with a concerned and curious look.

"She should," Hamid assured him. "I mean, I told her. And she..." Well, she hadn't really responded, had she? But she'd acknowledged him, at least, and that was probably the best he could expect at any rate. "She's... having a hard time," he finally said. It was the only answer he could offer.

"We all are," Grizzop returned at that, although he didn't sound completely devoid of sympathy as he said it. "And she's the one who needs to be here so we can figure out exactly what we need to do next to take care of her 'hard time,' right? So there's only so far that we can do her a favor by giving her some space before it turns into way too much space."

"Yes, but--"

"Not really room for a 'but,' is there? If she's not going to come to us, then someone has to go to her." Grizzop began to push himself away from the table, clearly intent on being the one to do so.

"I'll do it," Ishak said quickly, practically vaulting from his chair.

Ismail was right behind him. "No, I will!"

"No," Hamid said quickly. Probably too quickly, judging by the stares in response. Somehow the thought of letting someone else go after her in her current state felt like some kind of betrayal, especially when it was someone as overeager and wild as his brothers. It was bad enough that he'd seen her in the morning, when he was sure she'd rather he hadn't. If she was suffering something similar, or worse, at least it being him at her door again wouldn't be an additional problem on top of that. And besides, if she really was in some kind of trouble, he wanted to be there for her, just on the off chance that he could do something to help. "No, I mean, you're right," he tried again. "She should be here, and I should have made sure she got down all right. If anyone's going to go haring off after her, it should be me."

Did the stares continue as he started to stand up and head for the door? He didn't know, suddenly too stiff and uncomfortable to actually look at anyone, but he could hear little whispers of Arabic curling around him as the twins took in the situation.

"Oooh, he's jealous now, isn't he?"

"Doesn't want to share her with anyone else, I guess. I told you he fancied her."

"Yeah, fine, you were right."

"Oh."

That last was from Azu, listening in again, and it was the sound of the clouds parting and a mystery that has been left unsolved and uncertain suddenly coming into perfect clarity. The unruffled calm with which Hamid had been ignoring his brothers so far, borne of years of similar teasing from his other siblings every time he'd so much as looked at a girl, evaporated in an instant. "What?"

It was a sudden enough outburst to get everyone else's attention, as well. Saira tensed suddenly, startled out of the way she had been carefully ignoring the twins' gossiping, and Grizzop flicked an ear, newly part of a conversation that had been passing him by and clearly interested in where it was going. All of them seemed to be looking at Hamid, who had been the one to make the most noise about it, but it was Azu who flinched. "I know," she said apologetically. "I should have figured that out already. But I'm still piecing together how exactly this group works, and..." A quick look at Grizzop. "You should have mentioned that, when you were filling me in on all of it."

Grizzop's brow furrowed, and then an eyebrow raised as Hamid's stomach sank. The addition of Grizzop to this conversation could only go badly. "Mentioned what, exactly?"

To give whatever shred of credit might be due, the twins did seem to have figured out that something had gone drastically off the rails with what was supposed to just be a little harassment between siblings. "It was a joke," Ishak hurried to clarify, shooting Hamid a sheepish look. "Just having a bit of fun with him."

It wasn't enough; it would never have been enough. Not to stop that relentless goblin curiosity and the drive to keep tabs on all of the people around him. Grizzop cast Ishak only the barest look, and Hamid one that was only slightly longer, before turning back to Azu as the apparent expert on the situation. "Mentioned what?"

In the brief time that he had known Azu, Hamid had already come to two conclusions: That she was deeply, intensely, fundamentally honest, and that she had very little ability to read a room. It was hard to tell, at this moment, which part of that was going to make this worse for him. She did at least spare a look for Hamid, and he tried to convey some subtle signal that would beg her not to get anyone else involved in this without actually turning it into a desperate flail that would attract even more attention. Far too subtle a signal, apparently, as she returned her attention almost immediately to Grizzop. "That Hamid is smitten with Sasha."

She said it so simply, as if she were commenting on the weather or their itinerary. Not gossiping, just letting him in on the topic of a conversation that he had been inadvertently excluded from, a topic with which she assumed he was already familiar. All of which just made it worse. On the balance, the desperate flailing might have been the less embarrassing option.

"Eh?" Grizzop flicked an unimpressed ear at her. "Why would I bother? It's your lot thinks that kind of thing is relevant." His voice was cool, just restrained enough not to actually come across as contemptuous but with an obvious undercurrent of disdain. He gave Hamid a scrutinizing look. "If it's even accurate."

"Yes, thank you," Hamid started to say, surprised and relieved to have this sudden ally. He had already learned from his siblings -- and his 'friends' at University had only reinforced the lesson -- that there was no point in defending oneself from this kind of accusations, and that the only real solution was to ignore the gentle and not-so-gentle gibes until those who were making them got bored with his lack of reaction, but if there was someone else on his side for once it might go a little bit better.

Azu looked as if she hadn't even considered that possibility. "Sorry," she said as she looked back at Hamid, her face apologetic and still so utterly guileless that he couldn't actually be as annoyed with her as he really wanted to be. "I guess I just assumed that the people who'd know best how to recognize it would be the ones who know you best."

"Which doesn't include my little brothers," he returned, slightly mollified by the turn that the conversation appeared to have taken in his favor. He raised a faintly smug eyebrow at the little brothers in question, and there was a synchronized rolling of their eyes. Apparently there was only so much contrition that could be wrung out of them.

But Azu didn't seem to consider the matter dropped. "And it seemed like such an obvious conclusion to come to, once someone else said it," she continued, as if she were questioning her own instincts in a way that was entirely unnecessary. Why she was looking to Hamid for some kind of confirmation of this he couldn't fathom, and when he continued to give her as blank a stare as he could manage -- he was absolutely aware that it was straining at the corners, thank you very much -- she seemed to give up on the idea.

"'Course you'd think so," Grizzop said quietly. It was still without any real true viciousness to it, but Hamid had the feeling that he'd missed something passing between them and that he might not actually want to know what it had been. He was just happy to take advantage of it if it meant the conversation was going to move away from the invasive and frankly bizarre turn it had taken. But as he sank back into his chair, exhaling relief and subtly letting his fists unclench, he was aware of Grizzop taking the same moment to lean forward towards him, cocking his head speculatively. "Could explain some things, mind," he added, almost offhandedly.

So much for having an ally. "Clearly you've all made up your minds already, then," Hamid said. He was aiming for a dismissive tone, trying to sound like he was more bored than anything without losing that edge of annoyance, but he could feel a tightening in his throat as his voice rose in pitch the way it always did when something bothered him. "I don't know why you're even bothering to talk to me about it, when you could have this entire conversation between yourselves and never have to involve me at all!"

And now he'd done it. There was no chance of getting away from the conversation now, not when he'd made it into a spectacle. He could feel the change in the air in the room, and it was worse now than the unbroken tension had been. Azu's face dropped, and she looked at him with new concern, her brow furrowing. "I'm sure none of us meant to upset you, Hamid," she said quickly and gently, laying a massive hand on his shoulder by way of an apology. "It was just..." She trailed off, seeming lost for an end to that sentence. "A mistaken impression," she finally concluded. "One that got out of hand."

Hamid closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. He had just woken up, but he was already so tired. The previous weeks had contained so much horror and peril, so much loss, so much that was wrong with the world at large and his corner of it specifically. A little bit of familiar hounding from his family and his new friends shouldn't have been enough to unravel his composure yet again, and yet here he was feeling like everything had somehow gotten away from him again. He sighed through the sinking in his stomach as something in him finally gave in. "No, it wasn't."

He could feel the flurry of confusion rippling around the table at his muffled words. Confusion, and a bit of impatience at what must have seemed from the outside like self-pity. "That's not true," Azu said, still gentle, and he could imagine her eyes boring into his brothers and trying to urge them to offer the same reassurance. "It was well-meant, even if we got it wrong."

He could easily have argued that point, at least where Ishak and Ismail were concerned, if that was actually the issue at hand. But this time it wasn't his brothers he had lost all patience with, but himself. "No," he said again. "I mean, it wasn't a mistaken impression."

His face was still covered, his voice muffled as he made his confession, but he knew better than to think that that would actually stop anyone from hearing it. That friendly hand on his shoulder, still patting him awkwardly, suddenly stilled in its motion, and he could feel the rest of the room going equally quiet as this sunk in. Ironic, really, that he had gotten them to stop talking about him by giving them something to talk about. "Oh," Azu repeated after a moment. It was a sound of realization again, but rather than the sudden shock of a puzzle she hadn't known she was solving falling into place, this was a more gentle sort of understanding. "And she doesn't... oh dear."

Whether she had inferred that Sasha didn't know how he felt or that she just didn't feel the same way, Hamid couldn't guess. Not that it mattered -- the safe bet was that both of those things were true, anyway -- and at the moment he was more focused on the sympathy in Azu's voice and her touch, a reaction that he simultaneously craved and hated. In a better time and place he might have been grateful for her comfort, but not here and now. Not when there was an audience to see him as something pitiable, and when there were so many greater burdens that they had to bear that this one was even smaller and sillier than it would have been normally. He just wanted to let everything go, not even caring anymore what anyone knew or thought they knew after this conversation.

It was Grizzop who broke the silence that had fallen after that remark, cutting in with his own particular brand of sensitivity. "Right, then, so you do fancy her," he said briskly, though not entirely unkindly. He sounded like he was trying to be the reasonable one, injecting a final note of calm into the proceedings before brushing them away, but really it was coming off far more like he had just lost all patience for the subject. Why couldn't he have done so two minutes ago?

His head still in his hands, Hamid felt himself nodding, both reluctant and resigned. What was there to be gained now from protesting? From lying about one awkward, embarrassing little secret when there were so many others -- and so many worse -- that all of them were still carrying? Why should it matter to anyone else that he was suffering from a few butterflies over someone when the entire world was in danger and everything they touched seemed to be crumbling in its own way? If they were going to make a spectacle of his feelings, then let them do it and get it over with now, while he was somewhere familiar where he knew all the escape routes if such a thing became necessary. And while Sasha herself wasn't present. Gods, he would put up with no end of humiliation from his friends and family if only they'd leave her out of it. "Yes, all right?" he finally forced out. The words were weary, but there was also a growing burn of irritation to them as some of the exhaustion that had led to him getting caught up in a confession started to give way to anger at the people who had caused it, and the incessant hounding that had suddenly added this new complication to his life. "For gods' sakes, Sasha is one of the most amazing people I've ever met. She's brave, she's loyal, she's clever, she's got one of the biggest hearts I've ever known..." He could feel his voice going just a bit softer at that, as he said all the things that he'd wanted to say aloud about her for some time now. "Of course I fancy her. How could I not?"

It was possible that someone would have had something to say in response to that, but whatever it might have been was interrupted by the crashing of a plate being dropped that came from too far away to be anyone at the table. Everyone turned to follow the sound, and even as Hamid's head lifted to do the same he could feel his stomach sinking. Because there really was only one thing that could have made this whole thing worse...

Saira was the first to manage a reaction, her hostess instincts kicking in with a bright smile. "Good morning, Sasha," she said cheerfully, and if Sasha had been standing still before she was utterly frozen now. "Lovely to have you joining us. We didn't see you come in."

Hamid didn't think he'd ever seen Sasha looking so trapped before, standing next to the sideboard and clutching a slice of bread. "Right. That's... kinda supposed to be the point, yeah..." She straightened up slightly, clearing her throat. "Anyway. Just. Came down for a bit of breakfast."

"Of course," Saira said, still utterly unfazed. "Help yourself. And you're welcome to join us, as well, if you'd like."

"'M good, thanks," Sasha said vaguely, giving her half a wave, still crouched as if she was trying to escape all of the prying eyes. And while she wasn't making eye contact with anyone -- not terribly unusual from Sasha in any case -- Hamid couldn't shake the feeling that she was very specifically not making eye contact with him. "Think I just. Need some air."

"Take your time." It was Azu who spoke this time, that gentle hand still resting on Hamid's shoulder and keeping him from bolting from the room. "But do come back as soon as you're ready; there's still quite a bit we need to do today."

"Yeah, sure thing." Still not looking at anyone, Sasha collected a few strips of bacon to go along with the bread she'd already secured, and before anyone could say anything further she was gone, slipping out of the open window that had apparently been her point of entry as well.

In the ensuing silence, all the eyes that had turned towards the window now returned to Hamid, looking hungrier and more eager for a response than ever. Silently, he just pressed his head into his hands again. For the first time in a very long time, he felt that he had quite lost his appetite.

#rusty quill gaming #fanfic #my fanfic #Hamid/Sasha #hamid #sasha racket #I will paddle this lonely little canoe with vigor

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suddenrundown · 5 years

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All the Time in the World: Chapter 12

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There was something…unfriendly in the looks from random passersby.

Unfriendly was probably too mild; Barry could deal with unfriendly. These looks carried something else, something that triggered danger signals, but they never lingered too long before flitting away as the owner scurried off without a glance back. It was unnerving, and he tried not to make too much eye contact with anyone in particular as he perused the aisles of the small apothecary shop. Instead, he focused on the paper that Merle had handed him before he left the ship and headed into town, a list of medicines that the crew needed to restock on complete with brief descriptions of each one hastily scribbled down as an afterthought, because what if they have different names for their medicines, Merle?

“Good point,” the dwarf had replied as if that thought had never once occurred to him, taking the paper back.

The task proved to be difficult anyway as Barry squinted at Merle’s chicken scratch handwriting in an attempt to decipher it and scanned the shelf in front of him. He sighed heavily and stood from his squatting position, stretching his back a little.

“Merle, for the love of…” he muttered to himself. This would have been much easier if the guy had come along. Barry stood on his toes to see over the shelf. “Any luck, Lup?”

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

“Uh…no?” came the response from down below on the other side of the aisle. Lup popped up then, slightly to the left on her side of the aisle. “At least, not with the amoxi- what’cha call it.”

“Amoxilitinia,” Barry supplied, peering back down at the list. “It’s the last thing on the list, so what did you find?”

“Hand lotion,” Lup answered as she showed him the bottle she was holding, which claimed to smell of some type of berry he hadn’t heard of before. “And if Merle knew how good it smelled, he would have put it on the list.”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Oh, for sure,” she told him, disappearing from view and then reappearing as she rounded the corner to his side of the aisle. “Here,” she continued, holding the bottle out to him, “smell.”

Barry did as she said. He definitely couldn’t identify the scent, but clearly he needed to find whatever berry the stuff was meant to imitate. “It smells amazing,” he told her, because it really did.

“Right?” She took another whiff herself and then capped the bottle. “Obviously I’m getting it.”

“Obviously.”

“Alright, so let’s find this Amoxi-shit and head back. What’s it for?” she asked as grabbed for the paper in his hand.

“Rashes,” he replied as he scanned the shelf again.

Lup chuckled. “He knows there’s different kinds, right?”

“One would hope.”

After a few more minutes of searching, Lup found some not-Amoxilitinia that seemed to be for some sort of rash-curing purpose and decided that it was good enough.

“If he wants something else, he can come back and do it himself,” she said. Then she looked at him, concern lining her features. “You ok?”

He stopped rubbing the back of his neck, but couldn’t stop the nervous pounding of his heart. “I just want to be back. Feel like I’m being watched.” He peaked over her shoulder and saw the worker at the counter glance quickly away as soon as he looked over. “The guy up front has done nothing but give us dirty looks ever since we walked in,” he added, quieter.

Lup glanced behind her as well, and then turned to give him a reassuring smile. “They’re just stuffy dickheads. But don’t worry, I got this.”

Barry hung back while she went to pay. The man at the counter did not show her any sort of friendliness as he rang her up, but that was fine as long as he didn’t…do something else. Barry wasn’t actually sure what he was prepared for, but he felt on edge enough that he should be.

Lup picked up her purchases off the counter and stowed them in her backpack. “Thank you so much,” she said politely and with incredible enthusiasm. The man did not reply and barely spared her a glance.

She stepped out of the door that Barry held open for her. “See? Nothing to worry about,” she told him.

There wasn’t exactly nothing to worry about, and Lup knew that. She also knew that the super welcoming people of the town of Dalry weren’t just “stuffy dickheads”, either. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t noticed the angry stares or that they didn’t give her the creeps, too. Good thing Barry hadn’t asked. A woman stopped to glare at them as they passed, and Lup glared right back before realizing that that could only escalate the situation.

The situation, as it stood, was that they were in trouble for having magic. When they’d landed the Starblaster outside of town three days ago, they’d been met by two very official and very distrustful looking men who had not bothered introducing themselves. Instead, they’d immediately started grilling Davenport about the “highly suspicious aircraft” he’d walked out of in the most aggressive way possible.

The captain had attempted to give his usual spiel that vaguely explained why they just appeared out of nowhere, but the men continuously interrupted him, seemingly getting more demandingly hostile by the minute. Davenport decided to switch tactics.

“I really do apologize for the shock. Believe me, our being here is completely out of our control for the time being. I’m Davenport, the captain of this admittedly odd-looking ship, and they,” he gestured behind himself to the six of them “are my team.”

Neither of the men said anything to this, so Davenport continued, pointing as he introduced them one by one. “That’s Barry, resident scientist, and that would be Lucretia, our records keeper. Taako and Lup, fantastic wizards and even better-”

“Wizards!” thundered one of the strangers in what sounded like an accusation.

The other man stepped forward. When he spoke, it was much quieter but no less threatening. “There is no magic here.”

More accurately, as it was later found, magic was not allowed. It was immoral, illegal, and punishable by imprisonment and, in all likelihood, death. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Davenport had assured them that they would abide by the law and if they needed that in writing he would gladly give it to them, but reasoned that they could not possibly be held accountable for something they weren’t aware of.

Though this did not seem to sit well with either of them, the quieter man suggested that he could at least come plead his case to the law makers, as the two of them were merely enforcers. Davenport had gratefully and humbly accepted, and then turned to face the rest of them.

“If I’m not back in three hours, you know what to do.”

They’d solemnly nodded and he’d left, but thankfully reappeared before time was up.

“I thought it best to be completely honest about how many of us actually have magic,” he’d told them. “They weren’t at all happy about it, but I didn’t want them to somehow figure it out through other means. That being said, obviously no one will use any sort of magic while we’re here, and tread lightly so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“Would it be wiser to relocate elsewhere?” Lucretia asked.

“Possibly,” Davenport replied, “although we don’t know how big this world is or if every other place we come to will be the same. Since they let me come back, I have to assume that we are out of the woods for the time being. We might not be as lucky elsewhere. For now, we will hurry through the usual inspections of the ship and be on our guards.”

They’d all agreed then, but as she walked across the dirt roads of the town back home, the weight of the stares and the bag full of meds on her back, Lup wasn’t so sure. And it didn’t seem like Barry was either. He looked panicky as hell, and that wasn’t helping with the whole “don’t draw attention to yourself” thing. Home was just ten minutes away past the outskirts of town; they just had to get there.

Barry startled when she bumped his shoulder playfully. “Hey,” she said, “what do you think the rash cream is for?”

“Huh?” he replied, barely above a whisper. His gaze darted away and back.

“The not Amoxi-shit. Who needs it and why, go.”

“Why?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yeah!”

“This is a very bad game, Lup,” he told her.

But you’re in. She noted the small smile that had replaced the jittery look he’d had before, and she looked at him expectantly and raised an eyebrow. Eight minutes.

“Magnus, athlete’s foot,” he finally guessed.

“He should wash his socks more often.”

“Gross.” Barry wrinkled his nose. “You’re turn.”

“Lucretia, her hands are always super dry.”

“I don’t know if that counts as a rash.”

She shrugged. “Well, I don’t think you want to hear what I was gonna say.”

“And what was that?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s for Merle for-”

“Oh gods, please don’t!” Barry spluttered, gesticulating as if to wave the idea away.

“You don’t know what it was,” Lup replied innocently.

“I can fill in the blanks on that one, thanks,” he laughed, cheeks faintly pink.

“Probably,” she giggled. “You were right, bad game.”

They were passed the busiest part of town now, paths on all sides leading to smaller neighborhoods. Lup smiled to herself. Five minutes. She glanced in the direction of where the Starblaster would be once they left the town and frowned. Smoke was rising over the tops of the buildings.

“I think I’m good without knowing the details of everyone’s various ailments,” Barry commented, still amused and unaware. “Unless it’s absolutely necessary-”

“Barry,” Lup gasped, eyes wide as she grabbed his arm to stop him. She pointed upwards, heart stopping in her chest.

“What?” he asked, following her line of site. “Oh, shit!”

The Starblaster was taking off, one of the wings on fire. Someone, Taako probably, leaned out the window and cast a spell that put it out as the ship pulled away. Smoke still billowed out over in the direction where they’d set up camp.

“Shit, Lup,” Barry whispered, panicked. “Shit, shit, shit-”

“Shut up, come on.”

She dragged him by the arm the opposite way towards a path with a few run-down buildings, refusing to look in the direction the ship had gone. It’s fine. Whoever went after them didn’t take them down. They’re fine. Taako’s fine.

They turned a corner and found an alley, deserted and dim. Lup let go of Barry’s arm and crouched down, as Barry slid against the wall to the ground. He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes.

“I knew something wasn’t right,” he moaned. “Did you see how everyone was looking at us today?”

She peered back around the way they’d come. “I saw.”

“We should have left yesterday when we finished the inspection. I almost said something to Davenport, but then I figured I was just being overly worried, and I didn’t. And now we’re here, and probably being hunted down. And everyone else, they’re-”

“They are fine, Barry,” she interrupted as she put a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to look up at her. “As are we, as long as we keep it together. Now take a deep breath for a sec.”

He did as she said, exhaling shakily. “How do you know?”

“That they’re fine? I’d feel it if they weren’t,” she replied, almost convincing herself.

Barry nodded and took another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. Lup stood and peered around the side again. Still no one around; they hadn’t been followed.

“Alright, hold still,” she told him after a moment.

“For what?”

“I’m casting Disguise on the both of us so that we at least look like we belong here. We’ll still have to lay low, because anyone who pays attention will know that we don’t, but it’ll at least get us out of this alley. We’ll get a plan after that. Deal?”

Barry agreed, and she got to work.

The plan, as always, involved a little research. Covers intact, Lup and Barry made their way back through the city to the library, found what resources containing maps they could, and planted themselves in a far corner of the building. No one had paid them any sort of mind, thanks to Lup, and for that, Barry was grateful and could work without looking over his shoulder.

“If circumstances were different,” he said, head bowed over a world map, “I’d be interested in exploring this whole world. It’s not the biggest we’ve been to, but it’s fairly sizable.”

“Well, chalk that up as motivation to get our asses home,” responded Lup’s voice in a body that wasn’t hers at all. Her elf features were replaced with human ones that resembled those of the population here, and she’d gone so far as to Disguise her clothes to match theirs as well. She looked up from her own map and smiled eagerly, which was so very Lup-like that his heart missed a beat anyway. “Then we can explore all we want.”

“Right,” he replied, clearing his throat. He leaned across the table to look at the map she had in front of her. “So, I think it’s safe to assume that when they left Dalry they didn’t go to a different country altogether. So they should be in one of the other six towns in Hen…how do you say that?” he asked, tilting his head to try and make out the name at the top of the map from his position.

“Henorion,” Lup read, sounding it out. “And yeah, I don’t think they’d go that far.”

“Not far if you’re going by air, at least.”

“Put on your best walking shoes, Barold,” Lup joked, singsong.

“Damn it,” he snapped his fingers, “left them in my room.”

“I can add it to your Disguise so that it at least looks like you’re wearing them.”

“Wouldn’t be the same,” he replied with feigned grief, which Lup giggled at. Barry chuckled as well, sitting back in his chair, and looked down at himself. His Disguised self wore shoes that hardly looked comfortable, like they’d pinch his feet if he were actually wearing them. He also knew from seeing his reflection in shop windows on the way here that his hair, normally light brown and shaggy, now appeared cut short and dark. In general, he looked like any guy you’d see on this town’s streets, unrecognizable to himself. Except she’d still made him chubby.

“Didn’t think to slim me down, huh?” he’d asked her.

She’d just stopped and looked him up and down for a moment. “Nope,” she’d finally answered, and then turned on her heel towards the library.

Fair enough. Why bother with the effort for something that wasn’t real?

“Anyway,” he continued, folding up the map he had been looking at, “I think our next stop should be for food supplies we can carry in our bags, and then we’ll hide out until it starts getting dark and make our way out of town.”

“Sounds good.” Lup looked around and then ripped the map out of the book quickly. “Don’t really wanna stay here any longer than that,” she said as she rolled it up and stuffed it in her bag.

Barry looked out the window next to him, movement catching his eye. Three men in brown uniforms ran by the building, long cylindrical instruments he assumed to be some kind of weapon over their shoulders. He turned away and shoved down the fear that was creeping through him. There was no reason to believe those men had anything to do with him and Lup.

“No arguments here,” he said as he slung his backpack on and stood up. “Let’s go.”

When dusk had fallen and the streets were empty save for stragglers, Lup and Barry made their way back to the end of town limits. Lup wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take them to get to Bellanau, the next town closest to them on the map, or what they’d run into on the way there, but she was confident that they could deal with whatever it might be. And whatever it might be better be interesting so that she could have something to brag to Taako about when she finally found him.

Not far from where they’d been when they saw the Starblaster leave, Lup could see a group of people standing at the edge of town. She focused to peer through the dark and saw that there were probably at least twenty or so men, all dressed in brown. A few had weapons drawn. She knew they weren’t close enough for Barry to see them yet.

“So, don’t panic…”

“What?” Barry asked, panicking immediately.

“People ahead, might be trouble. When you see them, don’t hesitate, just keep walking.”

“O-okay.”

She knew when he saw them by his sharp intake of breath.

“Lup-”

“Keep walking, Barry, they think we’re from here.”

He did as she said, and Lup kept her gaze ahead as they approached. The men silently watched them the entire way, and when they were within earshot, Lup smiled.

“Evening sirs,” she called.

“Evening,” a man who stood in front of the others said, clearly the head of whatever operation was happening.

“What’s all this for?” she asked, stopping in front of him, Barry silent at her side.

“Well ma’am, as you should be aware, we do have reason to believe that two individuals we suspect of having magic might be lurking around town. According to witnesses, the pair were seen in this area when their accomplices took off in that hideous craft of theirs. Too bad we didn’t manage to take them down.”

Beside her, she felt Barry tense at the man’s use of “hideous craft”. Offensive, sure, but her heart soared at the mention that Taako and the rest of them were, as far as these clowns knew, safe.

“Right, well I do hope you find them,” she said cordially. She looped her arm through Barry’s and made to step around the captain, but he held a hand up to stop her.

“Where are you headed this time of night?”

Lup did her best to look put out. “Is this really necessary?”

“No offense ma’am, we’re just being cautious.” He smiled at her. “You understand.”

“Well if you must know, we’re going to Bellanau to visit my sister,” she lied.

“Bell-a-naw, you mean?” the man replied slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“I’ve told her a million times, sir,” Barry piped up. “Bell-a-naw, not Bell-a-now.”

Nice, Barry. She squeezed his arm a little tighter. “Yes, well, I say tomahto…”

She pulled Barry past the guard and then felt him tense when the man put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I need to see your ID.”

“What-” Barry’s voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat quickly. “What for?”

“Checking everyone who comes through, sir.”

“Right, well…I didn’t think I’d need it. Left it at home.”

“And you, ma’am?” the captain said, turning to her.

She shrugged. “Don’t have it either.”

“I’ll have to ask you to come with me to headquarters then for a few more questions,” he said, hand still on Barry’s shoulder.

“This is all very unnecessary,” Lup huffed. Disguise wouldn’t last another hour and she had no idea what an ID looked like here, so she had no way to magic one up even if she could. She stepped back and moved to stand in front of the man again, if only to get him to release his hold on Barry. “We really don’t have time for this,” she told him, and looked around as some of the other men moved from their positions to make a circle around them, clearly taking her actions as a threat. She looked up at the man again. “Can’t we just save all of us from this hassle and you get back to worrying about the two people you’re actually looking for and we’ll be on our way?”

“Afraid not, ma’am,” the captain said, straightening up. “I really think you should come with me.”

“I just-”

“I’m really past the point of talking about this, ma’am,” he interjected with frustration. “Let’s go.”

He reached out to grab her arm and she took a step back, swinging Barry around so that his back was to her, trusting him to know what he needed to do. She had the guys up front; he could take care of the ones behind her. Or they’d go down trying.

The guards she could see all raised black cylindrical weapons out towards them, the ends sparking with some sort of energy. They almost looked like wands.

Not that she needed those. Lup raised her palms up and a small flame appeared in each hand, more of a warning than anything else. A few of the men gasped but none of them faltered, the ends of their weapons continuing to crackle.

“We don’t really have to do this,” she warned coolly, making eye contact with one of the ones who’d made a sound.

He simply scowled at her.

The flames in her hand flickered and then ignited hotter and bigger. “Fine,” she smirked and shot the fire out towards them.

The men quickly scattered away and she lined the ground at their feet with flame. She could hear the sounds of Barry’s magic from behind her and spun around to cast flames on his side as well, preventing their forward movement. Men dived to the ground as Barry’s spells flew towards them.

Flame growing in her hands again, Lup turned back around to pick a target and came face to face with a sneering man and felt something touch her chest. Her eyes grew wide and the man pulled a trigger on the end of his weapon.

Her flame extinguished, and Lup cried out. She felt like it had been pulled, like water down a drain, and felt that same sensation all throughout her body. She couldn’t move, and the pulling feeling continued until there was nothing left to feel at all. Her vision grew hazy and she fell to her knees as the guard stepped back.

“Lup!” she could hear Barry yell, though it sounded far away. She couldn’t answer him.

Then her vision dimmed around the edges, but she swore the fog was still there and had manifested all around her. She managed to pick her head up and look at the guard who got to her, and she barely had time to register that he and the others around him now stood still, expressions blank, before a new face, a woman’s face, entered what little field of vision she had left.

The woman grinned, and that was the last thing Lup saw before everything went black.

All he could do was pace.

Back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. It was either that or sit, and either way, Barry was accomplishing nothing. Pacing, at least, felt productive in some way, and helped him think. But all of his thoughts had been anxious ones and he was starting to feel worn out.

He stopped and leaned against the wall, his gaze drifting over to the bed on the other side of the room where Lup had been lying, unmoving, since they got here. She didn’t look hurt or sick, thank Whatever, just asleep. But four days was a long time to be out.

“Wake up, Lup,” he pleaded, voice nearly a whisper.

“Are you done pacing a hole in my floor?” a woman’s voice asked from behind him.

Barry turned to the doorway as in came Sadine, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs. She placed the tray on the small table near the door and brushed her wispy red hair out of her face.

“Sorry,” Barry replied.

She smiled at him cheerily. “Don’t be, just come sit.”

He pushed off the wall and did as she asked, sighing heavily as he sat down. Sadine gestured for him to take a mug and he did so.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a small sip. “Uh, you don’t happen to have any cream, do you?”

“Downstairs,” she replied.

“O-oh, I’ll go get it-”

“No need,” she assured him, just as cheerily as before. She snapped her fingers and a small pitcher appeared on the table in front of him. “Help yourself!”

Barry blinked. “Appreciate it,” he said lamely. Sadine’s use of magic seemed very different from his own or that of his friends.

Although, she had saved him and Lup with that confusion spell. She was responsible for the mist that suddenly appeared right as Lup had been hit. As it got thicker, Barry had felt his thoughts go fuzzy, and couldn’t think of how to use another spell, or save Lup, or do much of anything but stand in place. That is, until Sadine had spoken to him.

“You can pick up your friend there,” she’d spoken from behind, and he was then able to turn around and see her standing in front of Lup, who’d passed out on the ground. “No need to worry,” she’d continued unnecessarily, because he didn’t know how to do that. “And you lads all just stand there and look pretty until we leave and forget this little incident even happened,” she finished, spinning around to face each of the men as she spoke.

Sadine helped him put Lup on his back. “Lovely,” she said, and then grabbed him gently by the arm. “You can walk with me now, we’re going to my house. You’ll be fine there. I’ve got a nice little protection spell over it. It’s kept me safe for a good long time,” she babbled. “Suspicion just slides right off it, you know.” And he did.

She let go of his arm when they reached her home and ushered him in. “We’re far enough away now that the confusion should wear off soon, my friend. Oh, dear me,” she fussed, “where are my manners? I’m Sadine. You can tell me your name.”

“Barry,” he’d answered simply.

“That is precious,” she chirped. “I’ll save the rest of the pleasantries for when you’ve got your wits about you. In the meantime, you can walk right up those stairs and find the room with the bed in it. Just put your friend there.”

He did as she said, tucking Lup in with as much care as he knew how to take. Then he’d just stood there, until Sadine had called up to him. “Now, it is late, Barry and I’m sure this whole thing has tired you out. Perhaps it will be better to save the talking for the morning? The confusion will definitely have worn off by then. I only have that one extra bed, which you can get into if you like.”

He moved to do that, pulling back the covers to slide in beside Lup.

“On second thought, not sure how it is between you and your friend,” she called up again with a giggle. “I have a couch down here you can also sleep on.”

Though at that moment he didn’t know much, he somehow knew to choose the couch.

He’d spent the next day fretfully watching over Lup. Sadine was gone most of the day and came back with groceries and an extra shirt for him to change into. She left him alone except to offer food or anything else he might want, but he was too anxious to eat much of anything and declined. On the second day he remembered his manners and thanked Sadine profusely for saving them and offered to help her out around the house in exchange for lodging. She waved the idea away.

“Oh no, dear, that isn’t necessary at all! I’m just happy to have some fellow magic users for company. Haven’t had any of those in quite a long time, you know.”

Before he could ask, she launched into quite a long tale explaining the long history of persecution of magic users in the country. How magic, “for no good reason other than plain old fear of what-if, mind you,” came to be seen as dangerous and evil by those in power without magic, which was, well, all of them. She spared no detail of the very public hunting down and execution of those found with magic, so much so that Barry felt a bit sick afterward, though she told it all as if she were talking about running into an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. He wasn’t sure if anything altered her sunny disposition.

“Are you the last person with magic, then?” he had asked when she finally paused a moment.

“In this area, yes,” she answered him. “But there are quite a number scattered around the country, you know. And most of them have started congregating to one area, so I’ve heard from a few of my friends on the occasions we speak.” She winked at him. “But that’s hush hush.”

Barry cocked his head. “Why haven’t you gone to join them?”

“Well, dear Barry, I’ve lived here the last fifty-seven years,” she replied, as if that was answer enough. “Now, go tend to poor Lup. I’ve kept you long enough, and you haven’t stopped glancing towards the stairs for the last hour anyway.”

On the third day, she pulled up a chair next to him as he sat by Lup’s bed. “You haven’t told me much about yourself yet. How did you get here? You obviously aren’t from here, and I’m going to go out on a very long limb and say that by ‘here’ I mean this world.”

“You believe in other worlds?” Barry asked, surprised.

“Well if I didn’t before, I do now.” She gestured toward Lup. “Haven’t heard tell of anyone who looks like Lup, so stands to reason.”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh, sort of a long story and…kind of hard to believe.”

“Oh, ‘hard to believe’ is a statement for people who don’t have magic. I’ll believe in almost anything, dear. As for the long part,” she leaned back in her chair, “I have time!”

And so Barry found himself telling her all of it: about the IPRE, where they were from, why they left, and what happened after. She listened with rapt attention and with an odd look of sympathetic cheeriness, two emotions that he didn’t know were possible to display at the same time.

“You were right,” she commented when he finally finished, “that does sound hard to believe!”

“No kidding,” he chuckled wryly.

“And the Hunger will really consume this entire world if you don’t find your Light?” she asked.

Barry hung his head, guilty for having burdened her with that knowledge. “Yeah,” he replied quietly after a moment.

“You poor things.”

He whipped his head back up again. That wasn’t at all the reaction he expected. “Us?”

“Almost twenty-three years of running from that horrid thing and being unable to stop it. Watching it destroy everything. I can’t imagine! You must be so tired.”

He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again; he couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to. He hardly let himself think it. What would be the point? It didn’t change anything; he’d still have to wake up every day and face the music. It was much better to never acknowledge the exhaustion.

“I suppose the next thing you should do is to get to the whole finding the Light business, then,” she continued when he didn’t say anything.

“Of course,” he responded, and then glanced at the bed. “But I can’t leave without Lup.”

“Well then, she better be getting herself up soon!”

A day later and still no luck on that front. Barry blew on his tea and took another sip. “What do you think is wrong with her?” he asked anxiously.

“You remember those weapons the guards had, right? What they looked like?”

“Yeah, they sort of looked like wands.”

“That’s on purpose, dear. I’m not sure how it works or how exactly they ever got made in the first place, but the weapon is meant to more or less shut off a person’s powers. Like flipping a light switch, I suppose. A body’s system gets used to magic flowing through it, you know, and when it no longer is, the system just assumes you’ve died, so it shuts down. Obviously, it was never meant to actually kill anyone, but it takes a bit for the effect to wear off. Eventually the body realizes ‘oh happy day, I’m not dead!’ although, that never really is the case for too long after that.”

“And the wand part?”

“Most here use wands for magic. They’re using your own instrument against you.”

Barry shivered. “How long does it take for someone to wake up?”

“A couple of days, give or take. It depends on how strong their magic is. The stronger the magic the longer it takes.”

“Lup’s magic is pretty strong,” he told her fondly over his cup.

“Oh, that I have no doubt, Barry,” she replied, eyes twinkling, “I have no doubt.”

Unsurprisingly, her magic was incredibly strong.

In the middle of the afternoon on the eighth day, Barry heard a thump upstairs.

“Some asshole better tell me where I am in like ten seconds or I’m gonna start torching this whole place!”

He was up the steps and in the doorway in six. “Lup!”

“Barry!” Lup cried, dropping her fighting stance immediately. “Thank god it’s you, because I was definitely bluffing.” She held her arms out, palms up. “I don’t think I can do magic right now.”

#the adventure zone #blupjeans #taz balance #taz fic #barry bluejeans #lup #all the time in the world

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sshardassanderson · 6 years

Text

One in the Same || Self-Para

WHERE: Clarington Prison

WHO: Darius Anderson & Bruce Anderson NPC (with mentions of Blaine Anderson & Sebrina Smythe)

WHEN: Friday, January 25th at 1PM

WHAT: Darius goes to have a talk with his father...or to try and convince himself that they are not the same.

WARNINGS: Possible triggers for blood and violence. Mentions of murder, attempted murder, acts of violence.

What the hell are you even going here for?

Swinging his leg over the end of his bike and putting the kickstand in place, Dare removed his helmet and lightly ruffled his fingers through his hair to fix the flatness. Under his breath, he cursed himself out for even considering showing up here, but there were so many things he needed answers to, and despite actively knowing he wouldn’t get them, he still drove the whatever odd miles to the correctional facility to demand them anyway. He hadn’t expected Bruce would even accept his visit, but the follow-up phone call came not even two hours later and Dare decided it was enough putting it off. No Blaine. No additional backup. Just a one on one with his old man, so that maybe he could just be done with this for once. So, after shoving his keys into his pocket and making his way toward the main entrance, Dare tried to forcibly not talk himself out of the visit with every step that brought him closer to the doorway. The closing of the various gates and doors behind him brought about that agonizing little itch that resurfaced in the darkest recesses of his mind.

This will be you someday. Only you won’t be going in the front.

Shut up.

He finally reached the front entrance where he was immediately practically assaulted by security, ordering him up against a wall for a thorough pat-down. Shoes off, socks off, toes to ankles, up along his jeans and lingering way too long for comfort between his legs, in his pockets, then wrenching off his jacket to examine sleeves and pockets as though he’d stitched in a hole to smuggle drugs or something of that nature. Dare couldn’t stop the “be careful with that, dammit!” when his Serpent jacket was violently shook left and right for anything loose that might fall out before he was wanded, then shoved through an additional security x-ray.

You sure you’re not being arrested?

I said shut up.

They know what you are. They know who you are and who you’re here to see. They know—

Dare’s jacket was returned, and he snatched it violently from the guard, stuffing his arms back inside and wrapping it around himself like a damn security jacket before he finally reached a middle-aged woman behind bulletproof glass. The only access to her was the dip in the front counter where Dare was required to slide his identification in order to receive a “GUEST” badge. He clipped it to the front of his shirt per instruction and was finally buzzed into another room where yet another guard was waiting with the most disgusted look on his face. In hindsight, coming in with his Serpent jacket on was probably not the smartest decision, but then again Dare never was one to think things completely through before he made a decision. And for the most part the hallways were clear – it’s not as though they’d be moving criminals in the same space that they would’ve moved guests.

They reached what almost resembled a high school cafeteria – just a litany of tables and such every which way, only every door had an armed officer, and there were no cliquey groups of people sitting with their lunch trays silently judging whatever table it was that you ended up at. It wasn’t empty though, various other prisoners meeting with family, friends…fuck buddies, whatever the case was. But Bruce was alone at a table, eyes deadlocked on Dare from across the room with that cold, piercing stare that made his insides churn. But as usual, he steeled himself against his father’s hold and made his way across the room to the table. Bruce was naturally shacked at the wrists and ankles, arms bound with a chain that extended maybe two or three inches, enough that he would be able to make vague gestures but not enough to wrap the links around his neck or anyone else’s. The ends were looped through grids in the table that bolted to the floor, so no chance of him wrenching free or trying to flip the table onto someone else in the room. His ankles, though bound, were not latched onto anything, but Bruce sat with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

He seemed almost tired – gaunt face, a few new bruises and scratches that really brought the color to his sharp hazel eyes. Nothing Dare hated more than sharing the same color. At least Blaine’s were almost gold, it helped to pull him out of his spiral when he needed something to latch onto. But here…he needed to purge Blaine from his thoughts otherwise his father could practically smell the weakness clinging to his eldest’s skin. Bruce appeared to be thinner too, as though he were on a hunger strike. He secretly hoped Bruce had been bullied and beaten in prison, food stolen, finally knowing what it would feel like to be starved. Of course, the forced sobriety couldn’t have helped his situation either, especially judging from the dark circles under his old man’s eyes. Calmly, Dare finally took his seat across the table, giving back the same deadlocked, unwavering stare that his father tried to penetrate his skin with. It was working, but Dare wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was this uncomfortable. He knew better now.

“Well…you look like shit.” Dare commented, Bruce still unblinking and disinterested in the comment. “Must suck to have people beating the shit out of you every—”

“—Are you still fucking your brother?”

Dare froze, but the retort wasn’t unexpected, and his composure returned a millisecond later. “I’m not here to talk about Blaine.”

“I’m not interested in anything else.” Bruce added flatly, leaning back.

“I don’t really give a shit what you’re interested in. I came here for answers, not for questions. So we’re not talking about him.”

“Him who?”

“You know who.”

“Blaine.”

Dare narrowed his eyes. “While I’m here, you’re not going to so much as breathe his name, do you understand me?”

“Is that what you think? That you get to come in here, new hotshot Serpent leader, and tell me what I’m allowed to do?”

“That’s exactly what I think. You left everything behind, and you left it in fucking ruins. So while I’m here, you get to answer to me for once.” Dare leaned closer, arms propped up on the table at his elbows. “I’m in charge now. The Platts are exiled, and the disaster of a situation you left behind for me to clean up after…I’m more disgusted with you now than I have ever been before.”

“That makes two of us.” Bruce replied as he leaned back in as well, their faces inches apart. “You think you’re hot shit now, boy. But you don’t know the first thing about being a leader.”

“I’ve done better than you ever have.”

“By who’s standards, Darius? Your friends? Those people haven’t seen what you’re fully capable of, have they? Have they seen how much you second guess yourself? Have they seen you lose control? Have they seen the way that you crumble and fold at anything that might injure Blaine?”

“I said don’t fucking say his name.” Dare growled. “What they’ve seen are results. They’ve seen their homes restored. They’ve seen people like you and the Platts driven the fuck out. They’ve seen the good that we can do and the—”

“—Good?” Bruce barked a laugh, spittle hitting Dare’s face in a way that made his skin crawl. “Nothing the Serpents have done could ever qualify as good.”

“Things have changed. We’re not just a band of fucking lowlife drug peddlers. It’s back to being what it should have been. And people are happy with the way things are.” Dare slammed his fist on the countertop. “I’m NOT here to explain myself to you!”

“You want to know…what? About why I did what I did to Sebrina Smythe?”

“Yes!”

“And you want to know why I was helping the father cover everything up?”

“I want—”

“Do you really even know what you want? Or did you just come down here so you could look me in the eye and say that you’re nothing like me?” A wry smile passed over Bruce’s lips, that same fucking condescending, smug ass look to his face that let twins know growing up that they were treading into very dangerous waters. Only now the old man was stark sober, and able to focus so fucking clearly. “I know your every button, son. And I know that whatever good you think you’re doing with the Serpents now is going to blow back in your face, and you will lose everything. You’re a pushover deep down, and you want to know why?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s because of your brother. He’s always held you back from your full potential. But when your mother left, she abandoned both of you to my care. And I’ll be honest…Blaine shouldn’t have survived it at all. I tried to make sure of that. Tossed him into a lake. Left him tied up in the closet for hours on end—”

“I said enough.” Dare’s fingers were clenched, knowing that Bruce was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

“—And yet you just had to make sure he survived. Gave up everything to make sure he was fed and tended to and had a good life. Is that why you’re fucking him, Darius? Because Blaine can’t even date correctly so you have to fill the role as his lover too?”

The corners of his eyes were practically bleeding red into his vision, and it was all he could do to keep the minimal amount of composure he had left in check before he lunged over the table and killed his old man. He tried to remind himself that Bruce had no power except his running mouth, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Manipulating. Darius was falling prey to it all over again, just like when he was a kid and his father took things just one step too far. Coming here was a mistake. Dare knew deep down there were never going to be any answers. But he wanted to look into his father’s face and know beyond a doubt that they were never the same. That the constant plague of nightmares paralleling the two men, of Dare engulfed in his father’s shadow and moving arms and legs like a puppet on strings were just that…nightmares.

But they weren’t.

He saw himself in the demise of Sebrina Smythe despite having nothing to do with it personally, even if an itch at the back of his head begged the question…Bruce had done this because he’d found out about the summer party. He’d known that Sebrina and Dare hooked up, and that maybe, just maybe, that fucking baby was his. He’d told no one of his suspicions, and it’s not as though Sebrina had reached out to him to let him know. So…maybe it wasn’t. She was bound to have slept with other people around that time. But then why would Bruce be so deeply involved as to help hide the body? These weren’t just nightmares. This was the cold reality.

Bruce’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “You know he came to see me too.”

“Who?”

“Kevin. He’s been worried about his son. Hasn’t seen him in week or so.”

“They were exiled,” Dare answered flatly. “Why should I give a shit where they are?”

Bruce’s shit-eating grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just seems odd that Kevin Jr. would disappear out of the blue.”

“Not my fucking problem.” Dare replied through tightly gritted teeth. “I’m leaving.”

“He sneak up on you?” Bruce inquired before Dare could even stand, the grin never once leaving his face. “Make a pass at Blaine? Threaten you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Does Blaine know? Do your friends know?”

“Know what?”

“What am I supposed to tell him when he visits next?”

“Nobody’s gonna come fucking visit you, old man.”

“Tell me what happened, son.” A condescending plea for understanding. But all too knowing of what the answer was without Dare saying a word. One in the same. “Tell me what he did.”

“Fuck off, Bruce.”

He might’ve had the leg up if he hadn’t tripped over an empty beer bottle that’d rolled out of the overflowing garbage can. Might’ve stood a chance at getting his hands around Dare’s neck. A flurry of fists and the complete destruction of his trailer. Blood splatters. Dare wrapping an extension cord three times around Junior’s neck until the grunting and choking subsided and nothing but a death rattle in its wake. His hands were still, even as he cleaned the evidence and wrapped the body up in a tarp. Stuck it in a truck, buried him in the damp earth from a recent, brief thaw that the ground was nothing but muck. Deeper and deeper, it never quite felt like enough. He dug so far down it became almost impossible to crawl out of the grave himself, and by morning he’d walled himself up against the entire ordeal. The body was dumped without remorse, then buried up again once more. Another freeze was expected in the next day or so. If it wasn’t found by then…

Dare blinked at his father and stood up from his seat. “Enjoy rotting in your prison cell forever, old man. Don’t expect another visit from me.”

“Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you may have that makes you superior to me, we’re the same, Darius. I knew it when you were a kid, and I know it now.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Riverdale is Hell, Darius. We’re living in it. You’re living in it. And Blaine is living in it. Maybe one day when someone cuts Blaine out of your life for good, you’ll be able to reach your full—”

Darius leapt across the table and violently slammed Bruce’s face into the mesh metal with enough force to hear the crack in his face from the impact. He gripped what little amount of hair he could and repeated the action, head meeting table before he was wrenching his belt off and wrapping it around Bruce’s neck, strangling him while Bruce’s hands scrambled to try and break free. Unable to lift them more than an inch or two from the table, he was left flailing, kicking his legs out wildly as blood gushed down his face and Dare cut off his oxygen.

“You wanna go to Hell you miserable fuck?! THEN GO TO HELL!”

In some respect he knew that the guards had been on him from the second time he’d mashed Bruce’s face into the table, but it took the force of another two to wholly pull him off and break off the chokehold he’d fashioned with his belt. Unfortunately, it was enough to spare the man’s life, Bruce gasping for breath and spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the laminate floor. The guards wrestled Dare back far enough, shouting something about arresting him, being a “stupid fucking kid”, someone threatening to taser him if he didn’t calm down. Being a man that was hated in Riverdale meant that Dare was able to just be forcibly thrown out of the prison rather than arrested for assault and attempted murder like he absolutely should have been. But he guards merely dragged him out of the room without letting him even glance his father’s way again and bodily launched him back into the reception area before sealing the doors shut behind him.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Dare picked himself up off the ground and tossed the GUEST badge at the receptionist who passed back his ID with a disgusted leer. Dare stuck up his middle finger on his way out, stomping through the courtyard as he stuffed his steady hands back into his pockets.

One in the same.

#tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: mentions of murder #tw: murder implication #selfpara: oits #para:oits

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qtyanan · 6 years

Text

Gateway || KNK Chapter 1 - Drunken Encounter

“I’ll never go to one of those parties.”

Word count: ~2.5k

prologue | chapter 2

"Okay, we're done for the day, you have the rest of the class period to yourself," said my teacher as she waved her hand in a dismissive way. In that very second, everyone in the class pulled out their phone and a low buzz of conversation filled the room.

I pulled out my phone as well, but only for a moment to check for notifications (which i had none of course). I kept my notebook and textbook open, trying to finish as much work as possible so I didn't have to worry about it later.

It was the last class of the day, almost 3 o'clock in the afternoon on a Friday. Everyone around me had already packed their things and were talking about their weekend plans, or making such plans.

And then there was me, sitting in the back of the room with my head low and scribbling away with my pencil. I didn't really have friends in any of my classes, and I liked it that way, because let's be honest, I'm not much of a people person. I mostly just wanted to go home and drink a bottle of wine and binge watch Netflix. I was slightly praying that there wouldn't be a party tonight, because I really wanted to just go home and sleep a lot.

I had finished up the last of the page I was working on and packed my things into my computer bag. After all that, I sat on my phone, looking through different social medias to pass the last few minutes of the class period. Usually the teachers were pretty lenient about class times and would let us leave once they were done, but this old lady was pretty strict and wanted us to stay until exactly 3 o'clock.

I got bored of my phone so I put it down and just picked at my chipping nail polish, and without even thinking of it, I tuned into the conversation going on next to me.

"C'mon man, why won't you go?" A guy said in a slight begging tone, and I turned slightly to see that he was sitting on the table along with a couple other guys, and one guy was sitting in his respectable seat, his head in his hands.

"Ehh... I was planning on staying home tonight so," said the boy sitting in the chair, avoiding eye contact with everyone surrounding him.

"I've been to one of these parties before, they're pretty fun, and the booze is pretty great," another said, causing me to inwardly laugh. Who says booze anymore?

Are they talking about my neighbor's parties? I hope the fuck not. They don't need more people going to those parties!

"Dude, come on! You've been single for a while now. It's time to go out and get laid." One said, causing me to grimace. I thought it was disgusting, using him being single as a reason for him to go to the damn party.

There was silence among them, and I looked in the corner of my eye at the boy they were pestering. His hair was parted neatly down the middle and he had clear, tan skin, cute cheeks and pouty lips. He looked nice, sweet - too sweet to be dragged to one of those parties.

He leaned back in his chair and huffed, "Okay, fine, I'll come tonight," right away the guys cheered, patting on him in encouragement.

Ugh, tonight? I was hoping for a night of silence. I felt bad for the cute kid, but hey, what can I do?

With freezing cold hands and a runny nose, I unlocked my front door and stepped in, a wave of warmth hitting me, making me sigh in relief.

Kira was sitting on the couch with the TV on, but she got up once she heard the front door open.

"I got groceries, help me bring them in," I told her whilst putting my phone on the small table by the door and dropping my computer bag. She didn't say anything, just slipped on her slippers and braced herself for the cold.

We brought in the several bags and set them randomly in the kitchen, recovering from the unforgiving cold that was outside.

As we put away what I had bought in silence, I realized she was still wearing her work shirt. It was a plain, black, collared shirt with a small Starbucks logo. Kira doesn't go to college classes with me, she works full-time at Starbucks that's pretty close to campus. I do too, just part-time. I don't really have to work, I come from a pretty wealthy family and my parents are helping me pay for classes and such, but it's always nice to have some extra money, right?

I tried to figure what to make for dinner, but everything I suggested, Kira rejected.

"Chinese takeout?" I finally suggested, and she smiled at me, nodding slightly, causing me to chuckle.

I was putting away the last of the things, as well as organizing the pantry, and Kira sat on the counter and watched me.

"So," She suddenly broke the silence, "have you heard anything about a party next door?"

"Yeah, I heard some guys talking about it. I think there's gonna be one tonight," I kept my eyes on what I was doing, and she paused a moment before answering.

"... How about we go this time?" I turned to look at her to see if she was joking, but she had a smirk that told me she wasn't bluffing.

"Um, no. I hate those parties. I plan on never going over there." I bluntly rejected her, turning back to the pantry. I finished my organization and closed the door, then leaned against it and looked at Kira.

"Aw, why not? I don't want to just sit here all night, and I haven't done anything in so long." She was vague, but I knew what she meant - she wanted to get laid. I think it's kind of weird, but that's just me. I hadn't had an actual boyfriend in years. So basically, I'm as untouched as a virgin.

I kept my disgust to myself, because she would probably tease me for my innocence, "Then you can go by yourself."

"Oh God, no thanks," She scoffed, making a funny face then jumped off the counter, then looked down at her phone, "So, you want to order food now?"

No more than an hour later, we sat in our dimly lit living room, Chinese takeout boxes littering the coffee table in front of us along with Kira's soda can and my wine glass. I did say I was craving wine, right? Using wine glasses makes me feel fancy, shoot me.

It took us a while to agree on something to watch on Netflix, but eventually we chose to re watch New Girl for probably the third time.

We didn't say much to each other, just stuffed our faces with food and paid attention to what played on the tv, but then we started to notice the buzz of that horrible techno music. As if that was an alarm, Kira jumped up and picked up her takeout dishes and made her way to the kitchen

"Well, time to sleep," She announced, and I glared in her direction, even though the corner wall had cut her from my vision.

"Seriously??" I looked down at my phone to see the time, "It's not even 10 o'clock!"

"So? I'm tired," She said nonchalantly, thankfully cleaning up after herself. I didn't get up from where I sat, since I was in a little blanket nest with my knees pulled up to my chest.

"Jesus, how do you sleep so much! Teach me your ways!!" I yelled dramatically, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh lightly.

"Whatever. Goodnight," she made a little finger heart towards me and I did the same, muttering a 'ni ni' to her. Once she closed her bedroom door behind her, I reached for the controller and looked through Netflix once again. I chose what I really wanted to watch. I turned the volume down so Kira wouldn't hear the voices speaking in Japanese.

Yeah, I really love anime, but Kira hates it so I don't make her watch it. And she likes to make fun of me when I obsess over it, calls me a nerd.

I may have gotten a little carried away. I had re watched almost all of The Seven Deadly Sins, and drank almost a whole bottle of wine. Because of the small bit of alcohol, I began to get a little sleepy. I had begun to tune out the annoyance coming from next door, aside from the occasional yelling that sometimes startled me.

Are you still watch 'The Seven Deadly Sins?'

Yeah, jerk, I'm still watching it. I don't have a life. fight me.

I reached for the Xbox controller so I could resume the show, sitting in the quiet a moment whilst I waited for the controller to turn on.

But in that tiny bit of quiet, I heard something weird outside. Well, everything I heard was weird, because of that damn party, but what I had just heard was... weird. You know, a different weird. It stood out and I turned my head towards the door.

It was yelling of some kind, but it was closer than everything else, like someone was in front of my house. Usually most people were respectful and stayed away from my house, but this person wandered a little too far I guess.

But it was a lonely voice, I didn't hear anyone else.

I honestly got really curious as to who was out there and what was going on. So, I finished what was in my glass and left the warmth of my nest, shuffling towards the door and putting on my slippers. I pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands and opened the front door, and saw that there was a flurry of snow in the air.

There he was; in the middle of my yard, tripping around and yelling something I couldn't understand (I'm not even sure if it was in English). I couldn't tell who it was, but it's not like I know a lot of people around here.

"What the hell...?" I mumbled to myself, watching how he wandered alone. I noticed he didn't have a jacket; he just walked around in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans. Jesus, he's gonna freeze to death if he stays out there.

Maybe I should go help him...?

Without thinking it through, I stepped outside and through the grass, treading carefully towards him. In the middle of his weird, random shouting, I think I heard him say a girl's name, but I couldn't be sure.

"Um, h-hey?" I shouted to him to get his attention, and he slowly moved his eyes to me. he stopped walking, stumbled in his stance. "It's really cold, do you want to come inside?"

I couldn't really understand what he said in response, but as I came closer to him and touched his arm, he didn't fight against me, just leaned on my shoulder and allowed me to lead him to my house.

I realized he was much taller than me, and with him relying on me to walk, he was much heavier.

If it wasn't so cold, I would have been sweating. I kicked opened the door in a huff and dragged him to the couch, allowing him to drop onto the upholstery.

I turned the nearby lamp on, and realized - it's that kid from my class today! The one that those guys convinced to go to the party. I didn't know his name, but at least I didn't bring a total stranger into my home.

While looking at him, I noticed his ears and (cute little) nose were bright red, and he was now shivering, his teeth chattering. I rushed around and put a big blanket over him, which he quickly grabbed and cuddled into (which honestly, I found really fucking cute). I went to get a bucket and put plastic bag in it and set it on the floor by his head (because let's face it, throwing up is inevitable). His eyes were barely open and his hair was an absolute mess, little mumbled still falling from his lips. It was very obvious he was wasted, who let this poor child drink so much??

I sat by him to make sure he didn't die or something, and some of his little mumbles were slightly coherent.

"Sophie... Why did you leave me? <hic!> I loved you so much... Why wasn't <hic!> I good enough?... I miss you so much...." His voice was painful to hear, so full of sadness. His lip trembled as he spoke now, and I think I see a little wetness around his eyes.

I didn't really know what to do, but without much thought I scoot a little closer to him and brought my small hand to his cold forehead, soothing his hair away from his face.

As I did the soothing action, his mumbling became quieter, and tears just fell to the couch cushion. Slowly but surely, his skin started to warm up, and he started to stop shivering.

It felt like forever of me just sitting there, but I started to hear little snores and heavier breathing, which made me think he had fallen asleep.

Slowly I moved away, shuffling to the recliner on the other side of the living room.

My first thought was to stay awake until he wakes up, so he doesn't freak out on me. I could at least tell him what had happened and make sure he's okay then he can go home, and then I'll sleep all day.

But then I had the most intense yawn I've ever had. I looked at my phone, which was almost dead, and saw it was past 3 am.

After that, I don't really remember falling asleep, I slept like a rock.

#knk #knk imagines #knk scenarios #knk heejun #oh heejun #kim youjin #park seungjun #kim jihun #jung inseong #oh heejun scenarios #oh heejun imagines #kpop #kpop writing #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #gateway

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prettylilparker · 7 years

Text

nightmares and ‘i love you’s

my masterlist ;)

summary: peter has the recurring nightmare he’s had for the past week, you getting taken away from him and him being voiceless to it, and this time he just needs to know if you’re okay. so he calls you and of course you can’t resist his request to sleep over at yours for the night. and three words somehow manage to slip past his lips in the middle of the night.

warnings: best friend turned lover trope that i can’t resist, also so much fluff? and cuddles and sad!peter that turns into lovestruck!peter and soft!peter just wow read this it’s so g r e a t

word count: 2.5k (a holiday gift for all u babes)

author’s note: it means the world to me that our fam has turned into 400!! wow i’m so grateful for everyone who even reads this fic :) also!! have a happy holiday season loves!!!

Peter lurched forward, his chest rising and falling as he took in sharp breaths, fingers trembling and eyes bleary. However, the rapid thumps in his ribcage kept him grounded; they kept him from breaking into shards of glass to be swept away by the tide of the ocean. He counted the beats on his fingers to ten, then counted to ten again, having to remind himself that he was okay and alive, that his dream had just been a dream and that was all; but the way his shirt was completely soaked and clinging to his torso made everything just seem so real, like he was there.

He felt cold. It was as if ice was seeping into his flesh as he recalled the moments that occurred in his nightmare. There was darkness; crimson red blood; a shriek; more darkness. It was utterly consuming and terrifying and Peter hugged his knees to his chest, his breathing becoming unsteady once again as he counted on his fingers. “One, two, three-“ he said aloud, the sound of his voice reassuring him that this was real. He couldn’t still be dreaming, because in his nightmares he couldn’t speak.

As much as he wanted to scream out at the vague figure of a man, yanking you back by your collar, taking one of the people Peter vowed on everything he would protect away from him, Peter’s lungs failed him. He had opened his mouth and urged himself to form the words on his tongue and articulate the syllables, but they never passed his lips. He was so out of breath, although he hadn’t even uttered a sound.

And here he went again, counting his heartbeats on the tips of his fingers, now questioning your safety. His heart might be beating and his voice might not be failing him now, but were you okay? Was that shadowy figure not grasping the delicate, too-good-for-this-world body of yours?

Peter was unsure and his teeth bit down on his lower lip, compelling it to not quake. The next minute he was pressing the call button next to the picture that he had for your contact; you effortlessly laughed at one of his terrible, overused science puns, your lips stretched in a ginormous grin and your head tilted backwards. Peter remembered that scene, smiling softly at the memory of him fumbling with his phone to snap the photo quickly, basking in the happiness that seemed to radiate off you so easily. He was envious of that. He was envious that you could make any room light up with a small giggle.

He raised his phone to his ear, listening to the other line in a burning desire, longing to hear the softness of your voice instead of the heartbreaking rings. He assumed you were asleep, as it was 3:48 a.m. on a school night and he knew your habit of going to bed at 9 p.m. and always teased you relentlessly for it, but he just needed to hear you, even for only a second and even if it were only one syllable.

The last ring got cut off short, a sigh passing Peter’s lips and his heart skipping a beat as you said a groggy, “Peter, it’s nearly 4 a.m.” You were okay and your voice soothed the boy in more ways than he could have hoped or imagined, the tenseness in his shoulder blades and the creases along his forehead disappearing.

Then, your end of the line went silent, Peter parting his lips gently and running the words over in his head of what he wanted to ask. It wasn’t a strange question, or rather more of a request, but he’d only ever thought of the idea, never acting on it. “Y/n, could I maybe come over?” he queried softly, his words almost dissipating the moment they hit air. Peter was afraid you hadn’t heard it, maybe having fallen asleep as your line stayed silent, but that wasn’t the case.

You were devastated and your whole body ached and felt numb when you heard the suppressed whimper and distress in his voice, your eyes resting on the photograph across your room of you and Peter as kids in the yellow-tinted glow of your bedside lamp, only about five years old at the time, smiling toothy grins at the camera held by your mother, probably saying ‘cheese’ for a split second before running off and playing tag, the popular activity among the two of you then. Rubbing the palm of your hand over your eyes and weighing the possibility of your parents lecturing you about boys in the morning, you nodded, then remembering that Peter couldn’t see you, you answered. “Of course, Peter. You know I’m always here for you, no matter the time.” Then, you added onto your statement, treading carefully, torn between saying what you were just about to or not. “Especially, when you’ve been having nightmares.”

You knew that they’d come back, the nightmares that wrecked Peter, similar to the ones he’d gotten when he lost his uncle, the figments of Peter’s imagination that made you shudder. You could read Peter Parker like a book and the pages on nightmares were heart-wrenchingly endless. You knew that they had come back because you just knew; his distant and wandering eyes, the dark bags contrasting underneath that he blamed on lack of sleep, and the overall scarcity of crooked grins that overtook his pink lips. Some would just say finals were kicking his butt and he just needed a good night’s rest, but you knew better. You knew that your Peter was an absolute genius and could pass any test with zero effort, so those lines under his eyes that you just wanted to kiss away so badly, were for another reason, a reason that you hated to admit.

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. “How did you know?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he moved off his bed, standing at his doorway and peering to his aunt’s room to see if the light below her door was still there; his superstitions were eased as he saw the hallway drenched in darkness. He opened one of his drawers, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he searched for a pair of socks and a sweatshirt to wear for his short elevator ride to your apartment.

“I can just- just tell,” you whispered into the phone after a few moments, deciding how to word it exactly. “Best friend senses are sometimes stronger than spidey senses.”

That made Peter laugh lightly as he tugged the black, drawstring sweatshirt over his frame. He was glad that at least someone else knew what was going on with him lately. The past week had felt so lonely; he felt estranged and almost invisible even among his group of friends at school. Michelle and Ned tried their best to cheer him up at lunch, but all he could supply them with were empty smiles that didn’t reach his usually warm, but suddenly cold eyes.

He shook his head, clearing it of the thoughts of the past and moving onto the future. The future filled with you, and that laugh that would hopefully fill him up with the happiness he’d been missing. “I’ll be there in a few,” he said, then smiling and adding, “best friend.”

The line cut off with a click, the buzzing of that light in his room that needed to be fixed disappearing. You sat, criss-crossed on your bed, then falling back into your comforters, holding your knuckles up to your outstretched lips as you stared at your ceiling fan.

Sooner than you imagined, Peter was sitting beside you, his hair beyond tousled, sporting a lopsided grin while looking at your pajama pants, a bunch of Spider-Man masks displayed across the soft flannel fabric.

“Those still fit you?” He chuckled, his fingers brushing against one of the masks identical to the one he was wearing a couple of hours ago during one of his patrols of the city.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing and pushing off the bed to stand up, pointing down to your legs. The pants ended halfway up your calf and you sent a pointed look at the boy. “They’re just the slightest bit small,” you said, your words dripping with sarcasm while you held your thumb and pointer finger close together, but not quite touching.

He couldn’t help but smile at your ridiculous use of sarcasm. Your sarcasm; another thing he was envious of. He also couldn’t believe you still wore the gift he got you last year, even though it didn’t fit you anymore.

You sat back on the bed beside him, your thighs brushing against one another as Peter bounced his leg up and down. He was nervous. What if he had another nightmare? Right beside you? What if it scared you so much that you didn’t want to be close with him anymore?

Your fingers grasped his knee, his eyes finding yours, still filled with worry, but also with a bit of admiration, not to mention how flustered he was at your touch. “You’re okay, Peter. We’ll go to bed and hopefully you won’t, but if you have another nightmare I’ll be here.” You grabbed his hand, emphasizing your concern for him as you stroked the skin above his knuckles. “You’re not alone. I’m here. Right here.”

Peter’s eyes didn’t leave yours the entire span of time and he kind of wished he never had to. This was the most intimate he’d felt with you in the whole twelve years he’d been friends with you. It was the best he’d felt in the whole fifteen years of his life. The late night conversations over the phone, rambling over the universe, philosophy, extraterrestrial life, and love; he could talk to you for hours about literally anything that was on his mind and it felt as if all those intimate conversations led up to this one, singular intimate moment. He knew every inch of your mind and added with your comforting words and hand intertwined with his own, this moment was perfect; you were perfect.

Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, he was leaning in and you were gazing at his lips, slightly parted and perfectly kissable. Time seemed to stop, his lips ghosting over yours as your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, twisting the curls between your fingertips. Peter moved his hands, placing them on your cheeks, hot to the touch, undoubtedly due to the blush burning through them.

You pulled apart, smiles plastered on your faces. He wanted to say it so badly, just those three letters. “I- I-“ he couldn’t. “I think we should go to bed.” The disappointment in your eyes was enough for Peter to regret not saying it, but he knew there was a time for everything, and he guessed that now just wasn’t the time.

“I guess. You’re right; it is a school night.” Although, you doubted either of you would be going to school in the morning. You nodded solemnly, yawning. You knew Peter was right, pulling the covers over you and patting the space beside you, enticing him to come lay next to you.

“Oh,” color rushed to Peter’s cheeks. “I thought I would sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious.” You sighed. You weren’t complaining that Peter was a gentleman, but couldn’t he have chosen a better time? He scratched the back of his neck, looking at the unappealing carpet compared to the warmth of your bed, not to mention the warmth of you.

“Come on…we can cuddle,” you teased, half-joking and half-serious, but the way Peter’s big brown eyes became wider, bright with excitement, made the statement completely serious.

He jumped next to you on the mattress, making you bounce up and fake scold him while giggling your head off. There it was. That laugh. Peter turned off your lamplight and settled beside you, his hand tentatively trailing your hip. “I really love your laugh,” he whispered, watching your lips curve upwards.

“I like yours too, Pete. And this week I haven’t heard it as much.”

He frowned, not having thought about how his recent nightmares had affected you. He felt lonely these past few days, meaning you must’ve felt that too. In a way, you had lost your best friend for a week and he hated himself for doing that. Almost reading his mind, you reached out and outlined the bottom lip with your thumb, whispering. “It’s not your fault though, babe.” The last word slipped past your lips way too easily; the years built up of wanting to call him that showing.

It was Peter’s turn to try out the nickname he’d always held himself back from calling you on his tongue. “I know… angel.”

Both of you laid there, smiling so brightly, brought together by Peter’s nightmare and staying together for those hearts seemingly popping out of both of your eyes. After a while, Peter having missed hours of sleep was overcome by his heavy eyelids, feeling comfortable enough to fall into a slumber without the fear of a nightmare entering his head. He wasn’t threatened by his imagination when he had you by his side.

You gingerly pecked his lips once he gained a steady breathing pattern, surely in a peaceful sleep. You were comfortable with falling sleep now that you knew he was okay, tossing over on your side. “G’night. I love you.”

Your eyes opened immediately at Peter’s sleepy declaration, softening at him not even knowing what he’d just said. He wrapped an arm around your waist lazily, tugging your body closer to him like a teddy bear. Someone once told you that people were the truest when they were asleep, closest to the state they were in the womb. They were as human as they could get while asleep, so Peter saying those three words while asleep was the most meaningful thing he’d ever said to you thus far in your relationship. Not even a ‘tag you’re it’ could top it.

In the morning you woke up, Peter already awake with his caramel eyes fixated on you, soaking in the sight of you sleeping just seconds ago; you were so beautiful to him. You smiled at his sweet demeanor, the soft curls falling over his head and pink blush gracing his cheeks. “I love you, too,” you blurred out, cockily, watching his face morph into utter confusion.

You sat up, stretching your arms. Peter was quick to follow, sitting up and turning to you with his brows furrowed and his lips pouted in confusion. “When did I-“

“While you were asleep.”

“Shi-“ you placed your hand over his mouth, muffling the profanity. “I was supposed to wait for the right time.”

You laughed gently, taking your hand off his lips and replacing it with your own lips. “It’s okay Parker. That was the most perfect time I could’ve ever imagined.” And you were right Peter thought. Sometimes there wasn’t a perfect time for something until you made it perfect yourself and with you kissing him like that, how could he deny that it hadn’t been the right time.

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