#but el's earned some harshness after what just went down

[chirpsythismorning]

📝 💐 🛼 💔⏪️💭🧊🌄❤️‍🩹

I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor

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[good-griief]

already decided

i just had a lil thought ab protective!ellie, so in love w her gf she'd do anything to keep her safe

Ellie’s temper was as short as she was. She couldn’t manage it for the life of her, and when it came to you, she didn’t even try. 

“Are you some kind of fucking moron?!” She’d yelled at Jesse one day when you came back from patrol with a nasty scratch on your arm. 

“I fell—“

“Should’ve fucking caught her, Jesse—“

“Are you fucking insane?” He’d asked, earning a cartoonish shrug in response. “Broaden your vocabulary, Ellie.”

She then went on to say ‘fuck’ as many times as she could before Jesse walked away. 

If you didn’t shut her up, she’d probably end up flying off the handle— though, you couldn’t say those rare occasions were undeserved. When they were serious, there was always a reason; like when Maria spooked your horse and you fell off, the animal nearly breaking your arm before Ellie grabbed the reins. Or when you weren’t on full alert during a patrol, nearly got swarmed, and she had to get you out of the situation. 

There was always a reason any time she went overboard, but tonight was different; she never got this way.

There was a guy bothering you at the bar, continuously getting drinks and trying to talk to you despite you rejecting his advances. He was new, so you didn’t want to be harsh, but Ellie didn’t care about that at all. 

“Hey, can you back the fuck up off my girlfriend?” She asked, overly sweet, as she walked over to him, smiling despite how pissed off she was. You'd told her how uncomfortable you were after she came back from the bathroom, the man getting more bold with her gone and nearly making you want to follow after her or find Joel and Tommy. “She’s very clearly not fucking interested.”

You didn’t know what led to what you could hear next, as Ellie had been keeping quiet, making sure not to make a scene even if she knew how uncomfortable you were. That failed, though, when she punched the man square in the jaw, knocking his head into the bar and making him fall out of his barstool. “Fucking asshole!” Was all you heard when your head snapped over to her. She hit him again when he spat something at her, blood mixed in with snarled words that made her ram her fist into his eye socket so hard that she broke skin. “She’s not fucking interested. Got that?! Fucking creep. I fucking better not see you around her again, you fucking—!”

“Ellie!” Thankfully, Joel got to her before she could do anything more than knock him out, grabbing Ellie as you got up and rushed over while Joel dragged her out of the bar. 

“Did you hear what the fuck he said?!” Her gaze snapped to you when you opened the door and came out to meet them. Her angered expression, sewn together brows, flared nostrils, and sneered lips puffing harsh breaths of air, fell to concern immediately. “Did you?” You looked between them, frowning. “Did you hear what he said?”

“No, but are you—?“

“Good.” The sneer on her lip as she shook out her fist made you refrain from asking her what he said that caused her to react like that, taking her hand to look at her already bruising knuckles. “Should’ve fucking killed him. Fuck.”

“You want me to talk to Maria, El?” Joel asked, placing a hand on both your shoulders and squeezing. He knew how much you hated this, as it made you more anxious than anything, but he also knew Ellie was completely serious about killing the guy after hearing what he’d said, and he had no objection to it. 

“Yeah,” she huffed out, a sick smile on her face. “Send him over to the fucking raiders.” She continued to curse under her breath despite being one-hundred-percent serious. “Joel, did you hear him?” She asked again, looking at him in search of reassurance for her reaction. 

“Yeah…” He sighed, looking at you briefly before looking back to Ellie. “Yeah, babygirl, I heard him. I’ll see what I can do, alright?” He rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to get her to calm down, but it was no use. 

“What a fucking pig,” she was still going on, clutching your hands in her bruising one.

Joel nodded toward the street, and you quickly got the memo. “Why don’t we get home, El?” You suggested, squeezing her hand to get her attention. She hummed, bringing the back of your hand to her mouth to kiss your knuckles. 

You hadn’t tried to calm her down that time, not knowing what to say with the way she was still gripping your hands and staring at the ground. 

Eventually, she spoke up. “I really tried not to make a scene,” she said. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, or scared you, or—“

“It’s fine, Els.”

“I’d explain, but I’d have to repeat what he said, and I don’t ever want to hear that shit again… Fucking disgusting.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Seriously. Sorry anyone would ever fucking say something like that… Fuck’s sake.”

You walked in silence for a while, gently stroking the back of her palm as she lifted her gaze from the ground to your hands cupping hers, which would probably be trembling if it weren't for you holding it.

“I’ve never seen you so serious about…” you spoke up after a moment, still not even knowing how to communicate with her like this. “You know, when you’re yelling at Jesse about patrol, it’s usually half joking, or something, but… You seriously looked like you were gonna kill him.”

“Should’ve.”

She was still gripping your hand when you got home, unlocking the door and holding it open for her. 

As soon as she was in the safety of your home, her face started to turn red. She brought the heels of her palms to her eyes as she sucked in a harsh breath, cursing at herself for how upset she was getting. 

“Should I get you tea or something?” She’d never been so angry that she started crying, and you didn’t know how to deal with that. You had half a mind to go get Joel again. “What do you need from me?”

She sighed, putting her hands down. Her face was still red, but she was refusing to let herself get worked up again. “Can we go to bed?” She asked quietly, gaining a quick nod from you. You held out your hand for her. She went to take it, but quickly stopped herself. “I need to wash my hands.”

“Okay…” You nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll set out some clothes for you, yeah?” She nodded, lips pursed. You leaned in, kissing her cheek and gaining a nearly unnoticable smile before you went your separate ways.

You changed into one of her shirts and underwear before you got into bed and waited. It must’ve been a half hour before she came back, looking much calmer than she did before. She changed into the shirt and boxers you set out for her, keeping quiet as she got into bed and lied behind you with her head resting on your shoulder. 

“Feel better?” You asked. She only hummed, bringing her hand to your hip and running it up your waist. “El, what did he—?“

“I love you,” she said quietly, shaking her head and kissing your shoulder. “I’d do fucking… anything for you. You know that?” Her hand slipped beneath your shirt, running over your stomach and making you understand that she'd never repeat those words. Even if they were still running through her mind. “I won’t let anyone touch you. Fucking ever.” Her touch was soft despite her words, tone uninviting for argument. “If anyone ever lays a hand on you, you tell me. I’ll fucking kill them—“

“Ellie,” you warned, turning toward her and lying on your back.

You tried to be stern in an attempt to help ground her, as that was the only thing that would make her relax, but her words were earnest, coming out far too easily. 

She shook her head, and when you looked up at her, you could tell that she was completely calm. She'd already decided that she should've killed that man, and you had half a mind to think she was so upset earlier because she didn't get to.

“If anyone even looks at you wrong…” She muttered as she hovered over you, forearms resting on either side of your head to hold herself up as her fingers ran softly over your hair. “If that’s really how people think, then I don’t care—“

“What did he say, El? Why did it get you so worked up?” Your hands went to her shoulders, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. 

She shook her head, bringing her hand to your cheek and running the backs of her fingers down your skin. “Nothing you should have to hear…” She moved to straddle you, sitting back on your thighs as she lowered her head to your neck. “Just know…” She kissed you softly. “If I ever see him again…” Her kisses were loving, soft lips grazing your skin as she tucked her head in the crook of your neck. “He’s fucking dead.”

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[papergirllife]

In The Afterglow

Mark Lee

Smut

warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex, slight angst (if you squint)

*gif credits to owner 

full masterlist

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You’re one of the lead bakers and barista at SM Town Cafe, which means you see idols on a daily basis, at first the job was a bit overwhelming, seeing some of the celebrities you’ve looked up to at such a close distance, you even made friends with some of them because of your friendly demeanor. Working as a apprentice and part timer here since high school has gave you some recognition among idols. But years have since passed and you were no longer that fresh-eyed little girl, you got a degree at one of France’s best patisserie academies, saved up from all the wages you’ve earned at this very cafe.

You thought nothing much would change other than the higher salary and status, and the responsibility of coming up with new sweet delights, but you were wrong. While you were gone, a birdie named Mark Lee came to Korea to chase his dreams of being an artist. Your arrival back in Korea has changed both his and your lives.

The first time you took his order was when a staff had to leave on EL, so you had to stand in for her coffee making duties. The Mark Lee then was not much different from now, a new debut rookie group’s member, but little did you know his best friend, Donghyuck slipped you Mark’s number after realising how flustered his friend was whenever you took his order.

After an awkward and slightly unintentional first date, there were many more to come. Fast forwarding to the present, you and Mark are still as strong as ever, with a few slight bumps on the way.

You always thought nothing would come between the two of you, until today.

You had baked a cherry pie at home and was hoping to do a taste test with the boys. You walked in their practice room with a smile on your face, excited to know how they would think about your baking.

Your smile and confidence soon disappeared when you saw a female trainee, talking closely to your boyfriend. When he saw you in the mirror, he beckoned you over to introduce you to his ‘friend’.

You could see the dislike etched on the girl’s face as you gave your greetings. Mark’s eyes lit up at the sight of the pie in the container.

“You made pie? Sweet. What pie is it.”

“Cherry, watermelons don’t work well with pie.”

“I still like other fruits, you know. Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best. Hey, Mina, do you want a slice?”

You couldn’t believe it, she was out right flirting at him, the sultry gazes and lingering touches, yet Mark can’t tell, or does he?

You walked away from the two of them, plopping down on the couch with Donghyuck instead while the others start a queue for pie.

“You know she wants your spot right?This has been happening for the past weeks.”

Donghyuck said without looking up from his phone.

“Weeks? Are you for real?”

“Of course I’m serious. I did set the two of you up. I don’t play when it comes to the two of you, I gave birth to this love.”

“Okay, now you’re just being disgusting.”

“On a rather serious note, Y/N. You can tell she’s not going to back down right? That bitchy look on her face when she saw you, pretty on the outside but ugly on the inside still means trash if you ask me.”

You stood up abruptly, remembering your shift starts in 5.

“Just watch over him or her, I don’t care. I have to go now, work’s calling.”

Before Donghyuck could answer you, you left the room in haste and tension-filled silence, leaving your boyfriend confused as ever.

For the whole day, you haven’t really been giving your job a 100% focus, and when the staffs made a mistake you were easily annoyed, everyone could sense something off with their usual bubbly Y/N, but dare not to question. On the other hand you weren’t answering any of Mark’s texts or calls, shutting your phone off, and opting to cook lunch to eat alone hiding behind your office.

You only checked your phone when you clocked off work, seeing around fifty texts and 7 missed calls from Mark alone. For the whole day, Donghyuck’s words repeated in your head like a rebuking mantra, stemming your anger and jealousy. Yes you were jealous, but the anger was at Mark, who was oblivious to her ulterior motives.

You scrolled further down to see a text from Doyoung.

“Dinner at 8, our dorms. You need to work things out with Mark, he wasn’t focusing on practice the whole day.”

You typed back an ‘okay’ and made your way home, preparing yourself for a long night to come.

Dinner with the boys were really tense, you purposely arrived late and you weren’t wearing one of Mark’s hoodies even though that’s what you always do during the chilly seasons. You sat next to Donghyuck and Taeyong, asking about their day and Taeyong’s unreleased singles.

Everyone could tell something was off between the two of you, but when Mark cornered Donghyuck to ask him what happened, Donghyuck only shrugged and said he should’ve known better, further confusing Mark.

After dinner, Ten came over to the 127 dorms, so the attention on you and Mark was shifted else where for now. When you went up to the rooftop alone to escape from reality, that was always a safe place for you in their dorms. Little did you know, Mark saw your retreating figure and excused himself from his hyungs.

“What’s up with you today?”

Mark’s voice was harsh, you would’ve flinched if you hadn’t been through all  those intense years at uni. 

“Nothing’s up. Leave me alone.”

“You were happy when you were talking to Donghyuck and Taeyong hyung. Do you love them instead of me now? Are you cheating on me?!”

“I should be the one asking you that!”

You backed away to leave the rooftop, but Mark’s hand held onto yours, not letting you go.

“What do you mean?”

“Ask your dear Mina! Or whatever name she has. You’re right, maybe Donghyuck would treat me better.”

That was when Mark’s temper snapped, he tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you down the stairs like a mad man into his own room, dumping you on the bed and locking the door.

“Say that again, I dare you.”

“Why do you care? You’re going to leave me for her anyways, she’s younger, she’s prettier, she’s in your line of work. You don’t need me. Do you know how hard it is to accept the fact that you’ll be seeing so many pretty girls on the daily? That there might be one day someone actually manages to steal your heart away from me?”

Mark felt like someone slapped him in the face, you weren’t throwing tantrums, you were genuinely insecure, he could see it now, the way your fingers were moving jittery in your lap, the crease in between your brows. Why is he so dumb?

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way. But you’re wrong, no one can steal me away, you have my heart, only you. and always will be. I’m so hooked on you, it’s like nicotine, so addictive.”

Mark said as he placed your hand on his beating heart, his eyes full of sincerity and love.

“Let me show you how much I love you and how I’m a fiend for you.”

Mark pulled you close and started leaving kisses on your neck, his teeth sinking deep to blossom flowers on your neck, his hands going beneath your shirt, caressing your stomach, you could feel butterflies erupting at every touch of his, your head in a drunk haze.

Your hands are wrapped around his nape, fingers playing gently at the hair that grew after his last trim, just the way you like it. Your back arches into his touch, wanting to feel the warmth radiating off his torso and chest. Mark loves the feeling of your breasts pressed up against his chest, but the clothing separating the two of you was starting to annoy him.

“Strip, princess.”

You knew things were about to get heated whenever he called you by that name. You quickly unbuttoned your blouse, letting it fall off your shoulders. Goosebumps rising from the cold. You could see Mark’s eyes taking in your newly exposed skin, his length growing at the sight.

Mark reached behind you to unclasp your bra, his hands hurriedly skimmed back to the front of your body, like a hot trail igniting on your cold skin, he cupped both your breasts in his hands, groping them in both gentle and harsh touches, just the way you enjoy it.

You felt left out, seeing Mark still being fully dressed in front of you, so you batted your eyes at him while tugging at his shirt, he was always a sucker for your puppy eyes and pouty lips. When Mark realised what were your intentions, he obliged to your request, taking off his shirt. He took your hands in his and guided them onto his abs, skimming down till the waistband of his sweats.

“You know what to do, princess.”

You pressed your hand against his boner, before skimming back up to feel his rock hard abs, your fingers tracing the ripped lines, then coming back down to take off his pants, tossing it on the floor along with his boxers. You lower down onto Mark’s lap, his holding onto his thighs for balance as your mouth sinks down on his cock, starting from the tip, slowly taking more into your mouth, one of your hands wrap around his length where your mouth couldn’t reach. Your head bopping up and down Mark’s length was a view to Mark, and the way your tongue laps up his pre cum rather harshly and desperate has his toes curling in pleasure, your name leaving his mouth in a breathless mantra, encouraging you to take more of him.

As Mark is nearing his high, he bunches up your hair and thrusts up your mouth sloppily, his tip hitting the back of your throat and closing up your airway, making you choke. Mark never said it aloud in fear of being deemed as weird, but he really enjoys the sight of you choking on his cock for air.

“You take my cock so well, princess. I’m going to cum inside your pretty mouth, swallow for me like the good princess you are okay?”

You tried your best to nod while sucking at Mark’s cock, you pushed yourself higher to release most of his length, leaving the head in your mouth, you sucked at his tip and licked the slit on his cock while your hands groped at Mark’s balls. Mark swore a string of profanities before cumming in your mouth, his load warm and heavy on your tongue, just as he asked, you swallowed every last drop of his essence, a little drip left on your chin.Mark wiped it away with his finger only to put the finger back into your mouth.

“Every drop, princess.”

You could see Mark’s usual round carefree eyes darken with lust when you swiped your tongue against his finger, jaw clenched and eyes fixated at your every action. Mark took off your pants and panties in one go, his hands quick to get rid of every article of clothing on your body.

“All fours, princess. Ass up.”

You quickly reposition yourself on his bed, your ass swaying slightly to get his attention. Mark let out a light chuckle at your actions, his hands spanking one of your ass cheeks lightly.

Mark coated his length in your wetness, sliding in between your inner thighs. You could feel Mark’s cock jerking when you close your thighs.

“Now you’re just asking for it, princess.”

Mark thrusts his length in one go, filling you up to the brim. He didn’t give you any time to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back into you. Mark’s hands were attached to your cheeks, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Fuck, Mark.”

“Can Donghuck fuck you this good, princess? Or Taeyong hyung? Answer me!”

Mark demanded as he pulls your head back with his hand wrapped around your throat. You could barely think properly from the way he’s fucking you, but you wish to please him, it’s what you strive for whenever the both of you have it rough like this, his dominant self reeling out your submissive behaviour.

“No! Just you.”

Your vision blurred as tears started to form from the excessive pleasure you were receiving, toes curled and hands grasping onto Mark’s sheets. The only thing that your brain registered was the way Mark hits your sweet spot over and over again as your mouth spills out Mark’s name in moans and whines, like a mantra, melody to Mark’s ears.

When you were nearing your high, Mark lifts up one of your legs onto his shoulder to bend your body lower into the bed as he fucks into you from a higher angle, this enabling him to reach deeper into your core.

By this point, you weren’t even speaking anymore, you were screaming like a mad woman, the pleasure over writing any other thing you felt, as you scream into Mark’s bed, the bed muffling most of the noises you’re making.

When one of Mark’s hand reached in between your bodies to rub circular motions on your clit, the coil in your belly snapped, the pleasure from Mark’s hand was the last drop that made the dam break. Your back arched up, as you let out a scream of Mark’s name, not a care in the world if anyone heard you.

Mark gives a few last sloppy thrusts before he spills his load into you, warm white streaks painting your insides, the hand holding onto your ass will probably leave crescent marks of his nails, but you didn’t care, you love admiring them whenever you undress.

The two of you are covered in sweat as Mark crashed on the bed, taking him into your arms, cuddling together, his cock still softening inside you, but you enjoy it, the feeling being so intimate, and the both of you rarely had time for these things.

“Thank you, princess.”

“Mhm, welcome.”

Mark was about to move but you stopped him, holding him tighter in your embrace, craving for his warmth and touch after shutting him out for so long.

“Stay. Don’t move. I want to stay like this for the night.”

“Anything you want, princess.”

Mark said as he kissed your forehead, before closing his eyes, basking in the afterglow.

[arsnovacadenza]

Ikevam Jean & Napoleon fanfic- quietly invite me to where you are

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Jean d’Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte, Vincent van Gogh, Yukari (MC)

Pairings: Vincent x MC

Word count: 3881

Warnings: possible OOC due to historical references

shoutout to @weird-profiterole​, @kisara-16​, @hokkaido-the-hellbeast​ @dear-mrs-otome​ , @kasu-gay-ama​

Icy blue and brown eyes peeked innocently into the training room. The rapiers continued to dance as the couple watched the dueling Frenchmen.

To the girl,  Jean and Napoleon’s sessions were always a sight to behold. She could feel the ferocity, the tension as the blades weave through the air and find each other with an echoing clang.

“No matter how many times I see them spar, it’s always so intense. They’re both so masculine.”

The girl admitted she knew little about sword-fighting, but she noticed the beauty with which Napoleon urgently thrust at his opponent.

“…Masculine….” Vincent quietly mumbled.

Jean parried the oncoming blade with ease. If there was even a slight fault in his form, neither couple had noticed it.

The couple continued to stare at the soldiers until a voice called from the kitchen. Immediately, the girl turned at Vincent and pecked his cheek. "I have to go. See you later, Vincent!"

"Oh, right. Have fun at work."

She thanked him and rushed down the hallway. Meanwhile, Vincent's soft gaze was trained on the soldiers' eyes, both burning with rivaling passions.

"Adorable... masculine."

Swords crossed as both combatants' faces were suddenly inches away from each other. Vincent could discern Napoleon's winning smile from where he stood.

With the primal sounds of their duel still ringing in his head, the painter turned and walked away.

.

 "Pay them no heed, Jean,"

Jean immediately backed down in surprise, his cheeks growing hot from the look in Napoleon's eyes.

"And always keep your eyes on me.” Napoleon murmured in a steady voice.

But Jean's breath was ragged, and his eye was unfocused despite staring straight at Napoleon. Even his stance looked unsteady for someone so well-trained. The former army commander let out a sigh.

"Guess you got nothing more in you." Napoleon looked at Jean wryly. "We've had enough anyway. Let's call it a day."

Jean wanted to argue and say he's fine, he's just tired, but Napoleon was already sheathing his sword and making his way to the side. The former emperor sat back against the wall with another sigh. It was at times like this that Jean's reminded of his friend's long, previous life.

 "Come. Sit. You look like you need it." Napoleon called out softly despite his stern gaze.

Jean obeyed. To him, small moments like these were just as cherished as the momentary passion sparked during their routine duels. Besides Mozart's, Napoleon's company was the few threads that kept him hanging to his deplorable days at the mansion.

And it was always his firm and gentle voice that made Jean want to believe that he had been born with no fragility— that he regarded Jean just as everybody else. 

Sometimes Jean felt he was undeserving of that attention, and sometimes he yearned for more. Not that he knew exactly what he sought from the former emperor.

Jean dispelled his thoughts as he sat down by Napoleon's side. He purposefully put some distance between them, but the man, as he won't, nudged closer until their shoulders almost touched.

And then he'd put a hand over Jean's shoulder and speak with his face only several breaths away. Either he was concerned Jean couldn't hear him well enough, or he ignored personal space just because he could.

Napoleon's attempts at fraternizing did come across as overbearing, sometimes. But Jean guessed anyone with his charm could freely worm their way right up to everyone's face if they liked.

“You heard something," Napoleon broke the silence. "You heard something I couldn't."

Despite being worthy opponents to each other, even Jean had to admit that his senses as a lesser vampire surpassed that of Napoleon's. "It's nothing."

Napoleon let out a friendly smile despite his harsh words. "Considering how out of touch you were, I wouldn't say it's nothing."

Jean went rigid at those words but said nothing. 

"And I hate opponents who fight half-assedly." 

It wasn't very Napoleon of him to throw such words without care, especially since it's Jean he's addressing. Even the seemingly unflappable soldier turned at him with an open mouth.

"Got your attention," Napoleon flashed his signature smirk. "Now tell me what bothered you or we can just drop this forever."

Always hitting where it hurt the most. Napoleon always seemed to know which buttons to push if he wanted to peer into whatever thoughts clouded Jean's head at the moment. Not that he did it often.

And Jean always secretly seek company and consolation during times like this. While Mozart had always been his person of choice, getting the time and attention of somebody as....beloved as Napoleon was also gratifying, in its own way.

"Napoleon, do you think I'm masculine?"

The question earned a snrk from the other man. Jean already regretted blurting out the question.

Napoleon tried to stifle down a laugh. "Wh —where's this coming from?"

Jean's eyelashes fluttered as he spoke, "It's Vincent and the girl. They were talking about how masculine we look whenever we're sword fighting."

 “I guess two soldiers engaging in sword-fighting is as masculine as it gets." There's nothing brave nor virtuous about actual killing, though. A voice at the back of Napoleon's head seemed to say. "What of it, then?"

But Jean's deep, amethyst eye was downcast. They both knew where this was going. 

"No matter what people say, they always seem to have a way of making me an epitome of something."

Well, that wasn't what Napoleon was expecting. Jean continued.

"Masculine. Beautiful. People will always look me from afar and immediately put me on a pedestal regardless of what I do." Jean murmured. "I know I should be flattered. That I should take their well-intentioned praises and smile back. But it's the look in their eyes that haunt me.”

Napoleon shifted in his seat. He sensed from Jean's tone that this wasn't something he'd indulge in more than once.

"Mere words shouldn't have this effect on me, Napoleon. But recently, I've begun to feel unease whenever people look at me from a distance and immediately assign me to a place they can't quite reach. Like I'm separate, different." His voice took a breathless turn. "Inhuman."

Napoleon leaned back against the wall in thought.

If this were one of his marshals (which marshal of his would dare falter in his presence?), he'd look at them straight in the eye and tell them to pay those thoughts no mind. Baseless doubts, he thinks, will only drive any soldier away from an assured victory. 

But this was Jean. And although he hated to echo the man's own words, Jean was indeed unlike any soldier or person he had ever met.

In the end, he closed his eyes and urged Jean to go on. "Do continue."

Jean did so without hesitation.

"Sometimes, the look in their eyes when we marched into battle made it seem like I wasn't leading their sons off to die. In the beginning, I was grateful that God gave me the power to move them and get them on their feet. To fight. The people's prayers had been my strength. But then..."

"But?"

"But as time went on, they came knocking on my door, pleading for me to anoint their belongings. Every word, my every gesture... it was no longer the angels that spoke to me they listened," Jean's voice wavered even more. "It's as if I had taken their worship away from God, and unto me."

If there was something about Jean he could never touch upon, it was Jean's complicated relations with God.

Napoleon never aimed to please any God. He chased his dreams with confidence in his stars, crossing lands —and rulers —in his path. If anything, it was His image that helped Napoleon put his plans into motion and swayed the people into placing their faith in his arms.

Just as he had used Jean's image.

At that point, Napoleon realized that despite other residents commenting on his and Jean's closeness, there was nothing both truly shared beyond having the same occupation.

Despite igniting that momentary spark in Jean's spark whenever they dueled, despite his invitation to let Jean taste his and Isaac's cooking and him closing his eyes in satisfaction as he bit into a sandwich—

They were nothing compared to the hurt Jean had been carrying long after his death.

Napoleon, a father to his men and the nation of France, could not understand this peasant teenager who lead the charge ahead of king's seasoned knights. Could not fathom how he braved the winter at La Charité with only the hand of God to drive his heart along.

There were unspoken truths and distant dreams —as well as four hundred years’ worth of history  —separating them both.

Napoleon stared at his hand and closed it around nothing. His resurrection had stripped away all his power and influence into nothing. Even a lifespan of 51 years had become nothing to this era and city that no longer needed him.

But then again, maybe nothing was what he needed to approach the vulnerable man next to him. Throughout his careful interactions with Jean, he had indeed counted on Jean's lack of awareness regarding the true scope of the 'terror' that he inflicted upon Europe.

But a part of Napoleon did wonder how their relationship would change if Jean ever came to know about what the world had written about him. The younger man's illiteracy was both a blessing and a curse.

Napoleon decided to clear his thoughts away and face the matter at hand. Whatever proceeded from then on was tomorrow’s problem.

"Jean," he softly called.

"Jean," Napoleon prepared for the next part. He never thought talking to another man would be this hard. "I don't know what to say since I never know what it's like to be spoken to by angels."

He immediately recognized the letdown in Jean's eye as it shifted to the side. He continued hurriedly.

"But there's nobody else who knows what it's like to undeservingly be called a hero, except me."

Jean turned his face to look at him in the face. It was a small victory to Napoleon, but there was still an uphill climb, nonetheless.

"I said that I didn't die with much regret," Napoleon pressed on with a much higher voice than intended. "And it's true. Everything I did, I'd done for France. If it had been God at your side, I had her. And, despite what other people thought of me, being an emperor wasn’t that depressing.”

He was surprised by his sudden burst of passion in his speech. And so was Jean, judging from his widening eye.

"But," Napoleon's breath hitched. "But as a man, there was nothing more lonely than being alone with my feelings."

"Those feelings accompanied me even as I grew into a self-absorbed, cynical old bastard who’d thrown away every last bit of human decency to wage war against the world," Steely emerald eyes fixed themselves on Jean. "They accompanied me as I walked down the streets alone, as a military student without friends."

"I gave them the confidence of a leader, all the composure expected of an emperor in his divine right. What they didn't see were the emotions closing in on me as I sat alone."

Jean once again closed his eye, seemingly digesting what Napoleon had said.

"What kind of emotions?" Despite Jean's almost accusatory tone, Napoleon's gaze couldn't help but soften. Ah, to be burdened with such tremendous pressure at so young an age.

"Simple emotions, unfortunately." He smiled. "I cried after hearing news of my wife's death. And there wasn't a day I didn't think about my son after they took him away."

Jean watched Napoleon from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, their youthful appearances deceived him into forgetting that Napoleon, Mozart, and even Arthur had wives and children they left behind.

"And, for all my years riding out into battle, the feeling of losing your comrades remain the same," Napoleon continued, turquoise eye interlocking with Jean's. "The previous kings hardly knew of losing comrades who'd been standing behind your back from even before you were emperor."

"How strange" The older man suddenly shut his eyes with ferocity. "How strange that this warmongering monster, this emperor who very nearly thought himself to be beyond God —still has very human emotions that keep him from becoming neither."

Josephine, Lannes, Joseph, even parting from France caused grief more profound than a king losing his crown.

No matter deep the abyss he fell into, it was always France that took him into her forgiving arms, time and time again.

Napoleon had always wondered if the same worked for Jean. Martyr or no, losing your life in battle in devotion to the fatherland was the highest virtue a soldier could ever achieve in their lifetime.

Anger suddenly sparked within Napoleon at the thought of Comte appearing to Jean over the pier, offering him salvation. He respected St. Germain as a man, but it disheartened him as a Frenchman to know that he dared to condemn a celebrated hero into spending his eternity as a monster. But no matter, he can confront the Count in his rooms later. Napoleon would rather speak to him with a clear head, free of misgivings. 

Yet Napoleon couldn't stop himself from imagining the Pureblood emerging suddenly from the crowd around the pyre, extending his hand towards Jean. How did the young warrior see him then, while smoke began spreading throughout his lungs?

Napoleon, in this second life,  had never once let emotions take hold of his heart this strongly. But now, seeing the depth of Jean's anguish, he wondered if he'd drown in it too.

All this time, Napoleon had always used his hand to support Isaac. Now, he's going to use it to reach towards Jean, even if that means following Jean into the most treacherous crevices.

Napoleon was assured that he'd have the strength (and time) to pull Jean back to the shallows. Still, it’s a shot in the dark, ensuring that Jean remained happy for the rest of his life as a vampire. Napoleon would first have to think about guiding Jean out under the clear skies.

Once, the entire nation of France revered him as their sun. To reprise his role would mean chasing the elusive moon.

"Jean," Napoleon softly called, "I was... I had been afraid of turning into a monster. I look at you and sometimes wonder if I can live with the pain.”

The venerated soldier turned to face Napoleon entirely.

Jean, truth be told, had long waited for Napoleon to address his impurity. He had long worn it like an armor after all. Napoleon's lack of inquisition regarding the matter secretly gnawed on him, for lack of a better word. He believed the other French soldier was willingly turning a deaf ear towards him, as other residents did. Mozart, at least, told him point-blank that he didn't need 'to hurt himself further' by saying 'things he didn't truly mean'.

"If that day comes to pass, the day when I finally succumb to this- this monstrosity," Napoleon let himself stumble through his words. " I don't think there's no one better to help me get through the process but you." 

Jean's brow furrowed at Napoleon's firm statement. "Why me?" he demanded. "You know firsthand how well I've been faring through this entire ordeal. If it's guidance that you need, go to that Comte or Leonardo. If you need a poor soul to suffer together with you, there's Isaac, who at least doesn't willingly starve himself. But with me, Napoleon? Why?"

Jean had never strung words so long and full of vitriol before. If it had been any other person, he would've apologized. Not to Napoleon. Not to this man who purposefully sought him out this entire time. If he wanted to see his worst, Jean would show every bit of his hideousness, one by one.

But Napoleon stared back decisively.

"If I had gone to anybody else, where would that leave you then?" Napoleon's hands went to grab both sides of Jean's upper arms. "Go back to that prison of a tower? Will I have to hear from Sebastian that you've stopped consuming rouge completely? Do I have to imagine you passing alone in that lonely room? To look back on today and the days before as something that will never happen again?"

Jean shirked away at the abrupt burst of anger in Napoleon's voice.

"I... I am not that important to you." He directed his eye towards the wall. Frustrated, Napoleon gripped his upper arm tighter.

"Not important." Napoleon whispered harshly, "Once, you had been a shining glimpse of everything I wanted to be. Even as I ended up sabotaging myself with delusions of grandeur, you remained pure. Without you, there'd be no France for me to protect. And what good is a soldier with nothing to protect?" 

Napoleon felt he was back into that mortal body of an emperor as he gritted through the tears.

"I shall never forgive myself if I let such a beloved person die when I could've saved him." His eyes pierced straight through Jean's. "I'm not any less guilty than those people that put you on that pedestal, Jean. But now that I finally see the real you," Napoleon hesitated.

Jean dreaded the words that were about to come.

"That feeling of wanting to get closer to you hasn't diminished in the slightest. If anything, Jean..."

Napoleon sucked in a deep breath. If he fails, if he fails.

If I fail, he will draw away from me, and I'll lose him forever.

If I succeed, we can emerge together victorious. But even this I cannot guarantee.

As if never tiring, emerald eyes locked once more with Jean's, steadfast. All was quiet, both men awaiting the other with bated breath. Even Napoleon's heart, which just now had been erratically beating, had slowed down in time for this gamble.

It's all up to you now, Jean.

Now or never.

"Jean," Napoleon finally breathed out. "I need you."

A lone dark eye blinked, uncomprehending.

"I need you," Napoleon repeated. "Not as a soldier to another, not as a man to a boy. And not as a demi-vampire to a lesser one. I need you as you are if you'll have me."

Great of an actor as he was in his previous life, Napoleon realized there'd been no greater truth in his words. With Isaac, he acted as a loving brother and a steady bulwark. When he was with Sebastian, he reverted to being a father who treated his one of his men with more affection than a master to his servant. Upon facing Leonardo and Comte, he'd effortlessly slide back into the role of a seasoned man, brilliant and amiable. 

But this man.

This man drew him in as a fellow soldier, then as a young lad whom Napoleon felt he needed to care for, and then to a formidable sparring partner. Yet the more Napoleon tried to uncover his layers of secret, he, inevitably, would have to bear his well-kept emotions as well.

As emperor, he had never felt lonely nor regretful. But as strangers to this era, he saw Jean as another stranded, fellow countryman, despite the irony of waking up on their very soil.

The France they found themselves in wasn't the France they knew, but it had been France nonetheless. Can they somehow seek out and explore this strange, paradoxical landscape together?

I need you, Napoleon's eyes wanted to say, I need you, as much as you need me. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Jean audibly sighed. "You'll regret this, sooner or later," he tried to move. "Let go of me."

Napoleon released his grip, and Jean leaned back to sit on the ground properly. On his usually stoic face was an unguarded expression Napoleon rarely saw.

Resignment. And contentment, if Napoleon were to hope.

"So, what about—"

 "You always go on about being stubborn in whatever you do," Jean cut him off, "I never thought you would be this persistent. I can't see how this would benefit you in the end."

Napoleon crossed his legs and hugged them. "I've always wanted to tell you about the France of my time," he smiled warmly, " I'd be eager to hear about yours."

 Not caring whether Jean was convinced, he carried on.

"For the longest time, I've wanted to tell you about the chaotic Paris of my days. Oh, how things were different compared to the beautiful city we have today. I can tell you about the dunes that covered Egypt, a distant land beyond the sea, and its dunes and magnificent statues of kings from a past civilization. And, oh, how I bested England and their treacherous allies at every turn,"

Napoleon didn't lose sight of the interest that flashed briefly through Jean's face. And maybe, he thought somberly, I'll tell you about that winter in Russia. Or the violets I planted on Elba. 

 Just as Napoleon's thoughts were veering towards a darker path, Jean stood up and patted his pants. He offered his hand.

 "Consider it a deal, then." Jean asserted, "I look forward to listening to your stories."

 Napoleon let himself be hoisted on his feet. Confidently, he clasped one of Jean's shoulders, as he usually did to Isaac and some of his marshals. "Much obliged." He smirked. "We start tomorrow."

 Jean regarded his suggestion with a rigid smile. "Tomorrow." He murmured just as stiffly.

 Convinced, Napoleon let go of Jean's shoulder and watched as the man walked away to the halls. But Napoleon refused to let the man go with one final note of goodbye.

 "The turtle-doves and quails, and bonny partridges," he sang softly. "And my pretty stock-dove. Which sings both night and day."

 Jean stopped in his tracks. "Napoleon, what—" 

 "Which sings for all the lassies," Napoleon ignored him and continued. "Who hasn't got a lad,"

 "It scarcely sings for me now, for I've a handsome lad."

 Jean spun around, the pink turning to red and spreading all over his cheeks. Napoleon's calm voice took on a jovial turn 

 "O, in my father's garden, the lilies are in bloom;" Emerald eyes shone merrily as the ditty came to an end "O, in my father's garden, the lilies are in bloom."

 In front of him, there was Jean, completely, absolutely, flustered. "What were you doing?"

Casually, Napoleon sauntered towards the man and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jean had probably been unaware that Napoleon touched him a little too many today.

 “Oh, just a little song from camp I’m going to teach you." He peered closely into Jean's eye. "And if being called beautiful bothers you, maybe you should pay more attention when they call you handsome. Which you are."

With a flourish of his cape, Napoleon left the confounded man on his own. Indeed, there was much to prepare for the days ahead.

 I hope the weather will be lovely. The former emperor mused. Come to think of it, I've never asked Jean out on a ride before. If I guess correctly, he should be enjoying it.

And the flowers at the meadow are in full bloom this time of the year.

[stevesnailbat]

fear of the (un)known | steve harrington

chapter two : sense of belonging

summary: Grace, or 007 as she had been called, finally escaped Hawkins Lab after seventeen long years. But, freedom is a lot harder than she thought it would be to maintain.

warnings: none really, maybe Steve being a little harsh but not exactly

word count: 1.8K

a/n: gif not mine!! i found it on google :) also sorry if this chapter kinda sucks but i tried okay, it’s a filler chapter honestly

Panic struck Grace when she woke in an unfamiliar bed, taking a moment to realize what had happened the night before. The feeling of fear stayed deep in her gut when she saw that the pillow and blanket that were once on the floor were back on the bed, meaning that Steve wasn’t in the room anymore. She opened the bedroom door to explore the house, hoping that she was just paranoid and that he hadn’t left her in the house alone.

The sound of dishes clattering made her flinch as she reached the kitchen, Steve finally coming into view when she did. He had made pancakes and was putting them onto plates, not hearing her come into the kitchen. When he turned around, his heart nearly stopped when he saw her sitting at the table.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” he sighed, carrying the two plates to the table. “Here’s some food.”

“Not hungry.” she mumbled, shoving the plate towards him as she felt her stomach churning.

Her nerves about seeing whoever was supposed to help had taken over moments before he put the food out in front of her, so her appetite was gone. Steve’s eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he looked up to see the scared expression on her face, but softened when he realized how nervous she was. He stabbed his fork into one of the two pancakes on her plate and put it onto his own, looking back over at the timid girl next to him while shoving the plate to her.

“Eat that one at least, alright? You’re nervous, I know. But you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days, I’m sure. Just eat that one and I’ll be happy.” he said before shoveling a bite of pancake into his own mouth as she cringed at his haste. “I’ll explain where we’re going when we leave.”

She took the plate back and stayed silent as she picked up the fork. Steve meant well, she knew that, but he wasn’t going about it in the best way. It was obvious that he was just as scared as her, he was just a little better at hiding it than her. Neither of them spoke as they finished their food or as they got ready to leave.

Steve looked more stressed than before once they got into the car, trying to bottle up his doubts about her. It was tempting for her to get into his mind, to see what he was thinking. But, she couldn’t do it, she was afraid of how he’d react if he found out.

“We’re going to a cabin a little outside of town to see a friend of mine, the chief of police, Hopper.” he said to her after a relatively quiet first half of the ride, noticing her widened eyes at his last remark. “He’s not gonna turn you in or some shit, if that’s what you’re thinking. He—He has another girl there, she’s like you, she’s from the lab too. I called him earlier and he wants to help.”

“A girl from the lab?” she repeated, watching him nod and hum in response. “011?”

“Do you remember her?” he asked, eyes flickering over to meet hers for a second as she stared at him.

“Yes.” she said softly, shuddering as she thought of being in the lab again.

Steve could tell she had thought about something bad solely by her furrowed brow and flustered expression. He wanted to ask more, but he knew he’d find out sooner or later and that it wasn’t the right time. As he drove, he felt her eyes on him. She was studying his features, looking at the bruises that were littered across his face.

“I got the shit beat out of me, if that’s why you’re staring at me.” he chucked awkwardly, watching her frown from the corner of his vision. “It was a good fight, I was trying to save some little shits from getting hurt. You’ll probably meet them soon if you stay with Hop.”

She recoiled into the passenger seat fully as he spoke about staying with the police chief. A sinking feeling set into her stomach and it hurt like hell. She had only just met Steve, but she thought she had trusted him, until this moment. And honestly? It stung a bit to think that he was really just trying to get rid of her already. The rest of the trip was silent, the sound of the BMW’s engine humming was the only noise filling the air.

To say she was terrified when they pulled up to an old, abandoned-looking cabin in the middle of the woods would be an understatement. Grace felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest at any second. Anyone in the situation would be a little scared, but to her it seemed like he was taking her here to leave her for dead again. The look on his face wasn’t evil or conniving in any way, though. He looked about as perplexed as she did, like he was concerned to see what would happen in there as well.

Steve opening and shutting the driver door to the car was what brought her back down to Earth. She still felt paralyzed with fear, like if she went in there that something could happen to her. He walked to the passenger door and swung it open quickly, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her.

“Are you coming?” he asked in an exasperated, reaching for her hand before watching her shy away from his touch. “I though we were past this already, I’m not going to hurt you! I’m trying to help, Hop will help you.”

Grace let out a small, nervous sigh as she stood from the seat, watching him closely. She didn’t want to annoy him anymore than she already had, because he obviously wanted to get rid of her in one way or another. So, she followed him to the cabin and watched him knock on the door.

The man on the other side of the door was who she presumed to be Hopper, but he seemed to be the only one around. Her heart sunk a bit, the hope of being reunited with 011 slowly fading from her mind. Steve and Hopper talked for a moment at the door, mainly about what had happened last night. After a while, the man looked over to her as he reached his hand out.

“Grace, right?” he asked and she nodded slowly, refusing to shake the hand he was extending to her.

He only huffed at her response, or lack thereof, and motioned for them both to come inside. The cabin was small and very cramped, but she seemed to enjoy it in some odd way. It was much different than Steve’s large house, but a good type of different. She sat down on the couch as they did and stayed a distance from them both. It was hard for her to fight the urge to hear what they were thinking, but she knew it would be wrong.

As they sat down, the floorboards creaked behind the couch. Grace flickered her attention in the direction of the noise, seeing a young girl standing in the doorway of a bedroom. She recognized her almost immediately as 011 and a small, yet broken, smile crossed her face. Grace watched her closely as she walked towards her, a curious look on her face.

The two of them were never together much at the lab, but they remembered each other very well. It was always easy to remember the trauma they both endured, but the good memories they had as kids were almost unforgettable solely because of the lack of interactions with anyone else for the majority of their time there. She looked up at the girl as she peered down at her covered wrist, wanting reassurance that it was really her. Grace slid her sleeve up to reveal the black numbers that mirrored the ones on her wrist and her heart skipped a beat, because she finally found someone who’d understand what she’d gone through.

“El.” the girl said with a small smile, pointing to herself as if to introduce the real her for the first time.

“I’m Grace. Been so—so long.” she choked out while blinking some tears away, thinking about the last time she had seen El more than two years before.

“You got out of there just in time, it seems like. That hellhole is closed down now.” Hopper remarked, interrupting the moment between the girls.

“Good.” she replied, looking over at El with a hopeful smile on her face.

“How—How did you even get out of there, anyways? I guess I never asked.” Steve asked, sounding hesitant with his questioning.

“I just left, one of the guards really liked me.” she replied sharply with a shrug as El giggled to herself, knowing that she used her powers to get out.

“You can’t just leave Hawkins Lab like that, especially as an experiment.” Hopper added, raising a challenging eyebrow at her as she flinched at his words. “What’re your powers, kid?”

“Mind control.” she nearly sneered, almost appalled by her own abilities. “Telepathy.”

“Holy shit.” Steve said under his breath, staring at her with wide eyes.

“I made a guard think that I was allowed to leave, and he led me to the door.” she stated, stopping herself from rolling her eyes at Steve’s surprised expression. “I knew it was dangerous, but I had to do it."

“Safe now.” El said reassuringly to her, making her smile once more.

“I can stay here with you guys, right?” she asked hopefully, making El’s eyes light up with excitement.

Hopper nodded, making the two girls sigh in relief and happiness. Grace’s gaze flickered to Steve for a moment to see a halfway disappointed look cross his face. She was tempted to see what was on his mind, but he seemed put off by her powers, and her in general, already.

Steve had somewhat wished that they didn’t have room for her for the night and that he’d have to keep her with him for another day. He was intrigued by her, but could tell that she was intimidated by him because of the way he’d acted towards her thus far. He hadn’t meant to be harsh with her, it had just happened with the stress of the moment. She wouldn’t let him come into trust so easily, he knew he’d have to earn it gracefully, one step at a time. He wouldn’t put up a fight about her wanting to stay, especially after seeing her face light up when seeing El for the first time. She belonged with them for the time being, and he knew it.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @hystericalmedicine @charmed-asylum @queenofthehairharrington @a-magey @lemonypink @daddystevee @karasong @heart-eye-harrington @batbatsupermanme @used-avocado

[crystalessenceswrites]

You’re Enchanting--Chapter Three

Summary:  Delphine always told Elazar she would do anything to help him if he was ever in trouble, even knowing his knack for finding it. She didn’t expect to be helping him save the world after someone blows up the Conclave and tears a hole in the sky. Nor did Delphine expect to be falling for anyone, let alone a troubled, former templar, while she’s watching her best friend shape the future of their world with a green glowing hand.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: Does Lord Seeker Lucius require a warning, because I feel like he does

Can also be found on AO3

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four]

Chapter Three- Chaos

“You don’t use a staff blade.”

Delphine stuttered a bit into her waterskin at the sudden comment, or was it a question, from Cullen. “No, I do not.” Wiping her drink off her face, she tried to hide the grimace that rose on her lips. Maker, how unsightly that was, she can’t even drink properly.

“Why not?”

It must have been common for mages to equip their staffs with them in Kirkwall then. Delphine was more curious as to why that was then why she didn’t use one.

“I have never had a need for one.” There was always someone in arms reach of her that was armed with a rather large sword.

“I see…” Cullen trailed off as he took a long drink from his own waterskin.

They had been working with the recruits for the better part of the day now, stopping to rest only before the newest recruits looked ready to drop from exhaustion. Delphine would not admit it to anyone, especially the former templar, but she found herself nearing that point too. Outside of training recruits for the last three days with Cullen, she had been practicing primal magic on her own, trying to build her own confidence in the casting before she ventured out with Elazar. She had not pushed her mana reserves to such lengths since she an apprentice preparing for her Harrowing. It was draining. Delphine did her best to focus on that feeling instead of how Cullen’s hair seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun.

“Have you thought about one? It may prove useful as you continue to master your magic.”

Delphine tried to ignore the, hopefully, unintended insinuation that she did not have full understanding of her abilities. She was an Enchanter from a well-regarded Circle of Magi, she had mastered her magic. Battle magic simply was not a school she had use for in the past, like a staff blade. It was a new tool she simply had to familiarize herself with in order to use it to its full potential.

“Possibly… after our trip to Val Royeaux I might speak with Harritt about it.”

Cullen nods, apparently satisfied. She wondered why he cared to begin with?

“May I ask you a question, Cullen?”

He quirked an eyebrow but made no move to stop her.

“Why did you join the Inquisition?” There were many things about the ex-templar that garnered her curiosity but this one seemed to nag at her the most, well maybe second to how he got the lip scar. She also wasn’t ready to return to training just yet.

Delphine wondered what he had thought she was going to ask about when he let out a sigh of relief. “I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall. I was there during the mage uprising- I saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.”

So, fate put him in charge of a much bigger mess than he had originally expected. Interesting.

“The Divine dead… a giant hole in the sky. I would say we’re a bit worse off than before.”

“Which is why we’re needed. The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot, our followers would be a part of that. There’s so much more we can- Forgive me. I doubt you were asking for a lecture…”

The man was passionate about helping, making a difference in a time of turmoil and crisis. It was reassuring to see people like him still exist after all the world had seen in recent years. Maybe that was why Elazar had become so friendly with him so quickly. He always was a good judge of character.

“Not quite, but if you have one prepared I wouldn’t mind.”

Delphine couldn’t help herself from letting out a little laugh with him. “Another time perhaps.”

This time she was sure he was smiling, the way his scar quirked up and his eyes gleamed reassured her there was still some mirth left in the soldier.

“I, ah…” and suddenly it had disappeared again. “There’s still a lot of work ahead. Should we return to the recruits?”

Delphine suppressed her groan as Cullen stood, her distraction had not worked quite well enough. “Of course.”

“Del!”

Both their heads shot towards the makeshift stables where Elazar stood, waving his arms frantically. He looked like an overly excited child to the point Delphine wanted to scold him. Varric stood next to the rambunctious elf, looking rather amused.

This time Delphine didn’t suppress her groan. “It would appear the Herald requires your assistance.”

“He could have come over and asked for me like an adult,” she huffed.

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. Well, at least someone could draw amusement from her friend’s antics.

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Delphine.” Cullen bowed slightly at the waist, much more formal than he usually was with her. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Well that was odd.

Gathering up her skirt, Delphine jogged across the training yard to greet El and Varric. She still could not tell what the dwarf looked so smug about but at least Elazar had stopped his shouting.

“Must you always cause a scene?”

“Of course,” he smirked, “for I must always be the center of attention.”

Del rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. Elazar was not fond of the spotlight in all truth, but he was doing his best to embrace the attention his new title was earning him.

“So, how’s Curly doing?”

Delphine did not like the dwarf’s insulation with that tone. Varric liked to see tension and pining in relationships where none existed, as if they were living in a novel. Del was content seeing him do this with other Inquisition members but did not want the author snooping around her. It was bad enough he thought she and Elazar were together when she had first arrived.

“A one-track mind, as usual.”

Varric chuckled, “he has not changed one bit. First the templars, now the Inquisition.”

“How long have you two known each other exactly?” Cullen had never spoken to her about Varric. Granted, Cullen did not go out of his way to strike up conversations with her, yet Varric loved to harp on the Commander.

“Oh Curly and I go way back,” Varric grinned as if he and the ex-templar were simply old pals.

“Sure…” How was it that the Inquisition had already collected such a gaggle of personalities? Or should she say how was it that Cassandra has collected such a group?

Delphine continued to ponder the subject as their party traveled to Val Royeaux the following day. Cassandra herself was easy enough to get along with. Her personality was gruff, sure, but she was rather understanding. At least for Delphine. Cassandra had little patience for Varric. Varric was well aware of that fact and it led to plenty of interesting conversations to pass the time. Solas would chime in from time to time, though mostly to disagree with the “child of the stone” or Elazar.

Elazar always took the jabs from the elven apostate in good faith, it wasn’t like Elazar had any ego to bruise. He had always been determined to befriend all he could, it was in his nature. He was persistent too. If Elazar was the type to flee at a few harsh words, he would have never befriended her to begin with. So, Elazar did his best to accommodate Solas’s remarks, no matter how snobby they became-which Delphine found a strange trait for an apostate but she was not about to mention that in current company- but even Elazar had a breaking point. As their travels continued Del could almost see the high-brow attitude begin to grate on Elazar, especially when Solas threw out a few scathing remarks about the Dalish. She did her best to get between the two, talking El through what information Leliana had gathered on the Chantry Mothers and etiquette for when they finally arrived. Not that any of the talk seemed to calm Elazar down, he never cared for authority, but at least he wouldn’t snap at her.

Varric, always reading between the lines began to pick up on the tension as well. Suddenly the dwarf avoided the topics of magic and elves completely, and with a rather wide berth. Del would have to thank him once they returned to Haven and the apostate was out of earshot.

She did breathe a strong sigh of relief when the city came into view on the horizon, which was rather ironic considering neither she nor El cared much for the idea of meeting with the Mothers. Cassandra was optimistic though, so Del did her best to match the Seeker’s energy as they arrived at the bridge leading up to Orlais’ crown jewel.

The last time Delphine had been to Val Royeaux life had been looking up for her, for her family. The whole family had made the trip across the Waking Sea in order to introduce Oweyn to the woman who would later become his wife. Del had been excited to meet her possible future sister-in-law, but more excited to see the gilded city all her tutors talked about. She’d been glued to the carriage window nearly the entire trip, vibrating with excitement in the way only a six-year-old can. Her mother had been scolding her for her behavior the entire time, attempting to get young Delphine to sit properly on the uncomfortable bench and stop creasing her pretty new dress.

Oh how her mother would scold her if she could see her now.

Walking into Val Royeaux in full enchanter armor, hood pulled low over her brow, her staff on full display over her shoulder, went against everything she had been told her life would be like. Delphine had never come back to Orlais to take part in society as she came of age as her mother had planned. Instead, she was standing side by side with a group of what could be considered political dissidents. The Maker works in mysterious ways.

“The city still mourns,” Cassandra observed. It did seem bleak, as if the dark skies reflected the mood of the people.

The mood of the people also seemed terrified. One Orlesian woman on the bridge screamed at the sight of them approaching.

“Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.”

“Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric.”

Elazar snickered at Del’s side; she was tempted to elbow him like she used to when they were sitting together during lessons. The Inquisition agent approaching was the only thing making her think otherwise.

“My Lord Herald.” The agent kneeled in front of Cassandra and Elazar. He tensed but El didn’t voice his discomfort.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?”

“The Chantry Mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars.”

Ice washed over her. They were walking straight into the arms of an order that would gladly kill them both for being “rebels.”

“There are templars here?” Cassandra sounded surprised but not nearly as concerned as Delphine thought she should be. She was a seeker after all, wasn’t she aware of what those men were capable of?

“People seem to think the templars will protect them from- from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you,” the agent explained.

“They wish to protect the people? From us?”

Delphine understood that Cassandra strongly believed in what she was doing, that this all was sanctioned by the Divine, but could she not comprehend that others might be less trusting? After a blight, a civil war and the death of the Divine, people were worried. Delphine was worried.

Elazar sounded rather unperturbed, “we knew there would be some kind of reaction.”

“But I didn’t expect the templars to make an appearance.” Delphine agreed with the Seeker.

“The people may just be assuming what the templars will do. I’ve heard no concrete plans.”

“You think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe?” Varric pondered, “to deal with us upstarts?”

Despite her unease Del couldn’t help but chuckle, “is that all we are? A band of upstarts the templars find annoying?”

Cassandra shook her head, “I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense. Not after all that’s occurred… Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed.”

That was a rather kind way of putting it.

“As you say, my Lady.”

Leliana’s agent watched as their group proceeded into the market, but with the news they’d received Delphine couldn’t find it in herself to admire the grandeur of the capital. As the agent had said, a crowd awaited them on the far end of the market. The Mothers had set up a platform from which to decry the Inquisition from. Del kept herself as close to Elazar’s back as she could as they navigated their way to the platform.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well wonder no more!”

Delphine had been regretting this since the agent had spoken the word templar, now she was sure they shouldn’t have come. Cullen had been right.

“Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!”

“Shemlen.” Elazar cursed under his breath, fists clenching at nothing. Delphine slipped her hands around his, hoping to ease some of his sudden temper. It appeared to help some, his gripped loosened enough for her to intertwine her hand with his. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he looked up to the mother. “You say I am the enemy. The Breach in the sky is our true enemy. We must unite to stop it.”

“It’s true!” Cassandra’s voice rang out over the crowd, “the Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late!”

“It is already too late!” The woman pointed to an amor clad group approaching. Delphine’s grip on Elazar tightened. She would not let them take him. “The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this “Inquisition” and the people will be safe once more!”

The group mounted the platform, stone-faced. They didn’t appear to be all that thrilled with the Mother’s declaration. Delphine’s jaw dropped as one walked up and sucker-punched the older woman. A startled hush fell over the crowd as a man in seeker armor clapped a templar on the shoulder.

“Still yourself. She is beneath us.”

This was not the templar order Delphine remembered.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Delphine cursed Elazar for drawing attention back onto them.

“Her claim to “authority” is an insult. Much like your own.” The Seeker shot back as he descended the platform, his armored companions following.

Cassandra started to give chase, “Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with-”

“You will not address me.”

This was the Lord Seeker?!

“Lord Seeker?”

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed! You who’d leash out righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

This was the man who had led the templars away from their duties? This man had convinced them it was better to purge the remaining mages than to protect them? How in the world had this happened? What were the templars thinking?

“What we truly need is an alliance that will seal the Breach.” Elazar countered, his voice remaining level despite the way he held Delphine’s hand in a death grip behind his back.

“On, the Breach is indeed a threat. But you certainly have no power to do anything about it,” the Lord Seeker sneered.

One of the templars stepped forward, brow tight knit, “but Lord Seeker… what if he really was sent by the Maker? What if-?”

“You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!” Another templar shouted back.

Delphine had to let go of Elazar’s hand before she cut off his circulation.

“I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing. Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

In that moment, Delphine had never wanted a staff blade more. That man would destroy the Order and would kill as many mages as he could in the process.

Cassandra looked crestfallen but did not attempt to stop them from leaving again. There was obviously nothing she could say to the Lord Seeker to change his mind.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric chimed in, unnervingly not all that disturbed by the Lord Seeker’s intentions.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?”

Elazar looked to Cassandra, concern etched into his features, “do you know him very well?”

“He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is very bizarre.”

“Do you think he can be reasoned with?” Elazar continued to press but Delphine had little hope after that exchange.

“I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the order who don’t feel as he does.”

“I hope so.” Delphine hated to see them fall to such a man.

“Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others.”

.

They didn’t return to Haven.

At least not until they had run around Val Royeaux in search of clues detailed in a mysterious arrow that had been shot in their general direction and received an invitation to a party being thrown by the Madame De Fer.

“So, the clues point to this estate here, just outside the city.” Varric and Elazar had huddled over a map in one of the cafes, both drawn into the mystery of it all. “So long as it’s not a trap it should allow us ample time to still make it to the party Del is so insistent on attending.”

Delphine threw her hands up and her friends’ insinuation, “I am trying to help you and the Inquisition, El. If attending this party gives us the chance to meet with Madame De Fer then we need to be there.”

They both knew full well the Madame De Fer was the Enchanter to the Imperial Court and was in a place far beyond the reach of any other mage. If they could gain her help it would be invaluable. Yet Delphine knew El was hung up over the idea of approaching a “loyal” Circle mage, his rebellious tendencies getting the better of him.

“Then we should best prepare for whatever it is we will be facing tonight.” Elazar declared, a wide grin gracing his features. He always did love a good mystery.

Cassandra and Solas nod in agreement, everyone gathering their things as the citizens of Val Royeaux look on in curiosity, just as they had been doing all afternoon. As they neared the stables to collect their mounts, Solas and Varric spun around to the sound of approaching footsteps.

“If I might have a moment of your time?”

Delphine recognized the elven woman approaching them immediately. Her blood began to boil all over again.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

First the Lord Seeker and now the Grand Enchanter? How had Val Royeaux not imploded after having them in the same place at the same time?

“Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” Solas had a valid point.

“I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. If its help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.”

That’s the angle she was using then. Delphine frowned at the older woman, “I’m surprised the leader of the mages wasn’t at the Conclave.”

Cassandra also seemed rather suspicious of the development. “Yes. You were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death.”

“As did the Lord Seeker, you’ll note. Both of us sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap. I won’t pretend I’m not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day. It disgusts me to think the templars will get away with it. I’m hoping you won’t let them.”

“So you think the templars are responsible?” Elazar asked.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Cassandra countered.

“Lucius hardly seems broken up over his loses, if he’s concerned about them at all.” Delphine did have to admit, the Grand Enchanter has a point. “You heard him. You think he wouldn’t happily kill the Divine to turn people against us? So, yes, I think did it. More than I think you did it, at any rate.”

“The mages weren’t willing to talk to the Inquisition before. Why now?” This had bothered Elazar since they had discussed it in the war room. He had been in the rebel camp; he knew how their peers wanted change yet there was no move from the rebels to help seal the Breach. If the mages wanted respect then wasn’t this the perfect opportunity for them? El had voiced his frustration on the subject many of the nights they sat together and discussed their situations.

“Because now I’ve seen what you are. And I’ve seen the Chantry for what it is. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir my Lord Herald.”

As quickly as she had appeared, Fiona disappeared back into Val Royeaux.

[Masterlist]

[save-the-spiral]

Fingerprint of Midas, Trace My Reflection

Dialogue of parent’s crystal and Gortez’ monologue are direct from Pirate101. I based the end fight off of my own experiences solo-ing this dungeon. Warnings for graphic depictions of violence and blood.

(read it on Ao3!)

Darling Alexander Dove was a young captain of just seventeen when he earned what little was left of the legendary Captain Gunn’s treasure. The meager pile atop a volcano was followed by a very contrite Ratbeard. As first adventures go, it was pretty damn good, especially with the freedom he now had to explore the Skull Island Skyways.

Avery gave him another task as a reward- to present a treaty to the Monquistan governor of Puerto Mico, an almost adorably small city of white limestone, full of stuck up little idiots. Alexander was only held back from punting them off their little dollhouse town by Bonnie Anne, his right hand, and a pretty good straight man for his ideas, considering she was a lesbian.

Now, leaving the ancient ruins, and entering the ex-monquistan governor Gortez’ realm, Alexander was excited yet again. His crew followed him as he walked across the village of wild monquistans and rebellious water moles. The thrill of battle was humming in his veins, ready to be set loose, perfect plans coming together and adapting. The exciting conclusion for another adventure.

How would this end? An exciting chase for treasure, for the golden monkey? More volcano battles, more crew mates gained, even if it is to the chagrin of the ever serious and practical Sarah Steele, his fellow Swashbuckler?

Alexander was challenged to fight the greatest warrior of the Valley by the wild monquistan leader, one on one. His crew looked at him funny. Lucky Jack Russel, a friend of his parents’, even offered to take his place, as if he stood a better chance just by raw muscle.

While many other captains would be insulted, Alexander knew what he presented himself as. He was young, barely growing a beard, and rather childish at times. He liked having fun, he liked sparkly, pretty clothes, especially in pink and black, his flag’s colors. He liked to drink his fair share of yum, liked to do daring things, and anyone who looked at him easily assumed he was a vain, vapid idiot. And, to be fair, they weren’t completely wrong. 

But Alexander was a swashbuckler, learning from the best of Skull Island. He was the favorite of Avery, and had some of the finest up and coming pirates in his crew. He had a silver tongue, according to Bonnie Anne, even if he always preferred gold aesthetically.

Ordaz was large, sure. The huge warrior held intimidation in spades, throwing around barrels of dynamite as soon as Alexander hid himself from sight. The blinding squeeze of feathers and scales for one moment, and then even in broad daylight no one could spot him. It was easy to wait, watching as Ordaz worked himself up into an exhausting rage.

Then came Alexander's first and final strike, blades held aloft as he kicked off of a barrier of sandbags, knocking the large man down, and keeping him there. The gleaming black void of the warriors eyes, and the pulse he could feel rioting against his blades, reverberating up into his fingers, was invigorating. When the wild monquistan stared at him, startled at the sight of the first human to pass the trial, Alexander just smirked, twirling his shorter blade of the pair, and shrugged.

“Big guy must’ve been tired, it is quite hot out, y’know.” Alexander drawled in his Skull Island accent, plain in comparison to the soft musical rolls of the Monquistans’ speech.

His crew stayed in the small town as he went and got spider eggs, trying to prove himself a provider akin to Gortez in order to please the small taskmaster. This, too, was simple. After all, his cloaking abilities were not limited to battle, and the spiders crawling the area were not exactly attentative to their broods.

He returned easily, nose scrunched as he complained about the spider webs on his boots and stuck in his hair, causing Bonnie Anne to scoff and roll her eyes. He tossed a few extra eggs to Fan Flanders, who grinned a cute froggy smile in thanks for the snack, and gave the rest to the monquistan, eyebrows raised as the little ex-conquistador tried not to act flustered.

“Go into the Cave of Many Voices, and touch the glowing stones. Return to me when you have heard the spirit voices.” He ordered as a final task before finally meeting Gortez.

“Does it matter if my crew joins me this time?” Alexander was getting bored of being alone. 

“It shouldn’t” The monkey frowned.

With another cavalier shrug, Alexander led his crew up to a cave entrance. Bonnie Anne and Sarah Steele flanked him, Ratbeard and Subodai behind them, Jack Russel and Fan Flanders trailing. Old Scratch was left on the ship, keeping The Bronze Hunter from being ransacked by cowards who would rather steal than fight for their prize.

The cave was far more spacious than Alexander would have guessed. Smooth, well trodden stone was under their feet, large glowing magenta crystals jutting out of every wall, down from the ceiling as well. A large bouquet of crystals stood out in the middle of the chamber, small offerings of feathers and bananas at the crystals’ base. 

“Not exactly my color, but I’ll take it.” Alexander muttered, causing Bonnie Anne to huff and roll her eyes, Sarah and Fan snickering. “Stay back y’all, some amazing spirit listenin’ is about to go on, don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire.”

Bonnie Anne snorted this time. “Yes Captain.” She said, nudging him with an elbow before stepping back, nodding at the rest of the crew to do the same.

Alexander walked up close to the largest crystal, wider than him, scraping the stone ceiling. He saw his own reflection, a slightly stubbly young man, obvious Mooshu features, pierced ears, long black hair. The golden buttons on his coat and boots shone in the light emanating from the crystals, the blades at his hips sending small beams of purple light onto the walls.

He casually took off his gloves, stuffing them on the inside of his jacket pocket. He examined his nails, painted black and slightly chipped, for a moment, before continuing on.

Alexander placed his palms flat against the large crystal, head bowed, and was startled to hear an echoing, familiar voice.

“Son… hear me!” Rang out in the small cavern, feminine, with a hint of a rural Mooshu accent.

When Alexander looked back up, his reflection showed a strange, flickering vision of his mother. Her soft, round cheeks, the crows feet around her eyes, the intricate braid cluttered with small charms from her husband, her crimson tricorne with a deep black feather, all the same as the day she left, seven years ago.

A masculine voice, thick with emotion and a strong Grizzleheim trader’s accent, joined the first voice.

“Find us! Find our grave! We are waiting for you!” 

The reflections showed a different person, taller, closer to Alexander’s height, with his nose, and long braided blonde hair, bright, mischievous eyes, now full of sorrow, tears streaking into the bushy beard that Alexander would complain about because of how it itches during hugs. Alexander leaned closer to the crystal, stunned.

“I’d know those voices anywhere.” Jack Russel mutters, not helping at all, just wanting to say something, anything.

“Shining city…” The voices of his parents warbled, echoing strangely again, “El Dorado! The Key to El Dorado! Find us! We are waiting… Go to the-”

The crystals dimmed, the reflections leaving without Alexander noticing- as if they hadn’t been there in the first place- and his hands fell to his sides, cold as ice. His soft features turned harsh, his usually smirking mouth twisting into a sneer, the tan skin of his face wrinkling in the same flash of a moment where his left hand moved, punching at the flat crystalline face of the gem.

“CAPTAIN!” Bonnie Anne dragged him back, her taller frame taking advantage as she yanked him off his now kicking feet, heavy heels digging into her stocking covered shins, before Jack Russel darted in front of Alexander, hands on the young captain’s shoulders. 

“Captain. Captain- we have a job to do. You can’t let this stop you, you can’t-”

Alexander continued swearing and snarling, hands curling into fists.

Bonnie Anne stepped back, leaving room as she dropped him on his ass.

“Now is not the time to act like a fucking child, Dove. Don’t start acting like those stupid monquistans and go rogue on us.” Bonnie Anne’s accent sunk into her tirade, and though Alexander had years of experience understanding Bonnie Anne, he really knew he was in deep shit when she called him Dove. 

Not Captain, not Alexander, but Dove, the little boy she met on the streets, the brat who couldn’t even hold a knife right.

Alexander stopped, hands scraped and bruised now, his knuckles purple with potential breaks. He carded his right hand through his hair, letting the tie come loose so he could fix it into some semblance of order as he calmed himself.

“Sorry Annie.” Alexander’s voice was hoarse now.

Bonnie Anne motioned the rest of the crew out of the cave, kneeling down and leaning on the sturdy Scaramanga musket Alexander fetched for her months ago, the black walnut, dark steel, and gold bands all gleaming with her meticulous weapon maintenance. Her pointed face of russet and white fur faced him, dark and clever eyes piercing him to the bone as always.

“It’s been years since you’ve lost it like that, Alexander.” Bonnie’s matter-of-fact tone cut him down even more.

“It’s also been years since I’ve heard my parents’ voices, Bonnie Anne.” 

“I know better than anyone else, but Alexander, you can’t just break down like that. Not while we’re in the middle of a mission, especially not if lives are on the line. Imagine if that happened mid-battle, if you couldn’t direct us? The thing that separates us from every other amateur crew is direction is you, and your brilliant mind.” She poked his temple, careful of her short claws, and then held his hands. “You lead us, Alexander. You aren’t just an orphan street rat, not anymore, and I'm not either. We will find your parents. We’ll figure out this whole El Dorado thing, but not today. Today we bring Gortez to Puerto Mico, whether he wants to go or not.”

Alexander nodded, and roughly dragged on his pink gloves. 

“There’s my captain.” Bonnie Anne grinned, small, sharp teeth on display, and Alexander hyped himself up internally, until he could smirk just like always.

“Onward, Right Hand Bonnie Anne.” He finally said, his Rs rough, enunciated like a proper pirate.

“Aye aye, Captain Alexander.” She stood, offering a hand, which he grabbed, letting her pull him back onto his feet. 

They shared a nod, a resolve, and continued on. No one else in the crew spoke as they walked back to the monquistan giving the trials. The pair of Monquistans at the gate simply looked at Alexander and opened the gate, not even having to speak a word. The gate, a simple construction of reeds and long grass, whistled faintly as it opened, an ominous, low tone. 

Fan, Jack Russel, and Subodai rested at the foot of the stairs, following Alexander’s earlier laid plans. A four person battle, just Alexander, Sarah, Bonnie Anne, and Ratbeard.

The gold of the temple’s head shone in the sunlight, clean and resplendent against dirtied, carved stone. Vines played at being tripwires, cracked steps and damp moss added to the hazards as they climbed ever upwards, stopping only once they reached the top, staring deep into the shadowed entrance, shielded now from the hot jungle sun. 

It was no wonder this island drove these men mad, Alexander thought.

The jungle breathed humidity into your lungs as if you had just been saved from drowning. The bugs chittered and watched for weakness like vultures. The flowers were sickly sweet with death, be it a poison of touch, fragrance, or taste. The indigenous to this land were rightfully angry, knowing the island better than any conquistador. The Isle of Doom was a frightful place, it stared at you from every shadow and when it struck it was with an inhuman intelligence.

Alexander led the way into Gortez’ home, hands at his hips, fingers twitching with the urge to clutch his blades like a child would a teddy bear.

The dim lighting was annoying, and made it harder to get a proper layout of the large chamber. Alexander squinted and adjusted his tricorne hat, his gaze caught by the large figure in the room. The Gorilla was draped in pieces of Monquistan finery and armor, as well as painted with abstract yellow lines in his dark fur.

“Gortez, I take it?” Alexander called out, only to be ignored. That sent a sharp blade of anger through his mind, but he still smiled. After all, those who ignored Darling Alexander Dove one day learn to regret it.

“You’re here. Are you an assassin? No. I’ll tell you what you are. You’re an organ grinder, sent by circus clowns, to make me do a dance. I refuse.” Gortez’ deep timbre rumbled around the spacious room, from his roost atop a pedestal, lounging on a pile of treasure. The gorilla shifted, before speaking again.

“Those simpering fools at home, those tamed lapdogs- they’ve no right to judge me. They have no idea what I’ve found here. They’d refuse to see it. Look around you. The creatures that built these temples shattered mountains to raise their perfect pyramids. They drew gold down from the stars. They lived like Titans, and now they’re gone. But the trees remain. The jungle beat them- it will destroy us all, unless we become one with it.”

Gortez leaned forward, as if he were a mere inch away and not meters of distance, as well as a throne. His golden attire gleamed in the light, his form basking in the sun from the skylight above him. Already Alexander’s mind whirled with possibilities as Gortez continued his dramatics.

“The trees spoke to me and showed me the way. When I saw this place, shining gold burning like fire, I knew who I was. I found the Gold Monkey.” Gortez smiled now, tusklike teeth spreading his face unnaturally wide, unsettling, by how Bonnie Anne and Sarah both grumbled behind Alexander. 

“The fools in Puerto Mico think the Gold Monkey is another priceless toy for them to steal. They are wrong- the Gold Monkey is me!” The wild man began to work himself up into a fervor, eyes shining with a feral intelligence, his smile ever widening. “They want to stop me- but they are too good to make the trip themselves. Cowards! I will send them an answer- your broken bones! Children!”

At his last, sharp bark of words, more small Monquistans came to attention, prepared for battle. 

Alexander led his small crew to the front left corner as he moved away from the entrance, mind racing as the battle began a. He used a skill his trainer taught him, crossing his blades, readying himself to take a shot if it was intended for his allies. Sarah, as he always planned, cloaked herself in the shadows. Ratbeard moved forward, putting himself between the small group of Monquistans and the crew. Bonnie Anne loaded a round into her musket, growling faintly.

As Gortez watched on, like an Aquilan emperor of old at a gladiator game, Ratbeard yelled, swarmed by Gortez’ ‘children’.

“You bleedin’ coward! Gonna stay up on your throne?!” His gruff voice echoed, as well as a grunt of pain as he took another shot from the small crossbow carrying monkeys.

“The mechanisms-” Bonnie Anne started.

“-Like the troggie temple.” Alexander nodded, then cloaked himself in shadows, directing Sarah to the back left mechanism, Ratbeard to the one right of the door, and Bonnie Anne to the one in their starting corner, as he cloaked himself to sneak around the tall pedestal, to take the farthest carved totem.

Bonnie Anne backed up from the fray, taking a potshot at one of the small spearmen before using the butt of her Scaramanga to jolt the mechanism, making it spin and clunk. 

Sarah Steele raced under the cover of her shadows, hugging the wall, and when she reached the mechanism she sheathed her swords for a moment, turning her back and pushing with her shoulder until she too heard a satisfying clunk.

Alexander took longer getting to his place, constantly turning to look at the others, to ensure their safety. However, he too got to his mechanism, and he kicked it viciously, only to turn around at yet another cry of pain from Ratbeard.

Ratbeard pushed through the small crowd of Monquistans, kicking and cursing them and slashing with his large sword, pulling no punches for the annoying buggers. His rough slash sent his own mechanism clunking into place, but as he turned to fight again, the gang of monkeys began to overwhelm him.

Alexander gestured Ratbeard towards him, frantically preparing a small healing spell, from his privateer-made amulet, stolen from the Maria Celestia, a ghost infested ship, months ago. 

The mechanisms finally clicked and aligned, all of them revealing carved statues carrying reflective plates. The reflection sent beams of harsh sunlight towards Gortez, burning him with the intensity, causing him to finally move with the pain of it all.

Gortez himself jumped from his mighty throne, down to fight alongside his children. His large one-handed battleaxe sliced deadly arcs through the air, with all the grace of a prima ballerina. He was still trained from childhood to become a conqueror and murderer, and will never forget those lessons, paid in blood thousandfold. His massive, muscled body rippled with his rage as he pounded his chest, directing his rage towards those closest to him, the now gathered Sarah Steele and Bonnie Anne standing strong next to each other.

“I trained my warriors to set villages on fire, but the Bishops won’t let them throw bananas because it is unseemly!” Gortez roared, living to his reputation of a warrior poet once again.

As Gortez made yet another journey where the path would only be eased with the viscera of his enemies, Alexander tried to get within range of Ratbeard, to heal him. But he was far too late, and Ratbeard passed out at his feet, unconscious from multiple wounds, which turned the remaining children of Gortez’ anger to Alexander.

With a helpless shrug, Alexander hopped over a majority of the Monquistans, to their impotent rage. As he neared Gortez and his remaining crew members, he watched the gorilla fight back, and was astounded.

Gortez was a large man, but moved easily, slamming the flat side of his axe into Bonnie Anne’s chest, pushing her back, before turning to Sarah Steele, and slashing at her until she fell down, unconscious.</p>

<p>With a growl, Bonnie Anne shot Gortez point blank, the sparks of her musket blinding him, allowing Alexander to sneak behind him. As Gortez turned towards the new sound he swung, hitting Alexander and causing many of his golden buttons to go flying to the stone floor as the axe cleaved from side to side. In return, Alexander stabbed him in the belly, flipping off of the mountain of a man before stabbing him with both blades yet again, blood flying and painting his pink coat red as he raked downwards, fur and skin flying until he hit the floor again, and kicked off of the gorilla, leaving his monkey children to tend to him now that the battle was decidedly won.

Bonnie Anne supported Ratbeard on her shoulder, and Alexander helped Sarah Steele, with her much more lithe and lighter body. A musketeer used to carrying a mini cannon is much better suited to carrying Ratbeard, rather than Alexander’s much more acrobatic trained muscles.

Gortez stood near the entrance, woozy and leaning against it. “Do not take my children- just me. You only wish to bring me to justice, right?” 

Alexander nodded, still scowling.

One of the feather adorned Monquistans approached him, his crossbow unstrung and on his back now. 

“Let me join your crew, captain. I will prove helpful, and my loyalty is undying.”

“Let’s not hope so, we do have a witchdoctor in our numbers.” Bonnie Anne’s snout wrinkled with the thought of an undead monkey, and the smell accompanying that.

“You’re on the crew.” Alexander said curtly, Sarah Steele coming to, and slowly standing on her own at his side. “But, little man, if you ever betray my crew, I will make this jungle seem like a haven of mercy.”

The crazed Monquistan nodded, eyes reverent, still glazed with something, either a true malady of the mind, or a hallucinogenic substance, like Alexander privately hypothesized, to Bonnie Anne's never ending amusement.

“Welcome to the crew of the Darling Captain Alexander Dove, Monquistan.” Bonnie Anne said, smiling now. “You’re in for a wild ride.”

[mrsrhys23]

Be alright (chapter five)

Paring: Colt x MC

A/N: All characters belong to Pixelberry. Thank you so much @desireepow-1986 for Helping me!

“So that’s it?” You’re really doing this?”

“That’s it,” she shrugged. “We’re over.”

The pair of them stood in shocked silence. Ellie could hear her heart thudding in her rib cage, like it was going to burst right out of it. Colt prayed that he’d just misheard her. Yes, he was a prick, he’d made an unbelievable amount of dick moves but...he loved her. More than he’d ever loved anyone.

Colt looked up from the floor to her. “You’re really doing this then?” He asked, tears glistening in his eyes. Colt rarely cried over anything, that was just his hard, bad boy facade.

For a long sickening moment she thought that she was making a mistake but...it was the right thing to do. Deep down she knew that. Ellie shook her head, banishing the thought as she gathered enough strength, enough resolve to lock eyes with him. “That’s it,” her voice was quiet, maybe a little defeated as she spoke. “Now get out.”

Colt stayed fixed in place. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it and shut it again. Ellie looked back up from the floor seeing he’d made no attempt to move whatsoever.

“GET OUT!” She screamed at him, any sense of vulnerability that was laced there when she had just spoken was gone, not a trace left. He- they had both royally fucked up and any hope of recovering from this was gone. “Just get out,” she said, quietly this time but still loud enough for Colt to still be able to hear.

Colt unexpectedly decided not to fight back Ellie's decision and left without another word.

********

It had been three weeks, three agonisingly long weeks without each other. It was funny now Ellie thought about it, they hadn't spent a day without each other for a year. He was just always there, someone she could rely on, someone to lean on when things got hard...he was her crutch when her world felt like it was crumbling, but now he wasn’t there anymore.

It was almost like a piece of her was missing, like a chasm in her chest that she knew only he could seemingly fill.

“Get up!” Riya ordered, pushing into Ellie’s room, avoiding the clothes, used plates and other random items that lay scattered across her bedroom floor. Riya opened the curtains with a flourish letting that harsh light pour in, temporarily blinding her and just earning a lazy groan from Ellie as she retreated further under her blankets, shielding the light completely.

“Ellie,” Riya said, Ellie not missing the frustration laced in her voice as her covers was yanked off of her. Ellie let out an aggravated groan as she curled herself into a ball, putting her hands over her closed eyes to further shield them from the blinding sunlight.

She felt the bed dip as Riya took a seat beside her, leaning against the headboard. “You can’t hide from the world forever.”

“I can and I will,” she insisted.

“Ellie....He’s one boy in a whole world of others. There’s other fish in the sea as they say. Maybe you should get yourself back out there?” Ellie sat up slightly, leaning on her elbows to give her best friend a death glare. “...Maybe not then. You can’t just stay cooped up in here all day, you look awful-”

“Thanks,” Ellie mumbled.

“Seriously when was the last time you showered?” Riya continued.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?” Ellie snapped.

“El-”

“No,” she interrupted, “I- I don’t want to ‘get myself back out there’, it hasn't even crossed my mind. I don't need the break up speech where you say it’s gonna get better or i’m gonna find someone else, okay? I’d rather just stay here and wallow in my own self pity, okay?”

Riya sighed, climbing off of her bed and turning to look down at her, “Ellie...you need to move on, sooner or later, it’s been three weeks.”

“I know,” she shrugged, “Can you pass me back my blanket on your way out, please?”

Riya scoffed, making her disapproval known as she sauntered toward the door, throwing Ellie back her blanket before leaving, closing the door more harshly than she originally intended to.

Ellie turned over onto her side and grabbed her phone from her bedside table. She brought it to her face, pressing the home button to illuminate the screen. She felt her heart pang when she saw the photo of herself and Colt.

She felt her heart pang with...something, this was a feeling she had never felt before. She felt almost...empty, lost. Colt for her was the glimmer of light at the end of the long dark tunnel, guiding her safely out from it when the darkness threatened to drown her, but now there was no light at the end, nothing to anchor her down when her mind began to run with the hard thoughts, nothing to help fight off her demons and so the darkness could finally get its claws in.

**********

He sat in a bar...again. He’d been at the garage all day, the one place that once granted him tranquillity no longer did, because it reminded him of her. Everything did. She was a constant thought in his mind and it was driving him insane. She wasn’t his anymore, she was...nothing to him now. Just somebody he used to know.

He sat on a stool by the bar, a pint clutched in his hand, a wave of emotion washed over him but receded.

It had been a couple weeks now and he wasn’t over it. He doubted he ever would be.

Something in his peripheral vision caught his attention, he turned to see a blonde woman, wearing a tight black dress, now standing beside him.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked. There was no preamble, no niceties of an introduction, just went straight in.

Colt opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. She was looking at him quizzically so he just answered. “I-no. No, I don’t,” Colt stuttered. It felt like someone had struck him in the chest with a dagger and was twisting it. Just another reminder that he had lost they only thing that he ever really loved.

“What’s your name?” She asked. It was an innocent question but Colt had an inkling that somehow it was more than that.

“I’m interested,” Colt insisted and he truly wasn’t. She was pretty, he wouldn't deny that.

“Fine,” She shrugged. He expected her to...fight him on this somehow, to object, maybe she was playing a mind game, trying to make him drop his guard ever so slightly so he’d give in. She was the type of girl Colt was certain that even if he had said he had a girlfriend she just would’ve carried on. “But tell me your name.”

“Colt. What’s yours?” Why are you humouring her?

“Carrie,” she said, biting at the bottom of her lip. She pulled up a stool to sit beside him.

It was going to be a long night and frankly he couldn't be bothered to head to another bar, he liked this one, he was content and some random girl wasnt going to change that.

“So are you from LA?” She asked, sipping at her drink that Colt hadn't noticed she had ordered. Some people just don’t understand no, do they?

“Yeah,” Colt mumbled. “You?” he asked, purely out of politeness.

“I’m actually from Brooklyn. I moved here a few years ago…” For god's sake, he didn't need her life story but he had a sneaking suspicion that even if he objected to hearing it, she’d continue. “I’m trying to become a model, I can act too. My dad-”

Rich dad, called it- he thought. He drowned the rest of it out.

She's annoying. You know when you want the ground to just open up and swallow you whole? Yeah, that’s how Colt felt. It was getting hard to drown her whiny- and it was whiny, voice out.

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

Riya somehow had managed to get Ellie out of bed after once again stealing her blankets. She climbed out, her bare feet meeting the plush cream carpet beneath her. A piece of hair had seemed to become a permanent fixture to the side of her cheek, stuck on by whether sweat or drool. She gingerly ripped it off and headed to the bathroom.

After she had done her business, Ellie headed into the kitchen to see Riya making them both a drink. She leaned against the countertop, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You know I care about you, right?” Riya asked, placing Ellie’s coffee down beside her and then sat down on a stool against the breakfast counter.

“I never said you didn't,” Ellie mumbled, picking up her mug, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip.

Riya did the same, then looked up from her mug to her best friend. “Break-ups… suck there’s no other way to put it but-”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Riya nodded. She knew Ellie well enough to know when to drop something. Even though she knew they needed to have this conversation sooner or later. “I was gonna order a pizza, do you want some?” Ellie shook her head as she sipped at her drink. “Don’t do that control thing you do when-”

“I’m not and I broke up with him. I dumped Colt.”

“And you know you made a mistake. Having second thoughts?” Riya asked, sipping her own drink.

Ellie hesitated then shook her head, “No. No, I'm not having second thoughts. I broke up with him, I made that decision because it was the best one.”

“Of course,” Riya nodded.

“Are you trying to piss me off right now?”

She looked up to Ellie, “I want you to talk to me. I’m your friend, I'm here for you, you’ve just need to let me in.”

“Let’s go to a bar, “Ellie suggested, pushing herself off the counter.

What?” Riya asked, eyebrows raised and her arms crossed over her chest. “We’re not old enough to drink, do you forget that?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “I have a fake ID. It’s fine,” she insisted. Riya looked unsure which caused Ellie to become frustrated. “Fine, i’ll go by myself,” she decided and headed off toward Riya's spare bedroom to change.

A few minutes later she left the bedroom now wearing a pair of black jeans, matching crop top and a denim jacket since all her nice clothes were at Colt's apartment.

“You’re really going?”

“Yes, I’m really going,” Ellie answered, exasperated as she retrieved her purse off the kitchen countertop. “I need to just get out for a bit,” she explained as she headed towards the door, “I’ll be back later!” she called as Riya heard the door open and close.

******

Ellie entered the bar with very little trouble; it was surprisingly not all that busy , which meant as soon as she came in the doorway she caught sight of a familiar black, leather jacket and the back of a head of someone she didn’t want to see. Colt. She’d recognize him anywhere- she knew him so, so well. He’s the reason that she’s in this bar to begin with to drown away her sorrows.

She felt a little bit of bile rise up her throat as a blonde woman sat beside him leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. Without thinking, Ellie turned on her heel and walked out, not sticking around long enough to see Colt pull away from the mysterious woman.

She kept walking when she felt, she didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away. Get away and pretend she didn’t see that. How could he move on so quickly? Did she mean so little to him?

Ellie was in such a state of shock that she hadn’t noticed somebody behind her as she continued along the dark streets of LA. After she had calmed down somewhat, she could hear another set of footsteps, however, she didn't have time to turn around to see who it was before something struck her around the back of the head and the world fell black.

********

The first thing Ellie felt as she clawed her way back to consciousness was the throbbing in the back of her head, like somebody had hit her with a bat or something...someone probably had the more she thought about it.

She tried to flutter her eyes open but the bright light that was pointing at the young woman only made her headache worse. She lifted her head up- feeling the ache in her neck since her chin had been resting against her chest when she was out. Her mouth was dry...How long had she been here? She tried to move her arms but the thick leather straps around her wrists bound tightly to the chair stopped her from doing that. She tried moving her legs but they were bound to the chair too.

She had some questions.

Where was she? How did she get there?

To be frank, she had more questions than that but they were the main one. The ones she really wanted to be answered that and why somebody fucking kidnapped her. Ellie grudgingly peeked her eyes back open giving them both time to adjust to the light.

She turned her head when she heard footsteps, heels clicking against the concrete as the woman made her way towards Ellie.

“Oh good you’re awake,” the mysterious woman rejoiced. She was way too happy for Ellie’s liking.

The woman crouched in front of Ellie’s chair. Ellie’s eyebrow’s wrinkled in confusion- she had seen this woman before. She was sure of it.

“Hello Ellie,” the woman said, giving her a small smile, “I know you’re probably confused and angry...but i promise it’ll all make sense soon.”

“Who are you?” Ellie asked, her normally strong voice now timid.

The woman got back to her feet, smoothing down her red dress. “As i said...it’ll make sense soon.”

[rainbowwritesthings]

Calm Before the Storm

No one, not even Dustin knew how or when Steve and Billy stopped being enemies and became odd friends after That Night, much less when they started dating. AO3

Billy wasn’t apart of the party and all the kids could agree on that, just because he was dating Steve and was nicer to Max didn’t mean the kids forgave him. Granted in his own way he had apologized to Max, Steve and Lucas. Not with words but with subtle actions, though not so subtly in the case of Tommy who got his face beaten in after he called Lucas a slur while Billy was in earshot.

No one, not even Dustin knew how or when Steve and Billy stopped being enemies and became odd friends after That Night, much less when they started dating. Max figured it out first and a few months before the others, she had watched as Billy’s eyes light slightly when Steve was mentioned and her step brother stared at him for too long to be considered just friendly looking.

Steve was the give away however, his poker face was terrible and one day she noticed that when Billy made a flirtatious comment that instead of shooting him a glare that Steve now looked away with a hidden smile.

Billy was better at hiding it but she had spent enough time with him to recognize that his smile looked real now, not just a way for him to bare his teeth in warning or pick up some random chick for the night.

He was still aggressive and quick to anger, of course, but it was never directed at her or the party now. The harsh comments and back talking remained consistent, but there was no venom in the words now.

Their rooms shared a wall, so Max heard when Billy would slip out of his window into the night to go see Steve. Max never mentioned any of this to anyone, least of all Billy. She liked Steve well enough and liked this new Billy more. At times he even felt like an actual brother to her instead of the oppressive force he had been before.

Dustin ruined that of course, it wasn’t exactly his fault that he caught the two making out behind the bleachers. He had been looking for Steve to show him his newest project when he saw his pseudo older brother pinned against the wall by Hargrove.

It didn’t look like a fight but Dustin didn’t hesitate before ramming himself against Billy with a shriek to ‘get off’. Billy had pulled away from Steve not because the kid could actually move him, but out of hasty shock to silence whoever found out. When he saw Henderson and made of move to grab him Steve was there, placing himself between the two.

“If you say anything about this Henderson, I’ll gut you like-”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Both of you stop!”

Steve’s ‘if you say one more thing you’re in big trouble’ tone cut through and instantly Dustin stood down, more surprising was that Billy did as well. After he was sure the two weren’t about to start back up again Steve turned to Dustin.

“What are you doing here, Henderson? I thought you had some club that doesn’t end for another twenty minutes.”

Steve ran a hand through disheveled hair and looked suddenly older than 18.

“Club was boring, we aren’t doing anything in it really. So I went to find you, ‘cause your always just waiting in your car to pick us up and you always come super early just to hang out. Then I found him about to bust your face again and saved you, you’re welcome by the way.”

Billy snorted behind Steve and Dustin turned the full power of his glare on the older boy, Steve rubbed his face and wondered how someone so smart could be so stupid at the same time.

“We weren’t fighting.”

Dustin reeled back confused at such a bold lie. “You can’t lie to me, you were pinned down and his hands were all over you!”

Billy snorted louder and muttered something to the effects of ‘damn straight’, Steve almost turned around to shoot him a look but instead looked at Dustin with a sigh.

“Dustin. We weren’t fighting.”

Both the use of his actual name and the quite, pained way that Steve said it shut the boy down. Billy could practically see the gears turning in the boys head, if this went the way he knew it would Billy had ways of making sure the kid kept quiet.

That wasn’t the problem though, the problem was that Steve had practically adopted the boy and if Henderson rejected him it would break something in the brunette. Dustin finally seemed to understand as a look of pure confusion washed over him, “really?”

The judgment in the boys tone had Billy ready to smack him, Steve's reaction be damned. How dare he say that to Steve? To the man that didn’t hide how proud he was of Dustin every time the kid did anything ever. To perhaps the most selfless person Billy had ever met. He heard Steve take in a sharp breath and rage coursed through him.

“You had to pick Billy? Out of all the guys in Hawkins you went with him?”

This had Billy freeze and he watched as Steve did as well, “what?”

Dustin seemed to gain momentum after his initial reaction, “yeah, he beat you up!”

Steve’s entire posture slumped and he let out a shaky laugh, “that’s what got you?”

The relief was palpable and Dustin finally seemed to realize why they were so on edge.

“My uncle Mark’s gay, and Will doesn’t like girls at all so I've had time to adjust. That and we’ve seen some actually messed up shit, two guys kissing isn’t even on the radar anymore.” Steve gave a clearer laugh and ruffled the hat on Dustin’s head, earning Steve a look as the boy fixed the hat again.

Billy had to hand it to the kid, he took in the fact Steve was sucking face with a guy in stride and got pissed about who it was with instead. He had a feeling there was a reason that Dustin was Steve’s favorite kid, but he also had a feeling the kid would blab at the first moment.

Dustin had resumed glaring at Billy though now it was accompanied by a scrutinizing look, as if trying to see something deeper in Billy than was actually there. The glare caused Steve to turn back to Billy, they exchanged a series of looks that ended with Billy raising his eyebrows in question.

“I’ll explain stuff to him, he won’t tell.”

Billy examined the younger boy, he didn’t believe for a second that Dustin was capable of keeping a secret this big without cracking. Steve didn’t look positive either, most likely thinking about all the times Dustin blurted out sensitive things when he couldn’t handle it anymore.

However Steve didn’t want Billy threatening the kid even if he knew Billy wouldn’t act on it, he still wanted the two to at least pretend to play nice. With a bit of difficulty, and the promise of quarters for the arcade, Steve was able to send Dustin to wait in the car.

When the pair were alone once again Steve gave a half smile, “thanks for keeping cool. Dustin’s a good kid, he won’t say anything about-this.”

Steve vaguely gestured between them and Billy crossed his arms, “just make sure it doesn’t get out. If I hear so much as a rumor about this whole thing, then I won’t hold back on the kid.”

Assuming that Neil didn’t kill him first if the man heard about it. Steve made a face at the ground and Billy brushed his shoulder passing by, “see you round ten, pretty boy?” Billy could practically feel the smile Steve was giving to his back, one far to innocent for what they would do that later that night. - To Dustin’s credit, he made it over two weeks before accidently complaining that he just couldn’t see what Steve liked about Billy. Max was up in an instant and was looking around frantically to make sure no one but the party heard, she also made sure the others kept their loud yells of confusion down.

Though honestly the ones making the most fuss were Mike and Lucas. Will and Eleven seemed to take the news in stride, with Will only asking a simple question.

“Are they happy together?”

Max answered immediately about how Billy was practically a new person, still an asshole of course but a bearable one. After a little bit of fidgeting Dustin revealed that Steve was happier to, humming to the songs and smiling brighter than he had before.

Will nodded at this with a smile, Eleven however was a bit more confused.

“Why are they keeping it a secret? If their happy together, then why lie?”

Max crossed her arms, “ because Neil would flip and Steve would probably get disowned. Not to mention it would paint a huge target on their backs.”

El frowned hard at that but Max wasn’t about to discuss homophobia to her now, maybe later when they were alone and had more time to go through it. The others fell into silence until Mike broke it, “then we keep it a secret. We’re not lying, we’re protecting them.”

Dustin hadn’t really considered the fallout for Steve if it came out he liked men as well, but now that it was in his mind he understood Steve’s need for secrecy. “Yeah. What’s said in the basement, stays in the basement.”

One by one they made similar pledges. While the boys, mostly Dustin, made silent vows to watch Billy carefully.

[dogbearinggifts]

Little Tyrants, Chapter Two: Worth the Whiskey

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Vanya was four, Reginald Hargreeves visited her cell. But not to take her powers away. Just to let her know he could. Just to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her powers were a privilege he could rescind should she ever choose not to fall in line.

Years later, the old man is dead—and the last sibling Vanya wants to see has reappeared in the Academy courtyard.

This work is also available on AO3.

Prologue  Chapter One 

Author’s note: Sorry this chapter took so long, everyone. I’d hoped to update more frequently, but life intervened and…well, here we are. If you’d like to read the asks that inspired this story, you can find them here and here, as well as under the tags “vanya keeps her powers au” and “five returns as a kid au.” 

This chapter title is adapted from Cole Swindell’s song “Ain’t Worth the Whiskey.” 

***********

“You okay here?” 

“Yeah.” 

Luther opened his arms slightly, and Five slid to the floor. Klaus had never considered, in the sixteen years he’d been missing, just how small Five was. Not that the fact itself had eluded him—old pictures resurfaced in tabloids or narrative magazines from time to time, proving they’d all been a hell of a lot shorter back when they were still in Dad’s clutches—but it hadn’t struck him as something worth noticing when he’d stumbled into the courtyard. Now, watching him glance around in bewilderment beside a twin nearly twice his height, Klaus couldn’t think about much else. 

“Where’s Mom?” Luther asked. “Thought you were gonna get her.” 

“I—” The rest of Diego’s retort collapsed when he saw who was—and wasn’t—in the kitchen. “Shit. Mom!” 

They’d lost Allison somewhere between the courtyard and the kitchen, when she’d announced her intent to get some towels. Luther had carried Five in, cradled in his arms lest walking worsen whatever condition led him to collapse in the courtyard. Diego jogged out of the kitchen, retracing their steps through the corridor in search of the one who could provide some guidance. Klaus stood by the sink and racked his brain for something, anything he could say. 

Five wasn’t wearing his Academy uniform. Not unexpected—he’d never been fond of those starched collars and plaid sweater vests—but he’d always joked about replacing that uniform with everything from jeans and a T-shirt to a tuxedo paired with evening gloves and a billowing cape. Maybe it was the leftover high or the cognac haze clouding his thoughts, but Klaus couldn’t conjure a single reason why Five might have paired scuffed boots and a heavy jacket with sturdy jeans and a pair of aviator-style goggles around his neck.

“You, uh, you need anything?” Luther asked. 

Five shrugged. To say he had always smiled before his disappearance would be a misstatement. He’d frowned. He’d grouched. He’d cried for the minute or two it took to realize he’d been seen, the second or two it took for his face to twist and for him to slink off down the hall. But there had always been a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes, a flicker within his expression. Whether harsh with fury or gentle with laughter, Klaus couldn’t recall a time when that light had gone out. 

Until now. 

“Klaus, could you get him some water?” 

Somewhere toward the back of his mind, a flicker of irritation sparked to life. Luther had come up with the idea. Luther knew what he wanted done. Luther could get the damn water himself. But the annoyance was dim to begin with, and died with another glance at Five dripping rainwater onto the tile. Without a word, Klaus went to the cupboard and retrieved a glass. 

Allison brushed past before the glass was completely full; and by the time he turned around, Five was reaching for a towel from the stack Allison carried. She plucked one and shook it out as though to dry him off herself; then, with a small and apologetic smile, she placed it in Five’s hands. Klaus set the glass on the table, fought again for something to say, gave up and snagged a towel instead. 

He needed another drink. 

He couldn’t carry Five up to his room or calm him with four small words. He couldn’t run a few tests and determine what had happened and what Five needed to recover, and he wasn’t the one headed off to corral the one who could chart a course for the healing process. Getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water was about the extent of Klaus’ contributions, and he’d done that already. No one would notice if he headed upstairs and went to town on the liquor cabinet. Allison might say something if he popped a pill or two right then and there, but she wouldn’t cause a scene. It would be expected from him. 

The longer he watched Five sip from the glass he’d poured, the more he needed to leave. The longer he watched, the less he wanted to leave. 

“Where’s Vanya?” 

That was from Luther, naturally. Klaus couldn’t say when or how he’d forgotten Vanya’s feelings toward her family, but maybe the Moon erased memories. “Where do you think she is?” 

“I don’t know, Klaus. That’s why I asked.” 

Klaus hadn’t seen her separate from their group, wasn’t sure if she’d split off before or after Allison had gone off for towels, but the relative peace in the kitchen should have been enough to let Luther know her absence was not to be questioned. “Well, if we’re lucky, maybe she’ll just stay…wherever the hell she is. Oh! You think we could camp out down here? Roast some marshmallows, sing a couple songs? O Vanya, please stay away from us….” 

Impromptu performances like that tended to earn flat looks and rolled eyes from  most of his siblings, and threats from Vanya, but he’d hoped it might raise at least a small smile from Five. No dice. Five looked down into his glass, holding it in both hands, without so much as a hint of a smile or a chuckle. 

Nice going. Allison didn’t say it. She didn’t need to, with the amount of impatience and contempt she crammed into that one glance. He’d messed up, said exactly the wrong thing at just the wrong time, and there was no recovering, no going back. 

Of course, he’d known as much before that look of hers. No need to drive it home with the glare of death. 

“Well, fine.” Klaus stepped forward, opening a cupboard. A canister of rolled oats was the first thing he saw, and so a canister of rolled oats was what he grabbed. “If you fine folks don’t appreciate good performance art like an audience with sense, I shall take my leave.” 

Giving his coat the most dramatic swish he could manage, Klaus strode out the door. 

*********

If liquor preference was a personality trait, then Dad’s taste was one of his few redeeming qualities. 

Like most objects in the Academy, Dad’s alcohol supply was less an amassing of ingredients and more of a collection. Port and sherry shared a shelf with more varieties of red wine than Vanya cared to count, more types of white than she wanted to taste. Not that she opposed wine on principle, but the sight of so many bottles and so many shades, each promising a different flavor and composition and all the other things wine junkies raved about, brought a twinge of embarrassment when she remembered the five-gallon box she’d purchased because it was red and she’d bought white last time. 

But then, nobody could tell the difference between cheap and expensive wine anyway. She wasn’t unrefined. Just honest. 

Vanya turned from the wines and toward those promising a shorter path toward inebriation. A half-empty bottle of tequila and a nearly full bottle of mezcal sat a few inches from peppermint schnapps and two different types of rum. Closer to her sat scotches and bourbons nestled beside the whiskeys. 

Every label bore the name of a place she knew. Scotland. Jalisco. Kentucky. Each name conjured up a different image, borrowed from a different mission with a different objective and outcome. Dad had sent her and she’d gone in, done what the situation demanded of her, and left with snatches of scenery she liked and memories she didn’t. Each city had its own personality, but there came a point when they blended into each other, leaving her uncertain whether El Paso or Tucson had the hotel with a mosaic tile entrance, or if it was Paris or Amsterdam with the houses she liked. Glances through the sort of books ordinary people kept on their coffee tables cleared a few things up, but there were better things to do than relive what only Dad would call the glory days. 

Behind the Canadian whiskeys, and between those boasting an origin in Tennessee, was a single bottle announcing itself as Wyoming Whiskey in no-nonsense letters. After a moment’s study, Vanya poured herself a glass. If she was going to try and erode unwanted memories old and new, a drink from a place she’d never visited seemed the best way to start. 

Footsteps approached sometime after the end of the first drink and the beginning of the second. Vanya downed the rest in a few quick swallows. If it was Diego coming to tell her off for not being there for Five, she’d need to steel herself; if it was Five himself, she’d need to clear her glass for another pour. 

Klaus rounded a corner, skirt swishing about his ankles as he came to a halt. It had been some months since she’d seen him, and then out in the open and at a distance. Perhaps that was why he seemed thinner than she remembered, collarbone protruding above his bare chest, feathered cuffs dangling over too-slender wrists. He’d tucked an open canister of rolled oats into the crook of one arm; a few oats slipped from his clenched fist and fluttered to the floor. He let out a laugh when he saw her, as though she’d made a joke. As though he were happy to see her. 

Vanya added twice the recommended amount to her glass. 

“Well, well, well.” He let his handful of oats fall back into the canister and sauntered forward—she couldn’t tell if he was staggering or not—and set the oats on the counter. “And here I thought I was the only one breaking into Dear Old Dad’s liquor cabinet.” 

Vanya sniffed. Klaus’ presence demanded she down the whole glass in one swallow, pain be damned, but she settled for a sip. “I’m not breaking into anything. It’s right out in the open.” 

Klaus had a way of moving like a slinky, swaying one direction only to fold himself around a corner and past whatever obstructed his path. In one stride, maybe two, he was behind the bar, hand on a bottle of bourbon. “Amazing there’s anything left.” 

“Yeah, with you around.” 

Within seconds, Klaus’ glass held more bourbon than it should have. Not quite as much as hers—but if he’d had to cope with someone like him, he’d have ditched the glass and drank straight from the bottle. “Oh, right, ‘cause I’m the one who ran up here to get drunk soon as everybody was in the house.” 

“And you were completely sober when I got here.” 

There was that laugh again, the infuriating giggle that made her want to send a bottle of vodka crashing onto his head. “You really think I’m gonna do a family reunion without a little help?” He took a swallow of bourbon. “Figured you’d get it.” 

Vanya’s fingers tightened on the glass. She wasn’t like him. This world he’d constructed in his head, where she was just a shadow of what he was—it was a fantasy. He spent his days wandering the streets or bouncing from rehab to rehab. She worked, and the money she brought in went toward her apartment, her clothes, her food. She spent her days coaching kids through basic chords, cooking and cleaning, playing in the city’s orchestra. She wouldn’t have earned first chair if she’d devoted what remained of her life to the next fix. 

A high, sharp noise commanded her attention. Looking took only a second, but by the time she did, the glass had cracked beneath her fingers, webs of spindly lines spreading out and up. Another side effect of Klaus’ presence. 

“I think you should leave now.” 

Klaus downed half his liquor in one swallow, planting the glass firmly on the counter. A few drops came close to splashing out, but the counter remained dry. “I think you need another drink, if you’re just gonna get your panties in a twist over everything.” 

He was needling her, poking her skin over and over until he found what caused the most pain. For what, she couldn't say. Perhaps he was so enamored with Five’s return that he simply could not comprehend why she hadn’t followed to the kitchen to wait on him hand and foot. Perhaps he was still angry over her last refusal to let him crash at her place. That had been years ago, but Klaus was just the sort to hold a grudge for that long. 

She could lash back, with words or force. A few sharp retorts already came to mind, but they might not land the way they should. Klaus’ quest to rid himself of powers Dad had never thought to take from him had apparently robbed him of his faculties, if his incessant giggling was any indication, and there was little point in an insult that slid off like water from a tarp. The Academy had never been a noisy place, but what few sounds there were—air rushing through the vents, the creaking of old boards—already tempted her. 

And Klaus remained, with no trace of fear. 

“I’ve had kind of a rough day,” she said, setting the cracked glass in the sink slowly and deliberately, so as not to throw it the way she longed to. 

Klaus’s mouth formed a round O of mock surprise and he clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Me too! Weird, huh? Us both having the worst day ever at the same time?” 

Vanya clenched her teeth. He was like the cockroaches at a place she’d lived, one of the few complexes she was grateful to be blacklisted from. Lay out traps and they’d skirt around them. Stomp on them and they’d avoid your boot. Spray them with Raid and they’d roll onto their backs long enough, only long enough, to make you think you’d won. Long enough to make their swift return all the more infuriating. “I don’t want to break anything worse than a glass, is all I’m saying.” 

“Why? Afraid the cops might come? Afraid they might send you to—” He put a hand to his mouth, covering a gasp too melodramatic to be genuine, and looked to left and right before continuing in a stage whisper. “Therapy?” 

Vanya felt the cracks in her discarded glass spread and splinter before she ever heard it. She wanted to let it shatter—no, she wanted to make it shatter, send a hundred jagged shards exploding out from the sink to embed themselves in the wall, the counter, Klaus’ skin; to strike other bottles like bullets and send their contents cascading. 

“You don’t understand.” 

“No! I mean, Sitting on a comfy couch for a whole hour while some lady in an ugly-ass pantsuit listens to your problems?” He shook his head in mock amazement, adding more bourbon to his glass. “It’s a miracle we’re at Dad’s funeral. You should’ve just—” 

He blew a raspberry, pointing his thumb to the floor. 

Another crack spread through the glass, and another. He didn’t see. Didn’t know the humiliation of walking into that office, week after week. Couldn’t comprehend the misery of hearing mistakes inflated and exaggerated, balled up and thrown back in her face whenever she tried to explain herself. He couldn’t know the recurring sting of walking past her favorite coffee shop—a place that had once pulled her into an embrace of scents both earthy and sweet—knowing that the police would be called if she so much as crossed the street to reminisce from the wrong side of the window. If anyone under the Academy roof spared an ounce of sympathy for her, it should have been him. He, at least, knew what it was to have his faults paraded before police and judges and dismissed with no regard for what it was to be in his shoes. 

She should have known that was too much to ask of him. 

The glass was all but destroyed now; there was little point in leaving it whole. The sink would absorb most of the damage, and while a few shards would fly out, Klaus had learned to dodge. He knew what he faced if he failed to. He couldn’t call the police without risking his own skin. 

Yet a part of her, a small part of her, whispered that he just might be insane enough to try. 

The canister flew across the room to smack against a formation of bottles, knocking them over with a crash. Liquor spilled over the counter and onto the floor, sweeping up oats in the flow. Vanya turned on her heel, not giving Klaus the satisfaction of one last grin. 

********

“That could’ve gone better.” 

“Yeah, you think?” Klaus downed the rest of his bourbon and regarded the bottles still standing. The accidental cocktail Vanya had created with her little tantrum wouldn’t be tasty—especially not with oats floating in it and faint remnants of floor cleaner offering a different kind of intoxication—but all of those liquors together would get him drunk faster than anything he could mix on his own. 

Well. Drunker. 

Klaus didn’t sway as he straightened and headed for the tequila. He wasn’t quite to that point, though he sensed its approach. 

“Seriously?” 

“Hey, you try dealing with Vanya sober.” He opened the bottle, raising his voice in a mocking imitation of Vanya’s. “Oh, look at me, I wreck some coffee shop and have to not go to prison, everyone needs to be sad for me.” 

“Oh, you mean like my entire life? And afterlife, so far?” 

“So far?” Klaus grinned, raising both eyebrows. “What are you not telling me, Ben?” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

“No, I don’t.” He poured a shot of tequila and tossed it down. “If there’s drunkenness after death, you really need to tell me. This could change everything.” 

“You really think I’d tell you something like that?” 

“Some brother you are.” 

“Said the guy who left Five to come get shitfaced.” 

The sting was sharp, as if Ben had slapped him across the cheek. Klaus poured another shot and downed it without breaking eye contact, but when he set the glass down he had to look away. He tried for some remark glib enough to set Ben on a different course, but nothing came to mind in time. 

“Bet you can still catch up with him.” 

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to Klaus, but he hadn’t allowed it to take root in his mind with this level of clarity. Go back to the kitchen, or track Five to wherever the others had brought him. Apologize for whatever it was he’d said wrong—more than one thing, probably, though he could only think of the one. See if Five wanted to go flip off Dad’s urn for a while. Let Five watch him stagger down the stairs, sway in the door, smell the alcohol on his breath. The others, Diego and Luther and Allison—they might not understand, but they expected it. They’d seen it before. 

A part of him whispered that Five would see it sooner or later, that maybe he’d already extrapolated from those moments he’d caught Klaus at the bar when they were kids, those times he’d given Klaus the cover he needed to sneak out for his next fix. It didn’t matter, or wouldn’t matter. Sobriety was little more than a punchline around him, and it was only a matter of time before Five saw the joke. 

He straightened, swallowed the last of the tequila in his glass, fished for a cigarette in his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as he exhaled. It wasn’t’ the first time he’d smoked in the Academy, not by far, but usually Dad or Pogo would come barreling around the corner seconds after his lighter clicked on. This time, there was only silence. Blissful, smoke-filled silence. He leaned against the island, allowing each breath to carry off more of Vanya’s lingering presence.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before the edge of the counter began digging into his back, before the floor began to press against his feet through the thin soles of his shoes, before the weight of the items in his coat reminded him of where he could be and what he could be getting. A pang of guilt accompanied the last thought, regardless of the facts. He wasn’t needed at the Academy. He’d probably sent Five into a tailspin with whatever it was he’d said. The memorial service seemed to have been forgotten for the time being; even if he were missing when it began, his absence wouldn’t be lamented or questioned too heavily. The more he considered it, the more he itched for what those items would buy him. 

He’d be leaving Five again. Leaving him not in the kitchen, but there in the Academy while he was off elsewhere in the city; but Five wouldn’t be alone. Might not even notice he was gone. 

“Klaus?” 

Five’s voice was too soft, too uncertain, but it still gave Klaus a start and he nearly dropped his cigarette. 

“Christ on a cracker,” he breathed, glancing down at the floor. Still a safe enough distance from the spilled alcohol that a lit cigarette wouldn’t send a puddle of flame racing up the cabinets, but closer than he would have liked. He sucked in a breath and turned to Five, plastering on a smile. “What’re you doing up here?” 

Five didn’t answer. He’d changed into his pajamas—which were drier than what he’d been wearing, and in better shape, but Klaus could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen any of his siblings wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. In each instance, they’d been sick enough to get out of training, sick enough to remain in their rooms instead of joining the rest of the family for silent meals and Dad’s droning records. Five was still walking on his own two feet, his skin lacking the pallor it had held on those days; but Klaus didn’t recall him being so thin when he’d left. 

How long had he stood just out of sight? 

“Dad’s not here, is he.” 

There were two answers: the tactful one, and the direct one. The tactful one was more up Allison’s alley, requiring more gentle words and roundabout phrasings than Klaus had in his arsenal. It was probably more akin to what Five needed, closer to what he’d like to hear, but Klaus had already stalled long enough. 

“Died a little over a week ago.” 

Five nodded slowly. If there was any surprise in his expression, Klaus couldn’t see it. “He…he probably would’ve walked out when I showed up, huh?” 

And done a lot more than that, Klaus thought, but didn’t say as much. Five must have known he’d have been hauled off to one of those rooms everyone hated, held there until he’d divulged every secret he’d brought back with him, had Dad occupied the Academy. “We can go flip off his urn for a while, if you want.” 

Five didn’t smile, or even meet Klaus’ gaze. He’d said the wrong thing again. Made a joke when Five needed something else, something Allison or Luther or even Diego would be better suited to offer. Something Klaus couldn’t muster, not even when it was needed. Especially not when it was needed. 

“Where’s Ben?” 

If Ben’s remark had been a slap, Five’s question was like a punch to the gut. He had to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t form and he couldn’t muster even an I don’t know or a Why do you ask? He could only struggle, through the fog and the emotions that one question dredged up, to say anything at all. 

Five dropped his gaze, biting his lip. He didn’t sink to the floor or look for a place to sit down. He didn’t let out a cry or suck in a breath. Klaus watched him crumple all the same. 

“Hey, it—” He started forward, barely remembering to put out his cigarette before Five fell into his arms. 

Maybe he should have expected it. Over a decade stood between him and Ben’s death. No one would say he’d used them well, and if pressed he wouldn’t disagree; but he’d still had them. Ten years to let the dust settle and the blood dry. Ten years to accept that Ben’s clothes no longer occupied the closet, that no one would set a place for him whenever they were allowed back into the Academy. Ten years of hearing his voice, watching him roll his eyes and try in vain to block access to his stash, of being the only one to know he would never really go away. For all Five knew, Ben’s face should have been among those who greeted him upon his return. 

He returned the hug awkwardly, too awkwardly, running a hand along Five’s back. Tears shook his bony frame, and Klaus wanted to kick himself for not hunting down Allison to answer that question. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“How?” 

Ben no longer leaned against the bar. He had a way of doing that, of stepping around while your back was turned to show up in the last place you wanted to see him. This time, though, Klaus didn’t mind the sight of him, the look he got—or the clear instructions it carried. 

“I mean, it’s not like he’s gone.” 

Five pulled away, and the hope in his eyes made Klaus want to shrivel up and disappear. 

Ben smiled a bit, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Five.” 

“He says hi.” 

*******

Vanya should have brought the whiskey along.

Her anger hadn’t quite burned away when she reached the top of the stairs, but it had calmed enough for her thoughts to turn to things other than Klaus’ exaggerated smiles and mocking words; and they turned to that bottle on the counter. She should have grabbed it before storming off—or if not that bottle specifically, then another close to it. Something strong, something she could keep all to herself. Something that would get her to the memorial service in one piece.

If her siblings still planned on holding a service. 

She found her old bedroom less by intent and more by muscle memory, and it hadn’t changed much from the day she’d left. The furniture was gone, shuttled off to her first apartment and then the next; as were her clothes, which had been added to over the years. It would have been an empty room, devoid of the personality she’d lent it, but there were small signs, little memories here and there. A length of blue ribbon she’d once worn to a press briefing snaked across the floor. The green hair tie she’d thought had been lost in the move lay in one corner, grey with dust. Along the wall adjacent to her window Vanya could just make out little patches where the drywall was ever so slightly uneven, marking the places where, in retaliation for being sent to her room, she’d driven holes into her wall to spell out an obscene message. Dad had barged in before she’d finished the first word. 

She ran a hand along the windowsill, catching dust on her fingertips. It wasn’t surprising that Dad’s memorial service had stalled—in the back of her mind, she’d expected Diego or Klaus to delay it somehow, though she hadn’t written off Allison as a potential culprit—but she hadn’t thought it would stall indefinitely. Yet here she was, waiting for her siblings to stop doting on Five long enough to put their dead father to rest. 

Vanya looked to the wall again. For a moment she considered finishing the word, leaving it as a parting gift for whenever she was allowed to walk out of the Academy without Dad’s unread will hanging over her head. But then, it would’ve been just like Dad to turn something about willful destruction of childhood bedroom into a condition. 

She closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall, seeing no one, but Five’s room stood open. Maybe someone had been there in minutes past; maybe Mom had left it open for whatever reason. Vanya couldn’t say and couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d be moving back into it soon—but then, once the memorial service was over and done with, she’d be back in her own apartment, away from that room and its occupant. 

A short walk took her back down to the entryway and then the common room, but that wasn’t where the voices led her. One she recognized as Klaus, the other as Five—but the cheer in Klaus’ voice seemed more genuine now, the simmering resentment she’d caught now missing. 

“So I’m just there in my book fort, minding my own business, and the librarian walks over and she’s all ‘Sir, you need to put these on a cart.’ And I’m all ‘Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just build a new one instead of putting this whole thing on a cart?’” 

“Maybe she just wanted you to put the books away?” 

“That’s what Ben said, but I dunno. That fort was awesome.” 

Ben. Her breath caught. Asking her to name a favorite sibling was like asking her to name a favorite toothache, but some toothaches hurt less than others. Some could be almost pleasant, when they wanted to be. 

And some left a different sort of pain when they went away. 

“What books did you use?” 

“What books did I—Five. I built a fort. Out of books. Had turrets, a moat and everything. That’s all you need to know.” 

Rather than pressing Klaus for more details, Five turned his gaze to the armchair. “What’d he use, Ben? You remember?” 

Klaus rolled his eyes and began listing off titles, but Vanya barely heard them past the pounding of her own heart. Ben wasn’t there—or at least, he wasn’t where Klaus could see him, and that was by design. The ghosts he alone could see, the ghosts he alone could command, were evidently far more frightening than the poisons he forced into his system and the people and laws he trampled to get them. The substances he favored were still there. His powers were gone—and here he was, playing the medium. Speaking for the dead when the dead no longer spoke to him. Using Ben as a prop to tell an asinine story about himself. 

“Don’t.” 

Allison’s voice was soft, but Vanya stopped in her tracks. Her sister sat on the stairs, just out of the light cast from the sitting room. 

“Are you hearing this?” 

Allison bowed her head for a few seconds. When she raised it, there was sorrow in her eyes—but also a glint of steel Vanya had rarely seen outside of particularly nasty missions. 

“Don’t take this from him.” 

“Take what? A lie?” 

Allison stood, mouth tight. She took a few steps forward, but didn’t come close to bridging the gap between them. 

“I don’t care what it is.” Her voice had grown softer, scarcely rising above a whisper, but no less stern for it. “You’re going to let him have this.” 

A stab of fear went through her. Allison hadn’t referenced those four words, but the threat was there, carried on a tone addressing her as a child. A child who needed to be put in her place. “Or what?” 

She didn’t answer, but the glare she leveled on her way into the common room was enough. 

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

Chapter One 

[wr8tur]

SUPERGIRL RANT 13

I know I said I wouldn’t be making SG rants anymore… Maybe I shouldn’t even comment since I haven’t been watching SG. But I’ve been seeing story progression because I keep looking for Katie McGrath’s awesomeness on social media….

Correct me if I’m wrong but Lena basically hides Sam/Reign away in order to figure out how to cure her and then Kara finds out that she has Kryptonite and basically freaks the fuck out. I maybe missing some details…. Feel free to add/correct/change my way of thinking but I don’t blame Lena for not telling SG that she had Kryptonite.

People are saying that she should have told SG that she had kryptonite but then why should she? If it’s because she’s been saved by SG, then I’d have to argue that she’s saved SG/the world too.

Lena saved everyone from the Medusa virus, helped them make the lead bomb against the Daxamites, agreed to marry Mon to save the Children’s hospital,  she even tried to save SG when her mom threw that sonic box thing on her, hell killed her boyfriend to save SG… point is, Lena has done a lot of good. Yet SG still doubts her just because she didn’t tell her about the Kryptonite?

Lena’s right about the God complex.

Unless season 1 is no longer canon, did SG forget what red Kryptonite did to her? If the argument is that she was afraid that Lena might accidentally have created unstable/red kryptonite, then yes I understand her anger but I think SG was just pissed that Lena has Kryptonite.

I mean SG didn’t exactly go around dispelling lead from the Earth when she found out that Mon El was allergic so the issue I feel like has to do with her mortality and a little bit of trust but I can’t really blame Lena for trying to make more Kryptonite after she saw how unstoppable Reign is and how powerless the DEO and SG have been against Reign.

I feel like Lena probably would have no problem telling Kara about the Kryptonite. Maybe if it weren’t for the Sam/Reign thing she would have said something to Kara about her breakthrough. She already knows she can trust Kara but SG is different.

Yes, SG saved her life. But SG tries to save everyone. The Supers after all, are against killing. So to Lena, SG saving everyone is just something she does.

Lena doesn’t have that same special connection to SG as she does with Kara so the trust isn’t as strong. I mean, it clearly isn’t since SG basically hinted to Lena that the only reason she’s even put in extra effort with her is because of Kara. The words “Kara Danvers believes in you” kind of implies that SG is just looking out for Lena because she trusts Kara and that doesn’t necessarily mean that she trusts Lena.

Besides, SG never told her that she’s working with the DEO (even after Lena killed Jack) or that the DEO even existed so I don’t see why Lena, who was arrested by the police for circumstantial evidence, would tell a secret faction of the Government that A) she knows they exist and B) that she has the ability to create Kryptonite.

Like I said before, I don’t believe Kyrptonite is an illegal substance to have so legally, Lena has no obligation to tell the DEO she knows how to make it.

Harboring a fugitive is illegal, but it’s not like she was helping her destroy the world. She locked Reign up, which is what the DEO would have done in the first place, but Sam is innocent in all this and Sam gave Lena permission to fix her.

Maybe Lena was worried about SG’s God complex, worried that SG wouldn’t listen about splitting Sam and Reign up because SG would take it personally since Reign can kick her ass.

Maybe Lena was just genuinely concerned that the Government would just try to kill or imprison Reign and not waste their efforts because to Lena’s knowledge (due to Kara not telling Lena about her being SG), Agents of DEO and SG don’t have a personal connection to Sam so they wouldn’t even try to save her friend.

Anyway, if SG trusted Lena then she should have just talked to her about it instead of basically blowing up at her, making her feel likes she’s just as bad as the other Luthors, and asking Guardian, who SG knows is her boyfriend, to go and spy on her.

It feels like she was just being petty. I mean, she could have asked J’onn or Alex to go instead or even herself. But no, it seems like she wanted to really hurt Lena.

I always said that the writers can’t separate SG from Kara and apparently I’m right.

It’s not fair for SG to expect that Lena would trust her so much when she hasn’t even bestowed that courtesy toward Lena, especially as Kara. She’s let her into her circle yet Lena had been the only one who didn’t know she’s SG. And yes, Sam doesn’t know either but Sam doesn’t really count because she just met her and was just shoehorned in the group this season in order to create this drama that doesn’t even really fit in with S2 characterization of Kara, who even after seeing the video of Lena having Kryptonite still believed her friend was innocent.

And damn Kara, Lena saved Alex’s life. If that isn’t enough to earn your trust for you to tell her you’re SG, then you should have never tried to be her friend. She shared some personal stuff with you and you know the girl has a hard time trusting people because everyone hates her for something her family did.

Kara’s just lucky no one found out that her parents created Medusa. I’m pretty sure aliens that have family who died from that virus would be hating on her too. I’m also sure that humans wouldn’t be too keen on calling SG their hero if they knew the Daxamites attacked because she wouldn’t give up her boyfriend the Daxamite Prince of three months!

Even after freaking Lena killed the so called love of her life for you Kara, you couldn’t make the same sacrifice?

Does Lena know all these secrets SG/Kara? I think not…

I think Lena only knows that Kara is Mon El’s boyfriend but I don’t remember Rhea telling her that this could have all been avoided if Supergirl just let her take her son home... I could be wrong so someone refresh my memory.

So I don’t think Kara or Supergirl has the right to be so harsh with Lena because she herself, both as SG and Kara has secrets she isn’t comfortable sharing. Unless Lena knows that Kara is SG then she wouldn’t know all the shitnannigans happened because of Kara… But as far as we know, Lena does not know.

As far as we know, Lena is a person who has done a lot of good. The way they’ve set up her character is that she’s a bleeding heart who tries so hard to undo the damage her family has done. The only difference between her and SG is that she relies on her smarts to get things done while SG relies on her Kryptonian genes.

This version of Kara is a hypocrite. She’s selfish and rash but the thing is, she’s weak and cannot back up her actions. She always has to ask for help and another thing I hate about these versions of the Supers is that they’re basically asking for blind trust. And that may have worked before, but now things like Red K can be made so I think it’s safe to say that Kryptonite should be a substance that’s accessible just in case the Supers go on a rampage.

Correct me if I’m wrong but doesn’t Superman know that Batman has access to Kryptonite yet still works with him?

Even if S1 is no longer canon and Red K is no longer a thing, then what if more Kryptonians come to Earth? Because first of all, unlike other versions of Kryptonians, the Arrowverse Kryptonians aren’t reclusive.

According to Kara, she’s been on like twelve planets or something. You can’t tell me that when Krypton blew up, there weren’t scouts/scientists/military personnel or something that were not in their homeworld... I mean, we know there isn’t until the writers bring them over but for Kara/Clark, they should be prepared for moments like these. It already happened once so it could happen again.

What if there’s not enough Kryptonite? Are people just supposed to depend on the government to save them? National City is in America so the people, even people like Lena, have the right to arm themselves…. and there is a thing called Checks and Balances here in the country SG is seeking refuge in.

It’s honestly unfair for the Supers to expect that the world should just trust that they’ll check and balance themselves.

People don’t know them personally after all...

Point is, the writers clearly haven’t evolved. They’re still tearing down one relationship to build another. They’re hitting as many birds as they can with one stone.

They want SuperCorp shippers to stop, they want to legitimize Lames, but most importantly they want Karamel to re-establish their bond…. So they’re throwing the rock to break the Lena/Kara friendship.

Anyway, with the way this is going I feel like Lena’s completely going to turn dark. Since Supergirl has been given the Sunday slot the show might suffer from some budget cuts and want to up the ante next season so they can ensure a S5 so maybe James will die, leaving Lena brokenhearted and she’ll blame SG then she’ll find out Kara and SG are the same and that’ll completely drive her over to the dark side.

Or, she’ll find out that Kara and SG are the same and then she’ll get mad at James and all of them.

Or, more likely, that Sam is going to sacrifice herself to end Reign (So that Alex can adopt Ruby because apparently, her biological clock just went boom in S3) and Lena’s going to get mad, blame SG, find out that Kara is SG, and then get mad at James for helping SG or something like that…

To sum it up, Lena will be all alone again and she’ll blame SG and that’s why she’ll turn dark.

Of course, all my points will probably rendered irrelevant because in the end, Lena will probably be evil from the get go and the writers will make it seem like Lena's a mastermind and she's been playing Kara from the beginning so that the audience can't get mad at Kara for treating her 'friend' like crap because she was right and Lena is a villain like all the Luthors.

[andyl394]

FESTIVE PROMPT - Steve Harrington x Reader

Request:  From the festive prompt list, 1, 2 and 35 Steve Harrington x Reader? 

1. “Is that mistletoe?” 

2.“Are you- are you pulling down mistletoe?” 

35.“You invited how many people over for Christmas dinner??” 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader!Henderson

Word Count: 1,744

Warnings: Just cursing, a lot of fluff. Maybe some spoilers of the second season? Not really sure?

A/N: Heya! I was supposed to post this Saturday (09/12/2k17), but my town had this major storm and I was out of energy for three days, honestly, I don’t know if I could handle another night of playing cards under the lights of candles with my family. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this and the Prompt list is right HERE. I’m going to post the other two to repay for those days <3 (btw, the requests are open for the prompts!)

MASTERLIST

“Everyone knows the plan, right?”

“Yes, Dustin. You’ve been through it five times, already.” Mike rolled his eyes; it was Christmas and your mother had decided that she’d make a huge fest to Dustin’s friends.

“Yeah, man. Calm down, we just have to put your sister and Steve under the mistletoe. It’ll be easy.” Everyone agreed with Lucas’ statement.

Your history with Steve was… weird. You had been searching for your brother the whole day when you heard him saying through the extra walkie he left for you, something about a code red and to meet him in the junkyard with any kind of weapon.

Apparently, you weren’t supposed to go, since he was talking only to his friends and when you got to the place, nobody was there, it was foggy and this fucking huge and creepy dog was chasing you down.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Dustin!” You roared, ignoring the stomps coming from the other side as you turned quickly to hit that motherfucker in the weird face mid-air.

“Whoah.” Raising your eyes, you watched no one less than Steve Harrington mouth agape, awe and something more in his eyes. “Y/N, uh, hey, fancy seeing you here-“

“Where the fuck is my brother?”

That’s where it all began.

After getting rid of the – what you learned were called – demodogs, you helped get rid of Billy, which led you to a chapped lip, a forming bruise on your chin and a broken wrist after you having tried to beat the shit out of that fuckface, that was, until Steve got his ass kicked.

Yeah, he got fucked up, but you still were able to throw some good punches before Max showed off how badass she was.

You didn’t want Max to drive, but your stupid brother wasn’t being able to take care of Steve, so you had to go in the back, besides, if that girl could almost smash her step-brother’s junk, she was able to drive. Steve’s head resting on your thighs as you cared for the injuries.

“Slow down a bit, Max. Lucas, put your god damn seatbelt on.” You barked orders, sighing in relief when they actually listened. “Now, explain. What were those things and why did they try to eat my face?”

“They are Demogorgons, I took care of Dart, but he grew up to what tried to eat your face, oh and it ate Mews, but anyways-”

“IT ATE WHAT?”

“Y/N, darling, go open the door!” You grumbled at your mother’s request, eyeing the group of younglings in suspicion before turning with a smile to Joyce and Will.

“Good night!” You hugged Will, kissing the top of his head and giggling at his blushed cheeks before hugging Joyce and leading them inside. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“Oh, he’s coming with Nancy.” Nodding your head, you watched the group filling Will with something.

“Is he okay?”

“He is, now.” She smiled, patting your shoulder and waving at your mother, quickly going to talk to one of the adults in the room, besides the kid’s parents, while Hopper didn’t arrive with El - Jane -. You were about to close the door when you got startled with a voice next to your face

“Knock, knock.” Steve smiled before opening the rest of the door himself and lifting you up, swirling around and causing a laugh to escape from your lips.

“Let me down, moron.” He chuckled, obeying before giving you a proper hug.

“Can I sit on your lap and tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa?” Rolling your eyes and trying to hide a smile, you shoved him lightly, making his giggle – caused by your Santa’s beanie – turn into a hearted laugh, attracting the kid’s attention.

“Why don’t you go talk to your children, mom? Figure out what they’re plotting against me.” Steve looked at the group, grinning and winking at them, making you gasp and slap his shoulder. “Are in on whatever they’re planning?”

“Ouch! What? No!” He puffed looking up in disappointment before sending them a harsh look. “And I thought we had agreed that you were the mom and I was the dad.”

“Shit, we forgot to put it on the door,” Mike whined as the whole group groaned.

“Plan A went to shit, let’s stick with plan B, then.”

“I’m the dad, dickhead!” Steve looked around, laughing at your words before questioning

“You invited how many people over for Christmas dinner? You even invited Hargrove?!” you gave him a bitter chuckle before answering

“Apparently, according to mom, inviting Max and not inviting their parents and brother, is rude. He and his dad are dicks, but Max’s mom is a sweetheart.”

He hummed, arms still wrapped around you as you tried to close the door, being the interrupted by a cough.

“Oh, crap. Oh no.” Dustin said; eyes wide open as Mike and Will gasped.

Quickly taking a step back from Steve, you placed a smile on your lips to welcome Jonathan and Nancy.

“I’m going to talk to our children.” He said under his breath, letting you go and getting out of your sight as Jonathan awkwardly waved.

“Merry Christmas, love-birds.” You maliciously wiggled your brows, earning chuckles from your friends. “C’mon in, dinner will be served at nine. And while we wait, would you two mind discovering what your brothers and mine are planning?”

“Hhm, sure?”

“Well, you two know your way around, I’m going to see if mom needs help with something while I avoid Billy’s attempts to pull me under the mistletoe.”

They watched you ignore Billy as you made your way to the kitchen; it didn’t take long for them to walk into the Party.

“Whatever you guys are planning, you need to be more discreet about it,” Nancy said as Steve waved at them both to follow you like a lost puppy, trying to get his plan to work.

“What is the plan, anyway?”

“We’re trying to make Dustin’s sister kiss Steve,” Max said when everybody got quiet, receiving hisses as if she shouldn’t have told that. “What?”

“N dumped S for J.” Dustin said with the side of his mouth in a whisper, making her eyes go wide.

“Oh, I-I said kiss? I meant kill.” She tried to laugh it off, but the couple exchanged looks.

“We’re in.” They said in unison.

“How can we help?” The boys sighed in relief, quickly telling them their plan on simply putting them under any mistletoe around the house.

It was nearly nine when they finally gave up; it didn’t matter how many times they tried, whenever you two got together under one of the many mistletoes, someone would get in their way. The only one that could take a kiss out of you was Will as he lured you under the plant while Steve was giving himself a prep-talk.

It happened that his “prep-talk” took too long because as he finally found himself some courage, you looked up at the plant and laughed, getting his attention.

“Did you do this on purpose?” Will’s eyes widened and his cheeks got red, he’d been very specific on the spot. You dropped to your knees and gave him a little innocent peck before getting up and chuckling, messing up his hair and leaving the paralyzed boy behind.

“What the hell, man!” Dustin said; all of the boys were agape while Steve got next to them. “You kissed my sister!”

“She kissed me!” He said, all of his face red at what had just happened. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“It’s okay, bud. At least one of us got to kiss her.” Steve mumbled, patting his head and sighing. Maybe you two just weren’t meant to be. “I’m going to get some air.”

Steve didn’t see you watching him get out, slumped shoulder as he opened the door, walking to the porch and gazing around the street. Why was it so difficult?

“Fancy seeing you here, pretty boy.” Your voice startled him, since he didn’t hear you walk behind him, making the boy turn quickly, one hand on his chest as if he was about to have a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ! What are you, kitty? A ninja or something?” Steve grumbled; getting a chuckle out of you as you wrapped yourself on him, letting the boy hug you by the waist.

“Yeah, I’m a cat and a ninja. I’m ninja-cat! A Catja!” He shook his head, giving you the hearted laugh you loved so much. “Did you get jealous that I kissed Will under the mistletoe?” You smirked, watching his cheeks get a slight pink tone.

“Wha- What? Me? Jealous of my own children? Pfff, please!” He stuttered as you took something from behind his head, innocently lifting it between you two.

“Is that mistletoe?” Your voice was so innocent that he wondered if you were kidding, his heart beating strongly against his ribs.

“Are you- are you pulling down mistletoe?” When he looked into his eyes, he saw nothing but pure innocence while your lips held this sinful smirk.

“Am I? You know the rules, Harrington.” You whispered, lowering your arm so you could wrap it around his neck, slowly pressing yourself even more on him, your lips ghosting over his teasingly “Besides, weren’t you trying to do this all night?”

Steve let his eyes wander all over your feature, searching for any signs of hesitation or that you were joking with him, but he couldn’t find any.

Your cheeks grew redder as he took his time lifting one hand to your chin, you closed your eyes when you heard a very frustrated:

“JUST KISS ALREADY!” Snapping out of your bubble, both of you eyed Dustin getting scolded by Nancy as she took all of the kids from the window, keeping them from googling you two, before winking and closing the curtains.

Both of you chuckled, not taking long in going back to the previous position.

“You heard the chief.” He said before his lips crashed into yours, sighing in relief when you melted into his arms; one hand running through his hair while the other stood on his jaw, caressing his cheek with your thumb as you parted away searching for air.

Opening your eyes, you couldn’t help but reflect the dorky smile Steve held.

“Whoah.” Steve held your face, staring lovingly into your eyes, resting his forehead on yours with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Yeah, whoah.” He chuckled and whispered, before going in to kiss you again: “Merry Christmas.”

Condemn to a forever tagging: @fangirlandnerd@noones-girl1980 @hopelessgarbage @elaacreditava  @myplaceofthingsilove @curlycals 

Occasional Tag: @becaamm

[theragamuffininitiative]

Winn Schott - He Protects the Stars Masterpost, [P1 S2 E1-11]

Being a ramble of thoughts concerning one Winn Schott Jr., the tech genius and undervalued hero, with much appreciation for his character and reminders of how much they all need him.

Missed Season one? See S1 episodes 1-10 and episodes 11-20.

Without further ado, episodes are under the cut.

2x01, The Adventures of Supergirl

A decent Winnisode by all accounts

It was pointed out to me that Winn is always the one to pass Kara her drink when they’re out in a group. #idon’trecallmyhashtags. #supportive friend #priorities whatever

Winn chiming in on the “to family” toast, because this is his family. #space fam

Friendly reminder that Winn learned Kryptonian because he “got bored.” and that Alex requested his help at the DEO. #genius

“Find out something that my team of highly trained alien experts can’t.” “Challenge accepted.” AND HE DID. #genius

Aside: he promises to figure this out. To Kara. Because she is important to him.

Fanboying over Superman. I don’t have anything intelligent to add over this. Just watch the smol son freak out, it’s beautiful. #protect him

Winn handy translator helped him read the alien pod’s computer and discover the craft’s trajectory, giving them important info on their guest.

“You look Fantastic.”

Is the one who pays attention enough to find out where the explosion originated, that it was directly under a seat, and to realize that seat had significance: it belonged to Lena. This allows Kara and Clark to rush to Lena’s aid, who they thought was a suspect, not a victim, and they arrive just in time to save her life, and thereby contact the villain and find out his plans and save other lives. #hero

the murdery drone reminding him of his dad’s work. Look at our boy casually tossing around what was held as his deepest, darkest secret; making sure his friends don’t see him any differently now that they know. He’s come a long way.

-and immediate concern for Kara. Always. #supportive friend #priorities “always” should become another hashtag here.

Kara immediately asks specifically for Winn’s aid the minute they’re in trouble. And he delivers. #always

One minute Alex asks J’onn to let Winn help on a tiny bit of decoding, and suddenly Winn is in the thick of things, like he saw stuff going down and just grabbed a computer. #hero

Already making Space Dad smile by his antics. Space Dad needs this tbh.

Welcome to the DEO, Winn. You deserve this.

2x02, The Last Children of Mars

Open with sass: “Grumpy”

Quoting Yoda, the second Star Wars reference in as many episodes. Also, aside, it is obvious that Star Wars is Winn’s favorite fandom, it has the most nods and references from our boy of any he mentions. #nerd

“Hey, new kid, go get the alien tech from storage. Ya know, the stuff that almost made everything really bad for us last time. And see if you can improve upon it.” Winn isn’t there more than a day and J’onn already relies on him an incredible amount. Might be a test, might just be resourceful with his assets.

Entrusted with making Superman (and Kara) a specialized suit.

Our favorite non-super hero is loving this DEO tech, locating the Prometheum in seconds.

Those suits aren’t ready because the former IT guy is obviously preoccupied doing... everything else tech wise at the DEO. #give him a break

Winn and science and his big sis, Alex. #nerds #brotp

“Think with less stabbing.” Good advice.

Here’s a bit of backstory: Winn grew up in foster care after his dad was jailed and his mother took off. And they are not happy memories, probably especially because he’s the child of a crazy murderer. But what he’s taken away from that is beautiful. Family is about showing up. Probably this is why he always shows up for his friends, his family. He understands the importance of that.

CANNOT TELL A LIE TO SAVE HIS LIFE

Does anyone else require much, much more of Winn being a nerd with Clark? Give the boy some quality friendship time please.

Also: the slightly ironic swell of the soundtrack as the camera pans around Winn to reveal his emotional expression. It’s earned though: Winn is a hero.

“Thank you, Winn.” Clark is one of a small handful of people on a small handful of occasions to show appreciation for Winn or his efforts. Even though the quickly assembled armor was not ready to withstand the attack, it was helpful, and Clark appreciates it here. Bless.

He’s happy to see Space Dad and Clark finally getting along, and sad to see Superman leave. Also, that hug. Winn is very much a hugging person, and it’s a great bit.

“Next time.” Let there be a next time, yes? Yes.

2x03, Welcome to Earth

Look at that flame-retardant cape helping Kara save the president's life tracking Mon-el.

Just kind of, left on his own while everyone else squees over the president?? Winn honey, I know that in the past episode and a half you have become the single person who gets asked to do everything at the DEO but take a break for a minute

Finds Mon-el. Bravo.

Look at the other, older, more experienced DEO agents behind him, literally just staring in awe and confusion as he works. #genius

Somehow not only finds the signal Mon-el sends, but also tracks down its origin to a dead planet whose existence and name hardly anyone even knows about.

I feel the need to point out here, with Kara's reference to a Kryptonian slur for the Daxamites and her farewell to Clark in the previous episode, that Winn's ignorance of their meaning does not mean he doesn't actually know Kryptonian. Languages are hard and complex things, and Winn probably learned everything he knows from texts, not from oral teaching. A deeply personal phrase like the one Kara uses for Clark, which they say has no easy English translation, and a random curse, are not likely to have been in his vocabulary - but for what it's worth, they are now.

Pretty low on the Winncontent otherwise.

2x04, Survivors

Disappointed Earth doesn't have dragon soccer. Me too, Winn. Me too.

"awesome" and "amazing" are Winn's favorite terms, in case no one has noticed. #give the guy a thesaurus

Hold the phone. Casual mention of "shall I get a strike team to gear up?" after he identifies and locates an alien assailant??? The man has been at the DEO for what, a few days, maybe a week? And he has the authority to call up a strike team for Alex?? I'm not complaining, but, just how tight a ship is J’onn running here?

Just assumes Mon-el is going to use his newfound power for good, to be a hero, because whether it's with his friends, or even with his dad, or with Siobhan, Winn has a steady history of looking for the best in people.

I've been asked to point out the times Winn gets manipulated into things, and here's a good one: Mon-el promising Winn he can make his supersuit and name him, if he'll just let Mon-el do what he wants. Should Winn have listened? No. But he, too, has been cooped up at the DEO for a fair bit and temptation is too strong here. Thanks, Mon-el, for setting up how this relationship is going to work.

Drunk Winn. Oh dear.

Again, Winn cannot keep secrets or tell lies. He's hopeless.

This whole follow-up scene at the DEO is golden. All of it. I love him.

Winn traced J’onn’s phone. No big deal for him, but he did that.

To be fair, Mon-el at least puts in a good word for Winn, admitting he baited him into the whole thing.

Winn and Alex being concerned for Space Dad is an ongoing trope. I love Space Dad and his kids. #space fam

2x05, Crossfire **Winnisode**

Winnisode is how I’m officially labeling episodes with a fair amount of Winn

"Any of these [guns] look familiar?" is in the weary tones of someone who has asked this question multiple times in the past hour.

Displaying, again, concern over what could have happened to Kara in this most recent fight. #always

"I was into Kara." An important line. I don't think this is completely honest, but he's also not good at lying so who knows. In any case, his friendship with Kara is still important to him, and that's good.

Winn never should have let Mon-el watch television.

Playing with a toy gun, are we? After the incident at the toy convention and everything else?? Hmmm. I choose to read this as our irrepressible hero bouncing back, and maybe intentionally moving past fears, maybe because he thinks being an agent in the field would be cool.

Repeatedly going over the Cadmus broadcast, looking for clues. Detail-oriented.

Another instance of Winn being manipulated? Here we go. James here, showing up to "check in" on his friend, when instead all he wants is to trick Winn into giving him info so he can go be a haphazard vigilante. The second he has what he needs, not two minutes into their conversation, he just leaves. He wasn't there to see Winn at all.

This entire scene where Winn confronts James is golden. James is completely valid wanting to do important and worthy things and feeling out of place, but Winn is making total sense. James will get himself killed on this. He isn't a superpowered human, he isn't bulletproof. Winn obviously already worries about his other best friend getting herself hurt, now he's trying to protect his second friend.

“To fight with knowledge - there is no shame in that.” #hero

"Or you can end up just like him" is harsh. However, coming from the guy who is terrified that his own interests and skills will make him turn out like his father? He's not wrong.

Winn trying to remind James that you don't have to don a suit and punch people to be a hero.

Helping Kara implement her plan. Complete dork bumping into Lena. And still trying to protect James, whose actions in this scene, do not help btw. #supportive friend

Saving the day with his new Science Friend, Lena. #more of this please

"We stopped it!" #hero #sunshine child

1) acknowledging James' side of things, and 2) "I would feel kinda bad if you went and got yourself killed and I could have helped you, blablabla." You watch this scene and tell me which one is the more relevant reason for his decision. “Do not run into the line of fire until [the suit] is ready.” Winn will always want to be there to protect the people he cares about when he knows he can help them.

Also just a little bit excited to be a hero, who can blame him.

2x06, Changing **Winnisode**

(not as much screentime, but some solid moments)

Calling the agents to arms (is that also his job on top of everything else? what exactly is in his job description anyway??)

Distracted by Drunk Kara, a new thing. And you can't convince me of "was" into Kara when here he immediately deflates into saltiness about Mon-el partying with Kara.

Alex and J'onn just... leaving Kara for a bemused Winn to take care of lol.

Winn analyzed the laptops. All of them. Literally what are the other agents doing when they are at work?

Identifies and names the alien parasite. #genius #nerd

Another manipulative scene with James, and I was so angry with James here: He has absolutely zero right to demand things of Winn. They're both upset, worried about Kara, but that doesn't make his angry demands warranted. And he realizes he's gone too far, but it's too late. I think they both very much needed this conversation. But Winn is not yours to use, James, and he's doing this completely for you, so back off sir.

Aside: I will never not have feels over the way Winn immediately checks himself when he gets angry here. He confessed to Kara that whenever he gets angry, he wonders if he'll snap and do something terrible. So he doesn't let himself get angry. #protect him

"I'm better at this kind of stuff than anyone you will ever meet." It's nice to see Winn not selling himself short. Is it a little grandiose of a claim? I dunno, so far, he hasn't been wrong.

"Your IT Prophet has a lead." oh Winn. XD

Left to look after the two people who have come to be his family.

While I wish Winn had found a way to convince James not to do this, I appreciate the solemnity he handles the moment with. Yes, James, you need to be sure.

Friendly reminder Winn makes all of Guardian's arsenal. That bomb that just saved Mon-el? His. That shield? This boy is good.

Excited to see Kara. Sorry James, your Man in the Van will #always have a favorite super.

Designed James’ suit so that Kara specifically couldn't discover that it's James.

Feels wrong keeping the secret from Kara. Yes, good.

He hoped that James would take a shot at the hero thing and realize his mistake and be done. But that's not the case, so he'll continue to support James and enjoy being a hero along the way. #supportive friend

2x07, The Darkest Place **Winnisode**

Honestly, S2 holds a promising amount of content for Agent Schott, or at least it does when you know you might get scraps.

Winn Is Not Subtle.

“Three versus one.” Try three versus two, James. Don’t forget about your partner. Partner, not sidekick.

"in every situation Guardian seems to be one step ahead" that is one hecking good "sidekick" Alex

Nice grappling device, Winn *cough* I mean, Guardian.

#highpitched panic

Terrified of going to jail? Gee, I wonder how much thought he's put into that scenario...

Fantasy football: something James is into and invited Winn to get into as well, but not really Winn's thing - something he would do for an excuse to hang out with his friend? Yes.

Alex. Those eyes. He doesn't stand a chance.

That jump.

Offended by her slap. Such a little brother to Alex's big sister. #brotp

Too worried about the James/Guardian situation to be worried for Kara for once, having no idea she could be in danger. He does know she can take care of himself, honestly he probably shouldn't worry as much as he does, but this time it would still be warranted.

“Genius takes time.”

Winn figuring out things no one stopped to think on: noticing the one guy the vigilante let get away and wondering if there was significance to it, following through, making connections, digging up exactly who they need to look into. Call yourself genius anytime, sir, because at least it's not an empty boast.

James trusting Winn's direction when they're in the field. He needs Winn like the rest of them do. Can you imagine Guardian without his man in the van watching his back? (Spoiler, when Winn gets distracted, James ends up with a bullet graze.)

A little offended on Kara's behalf with the whole "hitched" conversation with Mon-el, but mostly amused

Kid in a candy store when his bff uses her powers.

2x08, Medusa

"Casually drop" the revelation about Guardian. Winn, dear, you can't casually drop anything.

"Eliiiiiiza's glazed carroooooots??!"

Okay, but petition Winn gets like... one, just one happy normal safe Thanksgiving someday?

Shoves James forward to make his confession. Pulls him back down when the timing is obviously not right.

Mon-el gives his speech, very similar to the one Winn tried to give last year, and Winn just...sort of freezes... and then just downs his wine. Poor dude.

"One slightly less intense than last year's Thanksgiving." SEE WHAT I MEAN Warring families are definitely worse than ripping holes in space, I agree.

Listen to Kara or do the smart thing? Or try your best to do both?

-Not Winn related, but I just have to point out in the Monopoly scene you can see one of the crew got careless with those glass doors and you can see their feet as Kara goes in to help Mon-el.

Watch Winn's face when Cadmus declares "every alien will die." You can tell his heart just dropped. His bff? The boss who will also become probably his healthiest relationship? Hundreds of innocents? He can't take it.

Calls the strike team anyway, because he would rather take action (and listen to Kara) than err on inaction.

At the end, he was totally going in for a hug there with Space Dad. Just saying. #space fam

Lastly. We were so close, sooooooo close to a Winn and Cisco meet. *sigh*

2x09, Supergirl Lives

I have a love/hate relationship with this episode, but Winn is amazing.

Quick thinking Winn, clothes-lining the baddie with the van door. Bravo. #hero

I can’t watch this scene. 10/10 cannot handle.

THE NEXT PERSON TO POINT A GUN AT THE PRECIOUS SUNSHINE CHILD-

“Winn, you okay?” No James. He isn’t. But thanks because this may be the last time anyone asks.

James had free time so he went home and wrote a fluff opinion piece on himself?? While his best buddy is in need of medical care and a friend. *sigh*

Can we talk about how Winn, regardless of keeping Guardian a secret, chooses to try and cover up his injury rather than seeking sympathy with his “mugging” story? #too pure #a good #protect him

“The future is very bright.”

.2 seconds of concern for Winn being the victim of an armed mugging is over, now we switch to finding out why Alex looks so dang chipper.

I’m sorry James. Not everyone gets a gun pulled on them. That doesn’t happen to normal people. Give Winn a break.

James may truly want to help, but somebody please give him some pointers: Good things to do for your friend: give them a break to recover from a trauma, go visit them for the express purpose of seeing them and being there for them, listen to what they have to say. Winn is always the #supportive friend, but he could definitely use one of those himself.

“It’s Stargate!” #nerd

WINN DESIGNED KARA’S SUIT WITH POCKETS AT THE SHOULDERS AND CAPE. #HERO #GENIUS

Tracing the portal trip to its base planet. #genius

Tooooootally a Captain America shirt right there. #nerd

I could talk about this scene for days but just kudos to Jeremy for brilliantly portraying a panic attack with all of Winn’s little mannerisms here: flight instinct, pushing his sleeves up, trying to breathe normally, stammering, all of it. Bravo.

“Kara needs you. I need you.” #hero

Alex is just amazing in this scene.

Winn + Space = the only OTP

Please tell me whose bright idea it was to leave an untrained agent by himself on a dangerous alien planet with no means of protection other than a bulletproof vest and what appears to be a completely empty weapon holster. ???? #protect him

You are not the red shirt.

“You brought WINN to space?” I hear you, Kara.

Winn taking on a murderous alien with only his wits and a space rock is amazing. #hero

LOOK AT THIS BRAVE CLEVER HERO. Yeah, you had better be watching Kara, look what your friend can do.

“Start the car!” is like my second favorite Mon-el line of all time, just have to put that out there.

Sometimes, being a genius means aggressively hitting alien technology until it does the thing. #genius #sorta #desperate times

Did anyone else notice that Kara pushed Winn safely through the portal and then suddenly he’s still with them at the end? Terrible continuity, but I’m just going to choose to believe that the little space nerd didn’t want to leave it forever quick so quickly.

#no hugs for Winn. :(

Look at him. He is over the moon. Well. Close. ;)

When did he get the space rocks? Collecting samples while fixing the portal? Or from shaking out his vest and shoes and finding space dust there?

WIINN. SCHOTT. PROTECTS. THE. STARS. #hero

2x10, We Could Be Heroes

Winn. Is. Tired.

It’s a tossup whether the fact that James is injured or the fact that Winn’s suit failed is the reasoning for him wanting to tell Kara immediately.

“This is officially the first time I have ever asked you for anything.” ..... He has a point. And all he wants is to tell the truth.

“Maybe she’ll turn all the girlfriends evil again, I don’t know!” Winn Schott is the saltiest, most extra cinnamon roll in the world.

Cries out in anguish when Kara breaks a computer. XD #nerd

Pretty sure if Kara had maybe had a heart to heart with her best friend, it probably would have kept him from going behind their backs to help Guardian again. He wants to prove a point, and prove his worth.

Jack-of-all-trades #8?: Man in the Van. He has too many trades. I’ve lost count.

“Short answer: science,” is the best techno-babble replacement line.

Stuff goes wrong. Calls Kara. Winn isn’t an idiot.

Space Dad lecturing Winn and Winn thinks he’s this close to being dead. XD Bonus of Space Dad complimenting Winn and James and acknowledging their work. Kara, take notes.

When Kara lectures them, James leaves. But Winn waits. He waits to see if Kara has anything else she wants to say. And he looks so disappointed as he walks away. :( #always?

2x11, The Martian Chronicles **Winnisode**

not the most development, but some thrilling heroics

“Didn’t know I’d be seeing you tonight.” “Why wouldn’t you be?” Kara, some people do actually have work schedules that they try to stick to in order to keep their jobs, and most humans actually benefit from them.

That sad smile of his when she says “you could have been killed” It’s the thing he worries about with her. He knows, Kara.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I have a calling too?” This is one of only a handful of times Winn directly stands up for himself, and I want to stand up and applaud.

Gameplanning with Vasquez. YES. Also, good to see at least one of the other DEO agents actually being allowed to do noticeable work.

Confusion and horror in reaction to seeing the White Martian double. #protect him

They just.....wreck all the computers. Winn is really going to have a lot of work.

Spoilers: Everything from this point is not Winn, but the Martian. But that Martian has access to Winn’s memories, including learned abilities and general knowledge, and uses that to his advantage. Also, little note: Winn was probably physically the easiest target in the room. He’s not tactically trained. Maybe that’s why the White Martian took him out, because it needed a hiding place and Winn was a safe bet. On the other hand, the other one also took Alex, so. It may have been more than luck that led the Martians to selecting Winn, the genius whose mind and access they could use to implement their plan.

“Teakwood and tobacco.” I need the story behind this. Current headcanon is that this smell is associate with a foster home.

Martian!Winn noticeably nervous about J’onn’s mind scan.

Covering his initial offense at M’gann’s insult by turning it into a very Winn-like quip.

There is thinly veiled contempt in Martian!Winn’s glance at J’onn. Nice acting, nice directing there.

#whatEvenIsThatHandThingy ???

#ScaryWinn

I...I really hope Jeremy enjoyed this as much as it looks like he did.

Winn has access to the whole system. That’s great. Uuuuuntil an evil alien gets to the reactor.

“We need the real Winn to unlock it.” I love that Alex doesn’t even question if anyone else can beat Martian!Winn’s encryption. However, I’m not sure if this is the real Alex here or not...

Also, seriously Kara, why has it taken you this long to show concern for your friend?

non-Winn-related commentary: #this is not the time for a meaningful chat. #you are going to get blown up.

WINN. UNCONSCIOUS. TIED UP ON THE CEILING. how dare. #protect him

“Whhyyyyy??!” is me when my alarm clock goes off. Probably Winn too.

“OOooHhHh wegottagetouttahere” XD XD

....Recovers faster than Alex. Maybe because he’s already ‘been there done that’ with someone being in his brain?

“About four minutes?” Love him.

Psyching himself up, assuring he can do it, right before seeing the battle going on around the reactor.

Warns J’onn about Armek. #hero #space fam

Space Dad’s priorities: protect the children, stop the bomb. #space fam

Has the courage to move through the fight to the core. He has his fear well in control here, just getting to work. #hero

“Whoever encoded this was a genius.” You. You sir. You are the #genius.

“This did not used to happen at CatCo.” Sweetheart. It wasn’t a lot better.

“Close? We had like twelve seconds to spare!”

“Can’t believe it’s still nighttime.” It’s ok, no one knows how time passes in this town buddy.

Put it on record: Kara just showed appreciation for Winn doing his job and saving the day. He couldn’t have done it alone, but no one else could have done it without him. #always #hero

“Unless you object.” He’s giving her a chance to make amends and she takes it, not giving him any reason not to go with Guardian. #supportive friend. “Be Safe.” She also shows care for him, which has become rare.

#Always.

Alrighty, that’s it for this post! I’ll add the rest of the episodes to a second part, which I shall link from here as soon as it’s posted. :D Hope you enjoyed. Winn Schott deserves the world.

[meteora-writes]

So I just found out Luciana is confirmed for s4 and since I am a super petty bitch was wondering if you could write a trick fic where Troy lives and eventually ends up running into luci and nick. Nick has this relationship crisis but ends up choosing Troy? Idk if you can make this short enough for just a req fic but hey worth a shot to ask right? (never stop writing btw please)!!!!!!!

Sorry it took me a while to get to this one, I too am a bit of a petty bitch about this situation (mostly because I think they’re going to have them get back together like nothing ever happened between them in the first place), so I’ll gladly give this a shot.  

~~~~~

No Choice

Parings: Nick Clark x Luciana Galvez & Nick Clark x Troy Otto

Warnings: ANGST, Self-Destructive Behavior, Drama, A nauseating level of fluffy feels, Love Confessions, First Kisses

Notes: Thanks to @anon-ai for helping with the parts of the story in Spanish. I really appreciate it.

~~~~~

Nick made his way back to the bazaar after he blew up the dam. After bullshitting his way back in he went back to working for El Matarife like nothing had happened. No one asked about where his family or friend had gone, and nobody cared that he was constantly drunk and high.

On the morning of his 7th day back working for Matarife, Nick was out collecting walker heads when he noticed a car driving towards him. He ignored it, content to behead a slow-moving walker with his machete. The car was probably headed down the road to the bazaar anyway.

Nick tossed the walker head into his rickety shopping cart with the others and started to push it along the roadside when the approaching car slowed to a crawl behind him. He kept on ignoring it. It wasn’t the first time someone stopped to gawk at him as he did his job.

A moment later the engine cut and Nick could hear the telltale sound of a car door opening and closing. He heaved a sigh as he turned to tell off whoever was walking up behind him, a hand on the handle of his machete just to be safe. “What-” he began, words dying on his tongue at the sight before him.

Standing beside the front bumper of a beat up old Buick Century, was Luciana in all her post-apocalyptic glory. “Nick.” She said, eyes wide as she took in the sight of him for the first time in weeks.

Nick blinked in disbelief, briefly wondering if he was still high before he took a step forward, then another, and another. Before he knew what he was doing, he had wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug that she returned without hesitation.

After a long talk (read as: lots of arguing ending in Nick telling Luciana everything that happened after she left him) Luciana told Nick that she had never found her friends in Mexicali, and that she’d been wandering ever since. She’d heard about El Bazar and decided to check it out.  

The two ended up falling back into a relationship of sorts after that. At first Luciana was just crashing with Nick in the quarters that Matarife set him up in, then one night, Nick woke up from a nightmare to Luciana standing over him with this look in her eyes. She ended up climbing into bed with him and the rest was history.

Or so they thought.

Two months later Nick was sitting in the cantina, his head aching from yet another night of terrible sleep and an excess of equally terrible tequila. He had already finished work for the day, so now he was nursing a glass of something that tasted something like lemonade mixed with lighter fluid while he waited for Luciana to return from a scouting mission.

After a while a figure plopped down onto the vacant stool beside Nick’s, their elbow bumping Nicks as they got settled. Nick couldn’t really see the person in question, the hood of his jacket was pulled up to try and shield his eyes from the harsh light of day. He grunted at the other person jostling his arm and in turn his drink, but otherwise he paid them no mind.

The figure, a man, knocked his knuckles on the bar top to get the tender’s attention. “I’ll have a water.”

Nick froze mid sip at the sound of the man’s voice. He knew that voice. It had been haunting his dreams for months.

Turning his head slowly he was greeted with the side profile of none other than Troy Otto. A living, breathing, Troy Otto. Nick fell out of his seat at the realization that the man beside him was real and not a drug induced vision.

Half the denizens of the cantina were laughing at Nick as he flailed to the floor, spilling his drink all over himself and making his hood fall back from his face in the process. He landed hard, momentarily stunning him and forcing him to close his eyes tight against the world.

When Nick opened his eyes again, Troy was standing before him, his own eyes wide with shock as he looked down at Nick. The two stared at each other a moment before Troy smiled and held out a hand that Nick took without hesitation. The instant Troy had Nick on his feet the taller man had pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

“I don’t…  How are you here? You were dead, my mom killed you! How the hell are you alive?” Nick asked, pulling away and looking Troy over. The left side of his temple had a gnarly pink/red scar that spider webbed around the corner of his eye from where the hammer had struck and torn away flesh. His hair covered a section of it, but it was still painfully obvious against the natural tone of Troy’s skin.

“She knocked me out. Pretty sure she fractured my skull, too. I woke up a few days later in some village down river. They told me someone blew up the dam and I was found on the riverbank not long after.” Troy explained looking Nick over as well. “You look like shit.” He added.

Nick snorted a laugh at that. “You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t know. I think the scars give me an air of mystery.” Troy said, grinning broadly at Nick like it’d been a day since they’d seen each other last and not over two months.  

Nick found himself grinning back. “They give you an air of crazed serial killer.”

“So, you’re saying they don’t affect my boyish good looks in the slightest then.” Troy quipped, earning a punch in the shoulder for it.

Nick rolled his eyes before turning back to the bar to flag the tender down for another drink. “Okay, so, you’re alive, you have been this whole time. What the hell, man? Where have you been? Why didn’t you come looking for me sooner?” He asked as righted his stool and took a seat.

“I had amnesia.” Troy said with a shrug as he sat down beside Nick.

“You’re kidding.”  

“Nope. Couldn’t even tell you my own name up until a few days ago. People that found me were calling me Joe. I hated it. But on the bright side I learned some Spanish and I think I’m a little less racist now.” He said with a small laugh before taking a sip of his water.

“Of course, you did.” Nick said with a fond smile and a shake of his head. “It’s really good to see you. You would not believe the nightmares I’ve had since everything that went down at the dam.”

“Yeah? I’ve had nightmares about what happened at the dam too.” Troy said, cocking his head a little to catch Nick’s eye as he stared down into his drink.

“Yeah?” Nick asked, blinking up from his drink to meet Troy’s gaze.  

“Yeah.” Troy said, scratching at his jaw as he thought about it. “I’d see Madison coming at me with the hammer, then I’d see you looking horrified, then I’d wake up thinking it was actually happening.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick blurted.

“For what?” Troy asked with a snort. “Madison’s the one who snapped and tried to kill me. That isn’t your fault.”

“But it is! I couldn’t protect you! If I hadn’t gotten cornered by Daniel then mom never would have found out what really happened with the horde and you never would have gotten hurt!” Nick argued, turning his body so he was mostly facing Troy now.

“Nick, she would have found out eventually. And chances are she would have had a gun instead of a hammer when she did. I don’t blame you for how things went down.” Troy said, grabbing hold of Nick’s hand and giving a squeeze as he looked the younger man in the eyes.

Nick looked from Troy’s eyes down to where the older man’s hand was holding his own. The contact made his stomach do a funny little flip. He kind of liked the felling. “Troy, what are-”

“Just, hear me out.” Troy cut in, giving Nick’s hand another squeeze as he made Nick look him in the eye again. “I couldn’t remember who you were for over two months, but you were in every single dream I had in that time and one thing became crystal clear to me. I am so in love with you, Nick. I’m in love with you and I wanna be with you for the rest of my life.”

Nick felt like he was dreaming. He had to be. No way in hell this was actually happening.

“What the hell is going on!?!?!” Luciana yelled from behind Nick, breaking the spell Troy’s word had created.

Nick yanked his hand from Troy’s so grasp fast he almost pulled the taller man from his bar stool in the process. “Luciana, you’re back.” Nick said as he moved to stand.

“Answer me, Nick! Qué está haciendo aquí este psicópata? Tu me dijiste que el había muerto!” She spat, glaring daggers at Troy, who had moved to stand behind Nick.

“Calm down, please, people are staring.” Nick said, grabbing hold of Luciana’s arm and pulling her away from the busy cantina and in the direction of their living quarters.

“I will not calm down! What is he even doing here?” Luciana asked as she yanked her arm free of Nick’s grip.

“He came looking for me. He survived my mom attacking him and when the dam blew it washed him down river. El despertó con amnesia después de eso. Sus recuerdos acaban de regresar hace unos días.” Nick explained, feeling like his life had turned into a fucking telenovela or some kind of harlequin romance novel.  

“Te das cuenta de lo loco que suena eso?” Luciana scoffed as she came to stop outside the door to  their room. “You lost your family because of him, Nick! Why were you even talking to that monster?”

“Because he is my family! Cuando tu te fuiste el estuvo ahí para mí! When I got high and lost my mind in the middle of a horde he saved me! I know he’s a monster, but so am I, Luci. The only difference between us is that I tried not to be!” Nick defended, all of the feelings he’d been ignoring for far too long coming out in one burst.

“Y qué hay de mi? If you consider that bastardo family then que soy yo?” She demanded, getting right in Nick’s face.

“Luciana, I-”

“Don’t! If you’re going to let that monster back into your life then I want no part in it. Tienes que tomar una decisión, Nick.” She said flatly before pushing past him and disappearing into their shared living space.

Nick watched her go, eyes wide in shock and a hand held out in front of him where he’d reached to try and stop her. A moment later he heard a throat being cleared and he turned to see Troy standing a few feet behind him.

“Did you mean all that?” Troy asked, head tilted a little to the side as he studied Nick closely, like he thought it all might be a lie.

“Every word.” Nick said softly, locking eyes with Troy.

“I’ll understand if you choose Luciana.” Troy said after a short pause with a nod of his head. “I know how much you care about her.”

“Cared.” Nick corrected without thinking. He blinked in confusion at his own statement before speaking again. “I mean, I still care about her… But not like I did before she left the ranch…”

Troy looked a bit taken aback by Nick’s confession, his blue eyes wide and trained on Nick’s face. “So… How do you feel about me then? You didn’t really get a chance to say anything before we were interrupted back there.” He asked, trying hard not to sound hopeful.

“Honestly…” Nick began, taking a few steps forwards so he was right in Troy’s personal space when he went to speak again. This close he could he could see the few strands of red hiding in the dirty blonde of Troy’s beard when his gaze flicked down to the older man’s mouth momentarily. “I’ve been in love with you since the night we got high together and you stopped me from talking myself to death.” He said with a small smile. “Maybe longer…”

Troy’s features broke into a broad smile before he brought both hands to cup Nick’s face and pull him into a kiss. It was soft, and sweet, and totally not what Nick would have expected from a first kiss from Troy Otto. It was perfect.

When the kiss ended a moment later, Troy let his forehead rest against Nick’s as he looked him in the eyes. “So, it took you that long to fall for me?”

Nick snorted a laugh and pushed Troy away from him playfully. “Like you loved me from day one.” He snarked, remembering the look of boredom on Troy’s face the first time he’d seen him covered in walker blood back at the depot.

“Nah. I loved you from the moment you held a gun to my head and told me I wasn’t a scientist.” Troy said easily as he continued to smile at Nick.

Nick cracked another smile at that. “Of course, that would be the moment.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “Hey, let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I seriously hate this place.”

“Where do you want to go?” Troy asked, blinking down at where Nick had taken his hand and laced their fingers together.

“I don’t know, but I’ve got a car and credits for enough gas and supplies to hold us over for a while.” Nick said easily, leading the way to the busy trade area of the bazaar.

“You’re not going to say anything to Luciana?” Troy asked, looking back over his shoulder at the door the woman had vanished through before turning to watch where Nick was taking him.

“She was listening, she knows what my choice is.” Nick said with a shake of his head.

With that they got enough supplies to get them started someplace new, and they left the bazaar. Neither of them looked back or wondered what could have happened if either of them chose differently.

[nancyswhlr]

friends (jonathan x nancy)

summary: She waited (a month)....It’d been two weeks. Two weeks since they’d found Will, two weeks since they fought a monster from the Upside Down, two weeks since they lost Eleven. Two weeks since Jonathan had almost said something to her on his couch. Two weeks and she’d barely even talked to him since then, it was like he disappeared. It only made her more determined to stay patient.

an: maybe part 1 of 2?? unsure yet but this takes place in 1983!

ao3 link

Nancy flopped on her bed, meticulously inspecting her homework she was currently in the middle of doing. Text books sprawled in front of her as she stuck her sheets of paper in a random notebook, getting up again fully prepared to start reading again when her own hand caught her attention. More specifically, her cut.

It’d been two weeks. Two weeks since they’d found Will, two weeks since they fought a monster from the Upside Down, two weeks since they lost Eleven. Two weeks since Jonathan had almost said something to her on his couch. Two weeks and she’d barely even talked to him since then, it was like he...disappeared. It only made her more determined to stay patient. Unlike her, he got Will back and she knew how much they needed each other right now.

But where did that leave her? 

She wasn’t going to lie, she missed him. She didn’t even think that was possible considering about two weeks and a few days ago she paid him no attention. But when they went through something traumatic, she somehow bonded with him. It was strange but their lives were now. And she just really wanted to know what he was going to say on that couch before Steve interrupted.

Steve. That seemed to be all Steve was doing, interrupting. That sounded harsh, because he really had the best of intentions now, but Nancy’s mind was too preoccupied with Jonathan to go back to the girl that cared about if she should curl or straighten her hair for Steve’s date. But, he really wanted to get back together and to prove to her he changed. She was blindsided when he showed up at her door with roses and apologies a week ago. She couldn’t blame him either though, she did feel closer to him since they fought the demogorgon together as well. But she couldn’t bring herself to get back together with him, despite how much he apologized for what he did. She had to know what was lingering with Jonathan.

She jumped, the sound of her phone ringing pulling her out of her thoughts. She sighed, there was about a 90% chance it was Steve, but she couldn’t help the tugging bit of hope it was Jonathan, at least trying to talk to her. Besides seeing him dropping off and picking up Will, she barely saw him. Awkward ‘hello's and ‘how are you doing?’s at school, but that was it.

“It’s not him.” a voice startled her, not noticing Mike appearing in her doorway. “He just came and picked up Will like, five minutes ago, there’s no way he’s home yet.”

“Oh.” Nancy nodded, trying not to look too disappointed. Was this the level she was on now? Her little brother feeling sorry for her? She really was pathetic. “Thanks.” She mumbled.

“No problem.” He replied just as glumly, but made no movement from her doorway.

“Is everything okay?” She tried not to sound like the old Nancy that wanted nothing to do with her younger brother. She was genuinely concerned about him, she knew losing El hit him hard, despite how happy he was to have Will back. In a way, they both lost someone. She wondered idly if this not arguing aspect to their relationship would last.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded unconvincingly. “Just, maybe try, giving him some time..?” Mike suggested, Nancy ducked her head down.

“I’m trying.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I will.” She tacked on, still not meeting his eyes.

“Good.” Mike was starting to say when the phone rang behind Nancy again, causing her to roll her eyes. “He needs you too.” Mike finished, leaving Nancy alone with her thoughts for just a moment, wondering how her baby brother got to be so insightful, since when he started caring about her feelings. Before she could think about it too much, she groaned, giving in and grabbing the phone to talk to Steve for the night.

That was the way it was. Nancy wondered if she’d ever see him again, considering Will was under very severe watch and they still didn’t really  know what was wrong with him. There were doctors appointments and meetings with the Chief, Nancy wouldn’t blame him for not having enough time to think about her.

It kind of sucked though. Nancy sighed as she walked through the school corridor, hugging her books while she walked towards her locker. There was nothing but excitement in the air, this being their last week of school before Christmas break. It was shown by kids cramming for finals as they walked to class or kids who are going to fail because they already decided their break has started. She was indifferent to it as she pushed her combination on the dial of her locker. As she opened the door, she was somewhat startled when a body came up to lean next to hers.

“Hey Nance!” Steve grinned down at her as she exchanged her books.

“Oh, Hey Steve,” She gave him a polite smile. “What’s up?”

“Not much, but I have a question for you. Do you have plans after school today?” Nancy only raised an eyebrow as she shook her head tentatively. “Okay, what do you say we hang out together after school? We can do whatever you want, you know, go to the movies or, anything. What do you want to do?”

However, as Steve spoke Nancy’s attention shifted from him to a familiar boy walking down the hallway. “Jonathan?” She asked aloud, earning a confused look from Steve as she spoke.

He turned around though, “Would you look at that...do we even know the last time he’s been to school?”

“I don’t know,” Nancy mumbled. It was a lie, he was here last Thursday. She remembered because she waved at him in the hallway before the bell rang, not that it mattered. He missed a lot recently due to taking care of Will, and it looked like administration was giving him a free pass for the rest of the year (courtesy of the chief she was sure). “Sorry, I gotta go Steve.” She said hurriedly, slamming her locker shut. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later.” She offered him one last smile as she followed the boy around the corner, not giving him another glance.

“Hey Jonathan!” She called, causing him to turn around.

“Nancy, hey.” He smiled, and despite herself, she did too.

“What’s up? How are you, doing?” She waded through her words, somewhat shy now that he was actually in front of her, forcing him to talk to her. “I haven’t seen you in...forever, it feels.”

“Oh, um, I’m okay.” He stumbled through his own words, obviously lying. “How are you doing?”

Nancy licked her lips. She wasn’t mad he was lying, she was mad he was lying to her. They were supposed to be friends, and according to Mike and his gang the golden rule of friendship was that friends don’t lie to each other. “Good. Thanks.” She nodded, biting down on her lip. Jonathan nodded as she did, the awkward “we’re both not saying what we’re really thinking” feeling lingering in the air was enough to choke her. But she had no idea what to do about it. “Well, it’s good to see you.” She tried, but she spoke without really thinking it through before he could reply. “Jonathan, you know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I know that Nancy.” He looked like he genuinely meant what he said too, which just confused Nancy more.

“Then why don’t you?” She tried not to look hurt when she asked but it was one of the many things bothering her. In his defense, it’s not like she was calling him or showing up at his door to spill her feelings. But it was different with her (she told herself), he was too busy for that.

“I-” Jonathan faltered, genuinely not having an answer for her. He couldn’t tell her he stayed away from her, afraid every time she looked at him she’d think of the worst week of their lives. He didn’t want to tell her he was trying to give her space after everything that happened, after losing Barb. That even though he was busy, he saw Steve with her, basically begging for a second chance. That they were bound to get back together, and life would go back to normal.

“You know what,” Nancy said after a moment, Jonathan clearly struggling to answer. “Forget about it. This has been the craziest few weeks of our entire lives, I’m not gonna interrogate you about why you don’t really talk to me. But, you can.” A smile played on Nancy’s lips now. “Like it or not Jonathan Byers, you have a friend.” She bumped her shoulder against his lightly.

Jonathan actually laughed, grateful the tension was gone. “I’m not opposed to having friends.” She hummed, giving him a look. “Fine, but I am glad it’s you.” Nancy brightened at his words, glad he was actually talking to her.

She now genuinely smiled. “Good. Plus, I know how you can make it up to me.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“By having lunch with me today.” She shrugged, now walking down the hall in sync with him. As if on cue, the bell rang as he nodded. “Meet me by my locker later.” She ordered him as she gave him one last smile as she walked off in the direction of her class, her heart beating just a little bit faster.

The next several hours dragged on by, Nancy not really interested in paying attention to her lectures. Sure, finals might kick her ass but she couldn’t be bothered to think about physics when she was finally spending time with Jonathan again. Not like three weeks had been a long time, but it felt like it to her. She practically ran out of third period and to her locker, surprised to already see him there.

“Hey,” She greeted him, arching an eyebrow as she opened her locker.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Baker let us out early.” She nodded, understanding.

“Well, where do you want to eat?”

They decided to eat outside on the hood of Jonathan’s car, more privacy that way to where nosy tenth graders wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their conversations about killing a monster from a different dimension (and then report them to the counselor or spread rumors about them both being clinically insane). Not that Nancy even knew what to say or how to start up said conversation, considering her mind was racing a mile a minute and her hands were shaking slightly. It was also somewhat cold considering it was December in Indiana, but Nancy ignored that and curled into her sweater more to avoid the chill as she ate her grapes. It wasn't supposed to start snowing until next week anyway.

Nancy looked around for a few moments, thinking of something to strike up a conversation about. She wrung her hands around, only stopping when she felt pain in her palm. Her cut, which was now bandaged up and would shape up to be a nice scar. She hummed, causing Jonathan to look over at her.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “How’s yours?” She asked, gesturing to her hand. He laughed, putting his out as well. His was clumsily wrapped up, she assumed Will did it.

“Never better. Yours?” He smiled.

She shrugged. “Never better.” A smile broke out on her face as well.

And after a few moments, they picked up conversation surprisingly easily. Jonathan started to tell her about mix tapes he made for Will, since he didn’t have a camera anymore (giving Nancy an idea for a Christmas present), he’d been listening to a lot more music and reading more books. Nancy gave him some suggestions as well, considering she happened to like reading as a hobby. Every once in awhile there was a beat of silence as they struggled with the surrealism of the whole situation, them talking about normal things and not hunting monsters. But they never lasted long, mainly because the silence became too unbearable for Nancy so she spoke up about whatever was on her mind.

“Mike told me Will’s doing better.” She broke the last pause quite easily with her statement, but her tone made it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s doing way better now,” Jonathan ducked his head. “At first, he wasn’t. It was like...he was a different person.” He explained as Nancy listened with concern evident in her eyes. “But now, thanks to the doctors I think, it’s like he’s back to his old self again.”

Nancy smiled as Jonathan did, the relief he was feeling was evident by the look on his face as he talked about his brother. Nancy felt something deep inside pull at her, almost wishing she was that close with Mike, she brushed it off though. “Well it has to help him having you around.” She shrugged, not admitting to herself she was recalling from personal experience. Except she’d been in the Upside Down for about 15 minutes and she was clinging onto Jonathan for the rest of the night basically, she couldn’t imagine what Will was going through. She, luckily, didn’t have to though as Jonathan kept the conversation going.

“How’s Mike doing? Have there been any clues about what happened to…?” He lowered his voice as he asked.

“Eleven? No.” She looked to her hands in her lap now. “Mike, he’s really upset about it, but he still thinks she’s out there, that she’s okay. I hope she is, not only for her sake but his.” The concern for her younger brother was now obvious, but it’s not like Mike would talk to her about this kind of stuff anyway.

“Maybe she is.” He shrugged, and Nancy did too. As odd as it sounded, it felt good to talk about this stuff. She didn’t really have anyone to talk about it with, and it sort of weighing on her. Jonathan must’ve noticed something on her mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked with genuine worry.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Nancy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just...I haven’t really talked about what happened much.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s actually good. No one really wants to talk about it, but I feel like sometimes I need to.”

Jonathan nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. Everyone wanted everything to go back to normal somehow. As if that was even possible, Nancy wouldn’t even know where to begin and she suspected the same of Jonathan. But they were actively going against everything that used to be normal by just talking to each other.

Here she was, having lunch with Jonathan Byers. Something a month ago Nancy would’ve never even considered, despite how friendly they were because of their brothers. She chuckled despite herself at the thought.

“What?” Jonathan asked, now lighthearted.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just...isn’t it crazy how everything happened? Like, last month, we didn’t even know each other! And now, here we are…” She smiled as she spoke, Jonathan following.

“Being friends?” He finished for her.

She met his eyes now as she nodded. “Yeah. Friends.” She affirmed. Her heart beat just a little bit faster though. Was that all they were?

There was a beat as they both took in each others words, each other’s presence.

“Hey, Nancy?” Jonathan mumbled, and Nancy looked up at him beneath her eyelashes. He had a similar expression on his face as he did on their moment on his couch and suddenly this was it, her heart was racing.

“Yeah?” Her reply was barely audible, she was too busy trying to read him with her eyes. This was all too much, she felt excited and nervous but more than anything she was curious and  just wanted to know what he was going to say.

“I-” Jonathan started, only to be cut off by shouting across the courtyard. Both their heads turned to the sound that was only a idiot jock being stupid with his friends. Nancy would go strangle him if she didn’t have hope Jonathan was going to continue.

“What were you going to say?” She asked softly, desperately trying to bring back the moment that was now gone. He could still say it, they could still have their moment.

“I’m, uh, just wanted to say thanks. You know, you were such a help a few weeks ago and for...” he trailed off. “Anyway, I, uh, I appreciate it.” He finished hurriedly, not looking anymore. Nancy let her shoulders drop, just knowing that wasn’t what he was actually planning to say.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” She pressed her lips together though, determined to get his actual confession out of him. Slowly, she reached to take his hand in hers. “Jonathan, are you sure-” And as if fate couldn’t be anymore against them, the bell rang now, interrupting her and causing him to jump. It’s not like she cared though, none of this stuff was more important than Jonathan confessing to her even though she feared they missed that opportunity. She suppressed an eye roll before she spoke again, still looking at him in that gentle way she did before. “Jonathan, are you sure that’s what you were going to say?” They were so close now, maybe she should just lean in and just kiss him and have all this bullshit be over with.

Still, she waited for him to speak. She could tell there was doubt and clouded judgment in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Nancy.” He met her eyes briefly, giving her nothing but a fake smile she could see right through. He squeezed her hand to confirm and she repressed the urge to actually groan now, how much more obvious could she be? He really didn’t think he wasn’t good enough for her, that she should get back with Steve, did he? Did he really think she was that shallow suburban girl archetype she hated?

Or maybe, he was never going to confess to her. Maybe he was just genuinely happy to have a friend, considering it didn’t seem like he had one before. Maybe that was all he saw Nancy as. (Maybe that’s what she told herself). She tried not to let her hopeful expression fall so quickly, but she had a feeling she looked disappointed. “You sure?” She asked still, inching away from him now to collect her things. He was as well.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Nancy.” He smiled one more time, and she gave him one too that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She saw him longing to say more just by looking in his eyes.

“Okay.” She nodded, not believing him as she untangled their hands, instantly feeling cold where his hand was. Still, she packed up her things. “Well, I have to get to class, and I know you do too.” She tried to tease him, and he still laughed despite how forced it must have sounded. “I’ll, uh, see you around? Okay?”

“Yeah.” He mumbled back, the tense silence returned. How did they always find themselves never being able to say what they actually wanted to say to one another? Jonathan could sense her disappointment (and may or may not have mistaken it for annoyance. Or worse, anger) because he called to her as she got up. “Hey Nancy?”

“Yeah?” She turned around, the last small piece of hope inside of her praying not to be crushed.

“We’re good, right?” Jonathan took a pause, looking nervous as he licked his lips. “Friends?”

Nancy softened at the look on his face and nodded, willing herself to give him a real smile that she hoped didn’t look sad as she paused. “Yeah, of course. Friends.” Just friends. She gave him one last look and smile before walking away, scolding herself for getting her hopes up. But a part of her was just happy to have him in her life now.

She was, however, racking her brain as she walked back towards the school, pulling her books out. Should she wait even longer? What was she even waiting for? The day he realized he didn’t want to be just friends? What if that never came? She contemplated for a moment as she walked through the school doors if she should be the one to say something to him, but she’d have no idea where to even start. ‘Hey I know you just got your brother back and you’re beyond busy with that and not only that but we’re both suffering from some major PTSD here but I have a hunch you like me because you always look like you say you’re going to but never actually say it but I think you should because I like you too’?

Before she could give it anymore thought, a hand tugged on her arm as she passed by the lockers. “Hey, Nance.”

She turned around to just see it was only Steve who caught up to her. Of course it was Steve, he was always there. “Oh, hey Steve. What’s up?” She hoped she still didn't look disappointed.

“I just-” He pulled her aside in the middle of the busy hallway as kids quickly made their way to class. “I wanted to apologize about earlier. I know I came on kind of strong about hanging out today so we don’t have to if you don’t want to-” He started as she second bell rang, signaling you had about another minute before you were actually late to class.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She said hurriedly, eyeing him for a moment before she was actually rushing to class. “I’ll see you after school?” She said as she slowly without really thinking the decision through as she started to walk away. This didn’t mean anything, did it? She’d given Jonathan three weeks now, it’s not like she was choosing Steve. Was she?

“Wait, really?” She didn’t miss how Steve was grinning.

“Yeah. Only if you let me get to class on time though.” She said, caving just a little as she started to walk away.

“Whatever you want Nancy!” He shouted down the hallway after her.

A small smile played on her lips all the way from the hallway to her seat in class, part of her still trying to decide how she should feel about Jonathan now. Despite how excited she wanted to be about later though, her smile fell when she thought about how she’d rather be spending the afternoon with Jonathan instead.