#'I hope it rains / hope it pours / I hope she's in heels and those little white shorts / you can't find the keys to unlock the doors'

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 5

"I Hope It Rains" by Jana Kramer

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.6

My mother taught me that sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours, and you’re soaked through and miserable and it feels like it may never stop. But no matter how heavily the rain falls, no matter how drenched you get, you are not the rain.

Some day you will be dry again.

Things have been easier since I blocked Paul, the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, barely noticeable as long as I don’t dig too deep. I try to keep myself distracted, reading Lucky Girl for what must be the fifth time. It’s my comfort read, Evie reminds me a little of myself. I think we could have been friends, hanging out and agreeing that being in love is the absolute worst, actually, while we yearn for our respective idiots.

The memory of Paul is not the only thing I’m trying to escape. With all my channels inactive, even the haters have gone quiet and my views are dropping every week. I’ve toyed with the idea of simply abandoning everything and starting a new brand, but I don’t want to rebuild my follower count from scratch. I don’t have time for it. My bills are starting to pile up, and while I can still pay them for now, it won’t be long before I have to either crawl back to mom and dad and ask for help, or get one of those real jobs people keep talking about. I’m not even sure which option I would hate the most, so I hide in my book for now.

A sharp knock on the door jerks me away from Evie admiring Jude in an art gallery and back to reality.

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea who it could be, and I don’t want to see anyone, especially not some smarmy salesperson – or worse, my landlord. With a sigh, I put my book face down on the armrest and shuffle to the door.

Miranda is leaning casually against the doorway, her high heels making her look almost as tall as Samara. At their feet, a couple of large shopping bags are threatening to fall over and spill their contents on my doormat.

“See, Samara? I told you she was still alive.”

“So you did. Then I sure hope she has a very good excuse for refusing to see her best friends for almost two months!“

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ve just had a rough time since, you know. But I promise to call you, maybe we can make plans soon?”

“No need, we’re here now, so you won’t have to worry about that.” Samara’s smile is cheerful, but her tone is resolute. Even so, I try to object.

“Seriously, it’s not a good time, I haven’t even showered for like three days, and the place is a mess.”

“Girl, since when do we care about mess? We’re here because we love you – stinky or not.” She wrinkles her nose, making the freckles on her face dance.

“What is this, some sort of intervention?”

Miranda smirks. “Pretty much. Sorry, but someone’s gotta save you from yourself, and we’re not letting you waste any more time moping over a man who didn’t deserve you. We’ve got snacks and a box of rosé with your name on it, so you might as well get out of the way.”

“Fiiine, but no judging the absolute state of the place.” I roll my eyes and invite them in with a dramatic flourish of my arm, but I can’t help but smile. Samara bounces through the door despite the heavy shopping bags, and Miranda goes straight for my laptop.

“What’s your login?”

“It’s just my birthday, and before you come for me, yes, I know that’s bad.”

Miranda shakes her head as the laptop plays a jaunty tune and lets her in.

“You’ll get the full security lecture another day, right now it’s time to declare inbox bankruptcy. We’re getting rid of all this bullshit so you can get back to business.”

“Miranda, there are literally thousands of messages. It’ll take days to go through, maybe weeks.”

She doesn’t even look up, her perfectly manicured fingers a blur over the keyboard.

“Give me an hour. I’m going to delete anything that contains profanity, and then I’ll sort the rest into folders, so don’t worry, you won’t be losing anything permanently. But I’m going to mark everything as read and archive it so you can get a fresh start. If anyone wants something important from you, they’ll reach out again, trust me.”

I stop myself from protesting further. Miranda knows what she’s doing, and it really would be a relief not to worry about everything.

Behind me, Samara has stopped unpacking the groceries.

“Just let Miranda work her magic and get your smelly butt into a bath. And make it a nice one, soak for a bit and pretend you’re a mermaid or something. We’ll get everything set up in here while you scrub off the sadness.”

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment as I walk into the bathroom. The sunlight is creating little islands of warmth on the black tiles, but it also mercilessly illuminates the limescale in the shower and a couple of cotton swabs that missed the bin. The sink is decorated with a few dried clumps of toothpaste, each of them outlined in red from last time I dyed my hair.

How did I let it get this bad?

I turn on the taps and leave them running while I undress. Then, I lower myself awkwardly into the tub and let the water cascade through my fingers. It would be nice if it was this easy, washing away the sadness and frustration, the longing and the hurt.

The gentle sound of flowing water is mesmerising, and before I know it, the tub is full. I add a small handful of bath salts and swirl it around. A soothing scent of lavender rises with the steam.

When I lie down, the hot water envelops me like a hug. It feels like it’s thawing something in me that I didn’t even know was frozen. I close my eyes and listen to Samara and Miranda laughing about something. It’s almost like being home and hearing my parents talk softly in the other room. It always made me feel safe. Less alone.

As the water begins to cool, I scrub down, slowly, methodically, running soapy hands along every inch of my body. It feels good, like I’m massaging life back into my limbs. Tonight will be fun, I decide. We’re going to stuff our faces with junk food, get absolutely smashed on cheap wine, and pretend that my heart was never broken by some has-been actor from Tartosa.

I watch as the tub empties, imagining that all my sadness is flowing down the drain with the water and the tiny undissolved purple specks from the bath salt. Finally, I move to the shower to wash my hair and rinse off.

When I get out, I stop and examine myself in the mirror. I look a little tired and worn, like I’ve been sick. In a way, I guess I have. But the black tiles are radiating warmth under my feet and there are birds singing outside my window and I’m beginning to feel like everything is going to be fine.

Samara’s blue face glitters in the candlelight. The packaging from the masks we’ve applied is littered with adjectives like “rejuvenating” and “revitalising”, bold statements, but they do actually feel pretty good.

“Sorry, Julia, I know you love this crap, but I just can’t get over the cake tongue. Who decided cake would be the best bait for people? Are we really that obsessed with desserts?”

I look over my nails one last time and put down the file. “I’m actually more disturbed by the whole chin udder situation. I mean, who came up with that?”

Samara makes a disgusted face, but she’s not ready to change the subject. “Seriously though, even if you were absolutely starving and cake was your favourite thing in the whole world, would you really approach a plant shaped like a giant cow head with huge teeth? Really? And then try to grab what is obviously its tongue?”

Miranda giggles tipsily. “No, but can we talk about how Ned’s relationship with the cow plant is super toxic, though? I mean, it always starts out slow, right? Oh, so it eats meat, little bit of a red flag there, but it’s probably fine. And before you know it, you find yourself luring your neighbours to their deaths just to keep it happy.”

“Yeah, it’s classic, the way he keeps making excuses for her? She didn’t mean it, she’s just misunderstood! She only bites me because she loves me! I’m like, Ned, your girlfriend is eating people, you need professional help.”

Samara laughs. “I guess some men would literally rather feed their neighbours to a plant than go to therapy.”

My phone vibrates on the armrest behind me.

“Sorry, it’s Marten again, I better let him know I’ve got company. He’s been super busy with his exams so we haven’t had much time to play lately.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow.

“And he’s still fine just being your friend, is he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was fine being my friend even though I was dating Paul. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in person since GeekCon, it’s been almost a year…”

I stop. Almost a year since I met Paul. It feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what would have happened if I’d cosplayed as someone else, or if Paul hadn’t been there that day. Maybe I could have been dating Marten instead of having my heart trampled by some fickle celebrity. Nice, normal Marten with his mousy hair and his robot facts. I smile.

“Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Marten. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Miranda sends me a mischievous grin. “That reminds me, you know that hot bartender from The Rooftop? Super flirty, cheekbones that could cut glass?”

“The one who gave us free refills on Samara’s birthday? Shane or something?”

“Yeah, him! He asked about you last time, wondered why you hadn’t come with us for like three weeks in a row.”

“How does he even know my name?”

“He didn’t, he just asked about our red-haired friend but you’ve clearly made an impression.” Miranda winks. “Maybe he’d be willing to help you get over Paul.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m pretty sure he’s slept with like half the regulars. And I’m not looking for hook-ups, not now. I need to get my so-called career back on track, but I want to do something… different.”

I think of Paul, of late nights in hotel rooms, laughing at the most ridiculous b-movies before having amazing sex and falling asleep with his arms around me. “I don’t want to do cosplay again, absolutely nothing with movies or comics or superheroes.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “What about just fashion stuff? I started out with just my shoe reviews and now it’s more general style advice and outfits to match your heels, but you have an eye for it and you know a lot about cuts and materials and design.”

“I guess? I don’t really know a lot about classic fashion, though, like couture and such. And it’s a really tough business to get into, plus I’d kinda like to keep the expenses down for now.”

“You could always just jump on one of the big trends. I bet you’d make bank as one of those clean girl aesthetic influencers or something.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I mean, I can probably get pretty far with just the makeup and clothes I already have. And I could move my sewing machine and rearrange the room, set up my camera and the lights…”

Miranda laughs. “We can start right now as long as it means we don’t have to watch any more terrible movies tonight.”

I reach for the remote. “Not a chance.”

beginning / previous / next

[black00olive]

Grateful For Rain

A/N: As I was writing this I felt that it was a little out of character for her to not have any invention with her that could help her in the rain, so I decided to play into it a little- In any case, this is fanfiction, Thirteen is allowed to be a little out of character for plot reasons ( = ⩊ = )

Pairing: Thirteen x reader

Wordcount: ~1100 words

Summary: Thirteen doesn’t like rain. Because of plot reasons, the usually well-prepared Thirteen doesn’t have an umbrella or any other invention that could help her out. So, she ends up sharing an umbrella with you.

Thirteen has never been able to understand those who find joy in the rain, whether that is joy in simply listening to it or also being out in the rain. Nevertheless, Thirteen can’t stand either of it; she can’t stand rain. She stares at the pouring rain from under the porch of RAD with a sour expression on her face. There had been no sign that there would be any rain earlier so she hadn’t brought an umbrella with her, which had obviously proved to be a dumb decision. “This is why I shouldn’t have joined this program,” she grumbles while crossing her arms, “I wouldn’t have been stuck like this if I just stayed in my cave.”

“Thirteen?” Her head snaps to the direction from which your voice came and she sees you standing by the entrance door with a confused look on your face. Thirteen feels her cheeks flush, she hopes you hadn’t heard what she said. She’d hate for you to think that she didn’t like the program that brought the two of you together.

Clearing her throat while smiling at you she cheerily waves you over. She notes that as you walk over to her you don’t have any demon following after you— nor angel, nor annoying and eccentric sorcerer. “Hi! That’s surprising, you don’t have any of your little princelings following at your heels today?” She questions and you bark out a laugh at how she refers to the guys— it’s such a cute sound, she really does love hearing you laugh— before shaking your head.

“Nah, they’re basically all busy today so I’m supposed to walk home by myself today,” you shrug as you explain, “I was about to start heading home but then I saw you just standing here, so I came to ask: what are you doing? Something to do with a new invention?” You look at her with sparkles in your eyes and she tries to give you a confident smile, but it ends up more half-hearted than intended. She wishes that she was standing out here doing something fun like testing a new invention but alas that is not the case.

She shakes her head as she turns to look back out at the rain while playing with her hair. “I wish, the real reason I’m standing here is much more lame.” Raising an eyebrow you tilt your head, urging her to explain. “I forgot to bring an umbrella,” she sighs, “if it were other weather I could probably just book it back to my cave, but I really just can’t stand rain.”

“You don’t have a comedically convenient invention with you that could help you deal with the rain?”

She rolls her eyes and huffs at you calling her inventions “comedically convenient,” she’s just well prepared. Or, at least she’s usually well prepared. Thirteen shakes her head again and you hum out in understanding as you join her in watching the pouring rain. The two of you continue to stand like that in silence for a while, which Thirteen doesn’t mind— it doesn’t matter what the two of you are doing as long as you’re doing it together until you eventually speak up again.

“I’ve got an umbrella,” you suddenly announce and Thirteen turns to you a little confused. Do you want her to be jealous or something? The confusion is apparently very obvious on her face because you start clarifying. “Like, you could come with me back to the House of Lamentation— since I have an umbrella— and stay there until the rain stops, that way you won’t have to deal with the rain. Or we could even have, like, a sleepover, it’s been some time since we last hung out, right?” You had already started taking your umbrella out of your bag before you had even finished speaking as if there was no possibility of Thirteen not going with you.

She wants to be a little snarky about the fact that you so easily assume that of her, but the truth is that you’re right. Walking with you while sharing an umbrella and sleeping over does sound really nice. And it’s true, you’ve been very busy recently so she hasn’t been able to hang out with you much. Also, isn’t sharing an umbrella pretty romantic? Her mind quickly supplies and she feels her cheeks heat up a little, that’s like something straight out of Leviathan’s romance manga!

“Are you sure you aren’t just using this as a chance to hit on me and share an umbrella?” Thirteen teases as you open the umbrella and hold it in between the two of you— sort of like an invisible barrier, she frowns a little at that thought.

“And what if I was? I’m going to use any chance I get to hit on you, Silly,” you give her the cutest smirk and playfully shove her with your elbow. “Anyway, if anything one might think that you’re the one using this rain as an excuse to share an umbrella. Like, who are you and what have you done with my beloved, Thirteen, who always has something to save the day?” Thirteen sends you a playful glare at the mention of how she had clumsily forgotten an umbrella, but her annoyed facade quickly breaks as the two of you dissolve into a fit of laughter (She ignores how her heart started beating faster when you called her “my beloved”).

You two eventually manage to stifle your laughter. A voice in the back of her mind asks why she had been laughing so hard when what you had said wasn’t even that funny, but she thinks that when she’s with you everything tends to be funnier— everything tends to be more in a way; more vibrant, more lively, more comfortable. Staring at you as you wipe away the small tears that had begun to form in the corners of your eyes she hopes that you feel the same way with her.

“So?”

“So what?” She asks as you gesture to the umbrella still covering the both of you even though you two hadn’t even stepped out into the rain yet.

“So, what’s your answer? You never actually said if you were up for walking back to the House of Lamentation with me.” You say casually while giving her a gentle smile and she returns it to you.

“As if I’d ever turn down a chance to hang out with you.”

[hellsbarnes]

୨ 𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙨 ₊˚ପ⊹ 𝙘.𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙨 ୧

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader 

summary: in which you meet chris in a phone booth on a rainy day in boston

warnings: fluffy as heck, mentions of thunder and lightning, 

word count: 2k

author’s note: welcome to another fic of mine, i’ve decided to start writing for chris and i’m super excited for you to read this! please remember to reblog too, thank you!

The thunder rumbled across the sky that had in the span of the last hour turned from a perfect light blue to a dark grey with rain clouds that crowded the canvass. People across the now busy streets of Boston were picking up the pace quickly, with cafes and restaurants pulling their outdoor tables in.

“Come on,” you mumbled under your breath, you had just left your job a little less than ten minutes ago, your plans to head to the cafe for your favourite sandwich was ruined given the fact that they closed earlier on Thursdays, which was something you had forgotten just like you did your umbrella, which proved to be a huge mistake because just as you thought you could make it to the bus stop and perhaps make it home, not drenched to the bone, the first streaks of lightning flashed across the skies proved otherwise, and the first drop rain fell on your face was a clear no.

“Dammit,” you cursed softly under your breath as the drops of rain that pitter pattered on the streets did nothing but grow heavier in the next few seconds, you knew you were done for, a loud clap of thunder boomed loudly across the sky. 

Pedestrians were making mad dashes across the streets with cars horning away, and you groaned in exasperation, this really wasn’t how you wanted to spend the remainder of the only day your boss had allowed you to leave work, you had it all planned out, pizza, a few glasses of red wine, chick flicks and of course yourself to enjoy the night, but seeing as how the heavy rain was beating down on the scorching Boston grounds, those plans were inevitably cancelled.

By the time you had made it to a dingy payphone shelter, it was raining cats and dogs, the blouse that you had just gotten a week ago was now drenched with rain, and your heels were filled with murky water, another flash of lightning saw you leaning against the derelict wall of the booth, you were afraid of putting your entire weight on it for fear that it may just collapse in a second.

Running your hand through your matted hair, you pulled out your phone, hoping that perhaps your best friend would come fetch you before the water in the dilapidated booth started rising.

“You gotta be kidding me, seriously?” You groaned as you glared down at your dead phone, great, just great, of all the damn days you had to forget to plug your phone in, it just had to be today, and for once, you had to agree with your mother when she said something along the lines of just how forgetful you were, well, can be, but at this point, you were gonna go with the fact that you probably had the memory of a goldfish after all.

To think that you were stuck in a phone booth that so ironically didn’t have a phone. It was just your damned luck.

You sighed but just as you were about to give up all hope about being able to get back home, the door to the booth opened and a fully soaked man came in, he was drenched to the bone, and he looked towards you apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have anywhere else to go, do you, mind sharing?” He asks, flashing you an almost shy smile.

“Why not?” you reply, returning his smile as you move a little more inwards so as to give the stranger some space to shield him from the pouring thunderstorm that was raging outside, and from the looks of things, it didn’t seem as though it was going to stop anytime soon.

“Thank you, I’ve been rejected by three booths already” He replies jokingly, sighing as he ran a hand through his wet hair.

“That bad?”

“You have no idea,” he replies, chuckling when you laughed, somehow he looked familiar, with a jawline so sharp that it looked as though it could easily cut through glass, his eyes were baby blue with what seemed like a hint of green, and he was tall alright, with broad shoulders, and biceps that looked as though they have been sculpted by gods themselves and the fact that his pristine white shirt was soaked and clinging onto his skin for dear life didn’t really leave anything to the imagination.

Somehow or rather, you could have sworn you had seen him before, somewhere, perhaps he was some model plastered on a magazine that your best friend had stacks and stacks of, shaking the thought away, you shot the stranger a kind smile to which he returned and you were pretty sure that smile of his has swept many women off their feet.

“You just got off work?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah, would you believe if I said I had a whole evening planned out?” You replied watching as he chuckles.

“I do, and would you believe I had a date?”

“Oh no,”

“Yep, I gotta text her now,”

“Let her down gently,” You joke, and he laughs, shrugging. “Gently is not the word I would use,”

“Girlfriend?”

“No, it’s supposed to be a second date, I wasn’t really gonna go, but you know-“

“Friends?”

“Exactly, and, shit,” he grumbles as he flashes you his phone, well, very dead phone.

“You got a phone?”

“I hate to say this, but we are in the same boat,”

“You gotta be kidding me, you too?” The stranger says and you nod, laughing when he does, there was something about his life that just seemingly made you laugh along.

“Yeah, I forget to charge my phone all the damn time,”

“Oh god, me too”

“I didn’t realise there was gonna be someone as forgetful as I was,”

“I only forget sometimes,”

“Right,” you reply and the blue-eyed brunette chuckles.

“I’m Chris,” He introduced, extending a hand and you furrow your eyebrows, you could almost place it, you knew you saw him somewhere, and the name just seemed to put two and two together, your eyes widened a little.

“You’re-“

“Yeah,” He replies and you smile.

“I’m (Y/N)” You reply, taking his hand, and you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his hand, and how it felt almost electrifying to feel his touch, and it was almost as if Chris could feel it too, because he seemingly held on to your hand for just a tad longer, and your cheeks heated up when he finally lets go, mumbling a quick apology to which you simply said, “it’s okay, I don’t really mind it,” smiling when he returns it, his cheeks turning a light shade of red.

“So, where are you heading after this?” he asks and you sighed, “home, just me and my couch,”

“That’s not too bad,”

“I-“ before you could continue, a loud thunderclap made you wince as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You alright?” Chris asks softly, a look of concern on his face as he gently rubs soft circles on your back soothingly as you struggled to calm yourself down, you were afraid of thunder, always have been since you were a child, it was something that you hadn’t got over yet as much as you hated to admit it.

“Yeah, I’m not very good friends with thunder,” you said almost jokingly as Chris chuckles.

“It’s okay, you can stand closer, if you want to,” he adds and you take up his offer, standing just a little closer to him, feeling his bodily warmth and it felt comforting, almost as if he could feel what you felt, and in that second, you allowed yourself to lean in closer, your heart racing in your chest as he wraps a strong arm around you protectively, pulling you closer, almost as if he was afraid that you would scare again.

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying your best to ignore the way your stomach did flips, sure you knew Chris through movies and perhaps, even a few interviews you had once watched but you hadn’t expected him to be this, well, this kind, offering you space beside him, almost as if he saw himself as the same as you were, just a passing person trying to be sheltered from the rain.

It was a well known fact that not all celebrities were nice towards others, but Chris, he was just different, he was friendly, charming and likeable, and in the last forty five minutes that you were stuck in the booth with the man, you were convinced that there was nothing to not like about him, especially the fact that he had a kind heart.

“Feeling better?” the brunette asks and you nod, trying to get yourself to tear your eyes away from his, when you were up close, only then did you notice just how gorgeous those irises were, the green in his eyes seemed to stand out a lot more when you were closer.

“Yeah, I thi-“ another loud clap of thunder reverberated across and you cringe, your body tensing up as you tried to steady your breaths.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Chris says softly, holding you closer to his chest, his arm circling your shoulder.

“Deep breaths, its’s going to pass,” he adds, leaning in closer as he tells you to breathe, his voice low and smooth almost had a definite calming effect in helping you find your footing as you struggled to get a grip, you hated thunder with a passion and this was why, your heavy breathing slowed, and it didn’t take very long for you to calm down, your fears seemingly fading away when he held you.

“Thank you, I’m sorry I-“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Chris says with a boyish smile which you gladly returned, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up when he drew in closer, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“You didn’t have to help me with it though,”

“But I want to,” he replies as he ever so gently pulled you a tad closer reassuringly.

It didn’t take another hour for the rain to finally stop, the pitter patter halting altogether a little while after, and you could hear the footsteps of other’s outside the booth, the splash of rain puddles and the usual sound of Boston traffic.

“I gotta go,” you said softly, a warm smile spreading across your face when Chris nods, returning your smile as he lets go of you, and you immediately missed the feeling of his touch, not that you wanted to say it out loud.

“It was nice meeting you (Y/N),” he replies.

“You too Chris,” you say as you opened the door of the booth, a chilly breeze caressing your face, making you shiver lightly as you stepped out, a part of you urging you to look back but you couldn’t because as much as you would wish to stick around, you couldn’t plus it wouldn’t take long for him to leave you in the past either.

Chris sighed, looking at your retreating frame that did nothing but grow smaller and smaller as you made your way down the street, when he held you, he felt some sort of a spark, something about you that just pulled him in to you, he didn’t have any idea just what it was, but he knew that he didn’t want to lose that feeling, so he took the chance, deciding to go after you.

“(Y/N)!” you were stopped by the oh, so familiar voice of Chris, who had caught up with you.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, and you watch as he nods.

“I-I, was wondering if you could be willing to cancel your planned evening for dinner?” He asks, almost shyly, biting his lip as he awaited your answer.

“What about your date?” you asked.

“It was an hour ago, plus I would much rather be around you,”. He replies, the hope in his eyes diminishing when you didn’t reply him.

“You don’t have-“

“That sounds great,” you reply, and you could feel your heart skip a beat when he smiled, his eyes lighting up like a child on Christmas Day when he got your answer.

“Wanna go now?”

“But I’m drenched and-“

“It’s perfectly fine”. Chris replies with a grin and you smile as you took his extended hand.

Maybe your Thursday could be saved after all.

note: that’s the end of this fic! i hope you enjoyed it and please don’t forget to reblog, thank you so much! 

permanent taglist: @belovedcherry​ (tags are open for my permanent taglist, please fill in the taglist form!)

chris evans taglist: - (tags are open for the chris evans taglist, please fill in the taglist form!)

[highlordofkrypton]

the bridges we mend, a tamlin x beron x elain fanfiction - chapter 3 update

Read below the cut or on AO3.

SUMMARY: With Beron close behind, Elain recruits the help of a few furry friends and one very large bear-wolf.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In honour of @elainweekofficial's #ElainDay2024, I've updated this fic sooner rather than later! What once started as a silly meme now has an important place in my heart. I love the dynamic this trio brings. There's a 10/10 chance Beron gets kicked in the Autumn jewels again.

The rain continues, a determined accomplice to mask the trail of the pest infiltrating their lands. Human have their lands; it is no fault of the faeries that their lives are finite, boring and full of misery.

As opposed to ours? Where power is transferred through gore and grief?

Beron bares his teeth, snapping at the sympathy in his thoughts. Those who cannot handle the burden of power deserve to be relieved of it. Tamlin will see past this pain; he simply needs to be taught how to divest himself of his pain. Push it onto others, if need be. Anything to ease the weight on his shoulders.

Were he back in his own Court, he would have already set his hounds on her or perhaps his Kindlings who yearn to set anything alight. He does not need to tell them how to burn; he has to stop them from taking the world in a blaze of delicious glory. The fire—it sings to them in a way that only he can understand.

The High Lord kneels in the mud, wicking the sludge. He scents it; he licks it off sharp-tipped fingers. He tastes innocence; he recognizes prey. His focus is renewed, and he begins trailing her to the manor.

She will pay for setting foot in the home of a High Lord.

***

"I think… I think they want you to eat," Elain says softly.

The beast is well enough to lift its head; it had done it when she entered the room, but now, it continues to ignore her. She isn't sure what to do, but the smaller creatures keep looking at her expectantly. Elain had given the large animal a cursory once-over, looking for wounds or injuries, but there are none to be found.

She pours some water into her hand, holding it out to the bear-wolf.

"Please," she asks softly. Elain dares to reach out her hand to the giant creature, and gently caress its head. Whether it intends to or not, it releases a deep sigh, wrenching its eyes shut and leaning into her gentle touch. "They're all worried about you. Just a bit."

The beast opens its emerald eyes to regard her carefully, then lifts its head to lap at what little water is left in her hand. Most of it had slipped though her fingers, but she pours more and it continues to drink while watching her.

Good. It's a start.

Elain breaks off a piece of bread.

"Last thing. Just one bite, and I'm sure everyone will feel better."

Heavens, her sisters would think her a big, stupid fool if they saw her now, trying to befriend a magical creature that could crush her with a single swipe of its paw. They don't know that her compassion transcends her fear; they don't know the way she listens to the world around her. The animals cannot speak, yet she hears their pleas.

Elain holds it out to him—palm open, the same way she would feed a horse its sugar cube. "I don't know what's wrong, but you're not alone, and your friends don't want you to waste away."

Maybe it doesn't like the bread?

"I have fruit, and fish. You have a whole board to choose from," she says softly.

There was a villain on her heels, but there isn't much that she can do about him except run. Perhaps her kindness is selfish, hoping that she could earn this creature's favour. Or perhaps she is not that cunning; she sees someone in need and she cannot stop herself from helping however she can.

Still, she looks at the options and grips the slimy fish. It slips out of her grip, flying to jab the beast in his side. The fox cackles, and the little loris gasps. Only the raccoon moves to help her, picking the fish up in its hand-paws to rub into the wolf-bear's nose.

"Don't," Elain laughs softly. "Don't do that."

The sound of her amusement makes the beast's ear twitch; it had closed its eyes, but it watches her again, curiously.

"Please?" She smiles. "I think he's going to keep doing that until you take the fish away."

It seems to consider the thought, but ultimately remains where it is.

The walls of the manor begin to rumble, and Elain sets the food down. She herds the small animals behind her, turning to face the door. There isn't a weapon in sight, and there is no way she can fool the faerie again with another well-placed kick.

The door bursts into flames, and the fire-faerie steps through. His eyes glow a terrifying golden-orange.

"Get away from him," he snarls.

"Did you do this to him?" Elain asks, grabbing a tray as a makeshift weapon. She hopes she can smack him hard enough to make him go away.

"Did I—Did I do this to him?!" The faerie's voice rises, booming with anger and moving closer towards. "You know nothing, vile little rat. I will have… have…" He stops in his tracks, his gaze going past her then up, up, up…

A shadow looms over Elain, and she instinctively covers her head with the tray. She looks up, one last moment of morbid curiosity. Each paw shakes the floor beneath her as its set down, and she nearly loses her footing.

The beast—he's protecting her?

"Leave her alone," it growls with words.

"You speak? You speak!" She chirps her realization. Oh, this is… bad timing, isn't it? Elain shrinks, still wearing her tray hat and letting the strange beings on this side of the Wall sort themselves out.

"You're taking her side."

"I'm tired, Beron. Enough fighting. There are no sides. Only death." The beast's voice is so… tired. An ache blooms in Elain's heart, wanting to know why he carries so much pain with him. Who died? Is that why he won't eat?

"So, you'll let her run amok in your court? She'll make a mess everything."

The beast glances at the door behind Beron.

"I was moving with urgency to protect you."

"From a human?"

"Perhaps you're too young to remember, but we fought a war against those damned things. Where there is one, there is a swarm and they bite."

The beast sighs, looking down at Elain. He nudges her aside with his nose and swallows up all the food in one bite. He has little interest in Beron's worries; once done, he retreats further back into the room. He curls upon himself, rests his head on his paws and closes his eyes. She asked him to do one last thing and he's done it.

What happens from here on out, so long as it does not end in blood, is not his problem.

"Leave," Beron growls.

"No." Elain stands her ground, and she holds up her tray, ready to swing at a moment's notice.

"You think that's going to stop me?"

The large raccoon chitters and launches a berry and Beron's head. Perhaps Elain was right in choosing kindness. She'll still hit him if he gets close. Again.

[kairiscorner]

If i may! May i req a Gwen x reader? Scenario is.. prom night/school dance -> dancing in the rain at the parking lot!

Details: pretty flipped up prom night. Minor inconveniences piled up and snowballed into a breakdown for the reader. Too bad cuz they looked all pretty and sparkly with their gown + okay-panicked make up anyway. Somehow someway Gwen could maybe cheer them up? To make it fun she could lead them to the parking lot and the rain pours lol and they just start dancing there like idiots! (go ahead and play around with the prompt‼️)

thank you so much if ever!! Hav a wonderful serotonin boost in your next fandom endeavors!! 🫶

HELLO ANON, omg thank you for this super cute idea <:DD I HOPE YOU LIKE IT 🫶🫶🫶this is such a lovely idea i can't...... 🫀🫀

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

dancing in the rain (gwen stacy x reader)

it was fine. you were fine. tonight is just... fine.

okay, well, maybe it wasn't all too fine, maybe you did feel a little cramped in your pumps that you couldn't break into, no matter how often you wore them--the blisters on your heels were stinging, but beauty is painful, right? it just means... ugh, what does it mean? you were looking forward to this day, more than anyone could possibly fathom. having paid a good sum of money from a friend of your mom's to tailor you the perfect dress, only to have it come out as 40% of what you expected, realizing that you used up all your foundation that morning before prom and not having any left, and you rushing your makeup since your parents made you finish up chores before prom, so now you just... feel like you're average--and worst of all, the person who asked you out never got back to your messages.

you saw those dreaded three dots dance on your screen again and groaned. you didn't wait for their response anymore, why should you? they practically stood you up when they promised to save you a dance; now you were going to save them a dance, but you weren't going to wait for someone who can't even string a reply. even a lie would have been comforting for a bit, y'know? just say they'd be on their way, reassure you they'd be there, they'd take your hand and dance... but no, they had to be honest without even realizing it. and it really, really stung.

oh, oh no... your mascara felt heavy when you teared up. your tried wiping it away, but you cussed at yourself when you realized wiping it away would make the streaks obvious. your friends couldn't really tend to you right now, the slow dance was coming on and you couldn't pull them aside to help you right now... no, that'd be selfish of you, wouldn't it be? whatever, who needs prom, right? well very clearly, you did, and kinda do, still. the tears kept coming, and you really wanted to hide right now, so of course, you sought refuge in the school bathroom to cry all the hurting away.

on your way there, you bumped into someone; wow! this night really can't get any better from here! it seriously can't! you meekly uttered an apology as you tried to head over to the bathroom, avoiding eye contact with whoever you bumped into, but then they told and asked you, "ah, it's okay. are... you okay, though?" was that gwen? "i'm..." you began, but the hot tears kept coming and your breathing became shallow--obviously, they were signs of a person who was not okay. you looked up at gwen, and even through teary eyes, she looked so beautiful, even more so in her prom outfit.

gwen smiled sadly at you and pulled out a couple of tissues from her bag. "you don't have to say anything, it's okay..." she said in a gentle voice, hoping to reassure you as you took the tissues from her hand and dabbed at your eyes. gwen sighed a little as she scanned the room for your friends. "everybody's got somebody to dance with, well, guess i'm not part of everybody." gwen said as she leaned against the wall and looked at you as you blew into the tissues. "tell me about it. my date, my... stupid date stood me up. couldn't even answer where they were or if they were even coming..." you muttered under your breath as gwen listened. "damn, sorry about that. um... i don't know if this'll make it any better, but..." she extended her hand towards you and gave you a crooked smile. "wanna come have our own prom night together, just me and you?"

you didn't even have to think about it, you took gwen's hand as soon as she offered it and nodded. "yes, please..." you whispered as gwen chuckled and held your hand tightly as she pushed the door to the gym's exit wide open, and you two were greeted to... a light rain shower in the parking lot. gwen giggled as she took her jacket off and put it over your head to shield you from the rain. "heh, sorry... didn't realize it was drizzling." she said as you smiled up at her through mascara-streaked eyes. "it's alright, it feels slightly refreshing." you joked as gwen chuckled and took your hand as she led you out to the parking lot.

the music from the gym was echoing faintly outside, and you heard gwen through the drizzling rain sing along to the song. you chuckled yourself as you sang to it as well, forgetting the fact you were self-conscious of your voice, and soon began to shuffle a little as you kicked up the small puddles, getting your pumps dirty and your gown wet. gwen sang even louder to back your vocals up, she even started clicking her tongue to match the beat of the drums. you held your hand out to her as you shuffled, with her taking it and twirling you around. her hair was getting wet, her face was being rained on, but she still looked so pretty like this. your face was also being rained on, kinda worsening the mascara whenever you looked up at the rain clouds, but gwen didn't want you to dwell on that--she actually found you super nice like this. "hey, you're really beautiful like this!" gwen called out from in between the instrumental as she looked at you in the eyes.

you felt a little flustered as you heard her say that, and meekly thanked her again like you did when she offered you her tissues, this time, you said it with a wide smile. you two started to let loose even more, with you accidentally dropping gwen's jacket, but gwen not really minding, it was just a jacket. but tonight... she just wanted the world to be you and her, together in this parking lot as the rain poured on you two and you both sang and danced amateurishly to the song that she believed was... meant for you two. you two danced the night away in the rain, probably going to get a cold the next day, but neither of you cared; the world right now was just you two, right here, right now--and it couldn't have been any better.

a/n: i really wanna write more gwen related fics owemji !!!!!!

tags !! @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy

[moodybluemoon]

All of Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Summary: Steve Rogers was always known for keeping promises, even if sometimes a little late.

Or why Steve Rogers would always remain the man out of time.

Warnings: Character death, kind of.

Someone had been trying to get Steve's attention for a while now. He faintly registered a voice calling his name, over and over, but it was like the rain dripping on his skin put him in a trance.

His whole life, it always seemed to rain around Steve. Wether it was as a little boy, running through the newly formed puddles in his grandmothers garden, with the elderly woman trying to keep up with him, or as a young man, meeting up with Bucky at the bar whenever it poured.

It also rained when he saw her for the first time.

He stood beneath the awning of a small bakery, shielding himself from the rain, when he heard the soft sound of her heels meeting the ground. Looking up, he could tell that he’d have a hard time calming his nerves if she went to stand next to him, and like she could read his mind, she joined him with clattering teeth. Once she met his gaze, she gave him a little smile.

If Steve hadn’t been half as self conscious as he was, he’d have spoken to her in the way Bucky would’ve. But he was no Bucky, and even if he were to somehow come up with the greatest line anyone had ever used, he was no line guy. But then, all of a sudden she started humming underneath her breath; all of me, why not take all of me? And Steve was done for.

Honey, he decided. He'd only needed those few seconds to know her voice sounded like honey. And so he did something out of character; he asked if she was cold.

If he could go back in time, Steve thought, he'd go back to that very day, stand underneath that very awning, and ask her to keep humming to him forever.

,,Are you okay, Steve?'' finally, he looked up at a worried Natasha, who was still trying to get his attention.

,,I asked if you wanted to come join us inside. You shouldn't be sitting out here. It's cold.''

He looked up at the sky, in hopes of finding some shooting star in the midnight sky, before reasoning ,,Serum, remember?''

,,Well you might be enhanced, but you're not invincible,'' she yawned, ,,nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.'' he nodded in agreement, mumbling something about being right behind her. His hand reaching into his shirt pocket to find the locket Fury managed to retrieve for him.

,,Stevie, come on! The movie starts in five minutes!'' she called, ,,I don't want to miss the beginning!''

Steve had no idea what Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant had been talking about for the previous hour, what he did know however, was that they could talk about it for another hour and he wouldn't care as long as his girl kept holding his hand.

,,Don't you just love her?'' she whispered after one of Katharine Hepburn's witty remarks, and all Steve could think was 'I really do.'

He’d happily listened to her rambling about her favourite parts of the movie, when she suddenly pulled him into the direction of a photobooth.

Smiling at that memory, he put the locket back inside his pocket, and finally joined his friends inside.

🕊️

Whenever he was in his apartment, a certain wave of nostalgia seemed to wash over him. He blamed it on being alone, although he wasn’t willing to change that. But tonight, it was much more than that. Tonight there was a certain loneliness he hadn’t felt since he woke up after seventy years in the ice.

There were few things to bring him comfort in this new world he found himself in. Beside her locket, he was also able to retrieve his girls record player along with a part of her record collection.

Tonight though, not even the voice of Billie Holiday was able to bring him any kind of comfort.

It had been a wedding, a happy event. The whole team was invited, two agents who decided to tie the knot. During the first few hours, Steve was doing just fine. It wasn’t until a young girl, about five or six years old, asked him if he’d dance with her. Naturally, he agreed.

„Thank you for dancing with me Mr. America.“ the girl smiled up at him, two front teeth missing.

„Not a problem sweetheart,“ he managed to suppress a small laugh, „was my pleasure.“ And that would’ve been the end of it, but then the girl had to ask him why he wasn’t dancing with his wife.

,,You know once the war is over I’m gonna marry you, right?“ startled, she looked up from buttering her toast. ,,Oh?“

Their breakfasts together had always been sacred, and though becoming Captain America had made him a busy man in the past few months, he’d always managed to set aside some time just for her.

Smiling at her reaction, he gave her a nod,

,,Gonna make you mine, officially. Then you’ll never be able to get away from me.“.

She looked down at her plate again. ,,Why would I ever try to get away from you?“ she paused, ,,Wouldn’t really make any sense.“

,,Oh you wouldn’t, but I still have to make sure. S‘why I got a ring. I’m only waiting till times are right.“ This time she looked up again, the motion so quick there were now spots dancing in front of her eyes.

,,You’re serious Stevie? You want to marry me? You bought a ring?“ now it was his turn to be shocked. „Course I want to marry you, dove. I hid it really well, and as soon as this is all over, m'gonna get on one knee, and then I’ll ask you.''

She seemed content at that. A smug smile finding its way to her lips. „Didn’t you ruin the surprise now?“

„Once I do it, you’re not gonna know it though.“ he assured before pulling her chair closer to him by it‘s leg. „You know there’s no one else for me, you gotta know by now how much I love you.“ he paused, stealing a bite of her toast. „Why were you so shocked about me wanting to marry you?“

After a few seconds she looked into his eyes ,,I think sometimes I convince myself that you’re too good to be true, and I’m always kind of waiting for something to pull the rug out from underneath me. I just feel really lucky that you love me back, Stevie.“ and as if she hadn’t just declared her love for him in ways he’d never allowed himself to dream, she took her slice back and bit into it.

He pulled her out of her chair and on his lap so quick, she couldn’t even be startled. ,,You are so perfect, dovey. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to make the universe think I deserve you, but I thank it every single minute for deciding to make it rain that day.“ and because she could never let him have the last word, she whispered into his ear „I do too, and you know I hate rain.“

,,Dancing with you was more than enough for me, sweetheart.“ he simply let the girl know, exchanging a small wave before she returned to her mother.

🕊️

„I think that maybe you’re not sure who you are at the moment, and that’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, and ever since you’ve been out of the ice you’ve had to take on this role. But that’s not who your were before, is it?“ Natasha asked him once while they were on the run.

Truthfully, Steve had spent just enough time with himself to figure out what was wrong with him. A therapist he’d once spoken with, told him he’d eventually figure out how to move on and accommodate to this new world he was in. But Steve knew that there was no other side of the rainbow for him. Saving Bucky had been a priority, but now there was no reason for him to wake up in the morning. There would always be another fight, and the part of Steve that „could do this all day“ was slowly fading away.

He was tired. He spent most days longing for the past, back when he had known who he was.

„Are you going to be different now, Stevie?“ he chuckled underneath his breath, caressing her soft legs underneath the thick blankets.

„Of course I’m going to be different, dove. That’s why I did all this.“ he could feel her lightly tense in his hold. Supporting herself on his broad chest, which she still had to get used to, she sat up.

„No, I mean with me. There’s going to be women lining up to be with you. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to keep up.“ unfortunately, he failed to see the tears already forming in her eyes.

„What? Do you think I’m with you because I couldn’t get anyone else?“ he moved away from her, unaware of her own insecurities. ,,You think now that I have options I’m going to leave you?“

„No, I meant, -I just“ „What? Me telling you I love you every single day, that’s not enough? God I don’t get you sometimes-“ interrupted by her soft whimpering, as she cried into her hands, he immediately came to sit back next to her. „Hey, hey, no baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. C‘mere.“ he pulled her into his arms again. Pressing kisses to her shoulder, he whispered ,,I’m sorry dovey, don’t cry, please.“

After a while of him cooing lovingly into her ear, she was finally able to calm down.

„You’ve always been enough for me, Steve. I didn’t mean to imply that you’d just leave me. But there’s so many great girls out there that will get to see how great you are now, and I’m scared you’ll change. You won’t be my Stevie anymore.“

In his life, Steve would face a lot of uncertainties; who he could trust, what the right thing was, where life was leading him. But there was one thing, that had been certain throughout all of that.

„I’m always going to be your Stevie.“

🕊️

When he was around five years old, Steve’s father had smacked him so hard, blood was coming out of his ear. His mother immediately consoled him, telling him to never give his father backtalk again, preventing other incidents like that to happen.

Looking back, Steve was able to trace almost everything in his life back to that one moment. He was never able to stick up to his father without putting his mother at risk, so he let it be.

But as he got older, he would do anything to prove a point, making sure he’d never feel insignificant again. That attitude had eventually led him to fly straight into the water.

He remembered regret. A picture of his Dove in front of him, reminding him of what he could, what he should come home to. But it was regret, because he already decided, because that’s who he was. Peggy’s words, asking him to reconsider, had seemed so hopeful, but hope could only ever do so much.

The next time he’d talk to Peggy, would be seventy years later.

,,Did you tell her, that I would’ve wanted her to move on?“ he asked during one of his visits.

„When we were young, Steve, all the time. I even found a great man, years after you were gone. I had to convince her for weeks to go out with him, eventually, she agreed if I came with her.“ her eyes crinkled with a small smile, ,,she spent the entire night talking about you, and after he left, she cried into my arms because she felt that she betrayed you.“

„I never would’ve wanted her to feel like that.“ Steve confessed, honestly. But he understood, because there was no one else for him either.

,,I know that, Steve. But one day, I really looked at that photo of the two of you, you know? The one in the photobooth. She was so at peace, so happy. I realised she could only look like that with you. And then I understood that she didn’t need more time, she only needed you.“

Fighting hard to keep the tears threatening to escape his waterline inside, Peggy added „She was never alone, though. I’ve always included her in everything I did. We made a lot of friends too, she was happy a lot. But she was missing a part of herself, and that was you.“

And the only thing on his mind was how he hadn’t been able to receive her on the other side.

🕊️

After the snap, Steve found himself once again surrounded by loss. Losing Bucky a second time, caused him to lose all hope. It was like he was fighting in vain. And even though he’d never known how to deal with someone’s passing, it used to be easier. Things used to be more certain.

,,I feel like I'm burdening you.'' he told her one night, after they’d already turned the lights off. It wasn’t anything she did, in fact, she was the only thing keeping him together at all. Her holding him and whispering into his ear that things would be okay, were at times his only solace.

But there was a sadness that wasn’t there before, and everyday he felt like he took her down with him.

„You’re not, Stevie, I promise. You’re hurting, and that’s normal, he’s your brother. I know it seems like there’s only darkness surrounding you, but I promise you, it will get better. We’ll always miss him, but we’ll be alright, promise.“

Cupping her face in his hands, he was sure; she’d never know just how much he loved her.

🕊️

Gloomy. It was a word he’d never used, because it caused an unsettling feeling. During the war, whenever someone described it as feeling gloomy, he’d stop listening. It never felt quite right. Body’s surrounding them made them feel nauseous, but they were always hopeful. Hopeful, never gloomy. But as he watch the world burn now, humanity having lost all hope over the last five years he was sure of it, this was gloomy.

He didn’t know what it was this time, what made him keep fighting when it was so definite. He was alone. It felt right, in a way, like he’d always known it would eventually end like this. Of course, years ago he pictured himself beaten in some dark alley, but this was supposed to happen.

He accepted that happiness was not meant for him. And so he was ready. One last fight.

„On your left.“

,,You need to promise me that you’ll make it back to me. You have to.“ ringing in his ears, because how could he promise something like that?

„Dovey, I’ll try everything-“ she interrupted him, sobbing, „you don’t try, you come back to me! You just do.“

She was pleading with him, and he understood. Because he understood that she felt the same way about him, as he did about her. But this was the only chance, and he would do whatever was needed of him to help end the war.

And then he really looked at her, and he also understood that making this promise, was something she needed. And so he gave it to her.

During that night, she wouldn’t close her eyes for one second. She watched him sleep, and helped him get ready in the morning. The memory of her waving at him while the car was slowly driving away, would haunt him for the next years of his life. The look in her eyes; hopefulness. Trying to hold onto his promise, and then; acceptance. Like she’d known.

That look of acceptance would encounter him once more, only this time it would be Bucky. They shared no words about it, but Bucky never needed words to be able to read his best friend.

„But you’re keeping the outfit, right?“

,,You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.“

Bucky chuckled in response, looking up just in time to notice his friend smiling at the girl who had him wrapped around her finger.

„So I leave for a few months and you turn into Clark Gable, huh?“ he joked.

Steve was fixated though. Watching as his girl danced around with Peggy, laughing and carefree, the way he always wanted her to be.

„You tell her you love her yet?“ Bucky questioned, knowingly.

The smile on his face gave away an answer before he did.

„Yeah. She loves me too, you know? I got real lucky, Buck.“

Before Bucky had the chance to reply, she was stumbling towards their booth.

„Peggy‘s talking to some guy, he’s real cute.“ she explained, sitting down. Grinning slightly at her slurred words, Steve pulled her to his side. „What, you think he’s cute, dovey?“ mock offense decorated his words, which she couldn’t detect in her current state.

„Noo, I meant for her, Stevie! I don’t find him cute, promise.“ she clarified, placing a kiss on his cheek.

„You’re sure? Because that’s really what it sounded like.“ he continued his little game, only ending it once a whiny „Steviee.“ met his ears. ,,Okay baby, s’alright. I believe you.“ he promised, kissing her hair.

„Alright, I’m going over to the guys. Have fun.“ Bucky teased, knowing fully that they were too caught up to hear a word he said.

So he walked away, not being spared one more „Love you soo much, Stevie.“

He really did get lucky.

,,Don't do anything stupid until I get back.''

,,How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.''

And as they hugged goodbye, Steve felt it. They were going to be okay.

🕊️

„One day, I want us to have a porch swing.“ he told her one night, as they were lying underneath the stars, her head lying on his chest.

„A porch swing for our apartment? That’s a nice touch.“ she joked.

He grabbed her shoulders, and rolled them over so he was now on top of her, forearms supporting him.

„I told you I’m going to marry you, dove. That comes with the house, the dog and the porch swing.“ he explained, leaning down slightly to peck her lips.

The memory, which now seemed a lifetime ago, brought him comfort as he walked up to the house she moved into after the war.

„Tell me what else it comes with?“ he started kissing her neck, „A garden, the biggest you’ve ever seen. Flowers everywhere. My last name, if you want it.“

At the door, the sign reading ROGERS in golden letters pulled at his heartstrings.

„Want everything, Stevie. With you.“

A knock, then a few seconds pass, and the door opens.

„Still want everything with me, dovey?“

[witchersmistress]

Wedding Night Woes

Hello my darlings!! here is a little more Walter for ya....

Trigger Warnings: Blood, swearing, violent threats, Walter being an asshole. loss of virginity, more asshole behavior from Walter. gentle rough sex, body peircings.

Word count: 3.5K

Walter’s POV

My wife stands before me in the very spot I signed my life away for her three years ago. Her watery eyes meet mine, and I smile at the blood smeared across her lips. I felt her body stiffen when I kissed her at first. The way she tried to fight me. But a part of her, the best part, melted into me. Her body is going to crave being mine. I’m going to parade her around as my own personal fucking trophy for all to see. For her father to be disgusted and ashamed. The bell is rung, slicing through the silence of the Cathedral. She jumps at the loud intrusion, trying to take a step back, but I hold her in place. My eyes drop to the blood trail that makes its way from her neck to her chest. She will bleed for me in more ways than one tonight.  “Walter.” My name is spoken softly on her trembling lips. “Yes, little darling?” My eyes lift to meet hers. “Go to hell,” she whispers, referring to my last statement.  I smile at her. “It’s going to be so much fun bringing you to your knees, Mrs. Marshall.” She swallows.

 Amelia’s POV

 He grabs my hand and helps me off the altar, and immediately pulls me down the aisle covered in the white carpet. Everyone stands on either side to watch us go. My parents don’t even try to catch up and speak to me. But what is there to say? It’s too late. I’m now married in the eyes of the Ravens. The pastor didn’t even ask those who opposed to speak now or forever hold their peace. Because he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Once a Master chooses his Ravenias, there is no going back. We make our way outside and rain instantly drenches me. I squeal, throwing my free arm over my head. He’s already got a black limo parked right in front of the Cathedral, and he holds the back door open for me to jump in. That’s probably the most gentlemanly thing he’ll ever do for me. I get as far away from him as I can, which is hard, considering my dress is in the way. Finding a seat, I yank on my train just as he shoves it into the car and gets in. Placing my hands on the now ruined silk, I don’t even bother looking out the window to see if my family came out to see us off. It doesn’t matter. There was a big and elaborate wedding reception planned that was also supposed to take place at the Cathedral but I’m guessing that’s no longer needed.

 He proved his point and made me his wife. We sit in silence as the driver takes the curvy two-lane road while the rain comes pouring down. He takes us downtown and my heart races when he pulls under the awning of the hotel, knowing why we’re here. I was hoping that he’d skip this part. The valet opens the back door for us, and Walter exits. It takes me a moment to get back by the door, and I mumble a thank you as a man at the valet helps me out. “Congratulations.” The guy smiles when his eyes land on my wedding dress, and I feel my shoulders slump, unable to thank him this time. No matter how rude of me that is. Walter takes my hand and drags me up the black velvet stairs and through the glass door. I feel eyes on us, so I keep mine on the white marble floor with the black diamond inlay design. My heels get caught in the dress, and I almost trip, but he yanks on my hand, keeping me up. We make our way through the elaborate lobby of the luxury hotel and to the elevators. We have to wait for ours, and I try to calm my breathing. I’ve spent a lot of my childhood here at the Harlowe. My father owns it. He has over five hundred locations in the United States alone.

People check in having no clue what kind of illegal activity goes down here. The Ravens place their members throughout the world to benefit their society. They will take the worst kind of evil, dress it up in a ten-thousand-dollar suit and give them an expensive bottle of scotch and the ability to suck your soul out of your body without you knowing. I’ve seen my dad do it too many times. Poor bastards never see it coming. Our elevator opens up, and we step into it. Walter pulls out a card before scanning it. This is the only one that has access to the floor. H for the honeymoon suite lights up and takes us over twenty-five floors up in silence. I run my wet hands down my dress when the door slides open, and we step into the suite. On any other day, it would be gorgeous. Red and white rose petals litter the white and gray marble floor. A black circular table sits in the middle of the foyer. A glass vase sits on top with the most beautiful red roses I’ve ever seen, and a bottle of champagne along with two flutes sits on either side. He walks past them, stepping down into the open living room. I slowly follow. “Gavin will be here shortly.” He finally speaks to me, making my pulse race. I’ve heard that name before. I’ve seen him a couple of times when he came to visit my father.  I’m pretty sure he’s a doctor. That has to be wrong. “Who … who is he?” That’s my biggest fear. That he’ll whore me out. Let others use me because I’m no use to him. Sell my body to make him some extra cash.

 This isn’t a marriage out of love. So why would he treat me with respect? “A doctor,” he clips, removing his black tuxedo jacket from his broad shoulders while walking farther into the room. I take a look around, seeing more flowers all over. The overwhelming smell almost makes me gag. I swallow nervously. Afraid I was right. “Why … Why do we need a doctor?” He comes to a stop and turns to face me, his peircing-blue eyes scrutinizing my smeared makeup from the downpour. I hate that I care what I look like right now. “Are you on birth control?” My cheeks flush. Phil didn’t want me on birth control. He wanted a baby straight away. An heir. A Raven is nothing if he doesn’t have someone to carry on his name. I hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to keep that from happening, but I wasn’t going to have Phil’s child. I answer Walter. “No.” “Exactly.” Turning his back to me, he goes over to the baby grand piano. A silver tray sits on top with a tinted decanter with an M in the middle. He removes the glass diamond top and pours the whiskey into one of the glasses that sits next to it. “The last thing I want to do is knock you up,” he adds.

I want to be happy that he doesn’t want to get me pregnant because I don’t want kids either. But instead, it pisses me off because it’s just one more way he’ll control me. Why wouldn’t he take away my ability to reproduce? Taking in a deep breath, I remind myself it’s something we agree on. But that thought also makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. He’s going to fuck me. I knew this day would come. That it would be my wedding day when a man would take my virginity. I just never thought it’d be my sister’s ex. A part of the agreement of me being handed over to Phil was that I was a virgin. I know the Ravens have to abstain from sex their first three 8 years at Barrington. He wanted me to remain one until our wedding night. If I didn’t bleed for him, then I would be considered a whore. My parents promised him my innocence, and I had to deliver. I know for a fact that Phil had been fucking women the past few years. I didn’t care. I actually prayed to God, hoping that Phil would fall in love with one of them and forget about his arrangement with me. They were not answered. Instead, God laughed at me and sent me someone far worse than Phil. 

“Here.” Walter offers me the second glass of whiskey, and I look from it to him, making no attempt to take the drink from his hand. “I didn’t drug it,” he growls. “I don’t believe you.” I lift my chin. He could have very easily slipped something into it since we entered the room. It only takes a second to spike a drink. I know. I’ve seen it done before. He rolls his eyes and throws the one he’s offering me back, proving that it was, in fact, not laced with something. Setting both down on the tray, he walks over to me, closing the distance, and I stiffen. “Why would I drug you?” I swallow nervously but answer honestly. “Makes me compliant. Easier to take advantage of.” Reaching up, he runs his hand through what’s left of my bun, pulling bobby pins loose and letting them drop to the floor at our feet. The long, wet curls fall down across my bare back and over my shoulder, some falling in front to frame my face. “That would be too easy.” He finally speaks, his knuckles brushing it off my shoulder. “I want you to feel me holding you down. I want you to hear yourself gasping for breath when I force you to come. And I want your eyes on mine while I make you cry. I’ll never drug you, Mia, because I don’t need you compliant. You’re now my wife, and I can take whatever I want from you.” My throat closes up while his eyes bore into mine. He’s got it all figured out. I hadn’t realized until just now that he’s had this planned. I thought it was a last-minute thing. Like he just woke up this morning and decided he would crash my wedding and make me his wife. 

But I was wrong. He’s had this plan for quite some time. The Cathedral, the hotel—he’s rubbing it in my father’s face. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to figure out any of this information. It's been in the works for years. My parents and Phil are making a big deal out of this day. “Walter, please…” “You’ll do that too, little darling.” His hand moves to cup my jaw and he lowers his lips to my forehead, brushing them against my skin. Words spoken as soft as the tender kiss and my pulse races at how calm he can be. How well he can hide what he really feels. He hates me and my family. I’m nothing more than an outlet for his revenge. His cell rings, making me jump, and he pulls away to answer it. “Hello? Yes, send him up.” The elevator dings before the door opens, and he turns, giving me his back. I let my shoulders fall while trying to calm my breathing. “Mr. Marshall. Good afternoon, sir,” a man’s voice says. “Who the fuck are you?” Walter growls. “I’m Jackson,” the man answers. “Where the fuck is Gavin?” he snaps. “He got caught up in surgery and asked me to fill in for him.” Walter pauses a second before he speaks. “She’s in here.” They enter the open living room a few seconds later. Walter is holding his cell to his ear, eyes on me. But after a few seconds, he hangs up. “Hello, Mrs. Marshall.”

 The kid gives me a big smile, and my stomach sinks that that’s what I’ll be known as now until the day I die. So easily stripped of my maiden name that once meant something to me. Harlowe is known around the world—wealth and power are just a couple of things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always hated that my father is a Raven and the life we have to live, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a Marshall either. “This will only take me a second.” He places a briefcase on top of the piano and pops it open, pulling out a couple of packages. He rips one open, revealing a syringe, and the other is a vial full of liquid. “Whoa.” I take a step back. “I thought—” “You’re getting on the shot,” Walter interrupts me, and I look over at him to see he’s now standing at the island in the kitchen, making himself a new drink. “Too many women are irresponsible when it comes to taking the pill, and I refuse to wear a condom when I fuck my wife.” He glares at me, daring me to argue. My cheeks redden at the way he talks to me in front of this stranger in the room, but this is one fight I’ll let him win. The guy inserts the syringe into the vial and pulls back the plunger, filling it with the liquid. Once done, he looks at me. “Turn around and pull up your dress.”

 His eyes drop down to the train, and he frowns. “Walter might have to hold it for me.” I take several steps back away from him, my heels tripping over the silk material, and I fall onto the bench seat at the piano. “Excuse me?” I shriek, wide-eyed. “Turn around—” “You will administer it in her arm,” Walter snaps at the man, and I flinch when I hear him slam the glass down. “Of course.” The man nods, walking over to me. He opens the new alcohol pad before rubbing it on my arm. He lets it dry and then grabs the skin. “Small pinch,” he says and sticks me. I don’t even feel it. 

There are too many other things running through my mind right now. “How long will it take?” I ask, hoping he says days, maybe weeks. It could buy me some time to stay a virgin if Walter refuses to wear protection. “When was your last menstrual cycle?” the guy asks. “Earlier this week,” I answered softly, counting the days in my head. Phil planned our wedding around my cycle. I’ve always been like clockwork. I just recently got off it. He smiles. “You should be good then. As long as it’s five days out from when you started, it should work immediately.” Fuck my luck. “But I also brought some morning after pills that you can take just to be on the safe side. Just remember, they aren’t to be used as a form of birth control. Just last resort. You may experience some bleeding for the next couple of months but that’s nothing to worry about. Make sure to schedule another shot within twelve to thirteen weeks for it to be the most effective.”

 His eyes drop to my chest, and silence fills the large room. My eyes shoot over to Walter in panic. Am I paying? Will he let him fuck me now that I’ve received the shot? Is that another reason he’s putting me on birth control? So other men can’t get me pregnant when he allows them to fuck me? A Raven raising another Raven’s child? Unheard of as far as I know. If it’s not their bloodline, they don’t want it. It’s just another awful thing on a long list that disgusts me about these men.

 Walter was about to take another drink but set it down. Not as hard as last time. “Is there a reason why you’re staring at my wife’s chest?” he demands. I hate that my thighs tighten when he calls me wife. Like it actually means something. As if he will protect me. I could laugh at myself right now if I was alone. Walter Marshall only cares about himself. History proves that. “Oh no.” The guy chuckles. “The blood.” His eyes meet mine. “Do you need stitches?” “She’s fine,” Walter growls before I can say anything. “And your services are no longer needed.” “Just in case.” He removes some Band-Aids from his briefcase and drops them on top of the piano. Like they’re going to do me any fucking good.

 Walter walks him to the elevator, and then he returns. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. His crisp white button-up that once fit him like a glove is now wet, sticking to his skin and showing off his hard chest. My eyes drop to the way his abs flex as he breathes. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off his tanned and muscular forearms. A Rolex watch that I know must have cost him over a hundred grand sits on his wrist. All Ravens wear their crest on a ring while attending Barrington but take it off after graduation. They no longer need it. The brand on their chest is reminder enough of their devotion. My eyes drop to his wedding ring. It’s simple—a silver band. I haven’t gotten a good look at mine. But I feel it. It’s bulky and heavy, weighing me down. I used to think he was hot. I found him attractive when my sister dated him and was jealous of her. I was so stupid. 

An immature little girl who didn’t understand how the world works. I hate that he looks better now than he ever did back then. How is something so stunning so evil? He walks over to me, and with each step he gets closer, the louder my breathing gets. “Stand up and turn around,” he orders. Getting right to it. I stand on shaky legs and turn around to face the piano. I feel him reach up and unzip my dress. My breathing is erratic, my heart hammering in my chest. The room sways as the soft material slides down my body and pools at my feet. Heat covers every inch of my skin. All of a sudden, it’s too hot in here. I tremble when he gently moves my hair to lay over my shoulder before his knuckles touch the top of my spine and slowly run down the curve of my back, making goose bumps rise all over. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and I close my eyes tightly to keep from crying. I’m trembling. My heels are shaking on the marble floor, and I can feel the sweat beading across my forehead. I feel like I’ve turned my back on my sister. 

Even though I don’t have a choice in the matter, she would still hate me for what’s about to happen. She loved him. He just didn’t love her in return. Not the way she deserved. “Face me,” he softly commands. Taking in a shaky breath, I slowly turn to face him but keep my eyes closed. “Look at me, Mia.” His hand cups my cheek, and I open my watery eyes to meet his. His thumb brushes over my parted lips and I sniff. His eyes drop to my neck and then my chest, following the blood from when he cut me with the dagger at our wedding. Blood is our oath. I had to bleed for him in front of his fucking cult. And I’ll bleed for him now when he rips my innocence away. His knuckles run down my sternum and outline the top of my white strapless bra. Reaching around me, he brushes his lips on my ear while I feel him undo it.

 The material falls to our feet seconds later, making me whimper. When he pulls back, his piercing-blue eyes darken while devouring my breasts. I hate that my nipples are hard. I’ve waited so long for this moment. To become a woman. I wished I could have done it a hundred times with him. Back before he took the one thing that meant everything to me. “I’m going to take it easy on you,” he speaks softly, “because it’s your first time.” “Thank you,” I whisper, hating that he’s going to have so much power over me. That I’m going to have to thank him for everything. I will forever rely on him for food, shelter, fucking survival. Men like Walter don’t allow women to have their own careers or lives, for that matter. They are owned. Ravenias doesn’t need to know who she is. She belongs to her Master, and serving him is all that matters in their lives. His hand grips my chin and lifts my face, so I have to meet his cold stare.

 “It’s still going to hurt, Mia.” My stomach tied in knots, but my pussy pulses. I don’t understand it. Why is my body reacting to him when my mind knows it’s not right?  “And afterward, I won’t give you the courtesy of going easy,” he adds. “Do you understand?” “Y-yes.” My voice wavers, and my feet shift in my heels. He pulls away and gives me his back, ordering, “Go to the bedroom and lie on the bed.”

[fandomnerd9602]

Stitched

Allyson Nelson x Wick!Reader

For @deafeningsharkslimeempath

You limp your way through the rain, the wound on your rib was a little deeper than surface level. Not that you hadn't been in a tougher spot before. But before, you had John, your dad, there to patch you up and give you pointers for the next fight. But now you don't. The last surviving Wick, some great legacy.

You traveled the whole of the United States, taking odd jobs and contracts here and there. Going from Continental to Continental hotel. And yet it all felt so empty. There was no John Wick to mentor you, or even share a cup of coffee with. You missed those times with your dad.

And now here you are, in Haddonfield. Chasing a boogeyman who might be long dead. But that didn't stop the higher ups at the High Table from assigning you contracts to take down the crop of imitators who took over. And the last one stabbed you with a kitchen knife right before you put two bullets into his head.

Now you limp to a nearby hospital, hoping that maybe they'll accept your currency. The Continental was all the way in Chicago, about as far from Haddonfield as you could get.

You trudge into the hospital, slamming down a gold coin on the receptionist's desk. "Need to be stitched now. Please" you practically begged through labored breaths.

The receptionist takes the gold coin and turns to a young nurse, "Allyson, can you do a patch job?"

Allyson, the young nurse, locks eyes with you, something about her just called out to you. Kindred soul? Or maybe it was just her beauty that got your attention. "Come with me" she grabs your hand and leads you into a nearby room.

She pours a disinfectant over the wound, "guess you know my name. You got one?"

"Y/N. Y/N Wick" you say through gritted teeth, trying to keep the pain from getting to you.

"This wound is below the skin but not too deep. You're lucky"

"You should see the other guy."

"Michael Myers?" she asks you, a little concerned.

"A pale imitation." you admire her work as she quickly stitches you up. "You're pretty good at this"

Allyson lets out a little chuckle, "kinda had a lot of practice. I got sliced once or twice by the Shape."

"Hey you survived so..." something about talking to her felt so natural.

"Okay you're just about done." she smiles at you. She grabs a packet of Advil and hands it to you, "take two of these and call me in the morning"

"But I don't have your number" you smirk

Allyson blushes, biting her lip, "do you want it?"

"Well I'm tempted to let myself get stabbed again just so I can see you again so..." you joke, earning another laugh from Allyson.

She grabs your phone and puts in her number. "Now you can call me in the morning. If you want."

"I just might" you give her a gentle smile. She walks you out to the front of the hospital.

"So Wick, you new to town?" She balances on the heels of her shoes.

"Yeah" you answer back, "Looking for a place to set down roots."

"Maybe I could give you a tour?" she looks at you hopeful.

"I'd like that" you let out a little laugh, "I'll call you. tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." she laughs back as she walks into the hospital.

Haddonfield. Hmm you may have just found a reason to stay. Maybe just maybe you can have the very thing that your dad was trying to get: a home.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Shimmer & Shine

Dear @shimmer-like-agirl,

I don't know if you remember last May. I sent you an ask for one of those word prompt games. Which for the life of me, I can't find the actual list for. (Thank you, tumblr search function. You barely work when I need you to.)

Now, I don't begrudge you for not doing the one I asked, but you need to know that you not doing the one I asked has literally been sitting with me for the past eight months. This whole time. It's been on my mind. Your own namesake! Took me a while, but I just couldn't let that go.

Anyway, I wrote this little number for you, friend. Hope you don't mind I took ya girl for a little spin without asking. 🧡👻

Read below or on AO3.

Chin cupped in one palm and free fingers entwined around the stem of her wine glass, Darisha sighed. Despite the abysmal amount of wintry rain pouring down outside, the club was boisterously packed. And, even though the weather wasn’t doing her curls any favors, she should have been thrilled at the full house for this evening’s show. However, Darisha’s mood was scraping the bottom of the barrel and even the effervescent bubbly of her sparkling white wine wasn’t enough to lift her spirits. 

Perhaps she was pouting. Maybe a little too much. But it was hard not to when the one person you wanted to be there wasn’t. Sighing again, she picked at the shimmer of purple sequins lining the hem of her cocktail dress before swirling her glass, tipping it back, and finishing off the last of her drink. 

Her time probably would’ve been better spent warming up in her dressing room and not worrying about it. After all, it wasn’t his fault that something important had come up. Wasn’t his fault that he’d been slammed with cases all week. And wasn’t his fault that she had insisted it was fine before he’d given her a quick kiss and swept out the door with those long strides of his. 

But saying and knowing were two different things. And it was just one of those nights. When doubt insisted on cuddling up next to you.

Amethyst eyes scanned the crowd, but only focused on the empty seat next to her.

A murmur of excitement rippled through the club as the house lights dimmed and the band filed out. The show wasn’t about to stop for her disappointment. Darisha took that as her cue to vacate her seat at the bar and drag her ass to the stage, the clack of her heels solitary as she walked across the floor.

The musicians made a business of settling themselves in, making last minute adjustments to mics and instruments; the quiet rattle of cymbals, the low pluck of strings, the test of keys. Darisha fiddled with the cable running down her microphone stand, even though it didn’t need it. Swiped the imaginary dust off the satin of her skirt, even though there wasn't a speck on it. Blinking the brilliance of the stage lights off her lashes, she made introductions to the backlit faces of the crowd and took a deep breath.

Let the sultry balm of song take over.

The music soothed her heart, took the edge off the loneliness. 

But it was a rest, a moment between numbers, that lifted her heart. Truly made it soar.

Darisha caught a glimpse of him when the stage lights transitioned. When the blinding glare of the lights softened to reveal what was behind the partition of that invisible curtain. He’d squeezed himself in at the back corner of the bar, the collar and shoulders of his coat drenched from the rain. The bartender handed him a beer. They exchanged a few jovial words before he took a sip and looked up, caught her eye and made her heart skip a beat.

River beamed at her. A brilliant smile.

One that helped her shine.

Needless to say, after the show, her heels were a lot more excited to get off the stage than they had been to get on.

Darisha practically threw herself at River, not caring about the damp still on his coat. The hug was worth it. “Thought you weren’t gonna make it?” 

He squeezed her back. “Managed to wrap up early.” And pulled her into the sweetest of kisses before parting to whisper in her ear. “Wouldn’t miss you for the world, Darisha. Not if I can help it. Love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” She grinned up at him and made a futile attempt to fix the wet fluff of his collar. “Even if you're a little too fashionably late sometimes.”

“Well, I can see about making it up to you. Made sure there was only one name on my calendar for the rest of the evening… Might’ve even bought an extra bottle of wine.” River winked at her. “I’m all yours.” 

“Sounds like a deal. Let me grab my coat and let’s get out of here.”

They walked to the dressing rooms, hand in hand.

The door to the alley creaked open and shut just the same. The two of them watched as the rain poured down, sheets cascading off the awning overhead while slips of neon reflected off the puddles that had gathered in the asphalt. Sparkling drops of iridescence amongst the grime and grit.

Darisha should’ve worn a warmer coat. Perhaps a longer dress. Icy air pricked at her knees and made her shiver. But then there was an arm around her, River tucking her into his side to share some of his warmth. She leaned into him, sighing content as their breaths curled with one another in the cold.   

Worth it.

“I can bring the truck around.” River offered.

She considered for a moment. “While I appreciate the thought, I’ve spent enough of the evening alone without you. We’ll make a break for it.” 

“In your nice heels?”

“Mhmm.”

“How about a piggy back ride then?”

“Not very dignified in this dress.” She reached down to clasp his hand, tugging him forward and smiling over her shoulder. “Trust me, you’re worth way more than these shoes. Keep up, will you?”

“You don’t even know where the trucks parked at.”

She’d do it. Maybe with some reluctance. But she’d trade her entire wardrobe just to hear the music of his voice. She’d certainly, at least, brave the weather.  

Darisha got a head start. River laughed.

And they both dashed out onto the streets together, hand in hand through the shimmer of winter rain.

[moodymisty]

✗ ERROR 158 ✗

Author's Note: Some fluff between the smuts and what is more than likely going to be the first part of an ongoing series of loosely tied together Echo one shots because I love him and have zero self control. The planet in this is loosely inspired by the CCSD footage for season 2.

Summary: Omega decides to play matchmaker.

Relationships: Tbb!Echo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, other than Omega being a little devil and some fluff

Word count: 2227

Echo had spent time on planets of pretty much every common climate one could think of. Though out of them all, tropical planets would have to be his personal favorite. He never had the time to enjoy it when he was part of GAR, but now that he did...

The sound of water hitting against the beach, rustling of tropical plants in the wind, and that fresh smell of seawater. It was pleasant, unlike the constant pouring rain and storming he’d gotten so used to on Kamino. Part of him had considered taking a dip in the ocean, though he wasn’t quite sure how exactly his menagerie of cybernetics would react to the salinity in the water.

They also had far more important things to do than trot around like this was some sort of vacation, even though he’d caught both you and Omega dipping your feet in the water twice already. Tech had scolded the two of you saying there was multiple carnivorous creatures in the water of the planet and to get out, though you were both pretty sure he was just upset you were just taking a break.

Echo had actually just spotted the two of you quickly drying off your legs and admiring some shells you’d both picked up, and Echo decided to keep quiet and help you avoid Tech’s ire. Hunter is fixing one of their blasters while Wrecker is attempting to bench increasingly heavier and heavier crates. Meanwhile Tech is working on a personal project, while also looking over whatever study material he’d given Omega awhile back.

Overall things just feel, nice.

For at least five minutes it doesn’t feel like everyone is hot on their heels, trying to gun them down the minute they have the chance. Echo is just relishing in the time to just breathe.

At least until you’re no longer the one keeping Omega entertained, and she wanders her way to him while he’s halfway underneath the Marauder’s control panel in the cockpit. She peers around attempting to see what he’s doing, and Echo takes a glance to see her standing there. The bottoms of her trousers are wet, from where the waves lapped higher than expected.

“Has the ‘carnivorous wildlife’ decided to take a chunk out of either of you yet?” Omega rolls her eyes, remembering when Tech had said that not long ago.

“We didn’t see anything, I don’t get what he’s so worried about.” Echo adjusts underneath the control panel.

“You two better hope there’s nothing, or that’ll be one awful ‘I told you so’.” Echo can’t help but laugh at his own little joke, before watching the way Omega shows off one of the shells she’d found on the beach. She pulls out another you’d found and given to her, admiring the way the opalescence shines on the inside of the shell. Omega had lived pretty much every moment of her life stuck in a lab on Kamino, and still found so many things exciting and brand new. You enjoy doing those things with her, and Echo finds it endearing.

“That’s what she said, but I don’t really think she believes Tech either.” Omega puts the shells back in her pockets and watches the way Echo had quite visibly perked at your mention. If he was interested before, he very much was now that you were part of the conversation. It’s hard for him to help himself from doing, even as he attempts to busy himself with working on this mess of wires.

“You know,”

Omega’s rocking back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back while wearing a curious and hopeful expression. Echo hums in acknowledgment of her, but she doesn’t have his full attention yet.

“She really likes you...”

Echo crooks his torso to the side and looks out from underneath the control panel and gives Omega an almost sympathetic look.

“Yeah, she’s nice.”

The sentence is short, but he means no snide undertone to it. You were nice; Nice to all of them, all the clones before everything happened, to him. Even after Skako Minor when he’d scared the life out of you with the way he looked so different. Nice to all of them after they’d dragged you into this mess, someone who wasn’t even part of GAR to begin with. Omega however seems displeased anyways, and her knowing smile goes away replaced with a furrowed brow.

“No, not like that,” Echo turned away to work on the ship, though he does give her a glance from the corner of his eyes that reads unimpressed and a bit suspicious.

“I mean, she likes you.”

Omega emphasizes and leans in closer, though once again fails to get Echo to give her anything but yet another shake of his head.

“She’s just nice, you’re reading too deep into it.” She’s a kid, Echo just figures she’d managed to watch a cringey holodrama for teens on the net in their few moments of downtime and now has all these silly ideas in her head. Meanwhile Omega crosses her arms and looks over her shoulder. You’re talking to Wrecker, and with him being so loud you’re completely distracted.

“I know that she draws a lot of art when we’re in hyperspace,” Omega takes a cautious step closer so she can be quieter, meanwhile Echo adjusts to try and get a better angle on whatever he’s fixing. There’s a cord deep inside the control panel he needs to get to, but it requires him to really reach inside...

“I saw what she’s been making; Most of them are of you.”

WHAM!

Finally, now she has Echo’s interest. Almost too much of it however, as Echo suddenly knocks his head into the underside of the control panel with a grunt of pain. Omega looks almost concerned for a moment, before Echo asks:

“She does?”

The pain hasn’t even faded from his forehead, but he’s far more interested in this. He can’t help it; Can’t help the weak spot he has for you, and the way his heart slammed against his chest at the idea that you’d been watching and drawing him when he hadn’t been paying attention. How you found anything inspirational about him he had nary a guess, but in a way that is so hopelessly love struck he can’t say he minds in the slightest.

“Yeah, when we were walking on the beach yesterday she was talking about how she really likes you and that-” Echo turns to try and look at her more face on, even if he’s still on his back. He just hopes that his face doesn’t visibly show how surprisingly warm it feels on his cheeks.

“Omega… If she told you something in confidence-” She quickly moves her hands to shush him. He feels he makes the right choice in telling her to not gossip, but Echo can’t help but really want to know what you’d said.

“I didn’t say anything! I was just, telling you that she makes a lot of nice art.” She’s clearly hiding a smile, even if she’s attempting to hold a stoic face.

And while Echo thinks he probably shouldn’t be, he can’t help but feel his heart race a little faster a the idea that you might maybe like him. But that’s something he’s thought for awhile, long before they’d ended up here.

Omega seems to use his silence as the perfect time to leave, trying to find something to maintain her curiosity now that she’s dropped this heavy tidbit of information onto him.

Echo silently gets back to work, letting out a long but quiet sigh. There’s so many things to get done, and he hasn’t the time to think about silly things. As he does so he takes note of the peaceful quiet in the ship, though there is sound not long after.

There’s footsteps coming closer, and he can tell by the pattern that it’s more than likely you. Your voice speaking up affirms the suspicion, and also increases his heart rate dramatically.

“You two have a good chat?” Echo reaches for another tool with his good hand and hums, seeing your legs standing beside his own. You soon decide to sit down, cross-legged beside his knees now more at face level for him.

“Yeah, just told her to watch out for the carnivorous wildlife.” If he was anticipating the sentence to get a reaction out of you he succeeded; Watching your face and seeing the way you sigh and rub your hands against your face and groan.

“Ok, if one more person mentions this I swear I will actually go insane. The one in a million chance of getting wounded by a rogue carnivorous fish has become the hot topic of this ship for far too long.”

He laughs at the way you clearly seem to be at your wits end when it comes to that whole thing, and you both stop talking for a moment until Echo does finally speak back up. It takes him a moment to find the way he wants to word this, and hoping it doesn’t come out completely love struck.

“She uh, did tell me something.”

You hum, perking up a little as you look at him. He stops working on what he’d been doing for a moment, pulling out from underneath the control panel to sit up and look you more head on. There’s a little bit of something, probably lubricant, on the side of his cheek that he hadn’t noticed yet.

“She said that you, were making art of me.” he says, and your face instantly starts feeling boiling hot.

Echo was never supposed to find out about that! It was just some dumb thing you’d been doing to pass the tons of boring time in hyperspace, and that you’d probably delete and pretend never existed. They were a sign of your hopelessly bleeding heart and feelings, and not something that Echo was ever supposed to hear. Though the absolute embarrassment you let out a tense breath of air through your nose.

“I swear, that little-” You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling more than a little bit embarrassed. Part of you wants to just run, but you’d have to come back here anyways, you couldn’t just become one with the wilds.

You’d just, casually mentioned it to Omega, and in that moment had completely forgotten that she might end up telling him. The way Echo had said it sounded like you were a creep staring at the back of his head non-stop, which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted to be to him. You’re so stuck reeling in your own embarrassment you almost don’t hear Echo speak again.

“That was stupid I really shouldn’t have said that-” You’re shaking your head and hands, squeezing your eyes shut and sighing.

“No no it’s fine just, Maker now you probably think I’m creepy or somethin-”

“No!” His sudden outburst startles you, enough so that he quickly backtracks.

“I mean, no. I don’t find it creepy. I think it’s kind of flattering, actually. Didn’t think I was anything worth doing art of.” It’s nice to hear that he doesn’t think you’re weird, but his self-deprecating attitude is a little concerning.

“I think you are.” You say, voice quieter than it had been earlier. Echo laughs, rubbing the area when his skin meets his scomp link attachment.

“Well, you’re the first then.”

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but smile back even as your face grows hot. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on Echo, ever since you first met him, so you can’t help but feel your heart flip in your chest.

Interrupting your moment is the distant sound of Omega’s voice, demanding someone to ‘keep out’. Her plea seems to go largely unanswered however, as both Hunter and Tech push by her anyways, and see you and Echo sitting on the floor in the cockpit. Tech is just here to grab something and leave, meanwhile Hunter lingers.

“Up to something in here? Omega was really keen on keeping us all out.” You were going to scold that girl for sure, but also sneak her a high five for letting you get this moment alone with Echo.

“Oh, us? Nah we’re not up to anything.”

Hunter doesn’t seem to be entirely convinced, but lets the topic drop. You turn back to Echo and smile, covering your mouth as you try not to let out a laugh. Once Hunter leaves you both alone again, you move to get onto your knees but not leave quite yet.

“I’ll go help them and leave you with, whatever you’re working on down there.” Echo partly doesn’t even remember what he had been doing; Most of the time he’d been too distracted by the thought of you.

Before you move to get back to your feet you lean inward, putting one hand on Echo’s shoulder and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It’s afterward you quickly get up and scurry away, leaving Echo alone again.

Echo swears he can still feel your soft lips on his cheek, even know he logically knows it isn’t the case. His throat his tight and he swallows, laying back down to try and get back to work.

Echo was already having enough trouble trying to keep his head on straight but now? Knowing that you felt the same as him?

[thebalancer]

Everlasting Flower: Nae Sarang~Lies of P Fanfic: Prologue

{Welcome to my Lies of P fanfic. I figure I post here on Tumblr just to make my Tumblr active again. This story was posted on A03. I hope you enjoy.}

~~~~Nae Sarang: A Korean word meaning “My love”~~~~~~

The cold dribbles pour on the dystopian city once a perfect world recked in coat of bloodshed and death. No nearby individual around - only the sound of the clicks of the heel boots against the rusty streets original covered in friendly citizens under a bright sunny day such as herself; those going on their day for work, jobs, or whatever they may go. Now, the road that once took her little feet to the bread shop every Saturday leads her in a long-lasting nightmare she cannot escape from. The shaky tired breath puffing out the human’s slightly open human’s lips trying to ease the racing heart inside the cage. The left hand in a clutch of a sharp knife coats in a dirty cloth. An incident in a childhood place - death almost snatched her way, but the dangerous risk the young woman took learned from the studies in the past saved her life.

Blood stains of her own mixed with the oil stains from the metallic murderers hunting for her own soul covered her elegant short purple dress that sway from the gloomy breeze.

Alone.

Lost.

So Cold.

Afraid.

The survivor has only herself and the task told by a trustworthy White Rabbit who sacrificed her life for the “child” from the harm of the large puppet threatening them: Go to Hotel Krat. The safe haven in all of the city. Use the pocket watch given by the white rabbit to guide the way. It is the only way to safety until she can reunite with the ones she got separated from. In hopes they all still live before she can. Armed with a sharp dagger carve like a deadly blade found in the blacksmiths crafting station, the rose clings onto it with the hand previously covered in small harmless cuts from things like a papercut or a cat scratch, now coat in large cuts and bruises. The knife originally used for cutting innocent, everyday meals becomes a dangerous murder weapon she must use to defend herself.

Battle after battle.

Death after death.

All blood. No escape.

Everything she must do to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loosing her breath after making a daring escape of fleeing from a pack of hungry puppet dogs as if they’re hunting down their main prey, the dark heavy rain continues pouring down - no signs of stopping any time soon. Enough where the young innocent girl with long, silky hair held by a headband, an neat uniform under a proper coat from a well-trained alchemist over her shoulders, and frames in helping see words better seem to be in the past. That young girl is now dead; in replaced with the older one with short, dark blonde that let her natural waves through, a look more suited for a survival in the wasteland, and eye makeup that’s not too heavy or too light, but enough where her eyes stand out. However, even some of the makeup is wearing off from the carnage. Her beautiful pale face many adore now show another side of her, a fighter.

The cold creeped on her skin quickly causing the muscles in the body to try and regenerate heat as possible, yet the nervousness the survivor is undeniably experiencing that the muscles are having a difficult time relaxing. As fight or flight are at stack. In a situation like this, one…. Must kill or be killed in this city after all.

A sudden red glow sparks on her heart, on the dress latched a gem brooches shaped into a heart. Seemingly connecting its energy in the blue crystal wrapped around her neck.

“What is it?” She asks out loud, sounding both frustrated and tired from all the chaos happening around her. The ergo belong to a deceased relative of hers whispers - being a Listener has both its strengths and weakness….at least for her. They tell her the hotel’s not far. She’s getting close to the destination up north. She should make sure to use the pocket watch gifted by White Rabbit lady Kochou in guiding her the right path.

There.

She sees it.

Hope.

The safe haven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gigantic structure high as a sturdy castle appears from the mist before her very own earth eyes. Full injured lips lift up in a form of a smile. Finally, at long last, the location she strived in finding.

“The hotel…..I made it,” She mutters to herself. The pain cause her to tense up and hiss. “Hopefully, there’s people that can help me…..I’m not a puppet, so I’m fine.”

The survivor knocks on the grand door. A voice of the defense system speaks from the speakers: “Welcome to the sanctuary of the Grand Coverant. Prove your identity. Who are you?”

“My name is Rhosyn Syltha. I am a human. I seek refuge here.” Answered she.

“Grand Coverant Fourth Law: A Puppet cannot lie. Welcome to Hotel Krat.” And the doors unlock. She grabs the handle of the giant structural door. A relieved exhale comes out while pulling open the new chapter in life.

Rhosyn made it to the safe haven. Safe from all harm outside. Inside the hotel shine the beacon of hope and peace surrounding by ancient structures.

Welcome to Hotel Krat.

[anamelesssimp]

What do you mean that's not his name?!

Part three of crying on a Saturday night :)

They sat in a very uncomfortable silence until the waitress came to take their orders. Jenna made sure to order for Tara and Cass, even though she really wanted to tell them both to eat shit, for putting her and Darby into the most uncomfortable situation they possibly could have. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in him , at least somewhat, he was definitely physically attractive. And, so far had been nothing but a gentleman towards her. It was just hard for her to think about letting someone else in, to open up to having feelings for someone again. Obviously one night wouldn’t cause her to fall head over heels, but even slightly liking someone again was enough to make her want to vomit. It had been almost a year since things had ended so badly with her ex, and though she told Tara everyday since that she just wasn’t ready and that she was fine, once her and Cass had started dating and doing all the happy couple things everyone could see the loneliness in her eyes. She couldn’t lie to herself; she did miss having that connection to someone, and having those sweet moments together. Laughing at inside jokes, snuggling when the Seattle rain just poured down and there was nowhere else to be. But to know that none of that, none of the happy times, or how much love was given, could stop them from getting up and walking away kept her in her lonely shell. She also knew Tara had nothing but good intentions in the surprise blind date , she knew that Jenna would never go for it if she had prior knowledge, she truly just wanted what was best for her best friend. But it was so uncomfortable and she could see it all over Darbys face. It was just as awkward for him as it was for her.  It also wasn’t fair to him because he probably thought this was planned and was going to have a nice time with someone who was interested in pursuing it if they hit it off. Jenna was just ready to give up and hide in the bathroom when he finally spoke up, almost causing her to jump out of the seat as the silence was abruptly broken. 

“ So I take it you didn’t know about this whole set up thing, did you?” He questioned not looking up from his drink where he fiddled with the straw, chasing the ice around the cup. 

“ No, honestly I didn’t. I hope you don’t think I’m rude or stuck up or anything, I just got blindsided, and well I am completely socially awkward, even under normal circumstances…” Jenna trailed off not knowing what else to say and realizing she was beginning to ramble. 

“ I don’t think that at all! I kinda feel the same way. I found out as I was packing up my gear, but Orange kinda  made it seem like you knew and I was the last to know.”

“ Oh, well, good news since he actually told you  BEFOREEE you came outside, I was the last to know! So at least you can say you weren’t the last to know about this surprise date” She laughed anxiously and used air quotations around the last word. Darby let out a chuckle as he smirked and nodded his head. 

“ Well , yea that’s true. I really am sorry that this happened. Orange has been pushing me to get back out there since my divorce was finalized and he knew that I would never have come if he had told me. Not that you aren’t attractive and seem like a cool person , just like I’m really not one to go out and want to meet new people…” He lowered his gaze back down to his cup and began playing with his ice again. 

“ I get you completely on that, like it has nothing to do with you at all personally. I’m just not one to blindly go hang out with people. Tara and I had classes together for a whole semester before I actually spoke back to her when she would try and talk to me.” She couldn’t help but smile a little at the memories of Tara trying and trying to strike up a friendship between the two of them. 

“ Seriously I feel you, I trained with Orange for months before we had a conversation outside of training or something relating to wrestling. At Least we have that in common I guess.” he grinned and brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes. She felt her stomach give a little jolt as she smiled back at him. She told herself mentally to calm down. It was just a casual conversation, and his eyes didn’t look more beautiful than they had a few minutes ago. Before things could settle back into silence Jenna decided she wanted to keep the conversation going, though she hadn’t planned on this, nor did she think this would go anywhere, she was starting to have fun. 

“ So why do you call Cassidy Orange orange all the time? Like I get it when you wrestle but why outside of the ring? She asked with genuine curiosity.

“ Well for starters it was always something they had us do in training. Getting into the habit so you don’t accidentally call someone by their shoot name, like their real name, in the ring or at an event. So it’s just kinda a habit at this point. But, and I am about to blow your mind here,” He leaned in close and looked around the room dramatically, before leaning in closer and whispering “ His name isn’t Cassidy either!” He covered his mouth like he just let out the biggest bombshell as his eyes smiled at Jenna who just looked at him in stunned silence. 

“ Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me that Cassidy isn’t Cassidy’s name, no fucking way! Even Tara calls him that, and in moments where, first of all I wish I didn’t know this information, but moments where she would definitely be using his real name…” Darby scrunched up his face in confusion and slowly started cackling.

“ You are telling me he has her calling him Cassidy while they’re fucking!? Yooo he will never ever fucking live this down I swear to God” He was basically in hysterics at this point as Jenna just looked at him in confusion over this whole name fiasco. 

“ Well what the fuck, so if you guys use your wrestling names all the time I’m assuming Darby isn’t your real name either then is it?” 

“No, it’s not but that's all anyone calls me.”

“ Well what is your real name?” Jenna was brimming with curiosity at this point the awkward tension had left the air and it seemed they were both having a decent time. Unfortunately before he  could answer her the door swung open and Tara and not so Cassidy walked up to the table. 

“ Are you guys just not going to eat?” Cassidy asked, raising one eyebrow up as he glanced over the table. Enjoying the conversation both Jenna and Darby had neglected to notice the waitress had come back and placed everyone's food on the table in front of them.

“ Oh shit I didn’t even notice she had come back over! It’s getting late now and I know Jenna mentioned having to work in the morning, I’m gonna grab some boxes and we can head back to my car if that’s okay with you guys?” He questioned as he looked around the group who all nodded in agreement as the sleepiness of the day was finally catching up to them. 

“ Cool, I'll be right back. Oh! Hey Orange by the way, what took so long to find your wallet?” He smirked and looked between the two as Tara blushed and looked at the floor. 

“ Shut the fuck up Darby before I kick your pale ass” Cassidy smacked him on the back of the head pushing him towards the counter where the to go boxes where stacked up. 

“ Speaking of which, I have a question about that situation I need to ask you about later… Oh sweet Cassidy.” Jenna tried to stifle her laughter but couldn’t and they all looked over at her in confusion, except Darby who started laughing just as hard as he walked away. Before she could be questioned too much Darby was back with boxes and a receipt for his food. They boxed up their meals and headed to the counter. As Jenna went to get her wallet out she felt Darbys hand brush it away. She looked up at him with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“ You have given me priceless information tonight, the least I could do was buy your dinner. Plus let me use it as a way to make up for our friends throwing us into a whole blind date.” He said in a surprisingly sweet tone. As much as she wanted to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from his touch, she couldn’t. All she could do was smile and accept his kindness, even though he had also been thrown into this, just as much as she had. 

They all headed back out to the car and rode in silence as quiet music played in the background. Once they got back to the venue to separate into their respective  cars, which just meant Jenna switching to take the passenger seat in Tara's car, Darby ran around and opened her door for her. While they let the love birds say their goodbyes, they said their own. The awkwardness had crept back in, not knowing was this a date? Should she give him a hug, he did get her dinner. Trying to think on her feet she brought back up the topic they left off on in the restaurant. 

“ So you never told me, if Darby isn’t your real name what is it?” She questioned him, becoming very conscious of how small the space between them was. She felt herself shiver and tried to convince herself it was just from the cold. 

“ I tell you what, this turned out, at least to me, better than I was anticipating. So let me officially ask you on a real date and if we go out again I’ll tell you.” He propositioned confidently, but his body language gave him away. He was shifting his weight back and forth while he twisted his hands around and looked at the ground. Before she could even think about what it would mean to say yes she had already blurted out , a little too enthusiastically, absolutely. Darby smiled at her and nodded his head, unable to really say anything, because he couldn’t believe she had actually said yes. They exchanged numbers and a quick side hug just in time for Cassidy to step out of Taras car. He gave Jenna a quick hug and pointed Darby to the car. The lateness of the night had really hit hard , and as she got into the passenger seat a yawn slipped out. Before Tara could begin her interrogation Jenna felt her phone buzz and quickly pulled it out to see who was texting her this late on a weeknight. 

I had a great time meeting you tonight, I’m really excited to take you on an official first date. Sleep good and text me whenever - sam 

[marshmallowprotection]

They say she shined brighter than the sun itself when she was up on that stage. It was like the world came to a standstill when her energetic smile filled the little saloon. Rika Kim was more than meet’s the eye, and she was an oasis found in the center of the driest desert. But, to Jihyun Kim, she was more than that. She was someone who desperately wanted a place to belong.

He knew that from the second her fingers clung to his worn coat that evening when terror flashed in her eyes and she pleaded with him—silently pleading that he protect her what she was running from—there was nothing more he could do but try to do something.

He knew that fear in her eyes because it was the fear he felt that day when he lost his mother and he saw the glint of something more in his father’s eyes just for a second before he let go again as he always had. The fear of knowing that you held no control over your life and someone else could decide your fate no matter how hard you cried. That desperation would drive someone to be willing to do anything to avoid that happening again.

In the west, that meant that sooner or later, someone would take control of you eventually once again. It was only a matter of making the wrong choice as soon as you escaped the last monster that consumed you. They were all victims when it came down to human sins... but some were worse off than others.

He wanted to believe that he was stronger than the compulsions that haunted others, but the truth was as clear as the lack of rain for decades in that dusty town.

He was no better than the next person.

But, he was trying to be better, and that was the only hope he could hold in his chest in the fleeting moments when clarity came to him and the reality he faced was impossible to run from. He wanted to be better. He wanted to know that he wasn’t his father and the mistakes of the past would never be repeated, but the fear of something looming on the horizon always haunted him.

Even in the very peaceful moments just like this, when Rika’s sing-song voice echoed throughout the building like the sound of an angel.

He leaned against the bar counter, his hand in his cheek, watching as Rika’s golden curls swayed around her face as she laid atop the piano that Hyun was playing. The afternoon sunlight poured in from the windows and seemed to be right on time. She smiled and the sparkling glimmer of the setting sun made his tremble. Complicated as their feelings and relationship were, he was inspired by this woman who had begged to be his wife to save her from damnation.

They were in this together for a reason. This bar was the only thing keeping sure that whispers and secrets went to the right place. It was his duty to make sure it wasn’t corrupted as it had been in the past. He was towing the line and nothing was going to stop that as long as he was alive. Just as Rika knew that he was in her corner with the intention of keeping her safe from those devils that clung to her heels when the moon rose and the cholla cactus that tried to take over her body.

They were both giving each other something they needed. Rika supplied a safe haven for others and Jihyun earned a bar with loose-lips that helped him gather what he needed for a plan itching in the back of his mind.

Jihyun offered her peace in his arms from her abusers and Rika earned a house that she’d never be flung from into the streets for saying no to the devil dressed as a man of God.

“ ♫ I hitched a ride with the wind And since he was my friend I just let him decide where we'd go When a flower grows wild It can always survive Wildflowers don't care where they grow. ♫ ”

She rolled onto her side and the ooo’s and aaa’s from the folks in the big crowd watching were abundant. She winked, but it wasn’t meant to be in any particular direction; However, he felt her eyes looking right at him and that was a part of her ability to charm anyone. It felt like she seeing you in the crowd and nobody else. That’s why people clamored to this dingy saloon, they knew that there was this rose unlike anything else to behold after a day of praying for a taste of gold for a change. 

A patron to his left chuckled at the sight of Rika’s display as her hand beckoned the crowd to sneak a glimpse at the skin underneath the feathers that covered up her shoulders. “I reckon she really is somethin’, ain’t she? Guess em’ boys sure as shit weren’t kiddin’ that we’d find a rose out ‘ere if we wanted to wet our lips ‘fore goin’ home.”

His friend laughed, hand slapping the table with enthusiasm, “Too damn bad the filly is hitched. At least, that’s what I done heard from the rumors. Reckon I ain’t see no ring on them pretty fingers, though.”

“Open season, man, y’all know how ‘em saloon gals act. This ain’t no house of God, brother. This is where ya’ go if ain’t got nothin’ left to do but get your dick wet. They’re loose as hell and will take whatever ya’ give ‘em.” The crass and crude comment wasn’t out of place for Jihyun. It made his stomach twist but he knew the name of the game was to bite his tongue and wait for someone to say something they shouldn’t because of the booze on their lips.

Both men laughed and laughed at their comments as if they were worthwhile and Jihyun maintained his poker face. He knew those words were disgusting, but Rika had told him that she didn’t mind. She wanted to help him, and she loved the stage. She loved being up there because it felt like a place that she always belonged. It wasn’t wrong... next to Hyun, she truly radiated the spirit of the sunshine.

If only Jihyun could ignore the glint of shame hidden underneath her smile that always popped out when she heard a man say such things. She looked to her partner on stage, smiling back at him with her mask on once more, as he joined in her melody and the crowd watched on.

His days might not have always been perfect, and neither were hers, but God, he wanted a day where his stomach wasn’t in knots, and where Rika could be able to smile without someone kicking her dreams into pieces. Little did he know that day that in the coming weeks... everything would change... just because a set of golden eyes as bright as the sun would plead with him just as his precious daffodil once had.

[glorious-spoon]

the jester stole his thorny crown [9-1-1 | Chim & Buck | 1/1]

Rating: Teen Wordcount: 1100 Warnings: Coma, Near-death Other tags: Hurt/comfort, Survivor’s guilt Summary: Chim delivers Buck into the doctors’ hands, and there’s nothing else to do but wait.

On AO3

“It should have been me.”

Chim isn’t even aware of speaking until the words are already out of his mouth, echoing strangely in the noisy ER.

“No,” Eddie says tightly. His arm is heavy around Chim’s shoulders and his expression is twisted up like he’s trying to bite back something terrible, but he shakes his head anyway. “No, it shouldn’t.”

“It was supposed to be me,” Chim repeats numbly. “I was supposed to be the one up the ladder, I was going to be—”

Eddie knows this, of course. He was right there, clipping Buck’s line with that dumb fucking cowboy joke, Buck’s brilliant smile, Come on, Chim, it’s me, I’m always keeping track.

Those might be the last words Buck ever says to him. Might be the last words Buck ever says to anyone.

“It wasn’t supposed to be anybody,” Eddie snaps, but he doesn’t let go of Chim as Bobby pulls him in from the other side, as Hen crashes into them. She’s crying. Chim can’t tell if Eddie or Bobby are, as drenched as they all are from the downpour. His own eyes are as aching and dry as they were on that rooftop more than ten years ago when he watched Kevin vanish forever into a sheet of flame.

This isn’t the same. Buck’s heart was beating when they passed him into the doctors’ hands. Chim broke three of his ribs doing chest compressions in the ambulance to no avail, but his heart was beating when they took him away, so right now, until further notice, he’s fucking alive.

They linger like ghosts in the cramped waiting room, waiting and hoping and dreading to hear more. Bobby’s got his hands clasped, his eyes closed, his lips moving in a silent prayer; Hen is staring blankly at the far wall, her cheeks wet but her eyes dry. Eddie is hunched over in a corner with his forehead resting on his closed fists, praying or crying or just avoiding everyone’s eyes, it’s not clear which.

Chim knows his job here. Like he’s always telling Hen, he’s the comic relief. He’s the one who grabs coffee, cracks a joke, makes everybody feel a little bit better. He wants to do it now. He wants to be that guy. He just can’t. It feels like his jaw has been wired shut. He can’t shake himself loose from the memory of Buck’s cold, wet skin beneath the heels of his hands, the horrible crack of bone. Buck making cocky jokes at the base of the ladder. Buck hanging like a rag doll in his harness, haloed in the floodlights and the pouring rain.

He still hasn’t managed to make himself sit down by the time the doctor comes in some interminable time later. “Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie surges to his feet first, but Hen and Bobby are right behind him. They crowd together, shoulder to shoulder, like that’ll brace them against the news. Hen squeezes his hand tightly. On his other side, Eddie is pressed close enough that Chim can feel him trembling.

The doctor glances at the tablet in her hand, then back at them with an expression of practiced calm that they all know from the inside, from dealing with desperate families on the job. Chim briefly imagines the sight they must all make, wild-eyed and soaked to the bone in their smoke-smelling turnouts, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bobby, of course, is the one who finds the courage to speak. “How is he?”

“He’s been placed in a medically induced coma. He’s stable for now, and we should know more within the next twenty-four hours.”

It’s—something. Better than his worst imaginings, at least, but Chim didn’t realize until right now how much he was hoping to hear that Buck came around, that he’s sitting up in his hospital bed right now cracking jokes and flirting with the nurses, that they’ll be able to see him and hug him and yell at him for scaring them so damn much.

That they’ll be able to bring him home.

“I see,” Bobby says, with admirable calm. “Thank you.”

The doctor offers them a tired smile. “There are some things I’ll need to discuss with his healthcare proxy. I have an Edmundo Diaz listed here?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says roughly. He doesn’t sound surprised. Chim wonders if Buck actually asked him about this, or if it was another one of the many, many things that those two never talked to each other about. “Yeah, I’m—yeah. That’s me.”

“Mr. Diaz, I’m Dr. Hakeem. If you could step over this way with me…”

She draws Eddie away with a gentle hand on his elbow, lowering her voice. Chim could probably overhear what they’re saying if he tried—can probably guess for himself, quite honestly—but his entire head feels like it’s been taken over by static.

Buck’s heart stopped. Buck’s alive, but he’s in a coma. His heart stopped, but he’s not dead, not yet. He exists right now within an unspeakable liminal space. Schrodinger’s brother, Chim thinks, and almost chokes on a laugh even though it’s the furthest thing from funny. He wonders if this was how Hen felt when she was tied to a chair and watching him flatline under Jonah’s hands. This hollow, helpless dread.

“I—I have to call Karen,” Hen says finally, and sinks into a chair like her bones have collapsed, fumbling for her phone.

“Maddie,” Chim says out loud. The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach grows teeth. She’ll be sleeping right now. He can’t wake her up to tell her—

He has to tell her.

“I can call her,” Bobby says gently, because Bobby has never met a weight that he was unwilling to shoulder. But Chim shakes his head. This one is his.

“Thanks, Cap, but I got this.”

Bobby squeezes his shoulder and lets him go, and Chim retreats into a corner to dig his phone out. His hands are shaking so badly that it takes him three tries to unlock it, and then he stares at Maddie’s contact for so long that his screen goes dark.

He has not got this.

Before he can let himself think about it anymore, he unlocks his phone again and hits ‘call’, then presses it to his ear as it begins to ring. Maddie will be sleeping now, but she keeps her phone on, and it’s set to always let his calls through, for—well, for exactly this reason.

He never calls this late. She’ll know right away that something’s wrong.

Sure enough, Maddie answers on the second ring.

“Chimney?” she asks, and he can already hear the banked fear in her voice, just in those syllables. He’d give anything right now to be able to soothe it.

“Maddie. You need to get Jee-yun and come down to Cedars-Sinai right now.” It comes out terribly steady. Maddie lets out a strangled little noise, a sob. Chim takes another breath. His lungs expand. His heart beats. He feels very distant from it all. “It’s Buck. There’s been an accident.”

[nxrthmizu]

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug 

genre | lila salt, so much salt 

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life. 

w.c | 8.1k 

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass. 

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it. 

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?” 

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess... 

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared. 

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.” 

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child. 

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.” 

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate? 

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain. 

Was it...? 

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps. 

Perhaps it was possible. 

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise. 

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?” 

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?” 

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?” 

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.” 

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily. 

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks. 

No. 

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again. 

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again. 

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead. 

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them. 

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!” 

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines. 

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?” 

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.” 

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for. 

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl. 

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,). 

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything. 

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed. 

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one. 

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on. 

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.” 

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one. 

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart. 

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” 

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done. 

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks. 

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation. 

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself. 

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill. 

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers? 

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!” 

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.” 

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter. 

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?” 

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen. 

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face. 

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was. 

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.” 

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.” 

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery. 

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being. 

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had. 

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist. 

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white. 

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...? 

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.” 

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom. 

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?” 

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string. 

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done. 

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.” 

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone. 

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!” 

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her... 

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on. 

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...” 

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?” 

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.” 

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...” 

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word. 

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.” 

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“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.” 

A collective choir of groans rounded the class. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?” 

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely? 

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed. 

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?” 

“... No.” 

“...” 

“... Maybe.” 

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.” 

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.” 

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?” 

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.” 

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression. 

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?” 

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?” 

This elicited another round of groans. 

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally. 

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery. 

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!” 

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Slam! 

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled. 

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette? 

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right? 

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire. 

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“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point. 

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft. 

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other? 

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.” 

Alya was silent. 

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes. 

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?” 

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“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?” 

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally. 

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates. 

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job. 

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.” 

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. 

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?” 

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.” 

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know... 

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.” 

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.” 

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row. 

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.” 

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him. 

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?” 

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered. 

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.” 

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in. 

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled. 

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea. 

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?” 

The class agreed, nodding along. 

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president. 

This is your problem now. 

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“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?” 

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?” 

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly. 

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.” 

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?” 

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile. 

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—” 

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.” 

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’. 

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?” 

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice. 

“Determination was always one of your good traits.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there. 

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.” 

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it. 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations. 

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond. 

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come. 

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet. 

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars. 

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”  

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this was both satisfying and tiring to write...