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arclundarchivist · 3 years

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Home, Again.

(Spoilers from Campaign 2 Episode 141, it has been a lovely ride, and I will admit, this mostly going to be me getting a bit into my own personal fantasy, but I hope it is enjoyed.)

Caleb, a little grayer in his hair, stands on the beach staring out into the ocean, a wide smile on his face as he turns and sees several small forms racing about, clashing fake swords, delving into the water cautiously, or just doing what children are want to do. Veth's little "camp" had picked up steam, numerous children from across the breadth of Nicodranus coming to learn how to be, well, how to play at being adventurers. He'd managed to take a bit of time off from the academy, nervous still about the prospect but...he'd been drawn away for an excellent reason.

His family.

Nine years had passed since their battle in Cognouza. Nine years since they had become the unsung, though oft whispered. heroes of all of Exandria.

He'd seen them all from time to time across the years, coming together for birthdays and moments of joy and surprise, but now, was a time for true celebration.

He turns and spots Veth and Yeza, standing shoulder to shoulder nearby, watching the waves roll in, hunting perhaps like he was, for the behemoth that was the Nine Heroez to pull into port. On Veth's hip is a little girl, with a mane of curled, wild hair much like her father with a deeper skin tone like her mother: Molly.

Veth turns and looks up at him, "Do you seem anything?"

"Not yet, but they'll be here. I can't imagine they'd miss this for the world." Caleb responds, squeezing her shoulder before reaching down, letting the gently cooing Molly take his finger and squeeze.

He turns and looks back, spotting several other figures arrayed across the beach that he had reached out to in the planning of this event.

Shakaste is perched on a rock, telling a soothing story to an enraptured crowd of kids, which included Luc, and to his amusement Twiggy, who had arrived at the party seemingly out of the blue.

Running towards him, chased by her youngest adoptive siblings is Kiri. Veth invited her family to partake of Nicodranus and allow the kids a bit of fun during the summer months.

Kiri skids to a halt kicking up sand, standing almost to his chest now, several makeshift bandoleers and her collection of tinkered baubles resting on her chest and along her belt. She smiles up at him widely, chirping excitedly.

"Come on! Beau, Yasha! She's probably a good egg!" Kiri warbles, mimicking several voices she'd heard, tugging on his and Veth's hands.

Laughing, Veth passes Molly to her husband, and the pair allow Kiri to drag them all the way to the edge of the beach, where Beau and Yasha are approaching. They both look a bit older but more at peace, Yasha dressed in dark but less severe clothing, hints of Dynasty garb on the both of them. He also notices two figures walking a step behind them, looking a bit shy.

"I missed you!" Kiri crows, darting for the pair and hugging tight to their legs.

"Hey, Kiri," Beau says with a soft smile.

"Hello, Little Bird," Yasha says, giving Kiri a head scritch.

She coos cheerfully before darting back up onto her perch and scanning for signs of the others.

Beau looks at Caleb and wraps him in a tight hug, "Hey, Professor."

"Expositor," Caleb mutters, wrapping his arms around her and then doing the same to Yasha, who practically picks him up off his feet.

Beau kneels and hugs Veth, whispering, "Chaos Crew!"

"Almost." Veth states, "Hopefully, she'll be here soon."

Caleb looks past his dear friends and blinks in surprise as he spots Beauregard's Mother and younger brother TJ.

"Oh, uh, hello, thank you for coming." Caleb mutters, rubbing the back of his head, "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Caleb Widoghast."

Veth narrows her eyes slightly at Beau's mother: "Veth Brenatto."

"Clara, I do remember you," she remarks, nodding to them both briefly.

"Good, because I-" Veth begins only for Beau to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Down, Veth," Beau remarks, earning a chuckle from Yasha.

"Fine," she remarks, still giving Beau's mother a bit of a stink eye.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. There is some food and drink nearby, and blankets to spread out as you wish," Caleb states.

"Thank you," Clara says, turning to leave the four of them while TJ hangs back next to his sister, looking up at her uncertainly.

"Go have fun." Beau says, pointing to Luc and Kiri, "Those are the other kids I was telling you about, just don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

TJ gives her a shy grin, "No promises."

And then runs off, Caleb noticing the small sticks that he wears across his back.

"A chip off the old block, eh?" Caleb asks as Beau throws an arm around him.

"Not exactly, way more shy!" Beau states, looping her arm around Yasha's as Veth grabs his hand, "Four of the Nine, any words on the others?"

"Not yet, but they'll come," Caleb says.

"Good, I brought you all flowers from our garden." Yasha states, holding up a new book, filled to the brim with dried flowers, "You both look very good."

Veth smiles: "I'm with my family, and even more are on the way; I'm wonderful."

Caleb nods: "It will be good to see everyone again."

"Speaking of everyone," Beau states, unlooping her arms from her partner and friend, "Yo, Shakaste! I think it's past time you and I compared notes on some things."

Shakaste turns from his story to Luc and the other kids, the former getting dragged away by Kiri for a conversation with TJ, while Twiggy looks around him and her face widens in a deep grin.

"I mean, I agree, but I thought this was gonna be a day of fun, not work?" Shakaste remarks with a knowing smirk.

"I can do both," Beau says with a shrug of her shoulders as she walks towards them.

"I have notes too!" Twiggy cries, darting towards Beau and beginning to ramble, while Yasha turns and walks towards Yeza, the pair beginning a softer conversation as Yasha, ever so gently gives her hand out for Molly to play with.

Caleb and Veth end up sitting shoulder to shoulder on the beach, waiting and watching as their friends and number of children mill about them and are deep in conversation, when the sound of a firework going off draws all of their attention.

There is a collective jump amongst the party, the more martial figures immediately going on the defensive, with Yasha pushing Yeza behind her only for it to be quickly revealed to be Kiri once more, tearing away from Luc and TJ, now shouting.

"Jester! Jester! I missed you!"

Not a moment later, Twiggy is peeling off as well, with Veth, Caleb, Beau, and Yasha at a more sedentary step behind as approaching them arm in arm is Fjord and Jester, wide smiles on their face, Nugget loping ahead of them and teleport tackling Luc, who falls with a laugh as the dog begins licking his face.

Behind them, walking arm and arm is The Gentleman and Marion, followed by Orly and Vandren, and next to them, to Caleb's surprise, is Caliana.

"Kiri!" Jester cries out, sliding to her knees and wrapping the young Kenku in the tightest hug and spinning her about, revealing the swaddled bundle on her back which giggles in surprise at the momentum.

"And Twiggy!" Jester cries, drawing the gnome into a tight hug as well before ping-ponging to her friend with deep, tearful hugs and cheek kisses, going from Veth to Yasha, to Beau, and then to Caleb.

"Veth, so, about the Detective Agency...I'm sorry that I've been so busy...but." Jester began as she hugs her.

"Don't worry, Jessie, I'm glad you're here," Veth says, hugging her tightly.

"Yasha, my god, you look so beautiful! I missed you so much!" Jester cries, running her fingers through flower-filled hair.

"Thank you, Jester, I missed you too." Yasha states with a soft smile as she looks down over Jester's shoulder into the teal face of a small Tiefling toddler, the hint of a tusk coming in on the left-hand side, "And this little joy."

She tickles the bottom of his chin, eliciting a laugh, a smile widening on her face: "Hi, Charlie."

"Beau!" Jester cries, pulling her into a bone-cracking hug.

"Hey, Cutie." Beau returns, hugging her back and patting her cheek.

Jester giggles and then turns to hug Caleb, a soft but deep embrace, "You look very happy, Caleb."

Caleb whispers back, "I am happy. So very, very happy."

Fjord walks up next, looking down at Veth: "Veth."

Veth looks up at him with narrowed eyes, "Fjord."

They stare at each other for a moment before wrapping each other in a hug, "You look good, Fjord."

"I feel it." he returns, "And so do you."

Yasha and Fjord clap hands together with a smile while Beau comes in on the other side and punches him playfully on the shoulder.

"You know neither of those hurt as much as they used to." Fjord states with a grin.

"Good, where's Kingsley?" Yasha asks.

"Well wouldn't you know it...the tricky bastard went off and made himself into a pirate." Fjord said with a laugh, "I...I don't know if he'll be here."

Yasha looks down a bit crestfallen, "Oh."

"This does mean, though, that I need my old first mate back if she has an inkling to come to sea, just for a bit." Fjord said with a slight smile, looking to Beau.

Beau smiles and shares a look at Yasha, who shrugs but smiles softly. "Maybe, maybe."

"Nice to see you again, Caleb," Fjord says, pulling him into a hug.

"Nice to see you too, Fjord," Caleb says.

"Gangs almost all here; it's been quite a while, hasn't it," Fjord says.

"It has." Caleb agrees as he watches Jester place her son into the arms of her mother and then scoops up Kiri and twirls around with a laugh.

"Mighty fine to see all of you again, ain't that right, Miss," Orly says, nodding to each of them and nudging Caliana.

"OH! Yes, of course. Hello, again, Mr. Caleb, Beau, Yasha," Caliana states, with a nervous bow before looking at Veth and opening her mouth a bit awkwardly.

"It's Veth; good to see you again, Miss." Veth says with a smile, "How have you been?"

"Well, I..." Caliana begins, blushing slightly, only for Jester to spin by interrupting.

"We found her when we stopped her in Port Demali! Kingsley did actually, and then we caught up, and Fjord managed to convince her to join our crew, and she has been very helpful with the magic things at times like you were Caleb, and sometimes she scares the living daylights out of people that try and steal from us!"

Calianna blushes deeper, "I don't mean to."

"She's a good crewmate, and a good friend, speaking of which." Fjord says, turning to the older man beside him, "Vandren, this is my family, not everyone, but most."

Vandren gives them all a once over, "Eclectic group. Makes sense. Nice to meet you. Any drink to be found?"

"Yes, right over there," Caleb says, pointing towards a large picnic table.

"Right, Orly, let's get to it," Vandren says, clapping Fjord on the shoulder and heading over, followed by The Gentleman, who gives each of them a respectful nod, kissing his daughter on the cheek as he passes.

Marion smiles at them all, "I'm glad to see you all healthy and hale. You've all had quite the journey."

The assembled Nein shared a look, "That we have."

Jester smirks and then speaks up, "Speaking of which..."

She enters into a tirade of her and Fjord's most recent adventurer's interrupted at times by Fjord and a more tentative Caliana, while the others listen, sitting down as the sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, Veth's students heading for home, leaving the children adjoined to the party alone to chase each other, play fight, and ride about on Nugget. Charlie spends much of the time in his Mother or Father's lap, occasionally being passed to Yasha, who at one point ends up holding him and Molly in a moment of what Caleb could only describe as awed bliss, as their respective parents got drawn away by something.

A while later, Luc turns to trying to entertain them, showing off the few cantrips he'd learned to the other kids, including the assembled Shusters, and TJ. Kiri makes a game of picking at him after a bit.

As he begins talking about how strong he will be, Kiri walks up and pokes her beak directly into his ear.

"Kiri! Don't embarrass me in front of my apprentices!" he cries with a bit of a blush as Kiri made a joking kissing sound, gesturing to Molly and Charlie who stared at the pair in the muddled, joyful confusion that is Toddlerhood as they rest on their respective parent's laps.

"I don't think a little peck is all that embarrassing." a low voice states, drawing the assembled Nein's attention to a tall figure, his staff glowing a low pink, a wide smile on his face as Caduceus Clay approaches with several others in tow.

"Sorry, I'm late," Cad says, not even pausing as an elated Luc races for him and jumps into his arms, "I had a few friends to pick up."

Calliope waves, "I'm just his tagalong."

Behind her stands Nila and her son, Keg, quickly dashing out a cigarette and looking more than a little awkward, with Reani at her shoulder.

"Hello again," Nila states with a soft smile as the other curious youngsters readily approach her son.

"Long time no see, heard y'all did some really good work." Keg states with a smirk, sharing a look with Beau, walking over, and hugging Veth.

Reani darts over to Jester, wrapping her in a hug, then several of the others, cooing over the babies for a second before tackle-hugging Beau and then Caleb.

"Hey, Reani," Beau says, looking a little awkward but still happy to see her.

"Hey guys, also thank you, Caleb, for sending him my way."

"Him?" Caleb queries, a bit confused.

Clay walks up, hugging Fjord deeply, and then Jester and Yasha: "God, it's good to see you all again, but as I said, I had some friends to pick up."

And out of the shadows, melting into view with a soft yet nervous smile on his face, comes Essek Theylas.

"Hello everyone." he states, eliciting a few gasps and a tackle hug from Jester, "And let's just say Reani, and I have been working on...seeing all the colors and shades as it were."

He gives Beau a pointed nod.

Reani smiles, "He's a sweetheart."

Caleb gets to his feet, walking over to Essek with a cautious smile, "Welcome back to the Mighty Nein."

"Glad to be back...if just for a little while, it will be good, to..." he pauses, looking deeply into Caleb's eyes, "Take a bit more time with you."

As Jester lets him go, Essek slowly glides towards Caleb, and he feels their fingers intertwine, a soft smile growing on both their faces.

He turns and notices a few smirking faces amongst his friends, while the adjoining members are beginning to shuffle about and begin conversing, Reani and Twiggy hitting it off like an unending wildfire, while Keg mills about before choosing to sidle up to Caliana and begin asking her questions, Shakaste sits down next to Caduceus and begins to query him on how everything is going in his neck of the woods.

Fjord looks around at his family as several fires roar up around them. TJ, Kiri, Luc, the Schusters, and Asar are sitting around their own cooking marshmallows, watched by Clara, who has found herself the subject of affection for Nugget, his large head now splaying across her lap. Jester is sitting between Fjord and her Mother, Charlie asleep on her lap, head on her mother's shoulder, with her and Fjord holding hands. Beau is leaning against Yasha, next to Yeza, holding Molly while Veth sat between him and Caleb, with Esseek on his other side, their fingers just the faintest bit intertwined. A bit back from the fire, behind Fjord and Jester, Nila, Cad, and his sister are leaning forward, Cad's hand resting on Fjord's shoulder. Calianna sits next to Fjord, while Reani and Twiggy sit across the fire from Yasha and Beau. Vandren, The Gentleman, and Keg are deep in conversation at the nearby picnic table while Shakaste and Orly are seated between the Nein's fire and the kids, the former humming along as the latter plays some softer music.

"Gangs all here finally." Fjord remarks, "And on a beautiful night too."

"Well...almost all of them are here," Yasha states, somewhat sadly.

"No, everyone." a familiar voice states, as coming across the sands is Kingsley Tealeaf, with Marius in tow.

"Hi there, Angel, there was no way I was missing this party, especially since Joybuzzer reminded me every day about it," Kingsley states, kissing the top of Yasha's head as he walks by, doing the same to Jester and then clapping Fjord on the back and gently hugging Caliana as she scoots over.

"You too?" Essek asks with a knowing smile.

"So it would seem." Kingsley returns as Marius walks by, headed for Orly.

"Kill anyone yet?" Fjord calls out after him.

"No, Captain." Marius returns with a sheepish grin.

"Pity, good to see you still breathing, Lepual." Fjord states with a smirk.

"Likewise, Captain," Marius states, falling into a seat beside Orly.

Keg turns at the arrival of the newest figure and does a triple take before walking over and clunking to the ground next to Reani and staring at him.

"You...are making me extremely uncomfortable," Kingsley states with a smirk.

"Yeah...sorry, this is a little weird, honestly." as she turns to Beau, Veth, and Caleb, and mouthed, "Why didn't you warn me?!"

Beau blinks, "Sorry."

Kingsley chuckles, "Right, this is awkward, but I've got time to catch up with whatever that is and the rest of y'alls stories in a moment. Cause I need a fucking drink!"

He crows that with a laugh and a second later, he is mimicked by a surprised Kiri which is then picked up by Luc, who instead starts yelling: "Well, get a fucking drink then!"

He and Kiri begin to chant that back and forth turning it into a bit of a song, which Orly chuckles at and begins to play a bit of a jig, eliciting a few smirking laughs from the others, while Kingsley blanches a little bit.

"I feel like I'm a bad influence," Kingsley states as he stands up.

"Oh, we all are." Fjord agrees.

"Most of us." Cad amends with a smile.

Caleb chuckles, gripping Essek's hand a bit tighter as he smiles as well, listening to the chaos begin to pick up around him, as Kiri and Luc begin to dance around them, drawing others to join them as Orly begins to play in earnest, joined by Marius, as he draws a lute from his back. First Beau and Yasha, then Yeza and Veth holding Molly, then Fjord and Jester with their son between them, Marion and the Gentleman, Keg shrugs and begins tapping her foot while Twiggy begins dancing by herself, twirling in a flurry of spinning skirts, leaving Caliana, who is quickly offered a hand by Reani, taking it with a vibrant blush' Kingsley looks about before offering Cad a hand with a smirk, who shakes his head just looking about contently. Kingsley shrugs only for Calliope to vice grip his hand and twirls him away while Nila and her son are the last to stand up and dance, with TJ joining his older sister and her partner. Caleb shoots Essek a questioning look, who smiles and stands, resting his forehead against his silently, before in the moon and fire-light, missed by all but a cloaked green figure at the edge of the revelry their chins tip up towards each other into a soft, gentle kiss.

Caleb is glad to be home.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #beauyahsa #fjorester #shadowgast #cr veth #cr caduceus #kingsley tealeaf #orly skiffback #cr reani

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nnightskiess · 3 years

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‧₊° 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘/𝐍 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐘/𝐍 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧?

To say Y/N had been working hard, would be a real understatement. Even with only a few bites of food in her system, the girl had pushed herself all week to upkeep their little camp and help provide for the rest of the girls. No matter how much the other girls had protested for her to take a break, she had kept going and going and going. Sitting around and doing nothing would only make her feel guilty.

After Leah had lashed out and persisted for her to wear a baseball cap to take the heat out of her face, and thus lessen the severe sunburn she was already sporting, no one else had been able to make the girl listen to them. Thus Leah made sure to stay close, offering the girl water, pushing her to work in the shade or making her splash some seawater in her neck to try and keep her a bit cool. It was all she could do and all that Y/N accepted.

“Leave it!”

Y/N’s yell echoed over the sound of the waves, making everyone’s head turn to her and Dot, who was standing next to her— both girls holding onto the axe.

“You need to take a fucking break or we’ll have to bury you next.” Dot yelled back but there was less hostility in her tone— she mostly worried.

“We’ll have to dig nine graves if I don’t do anything!”

“So you think we’re not doing enough? Low blow, Y/N.” Rachel chimed in.

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Her exhaustion and the pain everywhere in her body didn’t help to keep calm towards the others.

Fatin stood between the two, quickly trying to divert the attention, “Look, as much as I love me a hard-working, independent woman, I think it’s best if you just come with me and relax a little. Let’s get some shade, come on.” Fatin grabbed the girl by the shoulders but Y/N didn’t really budge to walk away with her.

Rachel rolled her eyes, “You’re her polar opposite. Not doing anything doesn’t help either, Fatin.”

“Uh- this isn’t about me, but fine, there’s some truth to that.” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m sure Y/N didn’t mean it like that.” Nora mindlessly trudged towards the girls, the others following her actions.

“Oh, didn’t she? We’re working our asses of in this heat while my body is screaming for food, water and rest and she has the fucking audacity to-”

“Man, leave her the fuck alone.” Toni suddenly appeared next to Y/N and grasped the axe out of Dot’s hands before giving it back to the girl next to her. “She’s working so fucking hard to keep us alive, keep things going, and all you guys fucking do is attack her for it.”

Rachel’s lip curled into a sneer. She was doing her best to swallow back the bitter reply she had prepared and walked off.

“You good?” Toni grabbed the girl’s forearm to get her attention after the lack of response.

Y/N mustered up some energy to smile in return, “Yeah, I...I’m going to get us some leaves for the roof.” She gestured to the forest behind her, getting a nod of acknowledgement from Toni.

“You know I meant well, right?” Dot furrowed her eyebrows, still feeling worried. “At least let me go with you then?”

“I know. But I can’t stop, you know that too, right? We need a solid shelter. And no, it’s best if you stay here so you can hold down the fort.”

“But-” Leah finally joined the conversation, having observed from the sidelines until now.

“It’s alright, Leah. I feel alright, I’m fine. I can keep going.” Y/N awkwardly adjusted the cap, trying not to touch her painful sunburned head. Leah decided against trying to change Y/N’s mind, noticing the persistent look in the girl’s eyes. But the way Y/N winced when she brought her hands up to get her hair out of her face, didn’t go unnoticed by her.

Y/N tried to hide how tired she really was and continued, “When the shelter is done, I might take you up on that relaxation offer.” She turned to Fatin, “But right now it doesn’t feel good to rest, knowing that we could be having another sandstorm or rainstorm tonight. I appreciate your effort, though.”

Fatin smiled sympathetically at the girl before watching her walk off towards the forest.

“I don’t... I don’t feel comfortable having her go alone.” Leah bit her lip and faced Dot and Fatin.

“Me neither, man, but you know she gets prickly when she feels like we watch over her like a child.”

“Well, we kind of do watch over her like a child...” Martha added, a guilty expression on her face.

“Yeah, but only because we mean well...” Shelby bit her lip, watching Y/N disappear into the forest.

“Try telling a growling lion that you mean well and just want to pet it... see how that goes.” Fatin snorted but immediately kept quiet when she saw no one laughing along, only Nora gave her a hesitant smile.

Leah had zoned out and suddenly turned to where Y/N had walked off to, realising she needed to leave now if she wanted to catch up to the girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Gonna help her.”

Was all she said before abandoning the group.

Y/N tried to ignore the most prominent aching— the one in her head — and tried to zone out all the pain she was feeling with every step. Her throat started to feel like a knife every time she swallowed and her limbs were on fire. But still, she pushed on to take one step after the other. She knew Toni and Dot had cut the bushes closest to camp already, and therefore she trekked further into the heart of the rainforest, scouting for whatever may come in handy. But it got harder with each step. Her vision seemed to blur and the trees started to sway from left to right and as she looked down at her feet, she saw not only two, but four of them. She let out a shaky breath, realising this wasn’t good and what would probably happen next. Dot had been right, she had needed a break after all. Y/N tried to look around as much as she could with her current vision, the headache not helping, but she could no longer make out any depth, let alone find a nice tree to rest her back against. Before she knew it, she had fallen face forward and slid off the path, landing a few meters down into a thick pile of mud. She heard the few items she had managed to find fall after her before they landed harshly on her back. One last look around and her vision went black.

Leah’s worries were already high the moment she stepped into the forest. The slow blinking of Y/N’s eyes and slow, painful movements overall, the split seconds she’d grab her head or stomach and the way she had taken deep breaths had made her worry for the girl. But after forty minutes of walking around trying to find Y/N, to no avail, that worry started to grow. She couldn’t go back now, she needed to find Y/N first.

It might have been the lack of sense of time, but back at camp, the girls were starting to worry where the two girls were at.

Dot had been drawing with a stick in the sand before pointing with it at the sky, “Sun’s going down in two hours, should we go look for them?”

“No.” The corner of Fatin’s mouth curled up into a smirk. She stifled a laugh, earning confused looks from the rest of the girls who had put their work on hold for the day. “You guys!” She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Let them have their fun.”

Toni snorted, knowing what she was going on about.

“Um-” Shelby rubbed her neck, feeling slightly awkward, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Have I seriously been the only one who noticed?”

Rachel shrugged, “Probably. We’re too busy working to even notice stuff like that.”

Fatin made a mocking but playful face and sat up.

“They both like to retreat and sit alone now and then, right? I’m sure everything’s okay.” Martha tried to lift everyone’s spirits but it was clear that most of them were now starting to worry, not taking Fatin’s remark seriously.

Dot stood up.

“I say we should start looking for them.”

“Y/N?!” Leah’s voice cracked. If only Y/N could hear her, she could yell back or follow her voice, even if she wasn’t near. “Y/N!”

Leah frantically looked around and slipped, thick mud now coating her clothes.

“Leah, are you okay!?” The rest of the girls had found her and helped the girl back up. Leah’s breath was laboured and she held her head in panic, not even realising her hands were muddy. She frantically looked around.

“Leah, Leah, hey-” Fatin walked from the back and grabbed the girl’s arms, “Breathe, tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know- I-I don’t know what happened, I don’t-” She looked around again, yelling for the girl. “We have to find her. S-She’s fine… I mean, she has to be, right?“

Toni opened her mouth, “You never caught up with her?”

Leah’s eyes landed on Toni for only a split second before she shook her head and looked around again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dirty white top Y/N had been wearing that day.

“Hey, I’m sure we’ll find her. Okay?” Fatin tried to reassure her friend.

“Yeah, knowing her she's probably busy cutting down the whole rainforest.” Shelby tried to lighten the mood as well, but it went over Leah’s head.

“Not to piss on anyone’s parade, but it took us a good while to even find Leah, the sun’s going down soon and as much as I would hate leaving without Y/N, I don’t think it’s such a great idea to walk around at night.” Dot twirled the stick in her hand, hating having to break the news. “We should call it. You know, start out fresh in the morning...”

Leah’s voice was harsh from yelling, “We have to keep looking.” It was clear to everyone that she was on the verge of breaking down, “We can’t stop looking.”

“Leah-”

“We have to find her...” Her voice now merely above a whisper, the birds of the rainforest filling the silence. “Please...” She stated more than asked. The girls looked at her. They were worried too, but Leah seemed to be panicking even more. She scanned everyone’s faces, but when no one said a word, her heart sank into her stomach.

“S-She went in here for all of you-” She pointed a finger, “She-”

“She’s right.” Toni nodded, “Leaving her alone is a really shitty way of saying thank you for all that she’s done.”

Leah didn’t need to hear more and yelled out the girl’s name again, the others now following her lead. They hiked a good half hour before Martha stopped to pick something off the ground. It was completely covered in mud, but the shape was still inevitably that of an axe.

“Guys...” She held it in the air.

“She had that with her.” Toni nodded, remembering she’d given it to Y/N.

“Why would she leave it here?” Marty added, “Do you think something happened?”

“Y/N!” They all started yelling, realising the girl couldn’t be far now.

“Wait, wait, wait-” Rachel, who could’ve punched the girl just a few hours before, was just as worried as the rest when she pointed at the evident slip marks in the mud. “Do you think she could have slipped?”

“Most definitely.” Dot winced and was already making up a plan when she tried to determine how deep it was.

“That’s her!”

Leah’s panicked yell got their attention. She pointed at something down below. It was hard to see, but if you tried, you could see the messy mop of hair and the clothes dirtied with mud lying sideways.

“Okay, we need to make a plan-”

Leah shut down every rational thought the moment she saw Y/N’s unconscious body and slowly but clumsily let herself slide down onto her belly. Toni followed her lead immediately, yelling angrily when she got down, “Don’t stand there, fucking do something!”

“Wait, let’s think this through first before we’re all stuck down there.” Dot stopped them. While the girls above them were trying to figure out what to do, Toni and Leah were tending to Y/N.

Toni scrunched up her face when Leah turned Y/N to lay on her lap. Y/N’s right temple was heavily coated with blood and mud.

“That doesn’t look too good.”

The sudden move of her body made Y/N open her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the two girls holding her.

“Easy, I’ve got you.” Leah grabbed her cheeks to try and get a better look at her eyes, to see how responsive she really was.

Y/N suddenly realised what had happened and wanted to sit up straight until two sets of hands gently pushed her back down. She let out a cry of pain immediately.

“Sssh, just lay down, it looks like you hit your head.” But when Leah squeezed her arm to try and comfort the girl, Y/N let out another yelp.

“I’m not an expert but her elbow looks fucked up.” Leah shot Toni a look, telling her to keep her mouth shut in front of Y/N.

“I don’t feel so good.” Y/N managed to get out.

“I know- Shit, um- J-Just hold my hand.” Leah mumbled curse words under her breath, feeling terribly out of control. She didn’t know what to do or how to help the girl.

“Everything okay down there? We’re sending Rachel to help. Can Y/N stand on her own?”

“No, her arms fucked and something hit her head.” Toni replied, sending an apologetic look Leah’s way when she shot her another look.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t pass out on me!” Leah saw Y/N’s hazy eyes slowly open and close.

“Does anyone have water with them?!” Leah panicked.

A bag of pecan nuts hit Toni in the head, who let out a grunt.

“Sorry...” Martha gasped.

“It’s fine. Can you give me a heads-up on the bottle of water, though?”

“Watch out!”

Toni waddled on her knees through the thick mud back to Y/N who was now sitting in between Leah’s legs, leaning back against the girl’s torso.

“When’s the last time you ate? Or drank?” Leah asked softly, trying not to worsen Y/N’s headache. Y/N only shrugged in return.

“Open up,” Leah held back the girl’s head and helped her drink a bit, then splattered the remaining water in her face and neck. Y/N was tired, but tried her best to keep her eyes open, if only to soothe Leah’s worries.

“Here, this’ll help.” Toni watched with a worried smile as Y/N slowly ate a few pieces.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here, alright?” Rachel appeared with a rope made out of clothes in her hands. “We’re going to tie this around you, push you up from here so the others can pull you up.

Y/N was too tired to reply or acknowledge the girl.

“Careful with her arm!” Leah panicked when Rachel made a move to grab her. Rachel glared at her, she wasn’t stupid.

Toni grabbed the other side while Leah slowly pushed the girl up by her back. They tied the made up rope around the girl’s torso.

“Thank you...” Y/N mumbled out.

“You’re gonna be alright, okay?”

The sun had gone down the minute they returned to camp. They had to tell a worried Nora everything that had happened after she saw a tired and bloody Y/N being supported by the girls. Dot had immediately given the girl some medicine and as she had dozed off, Leah made sure to gently rid the girl’s face and temple from the dried up blood and mud so that Dot could clean the wound and bandage it up.

She dapped the damp cloth onto Y/N’s temple, who furrowed her eyebrows in her sleep in return. Leah smiled softly to herself, the nerves and worries finally washing away now that she knew Y/N would be fine.

Y/N went to turn around in her sleep but Leah quickly stopped her from putting weight onto her arm. After Dot had examined it, it seemed less severe as they had all initially thought. The wound in her elbow was deep, yes, but it was better than a broken bone. And the gash on her temple would probably leave a nasty scar, but that was all.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly after feeling the resistance.

“I’m sorry.” Leah whispered out, a sympathetic smile on her face. “You were going to hurt your elbow. Feeling better?”

Y/N mumbled a bit, “Mm, I think...” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Don’t know if this is just the after effects of the meds or if it’s still from the exhaustion and dehydration.”

“Or your sunburn.” Nora appeared behind the two, “If you get a bad sunburn, some symptoms might be headache, fever, nausea and fatigue...” She smiled hesitantly when the two stared at her. “Here, this might help.”

Leah grabbed the bottle of after sun and inspected it suspiciously before eyeing Nora again, “Where did you get this?”

“Oh... it washed up on shore.. when you were all gone.”

“Thanks, Nora.”

Nora trudged back to the rest sitting around the campfire.

Y/N quickly dodged her head to the side when Leah made a move to smear the after sun on her face.

“What are you doing?!”

Leah sighed, “Let me help you.”

“You know, we could all use a bit of after sun. I don’t really need it.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m good, my sunburn isn’t that bad, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Stop being so incredibly stubborn and let me take care of you for once, okay?”

Y/N widened her eyes and after a few seconds of silence she let Leah smear the cool ointment onto her cheeks. A content hum left her lips, she immediately felt her skin calm down.

“Feels better, huh?” Leah playfully smeared some onto the girl’s nose, who only hissed in return.

“I’m good, it doesn’t hurt.” Leah mocked.

“Fuck you.”

The two chuckled. Y/N quickly found herself staring into Leah’s eyes, who in return, was concentrated on tending to the girl’s face. However, Leah noticed after a while. She stopped her movements when she realised why she had been extra worried today— she cared for Y/N way more than just a friend should.

She inched closer to Y/N’s face before coming to an abrupt stop, the hesitance taking over for just a split second— what if Y/N didn’t feel the same? But the look in the wounded girl’s eyes spoke differently.

Leah planted a quick and shy kiss on Y/N’s lips. Leah sat back up immediately and cleared her throat, looking around as if nothing had happened. What the fuck had she done? A sudden tug on the hem of her shirt brought her back just mere inches away from the girl’s face. Y/N pulled her into another kiss, one that lasted longer than a second but was still just as gentle as before. Y/N let out a lighthearted chuckle when Leah pulled back.

“W-What?”

“You’ve got a little...” Y/N smeared out the after sun on Leah’s cheek before looking down, feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for coming after me. Fatin told me you didn’t want me to go alone. I should really listen to you more often.”

Leah laughed at Y/N’s cheeky smile, “Yeah! You should!”

Another moment was spent in silence before Leah opened her arms and sat back against the log, “Come here.”

Y/N let out a content sigh as she relaxed in the brunette’s tight hold while the two of them watched the flickering of the fire.

Life on the island was rough, but having Leah made it so much easier.

#leah rilke #leah rilke imagine #leah rilke x reader #leah rilke imagines #leah rilke one shot #the wilds imagine #the wilds x reader #the wilds imagines #the wilds one shot

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justcourttee · 4 years

Note

Daminette Marinette accidental pregnancy reveal in front of the whole family

Love it. Daminette is golden. Hope you like it! @speedybakeryneckzipper

Uhm Surprise?

Marinette felt herself spiraling.

She sat in her apartment bathroom, her head buried into her hands in disbelief. They had finally done it. She was finally pregnant. Oh God, Damian was going to be so happy. Eight long months of trying and failing and here she was, sitting in a damp towel, tears of joy pouring down her face.

“Angel? Are you almost finished getting ready? You know how unreasonable Grayson gets when we are late for this cursed family night.”

Marinette wiped the tears from her face, standing as quietly as she could. The problem with marrying a former assassin was that he could always detect the slightest problems with his stupid hearing.

“I’m honestly just finishing up drying off. It’ll take another 15 at least to get dressed and put on some basic makeup.”

The pause on the other side of the door sent a shiver of fear through her spine. Maybe she hadn’t kept her voice level enough, maybe he could hear her excited undertones, maybe-

“Alright my love, but just know, you are risking the wrath of little Grayson as well.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at his nickname for Dick and Barbara’s child. He had only ever called his niece by name once, other than that, it was always little Grayson, or the spawn of satan. (Honestly though, from the stories they had told Marinette, maybe making him babysit the child was Dick’s revenge for Damian’s own childhood.)

She waited until she was sure he was no longer at the door before she released the quietest squeal she could manage. Maybe she would tell him after family night. After all, they were in every right to celebrate this victory together. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stepping out of the portal, Marinette didn’t even have the chance to detransform before she lost her stomach in Alfred’s shrubbery. Immediately, Damian was by her side, a wary look on his face as he did his best to hold back her hair from the assault.

“Are you alright angel? Portaling has never had that effect on you before.”

Marinette nodded as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, calling off the transformation.

‘So no portalling for the next few months. Noted.’

Pulling out a can of mints, Marinette swallowed three of them before breathing out a sigh of relief. Giving an okay to Damian, he pushed open the door, offering his arm for her to take.

“About damn time!”

Marinette sidestepped at the last second as Jason tackled Damian to the ground, putting him into a headlock as he ruffled her husband’s hair.

“You two lovebirds realize that you left me in an insufferable situation right? There’s like three kids and that’s not even counting Dickie bird.”

A vague ‘hey’ echoed through the hallways followed by laughter. Marinette shook her head as she tapped out for Damian, helping him up from the ground.

“So what Miraculous did you bring tonight Mari? I’m so ready for another spar.”

“I, uh, forgot. Yup.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at her.

“You guys didn’t drive up so that means you at least have Kaalki with you.”

“I do, but-”

“Great! We’ll practice my dodging later on.”

Jason slung his arms around the couple as he led them into the living room where several more faces sat, eagerly awaiting their arrival.

“And the last to the party, for the seventh week in a row, Mr. and Mrs. Damian Wayne! And the crowd goes wild!” Tim cupped his hands over his mouth as he exhaled loudly.

Before Damian could raise his fist, Marinette reached over, plucking the fresh bread from Tim’s plate, sending him a wink.

“We’re going for a new record.”

“I’ll say, you guys don’t even have kids yet. I can’t imagine how late you’ll be when you have a third one to dress Marinette.”

Damian grumbled under his breath as Marinette bit her lip hard, avoiding looking Tim in the eyes.

“What, no comeback? You’re slacking tonight Mari.”

Jason settled into the couch, gently kicking Tim in the back of the head in the process. For a second, all eyes were on her. She felt her face flush as she tried her best to hide behind Damian.

“She’s not feeling good tonight, but she came to make Grayson happy. Now leave her be or face my wrath.”

Tim and Jason let out a simultaneous ‘ooo’ before bursting into fits of laughter. Marinette saw Damian’s first begin to curl, but before he could completely close them, she forced her hand in between, intertwining their fingers. Instantly he relaxed as he leaned down to place a small kiss on her forehead.

“Who’s ready to party?” Two more faces joined the party as Stephanie and Barbara wondered in, each carrying a respective bottle of wine. “Brucie put the kids to bed, Dick is reading them a story, and we need to pregame before they come to stop us.”

“You seriously are going to pregame with wine?”

Jason raised his eyebrow at the two girls before shaking his head in disappointment.

“I thought I taught you both better than that.”

The pop of the cork made Marinette’s stomach flip. The smell was so potent. Had wine always smelt like this? She felt herself starting to gag as she tried to shove Tim’s slice of bread down before anything could come up.

“Hey! Marinette’s cheating! She’s eating bread before drinking.” Stephanie reached over in a playful manner, swatting at the piece of bread.

Marinette took a step back, but it was too quick of a movement as she felt all the blood rush to her head. Two sets of arms darted out as Stephanie and Damian caught her before she could hit the ground.

“Angel are you okay? You’re beginning to worry me.”

She couldn’t trust herself to speak so instead she nodded, holding up the half-eaten bread.

“Dude,” Stephanie slapped the back of Damian’s head, earning a growl from the man. “Why aren’t you feeding this tiny woman. If she passes out from lack of calories again, I’m sticking Cass on your ass.”

Jason snickered, earning a smack on the back of his head courtesy of Barbara.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally showed up. They finally showed up Bruce! Can you believe your eyes?”

Bruce shook his head as Dick raced forward, encasing Marinette in a bone-crushing hug.

“Dick, not so hard, please.”

She didn’t mean to let the distress slip into her voice, but it was too late. Dick pulled back, his eyes narrowed in concern as he assessed her face. He opened his mouth and Marinette knew it was over. She braced herself for the words that were about to slip out but alas, nothing came. Instead, Barbara pulled him away, handing him a glass of wine and offering one to her.

“Oh, uhm, no thank you. I’m not feeling so good today.”

“Oh, c’mon Mari! Drink with us!”

A chorus of ‘yeah’s’ and ‘drink up’ rang through the room as they waited for her to accept the glass. Gently she took the drink from Barbara’s hands with a small smile. But it wasn't enough, they all stared at her, waiting for her to take the first sip. Nervously, she raised the glass to her lips, the smell overpowering her senses. The wine rose up to the edge of the glass as she tilted it back. It was so close to her lips, so close-

“I can’t!”

Jason stepped forward, crossing his arms as he narrowed in on the girl.

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because why? It’s just wine.”

“Because I’m pregnant!” Instantly she slapped her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. The room fell deadly silent, all eyes on her and Damian.

“Angel? Did you just say you’re pregnant?” She felt him gather her hand, gently tugging her so that she faced his hopeful face. She shrugged her shoulders as a sheepish smile tugged at her lips.

“Uhm, surprise?”

Damian pulled her into his chest as the group cheered behind them.

“Not wanting to spar, the portal sickness, the fainting, no wine? God, I’m so stupid.”

Marinette pulled back with a giggle as she placed a small kiss on the tear rolling down his cheek.

“No, way. Brucie, you’re going to be a grandpa, and Damian’s having a kid, big night huh?”

Jason nudged his side as Bruce pulled the couple into a hug, tears of his own falling.

“You know what this means Steph?” Jason nodded as Stephanie squatted by the bar pulling out a green bottle.

“I’m one step ahead of you. Champagne to celebrate the miracle baby of Demon Spawn and a literal Angel!”

Another chorus of cheers rang through the room as Damian rested his head on Marinette’s forehead.

“I’m going to be a dad?” his voice was quiet and lulling, his love-drunk face filling Marinette with so much warmth.

“I wanted to tell you later, away from the crazy. I should’ve known better.”

His laughter was short and loud, drawing curious looks from the rest of the room.

“I love you so much, Marinette Wayne.”

“And I love you so much more Damian Wayne.”

His face inched closer to hers as she closed her eyes waiting for a kiss that never came.

“So about that sparring?”

Marinette cracked open one eye to see Jason standing where Damian once had, her husband sprawled out on the ground, struggling to lift his brother’s foot off his chest

“Do you think demon spawn could wield the miraculous? Nine months is such a drag to go on without magical training.”

“Todd if you do not remove your foot from your chest I will chop it off and shove it down your throat!”

“Yeesh.” Jason shook his head before raising an eyebrow at Marinette. “You sure you want to have a kid with this dude?”

Marinette laughed as she watched her husband finally push Jason off sending him flying backward. Reaching down, she helped him up once more, a smile tearing across her face.

“Absolutely.”

@damianette-is-life @rebecarojas07 @ash-amg

#daminette #maribat #mlb

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Maybe this is bold of me to ask, but are there any deleted scenes from your fics, or scenes you had consideted writing but didn't? And if yes, would you be willing to share them someday?

Oh no problem!

Usually when a scene is deleted it stays deleted, so I don't have a lot to give you. There are a few things that were cut in betaing for various reasons, I can put a few of them below a readmore in this post.

There's the prologue that never was to Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, from back when the fic was supposed to be told alternately from Bella and Carlisle's respective points of view. In the prologue we saw how Bella, Alice, and Edward came to the point where they decided to overthrow the Volturi. Or, we would have, except I didn't actually like that prologue, and found myself jumping straight to writing chapter 2, the "Carlisle is at a party and gets attacked by a werewolf" chapter instead. My good beta @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin asked why I didn't simply make the whole fic from Carlisle's point of view, I realized she had an excellent point, now here we are.

For that matter, this is nowhere near the only significant change that happened to this fic during writing. One example, in the original outline I never brought up Carlisle's gift. Two significant things in the last chapter were not planned until after I published chapters twelve and thirteen, respectively (Luckily for me it'll look like I plotted them all along, so yay for that). For a tightly plotted fic, this one has had a lot of leeway.

Slight caveat, as I’m self-conscious: with most of these you will probably be able to tell why they’re deleted scenes. Especially the prologue. God, that prologue.

(Also, for the record yes I do write other things, but due to 1. being betaed, and 2. being long, I really only have examples for Nebuchadnezzar's Dream.)

The prologue that never was. Apologies for the fluff saturation:

The Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II once had a dream.

There was a statue that was gold on top, then silver, then copper, then iron, then clay and iron. As he watched, a rock struck its feet, and soon the whole statue crumbled, leaving nothing but rubble. The rock then grew into a great mountain that covered all the world.

This, the prophet Daniel told the king, was a message from Jehovah.

The statue represented five great human empires, the golden head being the Babylonian Empire, and the following three being those who would come after. The last would be both iron and clay, a divided kingdom. It will fall, and then the kingdom of Heaven will come, crushing those empires in its path.

Thousands of years later, in 1453, the Byzantine Empire fell. The last of the Roman Empire, a divided kingdom, had fallen.

The Christian world trembled, because reckoning was surely near. With the fall of this last, great human empire, all the world would fall to rubble.

Fifteen years had passed.

The Cullens had left Forks behind, settling in the small town of Grafton, Idaho. Carlisle had quickly settled into the new hospital, and Esme had designed a beautiful new home for them while the rest attended the new school. Jasper and Rosalie were Carlisle’s younger siblings while Bella, Edward, Renesmée and Esme comprised another set of siblings. Alice and Emmett were the fosters.

Jacob wasn’t far, he still lived with his old .

«Did you hear they all scored an A on Mr Rosen’s test? Seriously, all of them!»

The words were uttered by Jenna Gilbert, a blonde sophomore who reminded Bella very much of Jessica Stanley. She was sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria from Bella and her family, though

«Jen, it’s the Cullens, that’s just what they do. You should stop comparing yourself…» her friend said soothingly.

Bella ducked her face into her hand to hide her smile, and winked at Alice, who grinned back at her.

It was Bella and Renesmée’s first time going to high school as a vampire. It was exactly what Edward and Alice had said it would be, for better and for worse.

For the worse, because she spent her days pretending to be a human girl, never using her strength or speed, pretending Edward wasn’t her husband and Renesmée wasn’t her daughter.

For the better, because she got to spend every day with Edward, Renesmée, and the rest of her new family. The others had done the high school routine too many times to see things the way she did, and Renesmée had never known a life without the Cullens, but to Bella, attending high school as one of Dr. Cullen’s adoptive kids felt like she had truly come full circle since that first day she spotted Edward in the cafeteria. She was one of them, truly, irrevocably, and high school was nothing if not a promise of the countless years to come surrounded by the people she loved.

Edward caught her eye, and she smiled back at him. She lowered her shield briefly to show him how happy she was to be with her family.

His face softened into that beautiful, lop-sided smile of his, and he leaned in to whisper into her ear, «You’ll be less happy when you’ve been through English 101,» he said.

«Hey, hey,» Jasper said quickly. «Don’t you dare, Edward, I need all the happiness I can get in this place.» He locked eyes with Bella. «Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.»

Bella laughed, and rested her head on Edward’s shoulder. He placed his hand above hers on the table, and she smiled. «Not a problem, Jazz.»

Jenna’s voice caught her notice again. «Look at how they’re sitting! Try and tell me they’re not incestuous, Cam. Just try.»

Her friend didn’t reply to that one, although a quick glance informed Bella that the girl was staring at the Cullen table with a frown on her face.

Bella and Alice caught each others’ eye again, and this time they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

***********

Later in the day, Alice’s eyes lit up. «You’ll receive a letter from Stefan and Vladimir a week from now,» she chirped.

«Oh!» Bella exclaimed. «What does it say?»

«The usual,» Alice replied, her eyes slightly distant as she concentrated. «They hope we’re all doing well, and they included a new story of how things used to be before the Volturi. It’s the story of how they once built an entire temple for themselves in just one day. Oh, and they have a new phone number. O-seven nine six five nine six.»

Bella’s eyes widened as Alice talked. She hoped they had included drawings of that temple, it sounded incredible.

Bella hadn’t expected the Romanians to stay in touch, when they left after the thwarted battle with the Volturi she thought they would slink back into the old European shadows they had cloaked themselves in for that past several thousand few years, not to be heard from until some new threat to the Volturi loomed.

But no, that very next Christmas Bella had received a gift from them. It was an old, if flaked painting of Ivan the Terrible looking a lot like Vladimir, and a note from Vladimir explaining how he fooled all of Russia into believing he was their ruler for decades, all right beneath Aro’s nose. Carlisle had broken into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles when he heard that, and even agreed to put the painting in the hallway. To this day, he’d huff with silent laughter whenever he walked past it.

After that, Bella and the two Romanians had been in touch. They’d send her gifts, stories, and their own observations about the Volturi, and she’d respond fondly.

It was a very unlikely friendship, but she was was eternally grateful to all those who had stood with her family when the Volturi came. The Romanians were no exception,

«Are you going to call them?» Alice inquired.

Bella nodded. «They were going to tell me about their visit to Thebes.»

(Outline: Prologue of sorts. Status quo update, everyone’s happy except for the part where the Volturi are waiting to kill them. Alice, Bella, and Edward form their plan. Alice sees that she’s going to have to send Carlisle away, and coincidentally his hospital colleagues are having their Christmas weekend in Montana. PERFECT. She talks to him.)

***********

Heavily altered scene from chapter 7

Carlisle makes more jokes than he did in the final product, they're unfunny to the point where my beta said "you can't publish this", the plague joke in particular is a bit too dark for him so I gave it to Jane instead. More importantly, the chapter itself has a very weird, clunky start:

«Is it the gift of being profoundly unimpressed by ridiculous claims?» Carlisle deadpanned. «Because if so, Aro, I think you might be on to something.»

Several seconds had passed since Aro made his ridiculous claim. At first, Carlisle had burst out laughing. Then, as he realized he was the only person in the room laughing and Aro was staring at him in full seriousness, his laughter had trailed off and he’d been left to stare dully at Aro for several long seconds, waiting for Aro to crack up and say «gotcha!».

Aro never cracked up.

Carlisle had absolutely no idea what Aro was playing at, especially not immediately after Carlisle had very reluctantly decided against shutting him out of his life.

«You can’t be serious,» he’d said.

Aro had sighed. «I’m afraid I am.»

And now, at Carlisle’s deadpan guess, Aro only shook his head. «Not quite.»

Carlisle stared at him for another second, before he ventured another, scathing guess. «Are you hoping it’s the power of being highly suggestible? Because I definitely don’t have that, or I would have abandoned my diet centuries centuries ago.»

Aro just looked at him. «If you would let me explain-» he began, but Carlisle cut him off.

«No, no, you want to try and convince me I have some sort of gift, then I want to guess at what you’re going for,» he said, crossing his legs at the knee and propping his chin up on his knuckle in a faux-pensive look.

«Now,» he continued, even as Aro gave him the world’s most unimpressed glare, as if Carlisle was the one who was being ridiculous, «I’m pretty sure I would have noticed the power to throw fireballs by now, so it can’t be that,» he mused aloud. «Same goes for the power of…» he searched his mind, «turning into a bat. That one would definitely have come up at some point. Or maybe I should suspend myself upside down in a cave. See if it triggers anything. Just to be sure.»

«Carlisle,» Aro murmured, but Carlisle wasn’t done.

«Maybe I spread disease. My father certainly thought demons did. Maybe that’s why I get so many interesting patients. Those brain fungi,» he nodded towards Renata, who was still sitting with the book open in her lap, «I’ve had two in one year. That’s a lot.»

«Carlisle-» Aro tried again, but Carlisle held up a finger, a wide grin spreading across his face.

«The power to change my eye color. You see, yesterday they were black-»

Aro actually rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he made the insolent gesture look like a fluid, enchanting movement.

«Yes, quite funny, now if you would let me explain…» Aro tried again while Carlisle tried not to snicker at his own joke.

***********

Two deleted paragraphs from chapter 9. The alteration was made because it was a bit on the nose about what Renesmée does.

Humans were mammals, and mammals were hardwired to protect their young. This extended across species, making mother cats care for puppies and humans care for anything that was small and cute. The instinct to love and cherish anything cute and helpless was an evolutionary necessity, and had to run deeper than anything if a species wanted to survive.

Enter Jane, who was the smallest, cutest thing Carlisle had ever seen, but from a species humans instinctively knew to fear. Maybe the very fact that she was something that humans knew they should want to care for made their fear exponential, made it impossible to deny that something was very wrong about her, that they were looking at a predator.

Perhaps too there was something to vampires having retained some of that human instinct to protect their young, if the countless stories of covens dying to protect their immortal children was anything to go by. Carlisle himself had been no exception when the Volturi came for Renesmée, even as he found himself risking the lives of countless friends.

How far things had come, he thought, from preparing to die along with his loved ones at the hands of the Volturi to sitting across a café table with Jane and pitching costume ideas.

***********

Chapter 9 was heavily altered, mainly as it was too funny the first (and second!) time around and I kept having to return to insert more existential dread. A side effect of this is that Carlisle in the original draft was still undecided on whether he had a gift up until the very end of the chapter, whereas it's proven beyond a doubt much earlier in the published version.

Jane was looking a bit daunted, though it was nothing compared to how Carlisle felt.

Silently, they went to stand in front of one of the many sports stores that Whitefish had to offer.

«This could still be confirmation bias,» Carlisle whispered, and leaned against the wall. For all the human blood that was in his system, his knees felt oddly weak.

Jane let out a startled laugh. «You’re seriously still in denial?»

Carlisle shook his head quietly. «They reacted pretty reasonably, just because they didn’t run away screaming…»

«Reasonably?» Jane echoed dully. «Carlisle, you can’t actually…» she shook her head. «Remember that bubble we talked about?»

Carlisle put his head in his hands, and let his fingers move up, under the wig, pulling it off in one neat motion.

Jane shook her head at him. «You look even more glamorous with your real hair.»

Carlisle still said nothing, balling the wig together in his hands.

Could it be he actually had a gift?

***********

The chapter 11 outline originally had Renata and Carlisle failing to communicate like normal people because they've spent too much time with Aro, and unintentional innuendo keeps ruining their attempts to make polite small talk. Sadly (or happily) this is a lot easier to conceptualize than carry out in actual writing, and their conversation wound up being far too serious for that, so it was cut. Luckily for you I did pen Carlisle flashbacking to a time his foot got in his mouth:

The moment after the words were out her face scrunched up.

Carlisle snorted. «Aro is a horrible influence on us all.»

He remembered one of his first talks with Jasper, when they were still getting to know each other.

Jasper had been a little starstruck when he learned Carlisle’s friends in Italy were those Italians.

He’d asked Carlisle a lot of questions once he got past a misplaced sense of awe, wanting to put a face to the eternal, petrified, leaders of the vampire world.

During a hunt with just the two of them, Jasper had been asking about Aro’s gift.

«What do you even think about when you’re with him?» Jasper had marvelled aloud, and he would later explain that the way he say it, this was like the way the Egyptian gods supposedly measured souls.

Place your heart upon the balancing scale against the weight of a feather, and if your heart weighs heavier it is devoured by the demon Ammit.

Place your hand in Aro’s, and if he deems you guilty of breaking his law, you will be torn to pieces in the space of a second.

Being friends with the man sounded unbearably stressful to Jasper.

Unfortunately, Carlisle’s mind had gone in the opposite direction, and what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself was, «England.»

He’d covered well enough for that, or he hoped he had. Jasper never asked.

***********

Chapter 11 was also supposed to have Renata being brave enough to ask for a selfie with Carlisle when they're both in black robes, this because I just really want Edward to sift through the Volturi group chat after all this and finding that. Alas, I couldn't work it in there. (Determined to not lose the joke, I had Aro take the photos in chapter 12 instead.)

***********

Chapter 12, the fandom ghost requested I include another butt slap and offered me fanart if I fulfilled her wish.

And so:

He held up a hand, presumably to touch Carlisle’s arm in comfort, but just then Alec started retching.

«He ate human food,» Jane deadpanned to Demetri, Felix, and Renata. Shaking her head, she brushed Alec’s hair out of his face as he hurled into the river.

Aro grimaced slightly, his hand hovering in the air.

Carlisle felt all the bread, corn flakes, and water that he’d swallowed press uncomfortably against his esophagus. «I’ll do you one better, Alec,» he choked, before he span around, fell to his knees and started retching, much like a cat.

Aro, evidently not sure what to do with his arm but not about to let it drop purposelessly, gave Carlisle a supportive pat on the bum before kneeling beside him to hold his hair as he hurled.

It was funny, but simply didn't fit the tone considering what happened after. It had to go. But hey, I got the art.

#there's more but these are the things that came to mind #my fic #nebuchadnezzar's dream #fic spoilers #of sorts kinda #doktrajediscovery

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music-of-melody · 3 years

Text

A Fanatic Heart

Author: @acotazriel

Word Count: 7k

Rating: T {canon-typical violence & language}

Relationships: Riven/Musa

Summary: What if all the Winx fairies were specialists and all the specialists were fairies? What if Riven doesn't realise how he feels for Musa before it's too late? What if he never has another chance again? May be continued into a series.

A/N: So this started out as a simple picture but ended up being an entire universe thanks to the amazing @acotazriel - Skye you have been honestly incredible throughout this all, especially given that I gave you like 3 sentences to work with so all the kudos to you! It has been a joy editing this and being a part of the creative process!

Riven hovered on the balls of his feet as he scanned the forest clearing. The woods were far too silent, with no noise in the way of birds, insects, or even a breeze among the treetops. The forest was waiting, like him. He scowled, feeling familiar eyes on his back but not turning around to face them. The Burned One had disappeared only thirty seconds ago; he knew it couldn’t have gotten far. He took the brief moment of respite to wipe the sweat from his brow as his eyes raked over the stand of shrubs, seeking any and all movement that might betray his quarry’s presence.

A twig cracked to his left and from the corner of his peripheral vision he caught sight of a charging, blackened figure. He whirled and dropped into a crouch just in time for the Burned One’s misshapen claw to swipe uselessly at the air above his head.

It fucking snuck up on him. How the fuck had it done that?

Riven didn’t waste time wondering; instead, he leapt backwards away from the swinging, venomous claws. The Burned One snarled and snapped but still Riven danced backward, drawing his opponent onto the offensive, forcing it to take the lead. After several seconds of distanced swipes, it took his bait and pounced forward—just as Riven anticipated. He timed his own leap to react to the Burned One and took the smashing blow right in the center of his reinforced chest plate.

He smirked even as he staggered two steps backward from the force of the blow. Right where he wanted.

The Burned One was strong, and in the following second Riven focused his mind on that kinetic energy it had imparted on his chest plate. He lifted his hands upward with his palms out and then let forth that same force in a wave of energy, blasting right at the Burned One’s approaching figure.

Riven grinned as the Burned One immediately tumbled backward, heels over scaly head, until it finally rolled to a stop forty feet away. “Thought you’d like that,” he taunted.

It slowly got to its feet, baring jagged fangs at Riven as it straightened to reach its full height. Riven sank into a crouch and raised his hands, palms outward again, and focused on the Cinder at its core.

It charged, screaming its demonic yowl, legs striding faster and faster over the uneven ground. It was thirty feet away and closing fast. Riven’s leg wobbled beneath him, still sore from the wild kick it had landed on him when it had first jumped them from above. At least it hadn’t broken his skin—he wasn’t Infected.

Yet. He reached out with his mind and felt the Cinder as it smoldered within the approaching Burned One—hot to the touch and full of dark energy, friction, and hatred.

Fifteen feet away now, screeching for all it was worth, reptilian feet pounding over the earth as it lunged. Riven drew a deep breath and visualized the Cinder bursting into smithereens.

Nothing.

The Cinder stayed intact and still the Burned One charged. Riven exhaled sharply in frustration and rolled to his right to dodge.

The Burned One spun on its heel to follow Riven’s progress, and he braced himself for the bite of its claws into his left shoulder—

Just as Musa leapt over his head and slashed her staff downward with both hands against its neck.

It screamed again, that horrific squall that chilled Riven to the bone (though he’d never admit it), Musa’s staff splitting into the three sections with which she fought as she charged the Burned One. She was a blur of forest green and ivory, her staff appearing as three pieces or as one when it suited her, leaving no place for her opponent to dodge or avoid the striking metal. Riven watched with satisfaction as she struck its head, its gut, its thigh, and its neck in quick succession. It slumped to its knees in agony, its maw gaping with an unheard scream of pain, and Riven raised his hands again and closed his eyes.

The Cinder beat like a defective heart, seething and bubbling with aimless rage. Riven clenched his fists as if squeezing the Cinder from the outside and Musa raised a forearm to cover her eyes. The Cinder exploded into a thousand fractals of light and energy that ricocheted outward through the forest and faded harmlessly into nothing.

When the reverberation deadened, Riven opened his eyes to see Musa bracing a booted foot against the Burned Ones’ corpse to roll it onto its back.

She jerked her staff upward in the snapping motion that folded the three pieces parallel to each other and lifted her gaze to him. “Thought you were going to take that one down by yourself?” she asked in a mock casual as she sheathed her staff into its quiver on her back.

“I had it under control,” Riven said with a grin as he straightened up. He scanned his body quickly, looking for any tears in his armor or breaks in his skin. Coming up empty, he cocked his head towards the unmoving corpse. “Just didn’t want you to get lazy.”

She huffed a laugh. “Right,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’d be a real couch potato if I didn’t have to jump up and save your sorry arse every five minutes.”

“I was fine. I could have taken it,” Riven said. One of these days he’d take one down all by himself and prove to Farah he didn’t need Specialist support. Prove to himself that he didn’t need anyone.

“Whatever. Toss me the sampling kit.” She knelt to the ground beside the Burned One while Riven unclipped the small leather pack at his belt. He tossed it to her and she caught it deftly, unzipped it, and withdrew Professor Harvey’s biosampling tackle.

He watched her scrape some of the Burned One’s scorched flesh into a vial and wished he’d paced out his cigs better. Now he was restless and directionless until they could return to camp. “Maybe I’ll just let it get you next time,” Musa said after a long beat. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Once it Infects you and I have to kill it, maybe you’ll see why Farah wants everyone to fight in teams.”

“Yeah, Farah’ll really go for that,” Riven scoffed.

“Farah says mutual trust—”

“It’s not a question of trust,” Riven cut her off. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a tree trunk with his eyes narrowed. “It’s a question of you doing your job, and me knowing that you’re gonna do your job.”

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had this conversation. He avoided her frustrated expression and uncrossed his arms to withdraw the small throwing knife he kept in his boot, running his thumb over the blade to test its sharpness. He checked that Musa was still busy with the sampling kit and made another notch in his leather chest cuirass. “That makes nine,” he announced.

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought it was eight?”

“No, I’m counting that one back in the moor for us.”

She huffed another laugh. “Sure, just don’t tell Silva that—I already saw him tally it up in his count.”

Riven shook his head and clucked his tongue. “He really lets getting chosen by a dragon get to his head, doesn’t he.”

Musa laughed, for real this time, her chestnut brown eyes glinting with glee. “You’re just saying that because he’s the only fairy to beat you in hand-to-hand combat.”

“That was a technicality—” Riven had just begun his retort when a loud shout echoed behind them. They both whirled, Musa already jumped up and her staff drawn and ready, studying the surrounding woods for the source of the noise.

“There,” Musa pointed out. In the far distance Riven could just make out a couple of trees that were swaying back and forth in an unnatural motion—not from the trunks, but from the roots. Another cry—this time a feminine scream.

They broke into a sprint at the same time. “I think it’s Flora,” Musa panted as they darted between trees and over shrubs.

“Nah, that’s Brandon’s style,” Riven refuted, thinking of the motion of the tree trunks. “Besides, I got way too good at recognizing Stella’s screams back when she was with Sky—”

Musa shot him a glare, but they both saved their breath as they ran through the woods. They reached the top of a ridge and paused when they caught sight of two Alfea uniforms—one Specialist, one fairy.

Brandon was down, lying on his side with one hand clutching his stomach and the other outstretched in front of him. Stella’s twin swords flashed in the sunlight as she hacked and parried the Burned One in front of her. The ground beneath their feet rippled and rolled like waves on a pond—every time the Burned One raised its arms, it stumbled on the erratic ground while the forest floor beneath Stella remained as steady as a rock.

But she was hurt, too—Riven could see from the way her left arm lagged behind her right, and sure enough, within a few seconds the Burned One managed to knock her left blade from her hand.

Musa and Riven didn’t wait another moment. They charged down the hill, Riven already reaching his palms outward, making sure to stay two steps behind Musa’s staff.

This one was bigger than the one they’d just killed - it towered over Musa’s compact form, although he knew this just played into her strength: speed. She was a flurry of flashing metal and darting green as she dodged the Burned Ones’ swipes and claws.

Riven reached Brandon and crouched on his haunches. “It got you?”

“Fuck me, yes,” Brandon hissed, and pulled his hand away from his stomach for long enough for Riven to see a smear of red blood and black Burned One bile webbing outward from the wound. “Got Stella too.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Riven promised. He rested a steadying hand on Brandon’s shoulder and turned to look back at their Specialists. Musa and Stella had already managed to bring it to its knees, and within a blink, Musa drew back with a powerful swing and leveled the Burned One with a furious strike to its neck. It keeled backward, and Stella raised her right sword with both hands and stabbed it downwards into its chest, pinning it to the ground.

Riven approached, palms outward again, and now—with little danger from the lifeless form—cradled the Cinder in his mind, then crushed it with minimal effort, squeezing his eyes shut as the energy rippling outward nearly surged through them.

Stella let out a slow, rattling breath as the Burned One’s life force drained away. She staggered back, catching her breath, and then immediately hurried to Brandon. In the span of seconds she reached his side, knelt, and rolled him onto his back. Riven and Musa approached as well, Riven drawing forth his first aid kit from the pack at his belt.

“I’ll be okay,” Brandon said thickly. His breath was ragged and both hands clutched at the wound in his stomach. His eyes never left Stella’s. “I’ll be okay.” Riven had the sense that his words were more of a plea than an assurance.

“Of course you’ll be okay,” Stella shushed him as she cradled his head in her lap. “It’s dead, we just have to get you fixed up.”

“And you’re okay, Stel?” Musa asked, running a questioning hand along Stella’s left arm.

“Fine,” Stella answered absently. “Just nicked my wrist, that’s all.” To justify her nonchalance, she extended her left hand out to show Musa and Riven. Her sleeve had torn and there was a line of blood where her forearm met her hand, but it didn’t appear serious.

Riven handed over gauze and healing potions. “Think you can walk?”

“I’ll be okay,” Brandon repeated. “Just give me a second.”

Musa took Riven’s forearm and pulled him backward to give Brandon and Stella space. They watched from behind Stella, handing her additional bandages and tinctures as she tended to her fairy. Within a few minutes, the color returned to Brandon’s face, although he couldn’t hide the pain that flicked over his features when he tried to stand. Riven offered an arm to help Brandon limp back to camp but the other fairy brushed him off. “I’m fine, I’ll just go slow,” Brandon said.

Stella looped Brandon’s arm over her shoulder so she could help him walk. “We’ll see you guys back at camp,” she said. “And thanks for the assist.”

“Yeah—thanks,” Brandon forced out before Stella led him forward.

Musa and Riven watched them walk away for a long beat before Musa collapsed her staff back into thirds, sheathed it, and then ran a hand through her hair. “That was a little scary.”

Riven shook his head dismissively. “I’ve been telling Brandon for weeks he leaves his core too exposed when he fights. And I’ve heard you yourself telling Stella she needs to tighten up her left side.”

She glared at him. “That’s harsh, Riv. People make mistakes—that doesn’t mean they deserve it.”

“I didn’t say they deserved it—and we don’t make mistakes,” he grinned. “We haven’t lost yet. Not with real ones, anyway.” The simulation Burned Ones that they’d faced back when they were still training didn’t count.

“Yeah, but…” Musa’s lips formed a thin line as she stared after Brandon and Stella’s receding forms. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re going to be saying that shit behind my back if I ever make a mistake.”

He hissed an exhale in frustration. “You think I wouldn’t have done the same for you? I’m doing my job, Musa, which means I’m not leaving you on the ground to die.”

“Even if I left my core too exposed or didn't tighten up my left side?”

She threw his words back at him, her tone mocking, and he stopped short and turned to face her. “Fine, you want me to say it? I do. I do care about you. You’re a fucking good fighter and I don’t want anyone else at my side.”

Her mouth curved into a mischievous grin. “So you do trust me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.”

He huffed a sharp exhale through turned-up lips that ruffled his quiff. “Whatever. Let’s just keep patrolling.”

Before he followed her forward, he notched another mark on his cuirass.

===

They returned to camp a few hours later. The first thing they did was check on Brandon in the infirmary tent being tended to by Harvey, and then Musa went to wash up while Riven headed to the mess tent.

He loaded up his tray with as much food as he could fit before looking for Sky in the fairy tent.

“Heard you had a productive morning,” Sky asked from his cot, looking up from the throwing stars he was cleaning.

Riven nodded through a mouthful of stew and puffed out his chest to show the two new notches he’d made. “Told you we’re the best team,” he said with pride after chewing and swallowing. “What did you and Bloom do?”

“Killed three, actually.”

"Bullshit!" Riven exclaimed, but Sky just chuckled and shook his head.

“Ask Silva.” He stood up. “Actually, I’m heading that way, you should come with. He asked me and Bloom to try out his new idea—”

Riven's eyes narrowed, projecting his disappointment as irritation. "What about our debrief hike?"

Sky’s gaze dropped back to his hands and the pile of cleaned throwing stars at his feet. "Can't today—I already promised Bloom I would."

Scowling, Riven picked up his bread. "Right, can't compete with a shag now, can I?"

Sky frowned and glanced back up. "It's not a competition, Riv. I'm just moving our mates time, I'm not bailing so I can get laid."

"Right—you're just bailing and getting laid."

Sky rolled his eyes, set down his rag, and grabbed his cuirass from its hook over his bed and pulled it over his head. “You’ve got a letter, by the way,” he changed the subject and pointed at the desk against the far wall.

Riven lowered his head to his lunch and shrugged, ignoring the spike of inadequacy at its likely contents. "Don't care." Sky fastened the straps on his cuirass with a puzzled expression that made Riven's ears burn. He hated pity, and in his desperation to fill the silence with anything else he spoke again. "It's probably just Dad telling me not to come home next time we get leave."

"Riven..." Sky's tone was so full of unsolicited sympathy that it further frayed Riven's already irritated nerves.

"Read it, I don't care," he said through another bite. "Go on."

Sky finished tightening his chest harness, walked to the desk, and slit open the envelope. "'Dear Riven, you are most welcome at home in two weeks,'" he read, his voice rising hopefully. Riven raised a hand for him to read on, and Sky looked back down at the letter. "'...however your stepmother and I will be on holiday in Melody. You can let yourself in. Write soon.'" He finished, deflated, and dropped the letter back onto the table, at a loss for words.

Riven shrugged to prove to Sky that he didn't care. At least it was longer than his father's usual letters, he thought dryly.

"I'm sorry, Riv.” Had Riven been less peeved then he would have appreciated the sincere apology in Sky's voice. "Let's do our hike when I get back."

"Yeah, sure," he replied dully. "Enjoy spending time with your ball-and-chain."

"She's not my ball-and-chain, Riven," Sky sighed, exasperated as he laced his boots. "She's more than that... she's my lifeline."

Riven made a retching noise in the back of his throat, gagging at Sky's sentimentality, but after Musa’s comments this morning, the comment hit closer to home than he thought it would.

"Right, well, see you when we get back." He left the tent, leaving Riven to finish his meal in silence.

===

As soon as he was done Riven tossed his tray back into the mess tent and shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel let down by Sky. Sky was the one who’d dragged Riven on these hikes at first, a way for them to have some time to themselves away from the girls, just the two of them like before. Riven had gone along begrudgingly at first but had in the last few months found himself looking forward to them—a chance to compartmentalize and destress with his best friend from the furor of battle and camp life.

And now, Sky had blown him off.

He set his jaw as he paced through camp. He knew that Sky didn’t mean anything by it, but it still niggled angrily in the back of Riven’s brain. He kicked a rock in the path, savoring the sweet agony in his toe because it distracted him from the nervous energy in his mind. He could have that relationship with Musa if he wanted—he just didn’t want to. They were soft, all of them, and if Riven knew one thing it was that the people you trusted always let you down in the end. If you gave them a piece of your heart, it was inevitable that they would crush it.

“What is it?” A voice in front of him spoke and Riven looked up, surprised to find himself in front of the infirmary. Musa looked up at him from where she knelt in Professor Harvey’s herb garden. “Does Dowling need us?”

“What? Oh, no,” Riven said quickly, silently cursing himself. He knew better than to connect the dots that thinking about Musa led to him finding himself arriving at one of her usual haunts. “I, uh— how’s Brandon?”

To his surprise, instead of a simple answer Musa glanced back into the tent, then stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of her trousers. “Let’s talk out there,” she said quietly.

Riven nodded, falling into step beside her as they paced along the path and out through the temporary barrier erected around their campsite. “Huh, I didn’t know it was bad.”

“It hit his aorta,” Musa admitted, pushing aside the underbrush as they walked vaguely north. “He’s not Infected or anything, it’s just going to take him a lot longer to heal than they thought.”

“That sucks,” Riven agreed. Still sensitive about Sky’s comment, he chose not to offer any more opinions about Brandon’s form—in fact, he regretted his previous remarks. He thought back to his earlier conversation with Musa and cringed. “Stella must be pretty cut up.”

“She definitely feels guilty,” Musa admitted in a low voice.

Riven pressed his lips together, holding a branch out for Musa to walk beside him and not get whacked in the head. “She shouldn’t—it wasn’t her fault. The one they knocked heads with looked like a nasty bugger.”

Musa allowed a small smile up at Riven. “It was—and someone’s being generous,” she teased. “Did Riven grow a heart?”

“Wow, say something nice about a guy on death’s door, and suddenly you’re a saint,” Riven shot back. “Brandon’s a damn good fairy. We need him.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Musa said, her tone dropping from teasing to mocking. “He’s just doing a job.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“That’s what I heard,” she said again. She drew up short and turned to face him. “Tell me, have you ever trusted anyone?”

He stopped as well, feeling a twist in his gut. He didn’t want to continue this age-old conversation, but for a different reason than usual—he was alarmed that she was upset. He didn’t want one more person to push him away. “Why does it matter to you?” he asked. “Why do you care so much about trust when we should be worried about Burned Ones and Rosalind and fucking psycho Beatrix—”

“Because if I’m just a job to you, Riven, then I can’t do this.”

His lips parted and he stared, dumbstruck.

“If you can’t trust me then I don’t want to do this. I’m going to ask Dowling to be paired with someone else.”

His brain sagged at her announcement, briefly flashing through his life if he didn’t have his Specialist next to him. Having to start over with someone new… someone likely less capable… someone worse. Someone that wasn’t her.

“Musa—”

“No, don’t, Riven—”

An otherworldly scream cleaved the air above their heads. Riven flinched and looked upward in time to see a Burned One drop from a tree above their heads.

Fuck.

He reacted instantly with his training and skittered backward, stumbling at first and then more skillfully as his training took over. The Burned One had missed them in its initial lurch, but it was already upright and snarling towards them as they hurried to overcome the surprise.

“Got a shot?” Riven shouted as he ducked beneath a swipe of its jagged claws. He rolled to his feet and glanced quickly at Musa—thankfully she had kept her staff with her, and it was already twirling in her hands, a blur of metal and ivory.

“Take it,” Musa yelled back, and Riven acknowledged with a quick “Aye!” She was asking him to use his energy absorption powers to take a blow and then reverse the energy back onto it. Riven straightened up and danced backward, taunting the Burned One to prowl forward and away from Musa while she got her bearings. “Come here, you little fuck,” Riven shouted, hoping to distract it.

It lunged and Riven leapt sideways to take the brunt of its force on his breastplate. It struck true and Riven almost laughed in delight as he focused that energy back through his palms, and blasted the Burned One twenty feet backward.

With some breathing room now between the pair and the Burned One Musa charged. Her staff was a spinning twirl of silver and white as she advanced and struck forward as the Burned One pushed itself to its feet. Her staff struck over and over at any exposed areas the Burned One left open, causing it to keel backwards in pain. Musa rained so many blows on the creature that it keeled backward, stunned by pain, and if it had been anything but a Burned One Riven would have felt sorry for it.

Riven advanced with palms out, his mind sharpening on the Cinder at its core. Musa struck out again and again on Burned One while he located that beating mass of rage and hatred. He closed his eyes and focused on it, imagining it bursting into smithereens.

“Now,” he called out, their sign for her to shield her vision, and the Cinder exploded in another blast of light and energy.

The silence that followed the Burned One’s destruction felt more weary than usual. Riven dropped to his knees, cowed by the surprise and viciousness of their sudden fight, and opened his eyes to see Musa shakily folding her staff by hand into thirds before glancing over at him.

“Fuck, they’re getting bolder,” she said, and he nodded.

“Got to be on guard.”

“Luckily we’re ‘the best,’ right?” Musa said with a jittery chuckle. Riven’s lips thinned—they’d been caught by surprise. Only their training had saved them.

“Yeah, the best.” He righted himself, dusting off his uniform where he’d rolled on the mossy forest floor. Despite himself, he couldn’t help replaying Musa’s earlier words from that morning in his head—so you do trust me.

He knew by any other metric that’d be true. Riven finally forced himself to admit it. If Bloom was Sky’s lifeline, then he knew Musa was his. He could call it whatever he wanted, but it was trust.

The thought of admitting it to Musa made his gut twist again. It went against almost everything he stood for, to admit that he was wrong—except for his number one principle: honesty. If that meant admitting to Musa that he trusted her, then that trumped everything.

He opened his mouth.

Musa cocked an eyebrow at him—waiting for his smarmy retort—but before he could speak the brush behind her solidified from thorny oleander to the shape of a Burned One.

His words died on his lips, replaced by a silent scream.

The Burned One struck out at Musa from behind—her staff lay limply in her hand and her eyes were fixed on Riven. On him. Instead of herself and her back and the slim body that he should be defending.

It was like she recognized what had happened before he did. Her chestnut eyes sought his as the Burned One’s claw sank into her back, and he felt her scream on every level—physically, mentally, psychologically—and even fucking deeper than that. He felt her scream in his very bones.

He watched her fall almost in slow motion, her arms raising first in reaction to the pain, the staff falling from her grip and clattering uselessly to the forest floor—then her legs as she pitched forward, knees buckling, and the rest of her body followed, a rag doll to the deep wound from the Burned One’s dagger-like claws.

And her face. Her fucking face. Warped in surprise, with pain glossing over her features in a slice that made Riven feel as much if not more pain than she. His Specialist, in pain—attacked.

She crumpled. The Burned One stood over her body, crowing victory in its nonverbal tongue and still slashing at her body, and Riven felt a fire that he’d never felt before alight in his veins. It spread from his heart to his gut to his extremities, carrying surprise and rage and a loss that he had never before felt in his life.

Musa. It had hurt Musa. It had hurt Musa to the point that she’d collapsed and he was still standing, and he ceased to be Riven—he became a pillar of furor and mania.

It had hurt the one person who had fought by his side the last six months.

It had hurt the one person who was always there when he needed her, conscious or not.

It had hurt the one person who knew him inside out and still chose to fight beside him.

It had hurt his Specialist. His Musa.

He screamed in guttural rage and it felt as though his voice ricocheted through the entire forest.

Suddenly, in the midst of his fury, pain exploded between his shoulder blades. It wrenched through him with enough violence to cut short his cry, and he staggered forward as if pushed by an invisible force. Beneath the anger and passion he felt something else—something kinetic and physical, something fundamentally different about himself.

He fell forward onto his knees and pressed his hands to the dirt, blinking back tears of pain as something huge—something massive erupted against his back, ripping his shirt in half at the back seam. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, seeking to escape the burden on his shoulders, to slither out from beneath whatever-the-fuck-it-was now weighing him down and pressing him against the earth. It had to be a Burned One—another had snuck up on them, and gotten Riven this time, and this was what it felt like to be Infected, to have the venom coursing through his body, paralyzing him—

He wouldn’t be able to help Musa.

The thought made his head fly up and face her, every atom in his body resisting that thought. He had to save her. He fucking had to.

He grit his teeth through the pain and dared a glance behind him. Another yell escaped his throat at the sight—this time from surprise. Indigo talons twice the size of an eagle’s hovered over his shoulders, almost dagger-like in shape, connected with a lighter purple webbing—

He choked as he connected the pain between his shoulder blades with the apparition in front of his eyes.

Wings. He had fucking wings.

Riven fought to regain his breath as he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling a little as he compensated for the additional weight on his back. His shirt and reinforced breast plate fell from his chest but he barely noticed. He had wings.

More than that, he realized—he had power.

He could feel it thrumming through him—where before his magic had been a murmur, now it was a roar. It vibrated against his bones and he could feel it crackling at his fingertips. Power.

He barely had to focus—the only thing in his mind was Musa, collapsed at the Burned One’s feet, and Riven simply raised his palms.

The Burned One took a step backward, daunted by the change in Riven’s appearance. He flexed muscles that sixty seconds ago he didn’t know he had and spread his wings as wide as possible to make himself appear larger and more intimidating.

It recovered from its fright and charged at him in a frantic frenzy, but Riven found his reaction times halved by his normal standards—each swipe of the Burned One he met with a slap of his own hands, swatting it away before it could puncture his skin. It yowled in frustration and tried to clap its hands together around Riven’s torso but he simply ducked, leaving it hugging itself in a bizzare embrace. He closed his eyes—almost lazily—and within milliseconds cradled that Cinder in his mind—He didn’t need to concentrate on his focus nearly as much as before.

He focused that rage and energy onto the Cinder and felt it explode into nothing, from boiling hatred to empty peace, and then he opened his eyes.

It was gone. The Burned One had disappeared but Musa still lay on the ground. He knew she wasn’t in danger of Infection, but like with Brandon’s injury there was no time to waste. He scooped her into his arms bridal-style, and when her head lolled against his chest he felt a plunge of something deep in his chest, near where his wings had taken root.

Musa. His Specialist. He needed her.

He didn’t even know how he knew to take flight, but he just knew. His wings carried him through the forest, low and darting as a dragonfly over the brush and through the trees. His shoulders ached with the exhaustion of muscles weak with lack of use, but Riven didn’t care. He forced himself forward, not stopping until he reached the barrier, and even then he pumped his wings forward until he reached the infirmary.

He landed awkwardly on his feet and barrelled inside, Musa still in his arms, knocking aside equipment and paraphernalia left and right with his wingspan. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was the seep of her blood onto his shirt and then the floor, and how he had to stop it.

He had to save his Specialist. The one he trusted with his life.

Professor Harvey straightened up from Brandon’s cot, his eyes as large as saucers as he took in the sight of a winged Riven holding Musa’s limp body. A healing fairy stood in the back of the tent behind him, her jaw agape, gaze locked on the violet daggers of Riven’s wingtips.

Riven lifted Musa towards Harvey as if presenting a macabre offering. They weren’t helping. They weren’t moving. They just fucking stared.

“Help!” he bellowed at Harvey. “Help her!”

Harvey blinked but the spell finally broke. He leapt forward to take Musa from Riven’s arms and the fairy behind him hurried over as well. Riven and Harvey lowered onto a cot, her back and the worst of her injuries facing upward. Riven sank onto his knees and ran his hands through Musa’s hair, then over her face as if he could stroke life back into her. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen—even her lips looked desaturated. Her eyes were closed and looked far too relaxed, as if she was asleep, but he couldn’t think that because that’s always what people said when they d-

He forcibly stopped that thought and clutched at her head. “Musa,” he choked. “Musa, wake up—”

“Riven, I need to get by you,” Harvey said above him. Riven felt a pressure on his right side somewhere unusual and realized that Harvey was trying to lean over Musa through his still-flexed wing. He shifted two steps to the left so he was at the head of the bed, but he felt a hand on his arm.

He looked up at Sky, concern written all over his blue eyes. “Riven, come with me—”

“No,” Riven said, clutching closer to the metal frame of Musa’s cot. “No, not without her—”

Sky’s hand closed more firmly around Riven’s arm. “Riv, you’re in the way—let the healers work.”

Maybe Sky was right—the healing fairy squeezed past his wingspan to reach the supplies above his head—but he couldn’t leave her. It was his fault she was hurt, they’d been arguing—he should have protected her.

But Sky wasn’t leaving him a choice. Silva appeared next to him, and between the two of them they grasped Riven’s upper arms and pulled him from the tent, his errant wings still knocking bottles from shelves and curtains from their rods. Riven’s vision stayed fixed on Musa, dread pooling inside him at how small and frail she looked on that cot.

He didn’t even realize they had dragged him into the strategy tent until he blinked and Silva was snapping his fingers in front of Riven’s eyes to rouse him.

“Riven,” Silva said. “What the hell happened?”

Riven stared at Silva, but he wasn’t really seeing him. He saw Musa, her face torqued in pain, the way her knees and elbows bent as she fell, her brown pigtails splayed out against the earth. His fault.

“Riven,” Sky reached out with a hand and turned his chin to force eye contact. “Riven, are you alright?”

He swallowed thickly and jerked his head downward out of Sky’s grip to stare at the ground. “Burned One came out of nowhere—we killed it, but then there was another—camouflaged somehow. It got M—” his voice caught and he stopped, unable to finish.

“But you killed it?” Sky prompted, and Riven managed a brusque nod. “Musa’s gonna be fine, Riven—she’s hurt but not Infected.”

He screwed his face up at that. Sure, she wasn’t Infected. She was just unconscious with pain and incapacitated for who the hell knew how long, and it was his fucking fault.

“Riven.” He wished they’d stop saying his name. He didn’t want any of them—he wanted to be alone. With her. With Musa.

He felt another hand on his arm and tried to pull it away, but the hand clenched harder, forcing him to look up. Silva stared down at him, expression full of something akin to sympathy. “I know you want to blame yourself, but it’s possible to make no mistakes and still lose. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad partner—it means you are alive. That’s life.”

Riven shook his head, but as he ran the fight back through his head, he found the smallest bit of solace in Silva’s words. He drew a shaky breath and gave Silva the barest hint of a nod.

Silva released his grip on Riven’s arm and nodded back. “Want to tell us how you got those?”

Pushing aside his guilt about Musa meant that the sensations of his body all came roaring back, and Riven grimaced in pain. His shoulders ached at the notch of his wings, his chest was sore from taking the Burned One’s blow, and he felt a general sense of exhaustion from his flight back to camp. “When the Burned One got her,” he said and lifted his gaze to observe the tendrils of purple reaching above his head. “It just happened. I was so angry—and then they just burst out of me. It hurt like hell.”

“Looks cool as hell,” Sky said with a grin, circling Riven to admire the wings from all angles.

“What else happened?” Silva asked, and Riven turned back to face him with a quizzical expression. Silva gestured to the wings. “Anything besides these?”

“Yeah,” Riven said slowly, recalling that thrum of energy that had surged through him. “Power. It was like my magic was twice as powerful and half as easy. I’ve never killed one so quickly. Not on my own.”

Sky wolf whistled in admiration and Riven allowed a small grin.

Then his grin vanished, replaced by a grimace of pain. He stumbled forward and grabbed Sky’s shoulder to keep himself upright as his back muscles wrenched and contorted. A keen of pain escaped his clenched teeth—it felt like his back was splitting open between his shoulder blades. He gasped and sank to his knees, pulling Sky down with him, his legs unable to support him in his agony.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Riven stayed on the ground, hands on his thighs, breathing away the memory of the pain. He felt lighter and somehow lesser—more muted. He looked up and confirmed what he’d suspected—his wings had vanished, receding inside him.

“Now that was cool,” Silva chuckled.

Riven grimaced again and used Sky’s shoulder to haul himself back upright. “Does this mean I can go back now?” he asked, looking from Silva to Sky. “I can stay out of the way.”

Silva and Sky exchanged a glance, at which Silva nodded. At the smallest motion Riven immediately turned for the tent flap and hurried forward.

Sky came with him, for which Riven was silently appreciative. Even though he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts either, and Sky was his best friend. He would be a silent companion if that’s what Riven needed.

Harvey begrudgingly let Riven back inside and Sky left Riven in an out-of-the-way corner, an agitated but quiet spectator to Harvey’s ministrations. He returned a few minutes later with water and a clean shirt, both of which Riven accepted gratefully.

They waited long into the night, Riven’s gaze never leaving Musa. Sky’s head drooped against his shoulder and he reflected on what his friend had told him earlier, about his Specialist being his lifeline. Fuck, he’d been right.

===

Some color had returned to Musa’s cheeks, but she was still weak from loss of blood and the extent of the Burned One’s claws in her body. Riven only left her side to eat, which Harvey did not permit in the infirmary. The other teams came in at various times to wish her well and congratulate Riven on his transformation. He always hated when they brought that part up. As impressive as it was (so they said), it was without a doubt the worst twenty minutes of his life.

After a few days’ recovery she lay on her stomach with the white bandages still wrapped around her torso while Riven perched on a stool beside her cot, one foot up on her bedframe and the other tucked on the crossbar of his stool. “I’m still mad I’m the only one who never got to see them,” she sighed and rested on hand beneath her chin. “Stella says they wouldn’t have been out of place at a spring fashion show.”

“My wings were extremely masculine, thank you,” Riven said, and Musa laughed hard enough to grimace in pain and clutch at her ribs. They fell silent and Riven ran a thumb along the seam of his trousers, still unable to think back to that time without flinching. “Maybe I’ll learn to control them, but until then I honestly hope you never see them.”

She gave him a bracing smile, and he knew she understood without him having to say it—that if it took Musa getting mortally hurt for his wings to appear, he’d rather never transform again.

She reached her hand out and he took it, thumbing a wide arc over the back of her hand. His Specialist. His partner. His life.

#winx club #fate the winx saga #RivusaRevolution2021 #rivusa week #Day 6: AU #acotazerial #riven x musa #I am so honoured to be a part of this #thank you so much for helping me!!!#riven #musa #rivusa #fan art #my drawing #digital art #this will also be posted on ao3 #myart

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

#3 It Was an Accident (Hendery x you)

Third day of Christmas

It Was an Accident (Hendery x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

Work is over and it’s finally almost the last day of going to the office. Your team has been working super hard this year to win several big projects and the company will be holding a big party to end the year also celebrate Christmas.

It was a usual party, but someone suggested that while in the Christmas vibes, we should play the secret santa. It was easy, within a week you have to give the person’s name you received a gift. You are basically their santa and you have to keep your identity secret. If they found out it’s you it’s basically no fun and who doesn’t like surprises right?

The names were distributed in pieces of papers and you randomly choose one. When you open up the paper you smirk knowing that this is someone easy. Well you’re glad you didn’t get your boss’ name because seriously it’ll be super hard to find a gift for your boss.

On the week of the event, you were quite busy with finishing up your works and also rushing from stores to buy your mother some Christmas tinsels. You actually forgot the whole Secret Santa thing if not for the box of chocolate peeping out of the box written under your name.

“Ooh shit-“you mumbled and look around, no one is in sight and there is another box filled with some wrapped present too.

You pick up the box of chocolate and keep it under your bag, great your secret Santa has made the move. You check your calendar and it’s just two more days to the deadline.

That afternoon after a long meeting with the manager and executive team, you walk around the mall to find a gift that looks nice but still in budget. The group decided on a budget and turns out within that range you can either go funny or really serious.

“Should I get them a mistletoe?” you laugh at your own question, “Nah they’re single.”

You move on to the other shops, thinking of buying them a soap or maybe a lotion? A gift card can be nice too, but boring.

In the end you enter one shop with a very good smell, and you know you’re getting them a candle.

The party was heart-warming and you’re glad you dress up nicely to the fancy restaurant.

You wait as your colleague promised to pick you up since your house is on his way to the restaurant.

“I’m here,” your colleage, Hendery calls you when you’re about to slack on the couch and munch on one of the chocolate you got from your Santa. You put the chocolate back and step out of your apartment.

“Hey!” you greet him once you step into his nice car. It smells good and he looks stunning with his suit and hair styled.

“You look beautiful,” he bashfully compliments you.

You glance and smile, “You too.” He makes sure your seatbelt is on and makes his way to the restaurant.

Hendery is a fun guy and he just always has his way of cracking jokes.

“I wonder why you didn’t be a comedian at first.” You tease him after calming down yourself from laughing too hard on his jokes.

Hendery glances at you and back to the road, “Well I wanted to be an actor not a comedian, but here I am working with you inside the office from nine to five. Attending meeting and listening to client’s complain about our new game.”

You’re working on an online game company and while Hendery works for the finance, you’re in the marketing team. It was a fun job, sometimes when the new game was developed you guys got to try the game first and provide feedbacks.

The ride to the restaurant comes to an end, Hendery tosses his car keys to the Valet man and like a gentleman, he offers you his arm and you gently take it.

“The dinner reservation for Marble Corp.” Hendery calmly answers the welcome lady, she ushers the two of you to a private area and there you see some of your friends already seated nicely.

“Hey (Y/n) and Hendery!!” a man with black and highlighted blonde hair waves to call the two of you. He is Ten, our company’s design artist. He is in charge of drawing the game’s characters and landscapes.

Hurriedly you sit beside Ten, he is your best (friend) colleague here after Hendery.

“Are you going anywhere Ten?” you ask, he usually travels on Winter breaks and he always brings you something as a souvenir.

He nods, “I’m going home, want to join? Thailand may be interesting for you.” He offers you a glance of the date he booked his flight.

You kindly reject his offer, “Oh thank you, but I had planned a trip too with Hendery and Yang Yang.” You sigh suddenly feeling like you made a wrong decision. Across you were Yang yang, the German boy who worked on storyline and Hendery both talking about their holiday plan.

Ten snorts at your answer, “I guess you can still change your flight to Thailand and be with me, where are you heading to?”

Your eyes lit up, “Going to Macau, Hendery promised he would bring us to his casino place and maybe… maybe if luck is in our side, we can win big.”

Ten nods his head, “Quite interesting, Macau can be a great place to rest. I just hope those two dorks won’t be giving you a hard time.”

You down the wine on your glass, “I hope so! I’ll fly to you if they hurt my head!”

Ten runs a hand lovingly on your hair, “Of course! Your Ten here will always welcome you with open hands.”

You don’t bother his action, Ten is already like your brother so you don’t mind his actions. If that was done by someone else, you’d already flung your hand on their face.

The head of the corporation comes in and after his short speech the dinner is started.

With stories exchanged between all of you and the wine accompanying the night, you’re glad you are not a light drinker. The night is getting older and after the desert and closing remarks, some of your colleagues left.

“(Y/n), want to go back already? I guess everyone is leaving after this.” Hendery who looks sober asks you. You just finished one and a half glass, because you had to make sure you got home safe.

You nod your head and bid farewell to Ten and your other friends. It’s a great night to end your work for this year.

“Hey are you by any chance still hungry?” Hendery asks after the two of you leave the place.

You grin, “You’re still hungry right?”

He nods, “The portion is too small! I say I need some milkshake or some sweet deserts now.” He licks his lips and you agree, “Okay we’ll stop for milkshakes!!”

Hendery changes lane and the two of you go to your favorite milkshake store. The place was a bit crowded, but you got a place for two.

“Let me order, you want Vanilla right?” he sorts of remember your favorite flavour.

You nod, quite surprised he remembers this.

Hendery returns with a plate of waffle and two glasses of vanilla.

“Thank you,” you reach out for your wallet, but he was faster. He holds your hand and shake his head.

“No need… Uhm how do I explain this,” he bites his lips and fiddles with his thumb.

You raise your eyebrow, and he finally starts explaining things.

“Look (y/n), I was your secret Santa, but I accidentally gave you a box of out of date chocolates.” He pulls his textbook smiley face and your jaw drops, gosh lucky you haven’t eaten any of it.

“So as an apology, now I am buying you drink and waffle.” He giggles and when you laugh out loud, Hendery feels like the biggest rock in his life is destroyed.

“Yow what you bought a box of outdated chocolates? Poor you! How can you?” you wonder as you sip into your drink.

Hendery shyly rubs his neck, “I read the date wrong. I messed the date and month…”

You roll your eyes, “Not surprised! As expected, our dear Hendery! Once again making me laugh so hard tonight.”

He nervously looks at your happy face, it’s the same person who always makes his day brighter. He feels like he can be himself and still get a smile on your face. He’s a sucker for you, yet he cannot bring himself to actually tell you how interesting you are and how pretty you look everyday when he saw you from the table across yours. Hendery likes to see how you focus on your screen and pout when the computer lacks, or the internet is acting up. He loves the way your laugh tingles his ear when he successfully cracks another joke. All in all, he loves you, because you never hates his dorky side of him and he likes you because you are super unique and fits into his puzzle piece.

“I am surprised my secret Santa got me a perfect gift right now,” he suddenly speaks up and you turn nervous.

“Huh? What did you get?” you look curiously as he takes something out of his pocket.

“I got a nice aromatherapy candle and this,” he brings out a small mistletoe and hangs it above the two of you.

You blush and gasp, everyone knows when two people are under a mistletoe, they have to kiss. So are you going to kiss him or will he kiss you? How awkward will it be if you just sit there dumbly? Will Hendery hates you?? Oh but he looks so charming and admit it you’ve always love his lips.

“A mistletoe?” you stutter. He nods his head, “Perfect for this moment, right?”

You close your eyes as he inches forward to seal your lips with his and you’re glad you’re sitting down now as you can feel your legs shaking.

He pulls back and some people around your table are shooting the two of you a thumbs up or just a secret smile.

You hide your red cheeks with your hands and Hendery sits back on his chair.

“So, want to admit whose name did you get?” he smirks.

You bite your lips, “You. I got your name, and yeah both of them are from me… Do you know that?”

He shakes his head, “I wasn’t sure at first, but I sort of worked out the others’ so I am left with your name or Yang yang’s and I know Yang yang would never buy me a candle. I am actually surprised with the mistletoe.”

You shrug your shoulder, “I don’t know what was in my head when I drop an additional mistletoe there, I just feel like you deserve to kiss someone this Christmas.”

He ruffles your hair and gives you the sweetest smile in the world, “And I am glad I got to kiss the one I like this Christmas.”

see you tomorrow!!

Christmas masterlist

#12 days of christmas #cosmic 12 days of christmas #hendery x reader #hendery x y/n #hendery x you #hendery imagines #kunhang x reader #kunhang fluff #hendery fanfic #hendery fluff #hendery soft moodboard #hendery scenarios #wayv fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv hendery #wong kunhang #wayv fanfic

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onemilliongoldstars · 4 years

Text

better to be fake - chapter two

Since she started at St Anne’s private prep school, Lexa has prided herself on her ability to fly below the radar, even if she sometimes is forced to waitress her classmates’ socialite events. That all changes the moment she comes to the attention of Clarke Griffin, the princess of the upper east side, as wealthy as she is beautiful and used to getting her own way.

Determined to shake off the hold of her over bearing mother, Clarke presents Lexa with a proposal that she can’t turn down: pretend to date her and she will make sure Lexa never has to waitress again.

–

please note the tags and warnings on ao3.

read on ao3.

clexa high society au.

2/13

She feels out of place from the moment she steps out of the elevator and into the Griffin home.

It's the maid that greets her at the door and leads her through into the living room to wait while she hurries away to fetch Clarke. Lexa stands, her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans and inspects the wide, open space with interest. There's a broad archway that leads into a dining room at the far end of the long room, but the living room itself is probably big enough to fit most of her apartment in. It's decorated in light creams, yellows and reds and it feels cleaner than any room Lexa has ever been in before. There are several slim, comfortable couches and a glass coffee table with magazines arranged artfully across the surface. The whole apartment is quiet. In her own home there is a constant buzz of noise, the traffic from the street outside or music from the bar at the end of the block or their neighbours passing the door and it's almost unnerving to be so surrounded by silence.

Her gaze is caught by the fireplace, all dark stone and marble and she wanders slowly towards it, taking a moment to inspect the childhood photos on the mantelpiece before her attention is drawn down to a large vase of flowers in the empty space where flames would flicker in winter. They're bright and beautiful and she lets herself reach out and run a thumb over the petal of a lily.

Thunderous footsteps racing down the stairs draw her attention and she darts away from the flowers guiltily, looking up in time to see Clarke, breathless and beaming in the doorway.

She feels immediately underdressed, but it's not a new feeling. Clarke's text had told her this was just a family brunch, nothing formal and so she'd pulled on her best jeans and a light blue shirt, a thin sweater thrown over the top to ward off the autumn chill. Clarke, however, is wearing a light dress and a pair of dark heels, her hair thrown into some complicated twist of braids that is artfully arranged to look casual. There are even fresh flowers woven between her golden strands and Lexa can't help but stare.

"What?" Clarke falters in the doorway, looking down at herself. "Is something wrong? Do I look bad?"

"No, you look..." she fumbles to find the right word, "wonderful. I just thought you said this was casual."

"It is." Clarke quirks her eyebrow, quizzically and Lexa looks pointedly down at her own outfit. "Oh don't be silly," Clarke rolls her eyes, stepping fully into the room to grab her by the hand and tug her away into the corridor again. "You look perfect."

“Your kind of perfect?” She asks wryly as she is led up the curving staircase, surrounded by more cut flowers and large landscapes. “Or the good kind?”

At the top of the staircase Clarke turns and Lexa has to come to an abrupt halt to stop from running into her. “My kind is the good kind.” She tells her and Clarke sounds so certain, so firm and resolute that Lexa’s eyes widen even as the girl turns around and continues on through the long corridors.

She follows her silently, but she takes in the many doors that sit off the corridor. She counts five before Clarke pushes one open and she can’t help but wonder what could possibly be behind them, Clarke lives with only her mother, who is barely ever home and yet their apartment is like a labyrinth.

Clarke pauses in the doorway, turning to look at her and she sees, to her surprise, a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes. “This is my room,” she tells her, quietly and Lexa nods once.

Her stare is curious when Clarke steps aside and lets her inside, roving around the room to take in everything that fills it. It isn’t a small space by any means, but it’s so filled with stuff that it feels… not small, but cosy.

The large double bed is covered in a light blue coverlet and an array of cushions and one of the bedside tables is piled high with books. Some of them- the ones at the bottom- are school books, but the rest are books on mythology and art and paperbacks with creased spines and curled pages. The bed is covered with bits of paper and a few clothes and as she steps further in she notices that the high mirror is surrounded by pictures of people that Lexa recognises from school, selfies with Octavia and Raven, their faces creased with laughter; pictures of Clarke on Bellamy’s back, her tongue out; laughing snapshots of she and her friends on vacation; even pencil sketches of friends and families.

The click of the door shutting behind her draws her eyes away and she turns to see Clarke watching her carefully, lingering near the door.

"Do you like it?" She sounds oddly vulnerable and open, and Lexa tries to put her at ease, nodding with a small smile, hand reaching out to trail across the soft coverlet as she speaks.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." Fingers brush against the fur of a small stuffed rabbit, sat against the pillows looking slightly ragged and limp and she turns, cocking an eyebrow teasingly at the blonde. "Friend of yours?"

Clarke's slight flush is almost endearing and she hurries forward, grabbing the rabbit and hugging it to her chest even as she smiles. "Hey, lay off Peter."

"Peter?" Lexa echoes, laughter in her voice and Clarke rolls her eyes, dropping the rabbit back onto the bed and following it with a slight humph, kicking up her heeled shoes onto the bed, ignoring the clothes she is crushing beneath her body.

"Quit it, my dad read me Peter Rabbit when I was a kid and I got hooked. I used to make the nanny read it to me every day, twice."

"Twice?" She almost chokes on the word, shaking her head as she wanders closer towards the head of the bed. "Wow, you weren't kidding around."

"I never kid about rabbits, Lexa." She's so serious, so deadpan that for a second Lexa is stumped, hesitating where she stands, but Clarke's mask cracks and she giggles, patting the space beside her invitingly. "Joke. Sit down, you don't always have to stand on ceremony."

"You sure about that?" She sits regardless, perching on the edge of the bed and leaning down to tug off her boots before propping her feet up on the bed, reclining back against the multitude of cushions and turning so that she can look at Clarke.

"What do you mean?" Clarke shifts, turning so that she can lean on her elbow and look at Lexa through eyes that are so blue they remind Lexa of the pictures of tropical seas she's seen in National Geographic.

"Well your apartment is kind of like a museum," She stares at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of the intricate plasterwork and hoping that Clarke doesn't take offence.

Beside her the girl sighs and nods, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Not here though," Lexa can't resist turning again to look at her, watching the way that blue eyes flicker away before venturing up to meet hers again from under long eyelashes. Clarke is unimaginably different here, lying against her bed and murmuring childhood stories to Lexa. She is open and innocent and incredibly vulnerable, as far from the high heeled girl who strides down the corridors of St Anne's as it's possible to be, and Lexa struggles for a moment to find what to say. "This room is different, more alive than the rest of the house."

"Thanks," Clarke's smile is small but genuine and a twinkle flashes in her eye, a return to the confidence that Lexa knows when she asks, teasingly. "And what's your room like?" She wiggles her eyebrows and Lexa guffaws so loudly that it makes Clarke snort inelegantly.

"Easy there," she returns, playfully, "it's our first date. I normally wait until at least date two to take a girl to my room."

"Well I guess I'll just have to pray for a second date then," Clarke's smile is slight and coy, tweaking at the corners of her lips teasingly and Lexa is momentarily entranced, eyes fixed to the plump and roll of her pink lips before a knock on the door cracks through the room like a whip.

They both turn, startled and flushing, to see the maid sticking her head around the door. She eyes them both suspiciously, before finally settling her gaze on Clarke and saying, haughtily, "Miss Clarke, your mother is here and brunch will be served soon."

"Thank you Martha," Clarke swings her feet off the bed, standing easily and striding over to mirror to fluff at her hair.

"Should we go?" Lexa pulls on her boots again, trepidation creeping up from her stomach. Clarke shakes her head, leaning in close to the mirror to check her makeup.

"No, let her wait. I'm forever waiting for her."

It doesn't seem like the healthiest of relationships, but Lexa lets it pass anyway, shrugging and shaking her head as she settles back to sit on the bed again. Her gaze is caught by a picture on Clarke's bedside table, beside a glass of water and a small, retro style radio; caught in a frame, the image that stares out at her is bright and colourful and Lexa is momentarily captured by it. Clarke is obviously young, maybe nine or ten, and sat on a bench beside a man who has the same eyes as her. They are both laughing, caught in a candid because Clarke is pointing at her father and he has ice cream from the cone in his hands smeared against the tip of his nose. Clarke looks younger, hair braided down her back simply, in shorts and a pink shirt and there is a carefree joy in her eyes that Lexa has never seen before.

"Is this your dad?"

Clarke freezes, halfway through applying her lip gloss and slowly screws the cap back on before she paces round to her side of the bed, peering down at the picture though it is clear that she knows what Lexa is talking about.

"Yeah, that's him." Her voice is soft and quiet and when Lexa turns to look back at her she is running the ear of the rabbit between her thumb and fingers, a subconscious, comforting habit.

"What happened to him?" She speaks lowly, afraid to break the quiet between them.

"He died." She sounds curt and matter of fact and the rabbit falls back onto the bed as she stands a little straighter, staring down at Lexa with regal expectancy. "Ready? We have to scar my mother, remember?"

"Of course.”

At her bedroom door Clarke turns, holding out an expectant hand, and when their fingers twine together Lexa feels a flush run through her at the sight of Clarke's thumb curled possessively atop her own.

Abby Griffin looks Lexa up and down when she walks down the stairs beside her daughter. She stands imperiously, in heels so high that she towers over them both when they reach the bottom. Her skirt suit is all sharp edges, a dark blue that is almost feminine, but not quite, and long brown hair is curled gently to fall over her shoulders, softening the whole look just slightly.

She smiles - a small, thin affair that seems as forced as it is fake - and looks to Clarke.

"Hello, darling," there's a very faint twang in her voice, an accent that Lexa thinks could be from New England.

"Mother," Clarke leans forward and places a Hollywood style kiss against her mother's cheek, backing away quickly to stand beside Lexa again. She is slightly taller in her heels and when her hand comes to rest on the small of Lexa's back she almost does a double take, blinking when she is nudged forwards. "This is Lexa, my girlfriend."

Abby's brows quirk, just briefly and she enquires, lightly, "Girlfriend?"

"Yes," Clarke squares her shoulders, head held high, clearly ready for battle but Abby just eyes them both for a moment before smiling wanly and holding out a hand in Lexa's direction.

"I see. It’s nice to meet you, Lexa." There's an amused glint in her eyes and her manicured nails press against Lexa's skin when her hand clasps around Lexa's; it doesn't hurt but Lexa is startled by the feeling and her eyes dart up to meet Abby's.

"You too, Mrs Griffin."

"Please, Abby." She steps back, looking to the side and holding out a hand invitingly to someone. "This is Marcus Kane, my partner."

"Her boyfriend," Clarke inputs, bluntly as a man emerges from the closet, smiling at them openly and taking the hand that Abby has outstretched.

Abby shoots her an irritated glance and Lexa watches from the corner of her eye as Clarke crosses her arms with a slight huff. Marcus doesn't seem bothered however and for a moment Lexa wonders if he is simply an idiot who didn't pick up on Clarke's blatant dislike for him, but she catches sight of his amused eyes as he speaks. "Good to see you too, Clarke."

They stand there quietly, waiting for a moment, before Abby gestures towards the rest of the apartment with a polite smile. "Shall we? I've been informed that brunch will be served momentarily."

Marcus and Abby precede them and she feels the breath rush out of her body when they turn away. A hand clasps hers and when she turns Clarke's face is set with determination.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" She mutters, quietly as Clarke begins to lead her through the apartment.

Clarke's eyes flicker to hers and she raises an eyebrow, "When do I ever?"

----

Her mother seems to have brought her A-game today.

Clarke stirs her spoon around the combination of yogurt and berries in her crystal bowl, pushing the morsels of food back and forth until the yogurt is pink and the berries are nothing more than a crushed mess. She watches resentfully from the other side of Lexa as her mother spoons fruit into her own bowl, piercing pieces of pineapple and peach with a silver fork as Lexa picks at her parfait anxiously.

"And you're going to college, Lexa?" Abby asks, smoothly and Clarke notices Lexa swallow nervously, hands reaching out for her glass of water.

"Yes, I'm actually hoping to go to Yale." Clarke tries not to seem too surprised, schooling her expression quickly though Abby's eyes dart to her rapidly. "I've applied for early admittance, hopefully into one of the scholarship programmes."

"Wonderful," Her mother gushes and Lexa shifts uncomfortably on the chair beside her, shrugging awkwardly. "And what will you study?"

"I'm hoping to major in poli science." Lexa replies, fingers running around the rim of her glass.

"Very good," Abby seems impressed, nodding and her eyes flicker over to Clarke. "Any way that you could persuade my daughter to sort out her admissions forms? I've been asking her for weeks."

"You've had an answer," Clarke snaps, abruptly, dropping her spoon so that it rattles against the bowl loudly.

"Not one that I'll accept, dear." Abby answers mildly, smiling wanly at her but there's a fierce glint in her eyes that Clarke recognises well.

"I'm sure that Clarke will make the decision that's right for her soon enough," Lexa puts in, after a moment of tense silence. "It normally takes a while to choose, I was just lucky that I knew what I wanted from freshman year."

"Are you going to change the world, Lexa?" Marcus asks and though he's clearly well meaning, there's a patronising edge to his voice that makes Clarke bristle.

When she opens her mouth to bite back, however, Lexa cuts through her. "I'm pretty sure that everybody who goes to college wants to change the world."

"Very true.”

"Who are your parents, Lexa?" Abby cuts the fruit in her bowl into smaller pieces. "Are you new to the area? I don't think we've ever seen you at any of the society gatherings?"

"No," Lexa hesitates, "you wouldn't have. I live in Brooklyn with my mom, she works as a secretary for a small, local building firm and I waitress part time."

Abby blinks at her, clearly startled and for a moment the silence returns, blanketing them like fresh snow before her mother finally unfreezes and says, voice stilted. "I see."

Clarke can't help but smile when she cuts a glance at Lexa and sees while her eyes downcast a satisfied smirk is lingering at the edges of her lips.

----

At the door, her mother turns to Lexa with a raised eyebrow and says, amusement lacing through her voice. "Well then Lexa, I expect we won't be seeing you again?"

"Oh, why not?" Lexa frowns, perplexed as she takes her coat from Martha, wrapping it over her arm.

"Well," Abby glances at Clarke, smiling slightly, "Clarke has made her point now."

"My point?" Her voice raises high as she echoes her mother's words, furious and outraged. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Language," Abby reprimands Clarke offhandedly, "Please, darling, you and I both know that Lexa is not really your girlfriend. You just brought her here to upset me, no offence meant Lexa."

Clarke gapes, flabbergasted by her mother's calm acknowledgement and she fumbles for her words, stuttering to try to find a way to salvage the situation when a hand slides around Clarke's waist and pulls her abruptly closer, until she is pressed against Lexa's side, flush with her body.

"Excuse me Mrs Griffin, but I happen to like your daughter very much," Lexa's eyes flicker to hers for a moment, creased with irritation. "I don't appreciate your implication that we are anything but real. We've been together for a few weeks now."

"Really, dear if you expect me to believe that-"

Her mother's voice falls flat when Lexa spins her around to press their lips together, hands tightening around her waist. Clarke gasps in surprise into the touch, before her hands snake up around Lexa's neck, touch hesitant and uncertain, the soft press to her mouth taking her breath away as a tongue brushes against her lips teasingly for a moment, before they break away, and she is immensely glad for Lexa's arm around her waist, holding her up.

Abby blinks at them, looking between them with growing alarm, and Clarke smiles in satisfaction before stepping away from Lexa, their hands still intertwined as she tugs gently. "Come on, Lex, let me show you out."

They retreat to the elevator together and it's only when the door slides shut on the frozen figure of her mother that Clarke lets out a snort of laughter, shaking her head.

"Oh god, that was genius Lexa." Leaning up onto her toes, shoes long abandoned- much to her mother’s chagrin- she presses a kiss to Lexa's cheek and the girl smiles, clearly pleased with herself. "That was brilliant, did you see her face? She's was so mad!"

"Your mother is a piece of work," Lexa raises an eyebrow as the elevator doors slide open for them and they step out into the foyer.

"Tell me about it." She slides her hand into Lexa's, pulling her to a stop before she can head for the door, lowering her voice so that the doorman can't hear. "So, do you mind doing this for a little while longer?"

"Did it seem like I minded?" Lexa smirks at her and Clarke rolls her eyes, slapping lightly at her arm.

"I can compensate you for your time, if you’re passing up on shifts or anything. And for travelling into the city.” She reassures her and Lexa stiffens, frowning.

"No, no it's fine." She laughs awkwardly, the sound forced and stilted. "I think your earlier payment covered at least two dates, anyway."

"Okay," She draws the word out uncertainly, watching Lexa with confused eyes before shrugging, "Well listen, my mom will ask around at school so as far as anyone knows we're together, okay?"

"Sounds good," Lexa pulls on her coat, digging her hands deeply into the pockets, "I should go, I have a shift that starts at one."

"Okay, I'll see you on Monday then?" At Lexa's nod she smiles and presses another kiss to her cheek, hands curling around her arm and squeezing again before she steps back, waving once as Lexa makes her way towards the door.

It's only in the elevator that she checks her phone and realises that it's not even midday yet.

----

The hairs on the back of her neck are prickling. Beneath her clammy fingers the spines of her books feel strange and slick and Lexa huddles into her locker, hoping to avoid the eyes that she can feel fixed on her. She’s not used to attention from her classmates, has happily flown under the radar for as long as she’s been going to this school, but now her uniform feels suddenly itchy and starched and she’s distinctly aware that she didn’t put on any eyeliner today.

People’s gazes have been following her all day. The moment she stepped through the wrought iron gates, only a few minutes before the bell, she felt eyes on her. In algebra Matthew Conrad had stared at her through most of the class and she’d caught Cathy Redbred actually craning her neck from the first row to gape at her during second period philosophy class. Her cheeks are pink from the attention and she bundles her books into her arms in an effort to appear invisible.

She only barely makes it to history in time, even with the clearer corridors and she’s halfway to her seat when an all too familiar voice calls out her name.

“Lexa!”

It pulls her to a stop as surely as a tether and she stumbles to a halt, lifting her head from her books to blink at Clarke owlishly. She’s managed to avoid the blonde all day, up until now, and she’s frustrated to see that Clarke looks as beautiful as ever: all sparkling eyes and ringleted hair, accompanied by the effortless confidence of someone who knows that they can have whatever they want.

Clarke is patting the space beside her, which has been suddenly and conveniently cleared. Lexa takes a moment to look at her old spot near the back of the class, but it’s now occupied by Clarke’s old desk mate and Lexa has too many eyes on her throughout the day to start picking a fight. Besides, Clarke’s desk is next to the window, so Lexa sinks reluctantly into the space.

“Hey,” Clarke leans her head against her elbow, watching Lexa as she unloads her things neatly across the desk. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“It’s barely midday,” Lexa desperately avoids her gaze, even though Clarke’s eyes on her feel distinctly different to the whispered glances that have been following her all day.

“You didn’t text me over the weekend, kind of thought you might be mad.”

Clarke doesn’t mince her words at least and Lexa’s distinctly grateful for that even as she carefully straightens her pencils.

“Not mad, just busy sorry.”

“Busy?” Lexa’s eyes are finally drawn to Clarke’s and she startles to see the blonde’s eyes fixed on her still, her voice carefully light.

“I was working,” Now that she has met Clarke’s eyes she can’t quite bring herself to look away.

“Oh, cool.” Clarke hesitates for a moment and Lexa uses the respite to drag her eyes away. She takes her pen and writes the date in the margin of her notebook. “Are you working tonight?”

She feels as if she knows what’s coming, but Lexa shakes her head quietly.

“Well…” Clarke sounds strangely nervous, “Do you want to get together tonight?”

“I have to study,” Lexa glances at her from beneath her eyelashes. It feels terribly tentative between them, as if at any moment they could shatter apart and she isn’t quite sure whether she wants it to or not.

“That’s okay,” Clarke brightens, “So do I, want to have a study date?”

Lexa fumbles over her words, distracted by the light of Clarke’s happy smile and the softness in her eyes. “I um… I guess.”

“Come on babe,” Clarke’s hand settles over hers on the desk and Lexa’s breath stutters from her throat. “I miss you.”

“I, um…” The door swings open to reveal Mr Walding and as the class falls into an expectant, respectful hush, Lexa is only able to nod. Clarke’s fingers tighten around hers briefly, before she pulls her hand away to start writing.

---

She shouldn’t really be surprised that a study date at Clarke’s penthouse apartment consists of luxurious cushions laid out over her bed, bowls of snacks peppered across the room and two tall glasses of iced tea, the condensation gathering to drip down the outside of the glass. Clarke is already studying, laid out across the bed on her stomach, with a pillow shoved beneath her and an open book, upon which sits her phone, when the housekeeper shows Lexa in.

Clarke perks up when the door swings open, beaming at Lexa as she hitches herself further up on the bed.

“Hi! You came!”

“You asked me to,” Lexa smiles weakly, hesitating in the doorway as her eyes swing from the desk- upon which are piles of books, basically unused- and the bed. “Sorry, lacrosse took longer than usual.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke lounges across the bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes and patting the bed. “I didn’t even know you played until you mentioned practice.”

Taking her cue, Lexa pads over and toes off her shoes at the bottom of the bed, gathering a few books into her hands and setting onto the mattress uncertainly as she says. “It looks good on college applications.”

“So you don’t like it?” Clarke twirls her pen in her hands, watching her with blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“No,” Lexa glances down at her binders, blushing a little, “I like it. It’s fun and I’m good, plus it’s nice to feel involved in something at school.”

“Wow, so you’re telling me the great Lexa Woods actually has something she enjoys?” Lexa opens her mouth to protest but when she sees Clarke’s teasing eyes and half smile, she snaps her mouth shut, gathering her hands in her lap and replying primly.

“I like things.”

“Really, like what?” Clarke rolls her eyes, “Studying?”

“Clearly more than you,” Lexa glances pointedly down to the phone placed between her pages and Clarke’s cheeks colour delightfully in response.

“I- I was looking something up.” At Lexa’s grin she relaxes just slightly, tugging on her arm to encourage her further onto the bed. “Maybe you should teach me how to study.”

“Clarke you’re not an idiot, it’s clear that you know how to study.” Lexa arches an eyebrow, settling back into the cushioned bedhead and Clarke wriggles up to join her,

“You don’t know that, I might be in great need of a tutor.”

“You get excellent grades,” Lexa opens her books in her lap, glancing down at the page of algebra questions with distaste before uncapping her pen.

“Oh god, you’re doing the algebra homework. I was hoping to pretend that wasn’t happening.” Clarke groans loudly, resting her head so carelessly against Lexa’s shoulder that Lexa hopes she doesn’t feel how she tenses up.

“The earlier we get it done the better,” Lexa fidgets with her pencil, staring at the questions intently and trying to ignore the hot tickles of Clarke’s breath against her neck.

“You know,” Clarke is still unnecessarily close to her, and her voice is suddenly low and slightly husky. “When you proposed a study date I didn’t think there would actually be any studying.” Her lips brush against Lexa’s neck and Lexa freezes beneath her, her eyes widening and her heart rabbiting in her chest.

“I don’t… that’s not why I came here.” She speaks in a rush, her cheeks hot and embarrassment curling in her stomach. “I just thought we could study together.”

Clarke pulls back to look at her and Lexa tries not to squirm under her intense gaze. Her eyes travel across Lexa’s face slowly and thoughtfully, trying to read how serious she is and what she sees must satisfy her because she finally nods.

“Okay Lex, we can study.” To Lexa’s relief she pulls away until their arms only brush when they both go to write. Clarke adds a few numbers to her sheet and then glances at Lexa from below her lashes, “but if anyone asks we made out violently.”

Lexa can’t help the grin that pulls at her lips, “Violently?”

“Mmhm,” Clarke spins her pencil again. “I fell off the bed.”

---

The housekeeper calls upstairs once Abby arrives home, but at the sight of Clarke’s pursed lips and determinedly uninterested expression, Lexa stays quiet and goes back to explaining equations to the blonde leaning against her side. When Abby appears a few minutes later, giving the door a cursory knock before pushing it open to come to a stop in the doorway, Clarke leans closer to her.

“Oh, Lexa, I didn’t know you were here.” Abby’s mask of politeness slams immediately into place, but Lexa can’t help the thrill of satisfaction she feels at the sight of shock that precedes it.

“We’re studying mom,” Clarke supplies, chin tilting up stubbornly, “What do you want?”

Abby arches an eyebrow, “Only to pop by and remind you that we have to be at the Blake’s for six thirty tonight. You should probably start to get ready.”

“You’re going out?” Lexa’s eyes dart to Clarke and she begins to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go.”

“No,” Clarke’s hand against her arm stops her and Lexa is surprised to find that her gaze is soft, “I want you to stay,” expression hardening, she turns back to her mother. “Can’t you make my excuses at the Blake’s? We go there every week, they won’t mind if I miss one.”

Abby’s lips press into a thin line, “No Clarke, that’s rude.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue with me Clarke,” Abby sneaks an anxious look at Lexa, who reaches out to take Clarke’s hand and squeeze it gently, drawing her attention back down.

“It’s okay,” Lexa tells her earnestly, “I need to get home and start on dinner anyway.” Clarke’s face falls and Lexa sees Abby’s lips draw up into a slight victorious smile from the corner of her eyes. She feels irritation curl in her belly, the only real explanation for why she leans forward and catches Clarke’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.

The blonde surrenders immediately into her embrace, fingers tightening around hers and Lexa allows herself the briefest of moments to enjoy the innocence of warm lips moving against her own, the intimate brush of cheeks and floral scent of Clarke’s perfume before finally breaking away.

She’s aware that Abby is watching them, but doesn’t tear her eyes away from Clarke as she speaks. “Have fun tonight, I’ll talk to you later.”

She slides her feet into her school shoes as Clarke seems to find her breath again, her cheeks dusted with a dusky rose.

“Text me when you get home?” Clarke calls after her as she starts out of the room and Lexa nods over her shoulder, slipping awkwardly past Abby in the door.

“See you again Mrs Griffin.”

“I’m sure I will Lexa.”

---

#high society au #hsau #clexa #clexa fic #clarke griffin #commander lexa

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Text

Third Time’s The Charm (Indruck)

Prompt for the 10th was: stiches

“I ain’t sure what you thought was gonna happen. That canopy is fuckin dense.”

“In my, ouch, defense I, ow, only crash landed in one percent of futures, OW!” Indrid cuts off into chitters of pain as Duck continues stitching up his shoulder near his wing.”

You know, Duck had been hoping someone from home would visit him out here in Brazil. He just wasn't expecting the mothman to be the first one to show up.

And he really wasn’t expecting him to crash to the ground near Ducks small cabin that he stays in when not in the field. In spite of his wing clearly bleeding, he’d told Duck to hurry into town to head off yet another fire. When Duck came back two hours later to find Indrid trying to stitch up his wing using the bathroom mirror and a very odd contortion, he ordered him to sit down on the closed toilet seat so he could do the damn thing right.

He’s halfway through now, Indrid’s feathers making things tricky. The Sylph staying in this form until it was over, since his pain tolerance is higher when he’s not human.

“Thank you for not insisting on taking me to a hospital.”

“The closest one is an hour away and I don’t know enough Portuguese to explain the mothman to a doctor.” Duck adjusts his stance slightly so he’s not blocking the light he needs to work, “gotta say, for all your chirpin, you’re doin pretty damn well.”

“As you pointed out, one cannot go as ‘mothman’ to a hospital. And after documentation became more common, it became harder to produce identifying documents that wouldn’t raise too many questions. One gets used to home surgery and unpleasant infections.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, concerned by the last part of that sentence.

“Do not worry, Duck Newton, I know enough healing spells that it has never become an issue.”

“I mean, that’s good to know but Indrid, that ain’t no way to live.”

“Perhaps not. But it was often the price of helping prevent disaster. Or trying to.”

“You helped us a hell of a lot in Kepler.”

The Sylph hums in acknowledgement, hisses as Duck pulls the last stitch through. He stays quiet as Duck bandages him. Awkward silence is broken only by insects and the occasional bird, and a question taps at the back of Duck’s skull.

“I, uh, I thought you were goin back to Sylvain. Handin the job off to Leo and all that.”

“I considered that, and Leo is welcome to use his foresight as he pleases. But as I told you on our first meeting, I fell in love with earth. I have been away from Sylvain for a long time. I searched for a solution to her decline for a century. You and the others solved it in one-hundredth of that time. So it is not as if the kingdom will welcome me back as a hero. And I do not want my old position back. No, Duck Newton, if I am going to be a failure, have my warnings ignored, I may as well do so on the planet I like better.”

“Now, hold on-” Duck wants to argue, but Indrid swivels his head, red eyes as disconcerting as they were when they met. He looks very sure of his conclusion. More than that, he looks tired.

“Your question had a dual purpose, so I will answer what was implicit; you want to know why I’m here and not somewhere else.”

“I, uh, I mean yeah, but I ain’t-”

“-trying to be rude, nono, I do not doubt that. I came to you because the fire I foresaw would be as bad, if not worse, as the one you are helping undo the damage from. And it is easier to stop disaster when I don’t have to waste time making someone believe I can really see the future.” He stands, taking up half the bathroom, “thank you for your help. I will put on my glasses and be on my way. Can I trouble you for a ride into town?”

“No, I mean yeah, but jesus christ Indrid, you crashed. I just finished stitching you up! You oughta rest up some.’

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes, hence the trip into town. I can rest there until my wing is healed.”

“You got no one to tend those stitches, and I got a couch that ain’t bein used.”

“But you do not want me here.” He barely sounds hurt, just resigned, and somehow that makes Duck feel worse than if the Sylph was crying.

And a little annoyed.

“Did I say that?”

“No. But we were hardly close friends, and what is more you have spent a great deal of your life with aliens popping into your space unannounced. Where is she, by the by? I thought she was coming with you.”

Duck sticks his hands into his pockets, staring down as he shrugs, “forestry ain’t exactly her area of interest. And, uh, once the trauma-bondin’ wore off, think we both needed some time to sort some things out.”

Indrid stares blankly at him a moment, and then he chirrs, “You’re lonely.”

“Hey I, I’m uh, I- how the fuck did you know that?”

“You said so in some futures.”

“Are there futures where you accept my offer and get your fuzzy ass on the couch before you pass out?” Duck doesn’t mean to sound grumpy, but Indrid just bumped into two sore spots in Duck’s psyche.

Oddly, Indrid snickers, “I forgot how stubborn you can be. Very well, I accept your offer of the couch.”

By the time Duck gets back with a spare pillow, the Sylph is asleep, chirping peacefully.

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

“What are you doing?”

“GAHfuck”

“Apologies.” Indrid only looks partially sorry, his human grin wide when Duck glares at him.

“That some sort of Sylph silence spell?”

“No, just years of practice trying not to be heard in the halls when I was seer.”

Last Duck saw him, he was still asleep on the couch, mumbling and chirring in pain when Duck changed the bandage. Duck would like to say that’s all he remembers, except there was a moment after he finished and Indrid’s eyes fluttered open as he sighed out a “thank you.” And that sight, the way Indrid looked in the morning light, safe and trusting, had tugged at his heart.

“May I keep you company? I am not in much of a state to do much else, even watch futures. Hitting my head tends to do that.”

“Uh, sure. I’m on my own for the mornin, not sure how excitin it will be.”

“I wish to know everything.”

Duck’s about to make a crack about being careful what you wish for when he gets a good look at Indrid’s face. The Sylph is grinning eagerly and is even flapping his hands a bit as he speaks.

“I want to see what you see in this jungle.”

So Duck shows him, everything from the saplings they’ve chosen to the creatures darting in and out of view. Indrid asks questions and makes excited noises, but mostly he listens, lets Duck talk or not as it pleases him. They’ve been in a stretch of silence when Duck turns and guffaws.

Indrid, sitting on a log, is covered in butterflies, some as big as Duck’s hand and in all colors of the rainbow.

“Guess they know a relative when they see one.”

The Sylph beams, “I was wondering how long it would be before you noticed.”

“Wait, did you summon them?”

“No, they just sort of...do this. It may be for moth reasons, or perhaps I have eaten so much sugar they smell it in my pores. I was, however, hoping they would join me, because I foresaw it making you happy.”

That same affection sparks in Duck’s chest.

“Alright, you heard enough from me today. Now I wanna know all about what you been doin since the world didn’t end.”

Indrid tells him about his attempts to stay in Kepler, his promise to Stern to not get photographed too much, his relentless teasing of Barclay for falling in love with the agent. His travels to other states to stop disasters, newly energized in his successes in Kepler.

“If you can call them that,”

“I’d say you can.”

Indrid holds out his hand, studying the speckled butterfly perched on it, “You renewed so much of my belief that things could change. At the cottonwood, when you promised me you’d find a way to stop what was coming, stop the sinkhole I...it meant a great deal. Even if your method of freeing me was rather, ah, abrupt.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Yep, not my best plan, but it worked.”

“The bruise only lasted nine days, it was worth it in the end.”

Duck shoots him a playfully hurt smile, “Hey, don’t make me feel bad, I apologized.”

Indrid raises an eyebrow.

“Oh fuck” Duck tugs his hat down over his eyes, “I didn’t, I never fuckin apologized for punchin you.”

“In your defense, there were more pressing matters.” There it is again, that resignation. Duck wants to yank it out of Indrid’s tone and stomp it to bits. Instead, he steps forward, rests a hand on each of Indrid’s biceps.

“Indrid, I’m so fuckin sorry. Even if it helped save you, I’m sorry you got hurt again and it was me that did it.”

“I…” Indrid closes his mouth, opens it again, repeats that motion before managing, “I did not see that reply coming.” He smiles a new smile, small and secretive, as if he’s been given something precious, “thank you for saying that, Duck.”

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

“I see why they call it a rainforest.” Indrid stares out the window as drops batter it.

“Yep.” Duck zips up his raincoat, smirking at the bundled up silver haired man, “guessin you ain’t joinin me?”

“I do not enjoy wet weather. Though if you want company I can oh, no, never mind.”

Duck’s radio crackles, and a quick conversation informs him that the conditions at the current reforestation site are too swamped to get anything done.

“Guess I got the day off. Uh, what do you wanna do?”

“I planned to draw and track futures, but I foresee you offering to teach me a card game, and I prefer that future.”

They end up on the floor by the couch, since Indrid seldom sits in chairs in a normal way anyway, mug of coffee in front of Duck and tea with half the sugar jar in front of Indrid. Duck teaches him several games, and as they play Indrid gets going on a tangent about his stint as a cardshark in Las Vegas, and the years he relied on hitchhiking to get around. Duck tells him about growing up in Kepler, about all the years between turning eighteen and now, the ones that plenty of people in his life treated as irrelevant to his life story.

They end up playing and talking until nightfall. Duck knows he should head to bed, that he has work tomorrow, but he doesn’t want to stop hearing Indrid’s laugh or seeing him scribble down futures.

He misses him when he goes to sleep.

Around eleven, his body makes an executive decision and he nods off leaning against the couch. He wakes up a few hours later to fluff on his cheek and comforting weight across his chest. Opening his eyes, he finds his head is in Indrid’s lap and a large black wing blankets him.

Even in his sleep, Indrid is terrifying in this form. At least, that's the argument his brain makes; Indrid is huge and alien, dangerous when he wants to be.

His heart disagrees. There’s nothing to be scared of. Indrid is his friend, wants nothing from him other than to get to know him. He’s soft, that helps, and clearly thinks of Duck as someone worth protecting. The sleep chirping is pretty fucking cute, too.

Red eyes open, two nightlights in the dark cabin. Indrid’s antenna are twitching and he’s clicking the claws of his upper hands together.

“Apologies, you sort of nodded off while we were talking and I caught you when you tipped over. I felt odd carrying you to bed, and this form seemed better to lay on, and then you started shivering so I put my wing-oh.”

Duck rolls over so he’s on his side, facing Indrid’s fuzzy abdomen, “Not complainin’, ‘Drid. Just adjustin’.”

He shuts his eyes, and for a moment clawtips trace his hair.

“Goodnight, Duck.”

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

He’s been living with Duck for three months now. Far too long to count as “recovery” and thoroughly pushing the definition of “vacation.” Indrid doesn’t want to go. And Duck doesn’t want him to either, if his actions are any indication. He’s fixed up the one spare room to be a guest room, includes Indrid in planning out the week, including planning a few day trips on the days he isn’t working. It's as if he wants Indrid around.

(It’s as if he wants a future with him).

Indrid can no longer attribute it solely to loneliness. Yes, Duck misses his friends and family, but he clearly gets along with his fellow rangers and the other staff on the project, and in that very Duck way of his has become a regular at places in the nearby town, having enough Portuguese to ask the woman who runs the cafe about her grandkids or the mail carrier how his garden is doing.

Which means he’s keeping Indrid around out of pity, charity, or genuine affection. That the last option even exists makes Indrid want to take to the sky in celebratory flight.

He’s been alive a long time. He knows what a crush feels like, and he knows that's what he feels for Duck. He also feels it deepening into something else, and if he could be sure the ranger felt the same he’d tell him in an instant.

His crush is not helped by the fact that Duck asked if he wanted to go for a weekend in Porto Velho and how they’re here, on their second night, at a spot that's a little fancier than Indrid is used to, with Duck looking extra-handsome across from him.

Come to think of it, Duck’s looked rather more put-together all weekend, even when they were in parks rather than museums (at the former he’d laughed when Indrid was alarmed by the far too big fish, and at the latter he seemed like he was actually listening when Indrid talked about art).

Duck keeps fidgeting during dinner, and Indrid suddenly understands; this is a farewell weekend. He’s going to ask Indrid to leave, is trying to soften the blow.

When Indrid declines dessert, the ranger actually frowns with worry, covers it by jokingly asking if Indrid is sick. By the time they get back to the hotel, Indrid is so nervous he can't get the timelines to cooperate in his mind, and so he decides to be proactive.

Duck doesn’t turn the lights on, inclining his head towards the balcony. Indrid follows him out into the night air, the city bathing them in light from below and the moonlight cascading down to meet it. Indrid leans on the railing looking out. Duck leans next to him, so close Indrid can count the laugh lines on his face.

“This has been a wonderful trip, thank you for bringing me.”

“Yeah?” Duck’s face brightens, borders on excitement as he turns his body slightly towards Indrid, “I’m glad to hear that. I, uh, worked real hard on plannin it for us.”

Indrid nods, glances back out towards the cit, “I will be out of your hair as soon as we get back ho-, to, ah, to the cabin.”

Duck’s entire frame crumples inwards, “Oh, uh...okay. Yeah. If that's what you need to do, uh, you, uh, you do it.”

Indrid cups his cheek, forcing his fingers to stay still, “Thank you for letting me stay. And for planning me such a lovely send off.”

“Indrid, how could I plan for somethin I didn’t think was happenin?”

“Ah, um, I simply assumed-”

“‘Drid” Duck steps closer, “do you think I want you gone?”

No point in lying now, not when Duck is always so truthful.

“Yes.”

“Did I do somethin? Is this too much? Fuck, it is, ain’t it, I knew the whole romantic dinner for two thing was gonna be too far.”

Indrid has been alive a long time. The fact he can still be this oblivious is remarkable to him.

“‘Drid, I’m so fuckin sorry, I uh, I thought-” He gasps when Indrid guides his face up for a kiss, and he’s so warm and comforting and there and he’s kissing Indrid bck, kissing him like it’s all he remembers how to do

When they break the kiss Indrid grins, “You thought right, Duck.”

“Oh thank fuckin god.”

With that Duck pounces, hooking his hands under Indrid’s thighs and lifting him up, kissing him over and over on their somewhat precarious trip to the bed.

Indridi has had plenty of sleepless nights. This turns out to be the first time he enjoys one.

And several months later, when Duck returns to Kepler for the screening of a very special episode of Saturday Night Dead, Indrid steps off the plane with him, grinning in the West Virginia Sun.

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #TAZ Amnesty #promptober

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: heads up, another ask the characters is coming up at the end of this book so if you plan on asking questions relevant to the plot I do ask you hold off until the rest of this episode. If you have just simple or silly non-plot related stuff I guess I don't mind taking them here 😊 thx for reading!

Also, the El/Dustin/Lucas reunion [and friendship tbh] is criminally underappreciated and always makes me cry happy tears. Same with El and Joyce. Always broke me, always will. Duffers, give me more. Also, Max blushed in this scene, and yall can @ me I don't care, but it happened.

||3rd Person POV||

Their feet shakily carry them across the floor to each other. Their hearts both stop as they gaze one another, both in their own unique form of shock.

"Eleven." Mike's voice barely tumbles out in a strained whisper.

Her smile grows bright at the sound of her name on his tongue, a sound she had missed all these months.

"Mike!" She gasps tearfully, and they collapse into a tender hug.

For a moment they relish in one another's embrace, not caring they have to stumble for balance as they cling to one another. More sniffles and tearful gasps spill from their lips as the others look on in a mixture of sadness and excitement filled shock.

Apart from Max, who's brows furrow above her widened eyes as she leans in close to Lucas in a whisper.

"Is that...?"

Dustin and Lucas nod silently, still in as much disbelief as the collective few.

Finally, but all too soon for the pair, Mike and El break apart.

"I never gave up on you," Mike swears. "I called you every night. Every night for--"

"353 days." She finishes softly, drawing out another look of shock on the boy. "I heard."

Despite the small but taunting thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind that told her otherwise, he does not get mad. He merely tilts his head in confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" He asks gently. "That you were okay?"

Before she can form a proper sentence, Hopper speaks up from where he had previously stood rooted to the ground.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Mike swivels on his heels to find Hopper looking back at him, solemnly. Mike stumbles back agape as Hopper glides forward, and gestures in waining and worn down stress over the girl.

"The hell is this?" He grumbles softly, relief flooding his voice. "Where the hell you been?"

"Where have you been?" She spits back, in an equally sounding failed attempt at anger.

His gun hangs limply at his side as he takes El into his embrace, who gladly accepts by coiling her arms around his large frame in content.

"You've been hiding her," Mike gasp gravely. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

Everyone flinches as the Wheeler boy launches an unexpected attack on the chief. He jumps forward, throwing his weight into his arms as he shoves the man.

"Hey!"

He turns, knowing the fight this boy is going to attempt and grabs at his shirt to steady him. Mike fights against his effort briefly, but he can't hide the spark of fear in his eyes as Hopper towers over him.

Hidden amongst the stunned group, Y/n shuffles on her feet nervously as she witnesses the strength of Mike's wrath. And yet, numbly, her feet carry her forward to accept the damning sentence she always knew would befall her. Her guilt had grown thrice its size in the brief moments of Mike and El's reunion and she can keep the secret no longer.

Weakly, she tugs Mike away from the chief in half-hearted protest.

"Mike,"

Her voice comes out in a wavering and cracking demand and she has to try again to be heard over his cries of protest.

"Mike!"

Finally, he, rips his attention -and arm - away from Hopper's hold, and whips his head to snap at her. Her hand remains wrapped around his sleeved arm as if hoping her gentle touch will soften the blow. But even she knows it not make a difference.

"What?"

Her eyes flicker from him to Hopper and El in a frightened manner.

"What?!" He demands. "You can't seriously be defending him?! He hid her from us! He knew!"

The words she ached to say died on her tongue, though she knew now she didn't have to tell him. Her e/c eyes went glassy, her bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes suddenly shifted.

"No," he whispers, eyes jumping from El's new attire to towards hers as he shakes his head. The pieces had fallen into place. "No, you wouldn't...?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He rips his arm away from her in disgust and cradles it against his chest. The small act creates another crack in her heart as he looks at her in fury and loathing. Will already looked at her like this, and now Mike, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He demands, glare flying between Hopper and Y/n. "What is wrong with you?!"'

"Mike, I wanted to tell you--"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" His anger is now fully directed at Y/n. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

It's Hopper's turn to tug Mike away from Y/n, but again, Mike violently rips himself away.

"It wasn't safe!" Y/n pleads.

"Bullshit!" Mike shoved the girl in front of him away.

"Mike-!" El interjects.

In his anger, Mike doesn't seem register her pleas. All of his attention - and pain - directed soley on Y/n.

She stumbled back, not surprised at such a harsh response but she tries to stay calm for the sake of everyone around her. Her hands begin to darken as heat bubbles to the surface.

"I can't believe you, Y/n!" A fresh batch of tears welled in his eyes but he dismissed hers. Unable to care.

He shakes his head, not knowing why he even bothers to ask but it slips out in a dark whisper. "How long have you known?"

Y/n takes a long, shaky deep breath. Her voice quivers as she speaks.

"The day Dart escaped, and... and right before the Mind Flayer got Will on the field."

His face twists into a bitter scowl. "Five days? You've known for five days?!"

"And it's been killing me, Mike! But she said it would keep you safe!"

"Killing you?! It's been killing you?! You think I give a shit? YOU LIED-!"

He storms after her again, ready to shove her but his hands never reach her shoulders. Her body tenses as he charges and a small, involuntary burst of energy explodes around her, protecting her.

He falls back in a yelp of pain, Hopper is able to catch the boy before he reaches the ground and everyone watching - those especially who hadn't previously known about Y/n's abilities - flinched in shock. Several items around her within a two-foot radius shook and even tumbled off the shelves and tables. Y/n looks at everyone and then back at Mike in a worried glance.

"Mike, are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"Get off me!" He swats at her outstretched hand and she flinches.

Hopper's fuse runs out and his voice comes out in a thunderous bark.

"Hey, hey! Alright!" He discards the gun against the wall. "ENOUGH!"

The two bickering friends falter at the volume of the man's voice and stumble back when he reaches for them. A firm hand on either of their shoulders, he looks them in the eye with a scowl.

"Enough." he seethes, prying Mike off of Y/n and begins pushing him in the direction of Jonathan's room. "Let's talk. Alone."

Everyone watches in surprise as the two storm off down the hall, now stewing in the shock of all that has unfolded in the past few minutes alone. El shuffles on her feet, her eyes trailing two of the three people she cares of most as they disappear down the hall, unable to shake the stress of her situation and the harm it inflicts on everyone.

"Protecting her! Protecting her?" Mike fumes.

"Now, Mike--"

"You guys really expect me to forget the fact that you two blatantly lied to my face that she was alive?"

"Mike--"

"For a whole year?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Mike's eyes widen suddenly in shock, it dissolves quickly but his anger does not. Hopper sighs, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes before shrugging at the kid with a hardened expression.

"You are going to listen to me, and you're gonna listen to me good. I kept her from you,"

He says to Mike admittedly, then gestures in the direction of the living room.

"and so did Y/n. And that sucks. I get it kid, but you have no idea what kind of consequences you and your family and anyone - including your friend -," he points to the door again, still seething with anger. "face just knowing she's alive. It is an IMMEDIATE and PERMANENT target on your back."

"Oh, what so I should be THANKING you?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me!" Hopper screams back, voice, and fuse straining. "I'm asking you to try and understand!"

"I don't! I don't understand!"

"That's fine. That's fine! Just do not blame her, she's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her! I blame you! I blame you!"

"That's fine, kid." Hopper spits through a fake smile, and he throws his arms up in surrender "That's okay. In fact, blame me for all of it. El, your friend, even this damn Mind Flayer, or whatever the hell else you can think of. That's okay with me, but--"

"NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Mike launches another attack on Hopper who stumbles back.

He eases his arms out, trying to calm the kid down. But Mike does not relent. All of his heartbreak and misery since the moment she disappeared in the cloud of ashes, to every moment of radio silence with his walkie. It all erupted out of him and he charged at Hopper, swinging punches left and right into his gut until he was backed up at the door.

"You're a stupid, disgusting-"

"Okay. All right!"

"-lying piece of shit!"

"Stop it! Stop it-"

Hopper makes a grab at the boy's arms, trying to calm him down.

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!"

"It's okay. Stop it!"

As he had with the Will just minutes ago, Hopper wraps his arms around the boy in a hug. And though Mike continues to cry out, his efforts against Hopper begin to weaken before fading out altogether.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Mike is now collapsed into Hopper's chest and allows his cries to drain him completely. His tears streak his pinkened cheeks and stain Hopper's coat. All frustration with Mike evaporates completely and all that's left beneath is the fatherly instincts he had never let go of. He holds him tighter against his chest and lays his right hand on Mike's head with his chin buried in his hair.

"You're okay, kid." He whispers. "You're okay."

Mike's whimpers disappear into Hopper's chest though they still manage to coat the silence. Hopper holds the boy tighter, his hands rested gently against his shoulders and he whispers once more.

"I'm sorry, kid."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After their disappearance down the hall, El gladly found herself in the embrace of Lucas and Dustin. Like Mike and Y/n, they looked the same apart from the inevitable touch of time she noticed. They had approached her timidly, but each wore similar blinding grins. El has trouble battling a smile at them and to their surprise, she eagerly launched into a hug that they gladly accepted.

"We missed you," Lucas says.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs contently.

"We talked about you pretty much every day," Dustin says, and her small smile returns.

She pulls away to look at them, but her soft brown eyes widen when she notices Dustin's smile. Curiously, she reaches out to Dustin, poking her finger at his mouth as he pulls back confused.

"Teeth," she says.

"What?"

"You have teeth,"

Dustin and Lucas share a chuckle through their still matching grins. Dustin nods, smiling extra bright to show off his new set of teeth.

"Oh. You like these pearls?"

Dustin rolls his tongue in a purr, and El's eyes grow wide as saucers in concern. Lucas and Dustin chuckle in response. They had indeed missed their friend very much, especially her confusion and shock to most regular things.

"El?"

The boys parted for Max who approached her with a shy and eager smile.

"Hey, um," she blushed, extending her hand. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."

El recognized now why the redhead was so familiar, and her gaze flickered to her outstretched hand. That small flame of jealously in the pit of her stomach licked at her heart again. Intentionally ignoring the gesture of the girl and the girl herself, she pushed past her, bumping her shoulder with Max. Max's blush darkened, this time in embarrassment and she looked at the floor in hurt.

El was more focused on the woman she had spotted across the room. The first adult to ever put El needs before anyone else, even if it meant finding her son would be next to impossible. The first person to ever treat and care for her as she was, not a weapon, but a child deserving of love and nurturing. The woman who now stood across the room with tears in her eyes, a quivering smile and arms open wide as if she was her own daughter.

She collapsed in Joyce's warm embrace and no sooner did they both burst into tears. El melted in her gentle and soothing touch, and an audible whimper escaped her when she felt Joyce's palms rub small and gentle circles in her back.

It was the cozy and safe motherly embrace she had longed for all her life.

"Hey," Joyce coos softly in her ear. "Hey, sweetheart."

Another small cry bubbles out of her mouth and for a moment she feels embarrassed for wetting Joyce's jacket, but Joyce doesn't seem to care. She pulls apart from El and strokes her cheek and hair lovingly. Instinctively, scanning the girls face for any signs of injury.

"Hey," she coos again, and El sniffles.

"Is he okay?" She whispers.

Joyce tilts her head, a crooked but sweetened smile forming at El's worry, and her thumb strokes her cheek one last time.

"It's not looking good, sweetie." El's face falls at the answer, and she fears she got here too late. Her eyes pick up again and begin scanning the room when she realizes her greetings aren't done.

Her eyes land on Y/n across the room who had fallen silent after her encounter with Mike. She was far in the corner, her hand picks at the ends of her sleeves and she looked up cautiously at El.

El turns and crosses the room to her best friend.

"Y/n..."

Y/n's eyes flutter around the room briefly, all too aware of the prying ears. Cautiously, her old name slips out. "El..."

For a moment they stew in silence, not knowing what to say and the others watch befuddled at their behavior. By now they know that Y/n had discovered El's survival, but that was all they knew. But seeing them together now, both dressed in similar bold outfits they were able to piece together the two had spent some time together in the past few days. Particularly, the rest of the party.

"You came back," Y/n muttered, surprised.

"I saw everyone in danger," El answered. "I had to come home."

Y/n's eyebrows twitched ever so at the word before frowning. Her eyes flicker behind El briefly at the others, to see if they were listening. To her relief, she saw Joyce send her an understanding smile before pulling the others away into the kitchen.

"I thought you were home. With your sister. Someone who understands you," Her words came out more bitter than she anticipated but she makes no effort to take it back.

"She does, Y/n. What it was like there... Something you won't ever understand."

A look of hurt flashed across Y/n's face and her eyes take her somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn't El. She didn't want her to see how upset she was.

"But that is good." She says gently, causing Y/n's eyes to flicker back at her before returning to the floor. "It was a bad place, and... it was not your fault."

Y/n now looks back at El, her brows still creased in a frown but at least she was showing she was listening.

"How I grew up. I don't blame you."

The Henderson girl's expression softened, but her frown still lingered. She seems to consider her words, and then her attention falls to the inside of her jacket. She begins digging inside and finally she pulls out the files. The words Missing Experiment scribbled on the front. El's stomach sinks, her lips creasing together in a nervous habit.

"Then why did you keep this from me? You know that I've been searching for answers, and you had them with you that whole time! Why?"

El shifts on her feet, and when she speaks she mentally scorns herself for her wavering voice.

"I was afraid."

Y/n shakes her head with a somber and disappointed look. "Afraid of what, Jane?"

Tears started to brim in El's eyes now, not only at her mistake and the guilt it brought but the sound of her name on Y/n's tongue. It didn't feel right. Jane didn't feel right. Not anymore.

She licks her lips nervously, before answering.

"That you would leave. That once you had them... you'd go back home and I... wouldn't be able to see you again."

"El-" Y/n stops, sighing at the floor as she shakes her head. Still not used to the name. She looks back to her friend. "Jane. I wouldn't do that. You're my friend, and I wanted to help you. I did help you!"

"The truck," El threw back with a quirked brow.

Surprisingly enough, Y/n felt a weak chuckle bubble up.

"There's a very good reason why I didn't want us to ride in a truck. But I told you, we could have found another way! A safer way,"

Why is Y/n so afraid of trucks? El wondered.

"All I'm trying to say, Jane, is that I wouldn't have turned around and left as soon as I got what I was looking for. Friend's don't do that. I wanted to find out about myself, sure, but I wanted to help you, too." Y/n explains in sad exasperation. "I wouldn't have just left you..."

"But... you did?" El asks confused.

"Because they said they wanted to get rid of me!"

El looked taken aback.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. They didn't want me there and they were going to get rid of me. Besides, I asked and you said you were going to stay... You understand why I couldn't, right?"

El nods looking to the floor. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Y/n, searching her eyes. She feels a tug at her heart.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

The ends of Y/n's lips twitch into a soft smile. She inches forward, and for a moment El fears something bad will happen. Like Y/n will shake her head and leave. But she's delighted to find how wrong she was when Y/n pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers.

Both girls begin to sniffle, drawing the attention of the others who had previously parted into their own conversations to give them some space. After a moment, they pull away.

"So," Y/n says, offering a hopeful grin. "friends?"

El felt as if all the weight she had held on her shoulders vanished, and something the girls both noticed now was a much stronger bond forming before their very eyes. This bond was only established and sealed forever by what El said next.

"Sisters."

They smiled brightly at one another, and El's quickly melted into a shy smirk.

"El." She says finally.

Y/n's expression fell into that of a confused frown.

"Huh?"

"El. Not Jane," she looks to the floor sadly before muttering. "Never was."

Y/n's lips molded into a sympathetic smile, and the pair met in another hug. El felt the warmth return, the warmth that had disappeared the morning Y/n had back in Chicago when Y/n mumbled contently into her ear.

"I'm really glad you're back, El."

They break apart, a soft look echnaged between one another with grins to match.

"Me too," El mutters.

Suddenly El's smile fell. It was replaced with a shocked look, and she turned to look between Y/n and where Joyce had dissapeared, the panic setting in.

"Will!" She says in a worried realization. "Can... I see him?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El opens the door slowly to ease its creaking, and timidly she steps inside. Joyce and Y/n follow closely behind as El approaches Jonathan's bed that holds a sleeping Will. El kneels beside the sleeping boy, Joyce, and Y/n taking a seat on either side of the bed. El watches his chest steadily rise and fall, and she notes he is just as pale and weakened as he had been the last time she saw him in the void.

"H-He's not doing well," Joyce eases.

El hesitantly places a hand on his bedside, and she feels a small lump in her throat.

"I know," she mutters sadly. "I saw,"

Joyce and Y/n look to her in slight surprise.

"What else did you see?" Joyce asks.

El looks between her friend and Joyce, sadly. Her stomach begins to coil into several knots, and her hands began to clam up at the question. El recognizes the feeling all too well, it was the same feeling she'd get whenever she had to get into the bath. Or when Papa made her repeat words from men in different rooms, or when he asked her to hurt the poor cat. It was a feeling she had almost every second she was inside that lab, the room, or any time Papa was near. It was an awful sickly feeling, but as she looked at Will now, she knew.

It had to be done.

She knew what she had to do.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El stood before the Byers kitchen table with Joyce and Y/n. Her eyes bore into the back of the notepad where the two words that sparked this dark feeling inside her were scribbled out in red.

CLOSE GATE

Y/n's eyes widen when she sees their translation for the first time. It dawned on her what Will had been telling them, and she recalls what El had tearfully admitted at the quarry just one year ago.

"The gate," she mumbles.

A look of realization hits Joyce, and she points to it eagerly. "You opened this gate before, right?"

El looks up and off to the distance, stuffing down her last bit of hesitation and she answers in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes,"

"Do you think you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?" Y/n looks worriedly back at El. The task was no doubt a large one for El to handle all alone, and though she knew it was likely their only hope, it made her fear for her.

What would happen to her? But then a simple thought crosses her mind, perhaps from the smaller corner of her mind that wanted to provide assurance and she asked herself.

It was just a gate right, surely it couldn't be that big?

Right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Black Lives still and always will matter! Please do what you can!

Text “ENOUGH” to 55156 or sign this petition to demand justice for Breonna Taylor

[Link]

NAACP #WeAreDoneDying Petition

[Link]

Sign the Movement for Black Lives' petition to push elected officials to fight against the militarization in communities of color:

[Link]

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causallyrambling · 4 years

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Kissing strangers

The sign he was holding said “Kiss me. Man only. 18 and up!” He had just gotten to the spot and he was already feeling like a fool. But a dare is a dare and Hanamaki Takahiro was not going to back down from a challenge this easily. Even if he was the one who gave himself this stupid challenge. Fingers tugging on the black beanie lower, Hanamaki pouted at the lack of enthusiasm. Maybe he was not going to be able to complete this dare today. The deal was to get a hundred kisses from men for the video. How did he end up in another dare because of one dare? Makki pondered about his life choices as he noticed a figure inching carefully towards him, pointing at the sign. “Are you for real?” A chuckle passed between them and the awkward moment. The pinket brightened up and winked. “Yes, come on.” He curled his finger at the male, who looks a year or two younger than he did, urging him to come closer. Iwaizumi was not amused at this dumb challenge but came along because Hanamaki had promised him a month’s worth of agedashi tofu if he helped with the filming.

After the first kiss, things started to pick up and Makki got the weird feeling out of his system after the fifth guy. Iwaizumi chuckled when a drunken man had insisted more than just one kiss, with Hanamaki obliging but saying, “Kissing more than once does not count.” They shared a short moment of laughter before continuing with filming. It was surprising how fast the stream of males came towards the pinket for a chaste kiss to the lips. Hanamaki did note that several of them were good looking but only had the challenge on his mind and thinking how long more before he could wrap this video up.

“Hey Iwa, how many more till I’m done?”

“Last count, you’re at seventy six, so twenty four lips more to go.” Iwaizumi held the camcorder away, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Twenty four more till a month of agedashi tofu.” By the look on his face, one would think that he was promised gold and not just tofu. “You’re weird, you know that?” The pinket reached in his jacket pocket, pulling out his chapstick, reapplying. The weather was making his lips crack easier and kissing so many lips was starting to feel a little gross. “There must be a reason why I’m friends with you.” Iwaizumi raised the camcorder again, aiming it at Hanamaki as group of students approached.

“Seventy seven, seventy eight, seventy nine, eighty!” Hanamaki counted with each pair of lips he kissed from the group of students. He noticed the uniform and started laughing. “Hey Iwa, does this count as tainting my juniors?” Questioning his best friend as Iwaizumi realized why he thought the uniform looked familiar. “Yes.” A deadpan looked appeared on Iwaizumi’s face as he sighed. As the pinket was still laughing to himself, leaving a group of students confused and flustered at the attention, his number eighty one stood before him. “Ahem, still need more kisses?” A deep baritone asked him. “It’s probably your lucky day because I do.” He noticed the thick eyebrows and sun-kissed skin, staring to smirk. Hanamaki stood taller, realizing that he was slightly shorter than the stranger, leaning forward when fingers curled under his chin, pulling his face in. The kiss definitely lasted longer than the rest before Iwaizumi shouted. “If you don’t get a move on, we are never leaving tonight.” And that broke the small bubble and Hanamaki pulled himself away from the handsome stranger, feeling a little awkward. “Eighty one!” The hand that held him dropped and the stranger had stepped away. “I wish you luck!” And then, he turned, disappearing back into the crowd. Before Hanamaki even had the chance to lament the fact that he had just lost the chance to chat up a handsome man, someone else had come up, sneaking a peck to his lips. He continued kissing strangers till he had one last kiss. “Iwa, get your ass here!” As if realizing why he was called, Iwaizumi stook his head. “Nope, nope, nope. You only said to help hold this camcorder and film. You said nothing about being kissed.” Iwaizumi stepped away from the pinket but was suddenly trapped because they had gathered a large crowd around them since they had started filming. “What kind of a best friend are you, if you don’t help me complete this, Iwa? Huh?” Hanamaki was drawing closer with a widest grin on his face. Forcefully, he grabbed Iwaizumi in a head lock, stealing the camcorder from his best friend. “Kiss number one hundred!” He pressed a long, hard kiss on Iwaizumi’s lips, making his friend flush red, with embarrassment or anger he’s not too sure but he will find out soon enough. Pulling away, Iwaizumi started grumbling in the background about murder and disowning Hanamaki but those can be removed in the editing. Hanamaki held the camcorder with both hands outstretched in front of him, grinning. “I have now kissed a hundred guys. Stay tune to see what other nonsense I will get myself into. It’s been great! That’s Iwaizumi, the grumpy best friend and,” He turned to camcorder towards the crowd. “And thanks for tonight!”

“You owe me more than a month’s worth of tofu, you dipshit.” Iwaizumi has not stopped harping about the tofu since they’ve finished the filming in front of the train station. A bowl of agedashi tofu sat on the table before him at this moment and he was still talking about tofu. Hanamaki wondered what’s up with him and the side dish. “Yea, yea. A tofu a day keeps Iwaizumi at bay.” The pinket chuckled as he picked up his own pair of chopsticks, going to start on his own meal. It’s been a long day of filming and he deserved all the cream puffs in the world for that. However, they were now sitting inside a family restaurant because the old man he calls his best friend wanted agedashi tofu. The creampuffs can wait. An angry, hungry Iwaizumi was definitely scary and the pinket only needs to been shown that scene once in his entire lifetime.

/Do you have anything to tell me Mattsun? ^_______^ /

He stared at the message, going into deep thought about what the message meant. That expression at the end said Oikawa knew something but Matsukawa doesn’t know what the brunet was implying.

/Is there anything I should know to tell you?/

/Maybe…. http://youtube.com/watch?v=mp5u0_5e8_A /

Oikawa was being weird and Matsukawa had no idea why. Although a lot of times, he had no clue what’s on the brunet’s mind. Curious a little wary, he opened the link that was sent. A youtube video opened and nothing made sense until the owner of the video appeared on screen. Oh. The pinket, he comes to know is a youtuber named ‘takahero’, sat in front of the camera explaining about the dare with various hand gestures and Matsukawa found himself watching the video with a slight smile spreading on his face.

Kissing strangers, that was the title of the video, so it shouldn’t surprise him when the popular song started playing when the pinket was done talking and the screen turned black before revealing the youtuber standing in the middle of the street with a sign. He was however, glad that he chose to use his earphones. The rest of the video played out as how Matsukawa remembered from he was watching from the sidelines before he stepped forward to join the mass of people getting kissed. However, there were some comments or inner monologues added into the video with each kiss. Some were hilarious, like when some drunken dude kissed more than once and a ‘wow dude, you are drunk’ comment hovered above the man’s head. While others were random jumble of words as though the pinket had ran out of things to say. He wondered if he would have a comment attached to his. He watched the pinket counted each kiss and chuckled when the captions were conversations of him and his friend about a group of students.

/I am not responsible for how these students turn out, teachers. I did nothing./ Was the comment floating above the heads of the group of students. It was obvious he did more than nothing though, from how flustered some of the boys were behaving. Matsukawa remembered the students. A red comment appeared before the camera panned towards him and Matsukawa let out a loud chuckle. /Hottie alert!/ He held his hand over his mouth trying to stifle his laughter but his eyes widened at how long their kiss seem to prolong. He did not remember it being that long. Narrowing his eyes, he figured the youtuber might have edited it to seem that it was longer than it was, just for the effect. He even added a weird glowy effect around them and Matsukawa couldn’t stop himself from laughing, which earned him a round of shushing from the people around him. Maybe the library is not the best place to be watching this video. Since he left immediately after, Matsukawa was curious about the other kissers after him. He had a dinner appointment with Oikawa who would have made him buy a year’s worth of milk bread if he was late. His laughter continued at the last kiss because it was obvious that the last one had been reluctantly forced into it. He could see the grumpy face grumbling, which was muted, and a weird jumble of alphabets made the caption for that. The pinket’s voice invaded his ears again, followed by waves of girls’ screaming when the camera panned towards the crowd. At the end of the video, there were a couple of other video suggestions filmed by the pinket but Matsukawa put that away to watch later. Scrolling down, he noticed that the video has been viewed a lot more than he had thought when he stepped forward to kiss the pinket. No wonder Oikawa had chanced upon it. It has probably been shared throughout the campus by now. A hundred thousand views after been posted for twenty four hours is an impressive feat. The pinket must have a large following. He continued to scroll, reading the comments. There were a couple of degrading ones that were bordering on being homophobic but the pinket’s come back was fearless and somewhat amusing. Still feeling a little amused, he typed a quick comment.

/Sliding in to say hi. – The ‘hottie alert’ guy/

With that done, maybe it’s time he went back to his books and notes. He really needed the extra marks for this semester.

/So, mattsun, what do you have to say for yourself?/

/That I kissed a stranger and now have to get back to studying, which you should be doing too!/

/O M G MATTSUN YOU LEFT A COMMENT./

/O M G OIKAWA GO AND STUDY./

/DON’T BE SASSY WITH ME MISTER. ARE YOU FLIRTING? DO YOU NEED HELP? I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE./

/BYE./

Matsukawa knew ignoring Oikawa was not going to play out well but he really did need to study and the brunet was not helping at all. Turning off his cellphone, he tossed it on top of his bagpack that was laid on the table and buried his head with his opened notebook, literally. It was going to be a long day in the library before he finished reading through these notes.

Four hours and several cups of coffee later, Matsukawa was finally done for the day. Throwing his arms in the air to stretch out, he yawned and started to pack. The library was closing in half an hour time so he should get a move on anyway. His cellphone slid off his bag as he packed his notes and books in and for a moment he had forgotten that he had switched it off to deter disturbance from a certain nosey brunet.

/Matsukawa Issei, I can’t believe you turned your phone off on your best friend?/

/Fine be that way./

/I’m helping you./

/Whether you want it or not./

/You’re not going to regret this./

/It’ll be good./

He was bombarded with several messages upon turning the device on. He knew Oikawa was not going to leave him alone but something tells him that he shouldn’t have left Oikawa to his own devices for this long. A long dreadful minute passed before he slid his thumbs across his screen, replying the brunet.

/Just what did you do?/

An instant reply had his phone buzzing. /Check the video page and you’ll know./

His eyes widen and he shook his head. No, he did not. Oikawa did not. Scrolling up the chat, he found the link and opened again. Immediately he noticed that the views had gone up several thousand more after he had seen it and the comment box was flooding. The top comment had the most replies and he almost smacked himself with his cellphone because that username was one he recongised. Speed reading, not only did Oikawa actually pimp him out online to ‘takahero’, the youtuber actually replied with something that resembled interest. Several others had jumped into that conversation, egging the brunet to tell more. Mentally cursing his previous choice of ignoring Oikawa, Matsukawa knocked his head against the table several times. When he was about to text-rage at Oikawa, the culprit had the nerve to text him first.

/So, long story short, I got you a date with pink boy./

/What did I do to deserve this?/

/Everything apparently. The internet thinks you owe me milk bread for matchmaking you two. A year seems about right./

/What did I do to deserve you as a friend?/

/Silly mattsun. That’s what friends do./

Giving up on trying his sarcasm on Oikawa, Matsukawa hit his forehead on the table once more for good measure. Maybe he’ll wake up and this would be a bad dream and his best friend had not pimp him out online. Although he should probably thank the brunet, since he did find the pinket cute, in an amusing sort of way. The library’s announcement came on, telling Matsukawa that it was fifteen minutes till closing time. Sighing once more, he pulled the strap to his bagpack and pocketed his cellphone. He wasn’t even sure he should be turning up for a date that was made public in such a weird manner.

/Anyway, coffee tmr at the café near campus, 3pm./

/Stop remembering my schedule./

/Na-uh, I need to know when I have a lunch buddy and don’t./

/Weird./

/Weirder./

Matsukawa was dreading as the time slowly ticked by. Oikawa has been messaging him all day, reminding about his very publicized date with the youtuber later. He has yet to decide if he was going to the café but the brunet had insisted that he had worked hard to get Mattsun that date so he was adamant that Mattsun was to show up at the place at 3pm sharp. Rubbing his hand down his face, he tried to ignore the hundredth text that he’s receiving from Oikawa, Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he will go away. But at last he couldn’t because the next he received was a phone call.

“Matsukawa Issei, you know you can’t ignore me forever. Also, I know for certain that your class has ended. So why are you still in campus?” At this point, Matsukawa wasn’t even surprised anymore. He adjusted the straps to his bagpack, glancing around, eyes narrowing when he noticed a familiar head of brown a floor above him on the opposite building. “You really need to stop stalking me. What would your fan girls say?” Obviously not caring about his image, Matsukawa pointed his middle finger at his friend. “Rude Mattsun! Here I was worried about your love life…” Matsukawa rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. “Mattsun that is not the right way to the café! You are going to the date, aren’t you?” It sounded a lot more like a command than a question. “You’re not my captain anymore, Oiks, stop commandeering me around.” He struck his hand out over his shoulders, waving. “Don’t you know, mattsun, once a captain always a captain. Now get your ass to the café.”

“Pft, goodbye captain.” Matsukawa hung up before Oikawa could whine another reply. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He just did not want to give Oikawa the right to gloat. He did have thirty minutes to decide about the date though. Without much to do and Oikawa having his next class, Matsukawa found shade under a tree, choosing to check out more videos from ‘takahero’. Sitting the warm grass patch, he leaned against the tree, opening the first video that came up with his search of the username. Apparently the pinket was known for doing the weirdest and silliest dares on youtube and has collaborated with other male youtubers. After watching five videos, Matsukawa has laughed more than he has in months and his jaw was sore from laughing and smiling. Would subscribing to the channel seem too much? Too desperate? Deciding against it, he found a newer video that was posted earlier today.

Instead of the usual edited videos, this seemed like a vlog type of video. The pinket was holding onto his cellphone and the scene seemed like his bedroom. It seems like anything can be made into a youtube video if there was the right audience subscribing to the channel. “So you guys know I’ve been sort of ask on a date by a friend of that hottie from the previous video…” The pinket chuckled. “It’s so odd and kind of weird. Like who asks someone out on a date in the youtube comment section? And it wasn’t even the person himself…” It seemed he was putting on his shoes and was heading out. “But you know what, I’ve always been told I’m weird so I think weird works fine for me.” The camera panned towards the scenery outside. “And today seems like a good day to be out and about anyway. Well, I’m hoping that this is not some prank and I don’t get stood up. But I might as well enjoy the day out and maybe I’ll get good coffee and pastry.” He turned the camera back towards his face and he was grinning. “And you guys know how much I love my pastries. Anyway, check back in later to see if I get to meet the hottie or it’s just my creampuffs and me. Oh, as much as I love how much everyone is talking about it, please don’t scare the dude off by appearing at the café. It’s time I hang out with other hot people. I’ll be on twitter! Wish me luck!” Then the video ended and it seems Matsukawa has just decided. He will be an asshole for not turning up for the date. The pinket seemed genuine enough and like he said, it could just be a good cup of coffee and pastry.

A short walk brought him around the corner to where the café Oikawa mentioned stood between a bookstore and a jewelry store. He had imagined it to be buzzing with people since ‘takahero’ did looked to have a following of thousands and he did see more than ten people commenting on Oikawa’s comment yesterday. But he was pleasantly surprised when the café was as always, quiet with a couple of tables taken by students trying to finish up on their assignments. Walking closer, his eyes landed on a head of pink seated indoors, at a corner table by the windows. The feeling of awkwardness hit him like a train and he stood there outside the door, deciding if this was the best decision when the pinket looked up and noticed him, his face immediately brightening into a smile. God damn that smile. Matsukawa pushed the wooden door and made his way towards the table where the youtuber had fumbled a little and stood as well. “Okay this is a lot more awkward than I thought.” A slim finger scratched down the pinket’s cheek. “Also, I wasn’t sure if your friend was bluffing but I got you the darkest as soul drink available on the menu.” He pointed towards the cup of black coffee in the seat across from him. Matsukawa chucked. “Yes, that would be right. Dark as soul, huh.” He noticed that he was taller when though this was not their first time standing next to each other. “So, I’m the hottie alert guy, Matsukawa Issei, and I think my friend has probably given you my life story by now.” A hand held his. “And I’m the dude that has kissed a hundred others for a dare. Hanamaki Takahiro.” Upon hearing the name, Matsukawa chuckled again. “I see your username is a play on your actual name. That’s cute.” He noticed the faint colour rising on Hanamaki’s cheeks. “We should probably sit and be civilized people. Instead of standing around like doofus.” The pinket gestured to the comfortable chairs, already feeling the odd looks the other patrons were giving them.

An hour and half later, they’ve shared more than just coffee and cream puffs. At the end of that, they had each other’s email addresses and phone numbers. They parted ways after Matsukawa realized he actually have assignments to complete because he was a struggling college student but not without Hanamaki saying that he will be in touch soon. Just as he stepped into his dorm room, a text message came from Oikawa and he knew because the brunet has set the song ‘The Imperial March’ as his personalized ringing tone and Matsukawa has been too lazy to change it. Opening the message, he smiled at the image his friend had set. It was a screenshot taken from twitter. Just after they’ve exchange contact details, Hanamaki had asked for a photo together and he was now staring at it along with a caption Hanamaki had posted to his twitter.

/Look who turned up! ;)/

/Good night Oikawa./

/Looks like you had good time, mattsun./

/Good night./

He probably owes Oikawa milkbread, but he will deal with that later.

#hanamatsu #matsuhana #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #haikyuu #My writing #my babies #save me from this pairing

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saudadeonly · 4 years

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weren’t you something

Read on ao3. Part four.

Death Eater!Sirius Black AU

Marlene McKinnon learned a long time ago what kind of casualties war brings. She doesn't need a reminder in the form of Sirius Black.

And yet.

Word count: 6650

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July 1981

The grandfather clock in the McKinnon residence strikes nine o’clock just as Marlene McKinnon brings out the cake, decorated with exactly seventeen candles. She tried to light them with the Muggle lighter Lily gave her but her scorched fingers quickly compelled her to use her wand instead.

Felicie exclaims in delight when she sees the cake adorned with blueberries—her favourite. Their mother spent all morning making it while Marlene lounged around the kitchen, pretending to be of help. Still, that’s more than their dallying brothers did, so.

“It’s gorgeous,” she exclaims, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her as she bounces in spot. The four-leaf clover necklace Marlene gave her glimmers around her pale throat.

Marlene grins, carefully depositing the cake on the table, around which the entire McKinnon family is gathered. Her three brothers—Pip, Theo, Matthew—their parents, and Mum’s father. Even Dad’s parents have come, after having sworn to Marlene that they would keep any lifestyle-related and lifetime-partners-related remarks to themselves. So far, they seem to have stuck to their end of the deal so Marlene’s smile doesn’t diminish when it passes over their old faces.

“Thank you, mama.” Felicie leans forward to blow out the candles but Pip, as he was dubbed by one-year-old Marlene who could not yet say his full name Phillip, tugs on her ponytail and pulls her back. “You know the rules,” he says, pointing to the clock on the wall, while the rest of them nod sagely.

It’s a foolish tradition, as Felicie doesn’t hesitate to tell them, but the McKinnons have always been adamant about the rule that one can only blow out candles only when it’s the time they were actually born. It tends to be impractical and has been so on many occasions, but Marlene adores it still, foolishness and all.

The arm on the clock moves to the second line and Felicie blows out the candles with a grin, while the rest of them cheer. The smoke swirls up, creating a mist around her sister, and Marlene’s heart constricts at the childish delight on her face. She still has a year left at Hogwarts, another year when they can try and shelter her from the reality of the outside world that Dumbledore works so hard to keep from them. Marlene hopes that once Felicie’s finished, she won’t have to hear about it at all.

Of course, her sister always has been brighter than most and has made it abundantly clear that she knows what they’re trying to do and that she finds it stupid, but appreciates it nonetheless. Marlene studiously ignores her every time she tries to bring up the Order. Her brothers, for once, seem to be doing the same as her.

“Alright, now the best part,” Felicie says as their mother reaches for the knife, brushing her blonde hair, the same as Marlene, Matthew and Felicie’s, out of her face. And at that moment, as Marlene looks over her family, her heart feeling like it might crack apart with the love she feels for these people, it all goes to hell.

At four minutes past nine, exactly two minutes after Felicie’s birthday, the door at her back explodes into splinters.

Marlene has her wand in her hand before she can blink, as do Matthew and Theo, but the Death Eaters are faster.

They spill into the dining room, silver masks like stolen starlight, spells shooting out of their wands before they’re even fully through. They throw all of them back with a single unanimously-cast spell, knocking the breath clean out of Marlene’s chest. The wall she hits is cold, the impact with it a hard collision with reality.

One of Death Eaters’ spells hits their mother and she crumples like one of the puppets Marlene and Pip used to play with. She didn’t even get to reach for her wand.

“Mum!” Pip reaches for her, but he’s too late and he narrowly avoids a jet of green light. His retaliating curse is a swift, cold reaction, the impact of which Marlene never gets to see because she’s forced to throw up a shield to deflect a jet of sickly purple light.

It gives her enough time to jump to her feet, breath be damned, and shoots off a curse of her own. It feels off, she feels off, the floor beneath her feet not steady enough, her hand lacking the fluidity it usually possesses.

The offending Death Eater doesn’t seem to be deterred by her spells, which is another contributor to the sleek, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and his attack pushes her back into the living room. Another two join his efforts and a cold sort of realisation comes over Marlene. They’re trying to separate them. They’re trying to separate her from her family.

The world seems to fade from view. No. No.

She spins her wand, fights a little fiercer, a little harsher but it’s little use—most of her spells are deflected by one or another, or seem to cause so little damage they find it laughable. One of them hits her side, tearing a long gash down the side of her ribcage.

“That is a new top,” she gasps out as she twirls her hand and sends him flying back several feet. The world seems a little blurrier, then, but she manages to make two consecutive spells rebound off her shield. She chances a look towards the dining room, where her family of eight is surrounded by nearly twice as many Death Eaters and fighting a losing battle. But at least they’re fighting.

That little glance costs her—her shield seems to lose its potency and when one of the Death Eater shoots a disarming spell at her, it passes through. Her wand slips out of her grasp, flying uselessly towards the couch.

Marlene chokes on a laugh when a dark stream of light knocks her back, sending her crumpling onto the floor. After all this time, after so many successful missions and won battles, this is what gets her. A disarming spell, a second of diverted attention. Dorcas will be so disappointed. Marlene is glad, suddenly, that Dorcas politely declined the invitation to come, claiming to have a duty for the Order; that she is far away from this, even though Marlene was furious about her flimsy excuse only hours ago.

Her side burns, her lungs can’t seem to draw in enough air and she can’t move but all she can focus on is the fact that the sounds of fighting have stopped. There is only raucous laughter and laboured breathing. Marlene dreads the moment that stops too.

She has no time to think about it further. A Cruciatus hits her and she trashes as the pain spreads along her body, seeping into her muscles, twining around her bones. The world blurs and then sharpens, focusing on that single thing still existing in her—pain, all-consuming, vicious. She screams and screams and yet she finds it in herself to be grateful that no one else is screaming with her. That she, not her family, is their focus. Then, as abruptly as it started, the pain stops.

Someone stands over her. His hood is drawn up, his mask firmly in place but Marlene knows he’s grinning anyway. “Well, would you look at how the mighty have fallen,” he says. His voice, rough and muffled, is familiar; but then, they all are these days. If she were to remove his mask, chances are she would know whoever is underneath it. Travers, maybe. Nott, Dolohov, Macnair, one of the Lestranges are all as likely. He crouches down, runs a hand down the side of her face. Marlene wishes she could bite it. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on you.”

“Going to have to wait for a bit longer, Travers,” says a voice just a little bit farther away and this time it is familiar for a whole different reason. The footsteps that approach them are soft, measured. “Go find someone else to play with. I have a score to settle with her.”

Travers—her guess being right brings little satisfaction—hisses, “I got here first.”

“Oh, Travers, don’t you know that in the company of women, you shouldn’t boast about coming first?”

A part of Marlene, a small, tiny part wishes she could see Travers’s face just for that split second; it would bring so much satisfaction before the imminent pain and death. The rest of her coils in dread when he grumbles and moves away from her—but steps toward another body instead. A body with a blonde ponytail and a limp hand outstretched towards Marlene. As if her sister wanted to reach her before she was cut down.

Felicie’s eyes are big, their blue sea-rich, and she doesn’t take them off Marlene as Travers steps over her and reaches for her neck, the necklace there now painted red. She lets out a small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sob as Travers’s hands roam lower.

“No,” Marlene says, twitching toward her sister. It doesn’t do anything—the spell holds and Marlene is stuck in place. She tries again, her own bloodied hand reaching out to Felicie. Felicie’s fingers twitch. “No, please, take me instead, please, please.”

A figure looms and Sirius Black crouches over her, hiding her sister from her view, although she can still hear Felicie, her pleas. He’s smiling, but his eyes are cold. He brushes back a lock of her sweat-damp, blood-matted hair, tucks it behind her ear. “No, worries, Marlene,” he says, voice midnight-soft, “you’ll get your turn too.”

A guttural scream tears through the house. Pip is begging as they torture him, Marlene’s heart screaming with him. Pip, her Pip, her brother, who pushed her off swings and tugged on her hair and told her stupid jokes when their grandparents’ hate cut too deep, too personal. Pip, who is dying.

“Please,” she whispers again to Sirius’s blank face. She remembers a time when that face was the most expressive thing she had ever known, full of rage and pain and razor-sharp joy. She hates the memory of it more than this face before her because that one was only a mask, a lie. “Please, I’m the one that you want.”

“We want all of you.” His voice is as cold as his hand that he slips under the hem of her top. Marlene can’t stop him from it, just as she can’t stop the screams that have now joined Pip’s. A tear trickles down her face as Sirius points his wand at her. They’re all going to die and it’s all her fault for insisting they have a proper party for Felicie’s birthday. She just wanted a day of normalcy for her—for all of them.

Their eyes meet, but the indifference she finds in his is too much and she closes her eyes, goes deep inside that part of herself, just as Moody taught her, and waits for the pain to come. At least she can keep the information to herself. At least she can do that for the Order. But the pain doesn’t come.

Instead, there’s a voice. Mack. Mack, can you hear me?

Marlene opens her eyes. She looks at Sirius but his face remains impassive, his lips unmoving, just as his voice continues on the outskirts of her mind. He doesn’t try and delve deeper, even though she feels the power behind the weak barrier she’s thrown up that tells her he very well could.

She nods, the shock getting the best of her. No one’s called her that in years.

His hand is on her hip, but it does not reach lower or higher. Instead, his thumb circles her hipbone in a way that is strangely reminiscent of the way he used to comfort her during that crazy week in seventh year they actually thought they could sleep together and ignore their respective pining. Good, he says. His voice is softer than she’s heard it in years, or maybe ever, full of weariness and barely-there strain. I’m going to get you out of here but you need to listen to me. You need to do as I say. It takes a lot of effort for him to talk to her like this, she realises when he pauses. She can feel herself nod again. Then he orders, Scream.

Marlene doesn’t spare a moment to think why this might be a colossally bad idea. Her family is already dying and she is about to be tortured for information. Playing along with whatever Sirius is trying to get at seems like a way to appease him, at least, if it turns out he’s only messing with her in the end. Although the sincerity in his voice, the pain underlining every word make her doubt he is. So Marlene takes a slow breath and channels all her hate, all her fear, and pain into her lungs—then she screams as she did only minutes ago.

As her throat works itself raw, Sirius bends down low over her, his head nearly touching hers as she writhes. “Your wand is just a bit to the right and up from you,” he murmurs into her ear. His hand holds tight onto her hip but not enough to hurt her. An anchor, she thinks, holding her there, to keep her from slipping away. “Can you reach it?”

Marlene’s fingertips brush the smooth polished wood of her wand when she uses her thrashing as an excuse to move herself an inch closer to it. If she had an extra second to throw herself toward it, she could potentially succeed. “Yes,” she whispers, her throat too raw from the screaming to be able to do much else.

“Good. Grab it and throw me back.” He straightens and points his wand at her as he says, voice again loud and cold, “Crucio.” She tenses but while there are the power and the command for the spell, there is no intent behind it so her body doesn’t even twitch. She takes the hint anyway and lets another shriek rip out of her. He lowers his voice again, his lips barely moving, and says, “The whole house is surrounded with anti-apparition wards but there is a spot, by that gnome with the blue hat that isn’t covered. Go there and disapparate.”

Someone else’s screams echo through the house. Her mother’s or her grandmother’s, Marlene isn’t sure. Maybe both. Others have been drowned out by the Death Eaters’ laughter, their cold mocking voices. She thinks she hears Bellatrix’s high notes among them, taunting one of Marlene’s brothers. Marlene hates all of them. When she finds out who they are, she will kill them, one by one.

“Sirius, please, my family—”

This time, his voice is drowned out by Felicie’s scream, but there is a touch of pain in it now, a splinter embedded in the lowest of undertones. Marlene’s chest hurts, her doubt increased by a fraction. “They’ll be okay, Mack, I promise, but I can’t blow—”

Marlene surges up and butts her head against his, with as much force as she can muster. It makes her head ring and small flecks of light swim in and out of her sight, but it also makes him shout and stumble back, clutching his nose, giving her enough time to throw herself toward her wand and grab onto it. She doesn’t know if she herself that turns or her wand that does it for her but in the next moment it is pointed directly at Sirius as she shouts, “Expulso!”

Sirius is blasted back, directly into Travers, knocking him clean off Felicie’s body. Marlene hesitates, wanting to run to her sister, but there is no way she can take on fifteen Death Eaters and end up any different than she was seconds ago. Marlene bolts for the back door, holding tightly onto her wand, and tries to ignore the way her whole left ribcage burns with the effort. She hears the thud of heavy footsteps behind her and pushes herself harder. Come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeon.

A jet of red light just sails over her head when she throws the back door open and slams it shut behind her. She stumbles down the steps, barely managing to keep her balance on the stone still slippery from the rain earlier in the afternoon, her heart beating a staccato into her ears, her blood, her belly. She uses the stairs’ newel to propel herself around the corner and runs toward the blue-hatted gnome at the end of the row of her mother’s lilies. She throws herself on the ground and skids toward it, just as someone tries to grab her. She thinks there are too many stars above her, swimming too close, and she doesn’t recognise the constellations.

The small spot free of anti-apparition wards is like a breath of fresh air, the sizzling from her skin gone for just a moment, the pain thrumming all over replaced by one single thought. Dorcas, Dorcas, Dorcas.

The momentum of whoever was behind her causes him to stumble forward and she can see him clearly as he manages to stop himself in front of her. Sirius’s hair is mussed, blood gushing from his nose and down his front and she knows he will have to suffer for this, but in the split second it takes for her to disappear, she can swear he’s smiling.

*********

Marlene wakes up in a room that has become far too familiar in the past few years. The walls are white, the covers of the bed are white and generally everything is white. The perspective is different, though, as she’s spent most of her visits to this kind of room sitting in the bedside chairs rather than in the bed itself. Dorcas dozes in one of those chairs now, her hand loosely wrapped around Marlene’s, her brown-black ringlets mussed around her head.

She stirs when Marlene shifts, her side throbbing painfully, and shoots up once she finally registers her movement. “Lene,” she breathes, moving as if to lurch forward and hoist herself onto the bed beside her but then seems to remember herself. She settles for squeezing her hand, so strongly it’s almost painful, but Marlene wouldn’t have her let go for the whole world. “How are you feeling?” she asks, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of Marlene’s hand.

Marlene’s mouth is dry, for one. Her head is pounding, her side is burning and she feels like she’s been run over by one of those Muggle lorries, for two, three, and four. “Great,” she says instead of counting them all off. Or rasps, more like.

Dorcas gives her a distinctly unimpressed look and reaches for her wand without a word, flicking it to conjure up a glass of water. Marlene drinks until she feels she might burst and puts it down on the bedside table.

Dorcas stays quiet until then, her eyes just a ring of clear brown around a pit of black, her fingers over Marlene’s trembling. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of Marlene’s fingers, her palm, the inside of her wrist.

“Never,” Marlene says but her voice shakes, her throat burning with the knowledge of how close to it she’d actually come. Then, with the clearing of her head, she remembers. “What about my family? Did they—”

“They’re alive,” Dorcas hastens to say, saving Marlene from finishing her sentence. She gives her a reassuring squeeze, though a shade of worry still darkens that lovely face. Alive does not mean okay, Marlene reminds herself and braces herself for the news she is about to receive. “Your mum and your Da’s parents—it’s still touch-and-go, Lene. It’s been a week, but—” She shrugs helplessly, biting her lip. Marlene’s grandparents have never been particularly kind to Dorcas, because of her blood status or because of her skin or because of her gender, Marlene hasn’t figured out yet, but the worry on Dorcas’s face despite it makes her heart squeeze. There was a time she thought she would never be lucky enough to be loved by someone like this.

“Can I see the others?” She needs to see Felicie and Pip and Theo and Matt and Dad and Grandpop—she needs to know if the flashes she has of them are true, or worse. She doesn’t let herself guess.

Dorcas shakes her head. “The healers haven’t let anyone in yet. Potter had to pull some considerable strings to get me in here at all.”

“Oh.” The disappointment of being denied seeing her family and the worry of what state they’re in feels like a weight in the pit of her stomach but it’s alleviated a little by the warmth of Dorcas’s hand, at least. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Dorcas smiles, but it’s shaky at best. It is, Marlene reflects, kind of like she herself feels; turmoil underneath her skin, singeing through her veins. “Marlene,” she says, her name like a prayer on her lips, “Marlene, what happened?” She swallows, the line of her elegant neck bobbing with it. “How did you—”

“Good morning, love,” says a mediwitch as she breezes into the room, easily recognisable by her pale blue robes. “Good to see you finally awake. You’ve been out for some time.” She gives her a friendly smile as she touches Marlene’s forehead. “No fever. How do you feel?”

Marlene shrugs. “Okay,” she mumbles. She doesn’t particularly care for hospitals or mediwitches.

The mediwitch doesn’t seem discouraged. She only taps her wand against Marlene’s head, her side, her thigh and says, “You were in quite a shape when you arrived.” Well, Marlene will have to take her word for it. She can barely remember her arrival at the hospital, beyond the blood gushing from more than one separate place, and the pain thrumming through every part of her body. She thinks someone told her she’d Splinched herself. She isn’t even sure how she managed to come here. She opens her mouth to ask either one of them but the mediwitch goes on, “You seem much better now.”

“Well, we are in a hospital,” Marlene points out, relishing in the familiar feeling of warmth when Dorcas hides a smile behind her hand. She remembers a time when Dorcas’s smiles were few and far between, like small trophies every time she coaxed one out of her. Lately, they seem to be getting rarer again.

The mediwitch only gives her another smile, a little indulgent. Then she shoves a few potions at her, only one of which Marlene recognises. Memory potion. She’d ask why she needs it but then she couldn’t ask, “How did I get here?” She dutifully drains it, then the other two, while the mediwitch and Dorcas exchange a look. It tastes like metal, like blood. Marlene reaches for her glass of water.

Dorcas opens her mouth, but another voice says, “I believe I will be able to answer that question the best.”

Minerva McGonagall’s face is as stern as it’s ever been, though with more lines than Marlene has apparently cared to remember, her black hair threaded with more grey than it should be.

“Professor McGonagall,” Marlene says, well aware that she’s been out of school for over three years. The compulsion has never stopped, not with Dumbledore, not with Flitwick and apparently not with McGonagall either.

“I’d like a moment with Miss McKinnon, please,” McGonagall says, with a glance at the mediwitch that conveys why-are-you-still-here better than Marlene could have managed it in a speech and a pointed look at Dorcas. “Alone.”

The mediwitch, done with her job, scampers off (Marlene wonders if McGonagall was her professor, too; she certainly looks young—and scared—enough), but Dorcas, less easily intimidated, draws herself up and meets McGonagall’s eyes with her chin up, a look that’s always made Marlene want to kiss her.

“I’m not leaving her side,” she says. Her eyes narrow. “What do you want with her, anyway?” Dorcas has certainly never shared her difficulty of giving their Professors anything else than what she thinks they deserve. It’s what earned her so many detentions back at Hogwarts.

“That is between me and her.” McGonagall gives her a look over the rim of her spectacles. “You will recall, Miss Meadowes, that I was the one that brought Miss McKinnon to St Mungo’s. I certainly don’t intend to cause her harm.”

Dorcas purses her mouth, her jaw ticking, but Marlene can read her well enough to know that she’s slowly backing down. She squeezes her hand and brings it to her mouth, giving her a shaky smile that takes more effort than she wants to admit. She doesn’t know why, but she wants to talk to her old professor alone. She has a feeling it’s important. The potion she took only minutes ago seems to be telling her the same thing.

“It’s okay, Dorcas,” she says, quietly enough that only Dorcas can hear her. “I think I’d like some tea, if you don’t mind getting it for me.”

Dorcas studies her for a minute, her brown eyes dark. She has the most intense eyes Marlene’s ever seen and most of the time it’s a goddamn blessing but right now Marlene just feels like she’s searching for a truth Marlene can’t give her. “If you’re sure,” she says at last, slowly standing up.

Marlene only nods.

Dorcas presses a kiss to her forehead, her lips soft though a bit dry, and walks out the door with one last sharp look at McGonagall.

As soon as the door closes behind her, McGonagall swishes her wand in a movement that Marlene recognises to be a silencing charm. Then she looks at her, one eyebrow raised, lips thin. “Aren’t you going to ask me a question?” she asks.

“Oh. Oh, er—” Marlene grapples for words, silently glad that Moody isn’t here. He would’ve had her hide. “What did you say to me after I punched Wilkes in fifth year?” She adds, that compulsion getting the better of her, “Professor?”

A hint of a smile appears on McGonagall’s face. “’Next time, at least do it while I am not looking,’” she says, which is correct and absolutely one of Marlene’s favourite memories. She toasted to McGonagall’s health a week afterwards. “What was the first thing I gave you detention for?”

“Hexing Lily Evans’s hair pink.”

“Correct.” The smile slowly fades from McGonagall’s face as she comes to sit in the chair beside her bed, next to the one Dorcas occupied. Her face offers no clue as to why she’s here, her eyes rather too intense to have a calming effect. “I wanted to commend you,” she says slowly, “for the exceptional show of your bravery and magical talent that allowed you to escape the Death Eaters’ grasp and get help for your family.”

Marlene raises an eyebrow. Something is not right, something about her expression and her posture—too high-strung, even for her. “You came all the way here and sent Dorcas out just to tell me that, Professor?” she asks. Her voice is getting hoarse again as she reaches for the glass of water, thanking Dorcas silently that she charmed it to be self-refilling.

“Well, it’s no small feat,” says McGonagall, “what you managed. Escaping unaided from a house full of Death Eaters.”

Marlene blinks. Her memory tells her differently, a nagging voice whispering that there was something—no, there was someone. “But I didn’t,” she says with more certainty than she feels. “Escape unaided. At least, I don’t think.” She shakes her head. “You found me?”

“I did.”

“But I—when I Disapparated,” she says slowly, the memories trickling in almost in time with her words. The details are still blurry somewhere, but she remembers it in peculiar flashes. An explosion. A wall against her back, making it impossible to breathe. Cold grey eyes, accompanied by a warm voice. Felicie, on the floor, bloodied, a dark figure over her. Pip, screaming. The gnome with the blue hat and stars above, her lungs straining for air. And then—pain, voices, someone trying to calm her down, Miss, you’re alright, you’re safe, you hit your head. “When I Disapparated, I thought of Dorcas. I’m sure. I thought of her and I ended up—” She looks around the disgustingly white room, breathes in the smell of potions and healing magic. She’s certain she didn’t think of this the moment she disappeared from her house. “—here.”

McGonagall sighs. “I should have come before they gave you that memory potion,” she says, sounding almost tired, “but Rowena always has been cheerfully efficient.”

Marlene glances at her wand, lying on the bedside table, as if it might offer any explanation to McGonagall’s words. It stays painfully quiet.

McGonagall runs a hand over her face, in a rather uncharacteristic show of humanity. “He should have confounded you, but then you might have been unable to escape and I don’t dare to obliviate or confound you now. It would be too suspicious. And all that magic your body’s been subjected to—” she shakes her head, then looks up at her, her eyes far too sharp for Marlene’s liking. “Do you remember, Miss McKinnon, what happened the night the Death Eaters attacked your family?”

She breathes in deep. “More or less.”

McGonagall’s voice is soft, as if she is afraid of being overheard; even here, even surrounded by a wall of silencing charms. “Then you remember what Sirius did.”

Sirius. They had been Sirius’s eyes, his voice, his hands, she’s sure of it. She knew he had been there, in an abstract sort of way. It makes sense that he was—he is, after all, Voldemort’s right-hand man.

A memory surges up, unbidden, his voice soft but firm, They’ll be okay, Mack, I promise, but I can’t blow—

She hit him then, she can remember that much, but she can venture a guess as to what he was going to say. My cover. Realisation comes slowly at first, then all at once and Marlene’s brain struggles to review all the events it’s catalogued in the past years. She can already feel a headache coming.

Sirius, on the King’s Cross, eyes bleak, his parents’ figures like looming statues just meters behind him. Be safe, Mack.

Sirius, in the square, standing before them with his hand steady, but his eyes like shattering diamonds.

Sirius, one of the best wizards of their year if not the whole decade, missing them or using spells that are child’s play in comparison to the rest of the Death Eaters’.

James’s words, unsteady, unsure, He could have killed us and he didn’t. He just—left.

“You—he—he’s a spy,” she whispers, the weight, the deliberateness of his actions finally so, so clear. He got her out. He pretended, he faked, he made sure she escaped.

“Not exactly a spy,” McGonagall says, her cheeks hollow. “We have an understanding. I’m the only one that knows.” She takes off her hat, puts it in the chair beside her and folds her hands back in her lap. “You must understand, Miss McKinnon, what I’m about to tell you cannot, under any circumstances leave this room. Sirius risked more than his life getting you out of there. If anyone were to find out—” The rest of her sentence hangs unspoken but clear.

Marlene can only nod.

McGonagall sighs. “While he was pretending to torture you, Sirius put a spell on you.” His hand, Marlene remembers, resting on her hip. She thought it an anchor. Not too far off the mark then. “It’s a complicated spell, and all the more difficult for having done it wordlessly and under such duress. The spell essentially made you a kind of portkey, ensuring that when you Disapparated, you would end up here.” She gives Marlene a funny look. “Of course, neither one of us expected that your will would be so strong it would fight the spell. You Splinched yourself, partly perhaps because of your physical state, but luckily you didn’t go far. I found you a block away, but you were barely coherent by then. I knew what was going on so I didn’t have to demand information from you. I merely took you in and left you in the care of healers. And I went to the Order headquarters.”

Marlene understands suddenly, with razor-sharp clarity. It was a risky plan, almost every step of it imbued with the possibility of going awry, but all the more brilliant for it. “You were waiting for me,” she breathes. “You needed to find me so that you could have the excuse to tell the Order. To not endanger Sirius. Or me.”

McGonagall nods. “Sirius had sent me a Patronus right before they left for your house. If I had passed the information on immediately, everything Sirius had worked for would be gone. The Order might have also doubted me.”

Marlene exhales a long breath of air. It’s a lot to take in in under five minutes, not to mention with a pounding headache. “But Dumbledore—”

“Sirius didn’t want to involve him,” McGonagall says briskly. Her mouth thins, her eyes darkening. “He wants nothing to do with the Order. And I don’t blame him for it.” She adds, softer, almost gently, “Sirius can be trusted. I will bet my life on it.” Her voice leaves no room for argument and despite herself, Marlene believes her. She leans forward, somehow still managing to keep her posture impeccable. One day, when all of this is over, Marlene will ask her for lessons—it will make her mother thrilled. “No one can know, Miss McKinnon, what he’s doing.”

“And the Death Eaters? They don’t suspect him?”

McGonagall shakes her head. “So far, he hasn’t given them a reason not to. You-Know-Who takes him for his most loyal subject.”

Marlene shudders at the thought of what exactly Sirius had to do to achieve that kind of title among the fiercest of supporters. Just to have received the Dark Mark, he had to have ripped his heart out. She can almost hear his laugh at that, bitter but more bark than bite. I don’t have a heart, Mack, he would say while slipping a cigarette between his lips, lighting it with the tip of his thumb. My mother took it away long ago.

“He had to pay for letting you get away, of course, but he is fine now,” McGonagall says. Her voice, the pain in it slowly disappearing, lowers. She cares about him, Marlene realises, as much as any of them do. “As far as you know, Sirius tortured you and you barely managed to get away. No one, not even Miss Meadowes, can know about what truly happened.” Her eyes are dark. She’s always been a no-nonsense sort of woman, strict but fair, not gentle, but never unkind either. It is the first time Marlene sees a different kind of edge to her. “If you don’t intend to agree, I am not above obliviating you.”

Marlene’s heart constricts at the thought of keeping anything from Dorcas. She hasn’t done so since their seventh year when the biggest secret she had been keeping from her was that she wanted to snog her senseless. Doing this would feel like lying, like cheating. But Sirius—

Sirius’s gap-toothed smile from behind his mother’s robes while his parents and her grandmother were talking. He rolled his eyes behind their backs when her grandmother said something particularly vile and their friendship was solidified forever.

Sirius’s grin when he was Sorted into Gryffindor, bright and brilliant, but with just with enough of a tremor that Marlene wondered if she was the only one that could see the dread beneath.

The prank war and the havoc they wreaked when they teamed up in fifth year, ending themselves in detention for the rest of term, but laughing themselves into oblivion anyway.

A cigarette, just the one between the two of them, the smoke just beginning to drift out of his mouth when she finally got enough courage to utter the words. I think I’m bent. His answering huff of laughter, not harsh at all, but as gentle as his hand on her shoulder when he drew her in a hug. Aren’t we a pair.

His arms around her, the two of them spin-spin-spinning around an empty classroom, as he sang, horribly loud and off-key, until her sobs turned into laughter, until her cheeks were wet from tears of joy, until it was just another dance with Sirius, amazingly coordinated, easily in-sync, as it had always been.

“I know it’s not an easy decision to make,” McGonagall says.

But that’s just it—it’s so easy it scares her. It’s no decision at all. “I’ll do it. I will. I promise.” Her voice sounds far away to her own ears, but it doesn’t tremble.

McGonagall blinks. “Very well.” A second of silence. “I’m glad. And I’m glad you’re alright, too.” She places her hat back on her head and stands up, brushing off non-existent lint from her emerald-green robes. She presents an impressive picture, like she always has, but the line of her mouth, the set of her jaw don’t seem as firm as they once did. Marlene wonders if she is just as afraid as she is, as all of them are, but decides it must be just the blow to the head talking. “I hope you and your family make a full and quick recovery, Miss McKinnon.” she says and walks towards the door.

“Tell him thank you,” Marlene gets out before she can open it. McGonagall stops but doesn’t turn. “For all of it.” She swallows. “I will not let him down.”

“I know you won’t, Miss McKinnon,” McGonagall says, an edge of a smile to her lips, and walks out.

Dorcas comes in only moments after McGonagall’s left, her beautiful ringlets mussed all around her face, her t-shirt rumpled, a little colour now returned to her face. She’s lost weight, Marlene only now notices. Because of her, Marlene, because she was worried about her. And somehow, the sight of her sleep-deprived, tea-carrying form is simultaneously the most beautiful and heart-breaking thing Marlene’s ever seen. She feels a lump in her throat, her eyes burning.

Dorcas’s face crumples. “Oh, Lene, oh, love,” she whispers and crosses the space between them to throw herself onto the bed beside her. (The tea somehow ends up on the bedside table, unspilled.)

Her body on Marlene’s is a weight that is definitely not helping her injuries but Marlene doesn’t care and just wraps her arms around her and pulls her closer. Dorcas smells like dry leaves and chamomile tea, but, as if the hospital has sunk its claws in her as well, like sleep and the bitter smell of potions, too. Marlene burrows closer to breathe her in. She hopes Dorcas can feel the words she wants to tell her, but simply doesn’t have the courage to say, in the kiss she presses to her neck, in the strength of her arms around her, with every breath of air against her skin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I won’t ever go again.

“It’s okay, Lene,” Dorcas whispers, her hand carding through her hair like she understands. Then again, as if she’s trying to convince herself as well, “It’s okay.”

But it’s not. It’s not okay and it won’t be for some time. But the promise of a new tomorrow that the feel of Dorcas in her arms brings, the newfound knowledge of Sirius, the sight of the sun, shining clear and strong, is enough to make her think that someday it will be.

#harry potter #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #death eater sirius black #not really #but technically #post hogwarts #first war with voldemort #dorcas meadowes #minerva mcgonagall #mckinnon family #ocs #dorcas x marlene #sirius x marlene #dorlene #blackinnon #(platonic)#attack on the mckinnons #in a world three degrees north

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

masterlist

ok firstly please bear in mind most of these fics were written in 2014/15 when i was 16 so please do not judge their quality too harshly

ao3

[there are some fics on there that i haven’t put here, mainly chaptered fics but some others too]

drabbles (malum, lashton, cashton, mashton)

lashton

i can count on the sun to shine

It’s not been the easiest of days, but it’s not been the roughest either, so Ashton’s half-surprised when Luke crawls into his lap and curls up in it, looping his arms around Ashton’s neck and nosing into Ashton’s neck, breath warm and even against Ashton’s skin.

my beating heart belongs to you

“God, you’re all sweaty,” Michael adds, and Ashton snorts because that is fucking rich coming from the guy whose sweat has disintegrated two shirts so far this tour. “That’s how Luke likes me,” Ashton fires back, and Calum pulls a face whilst Michael laughs. “What’s how I like you?” Luke asks, coming up behind Ashton and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Ashton’s head.

young and in love (that should be enough)

“Ashton.” Luke draws out the second syllable, pouting to add effect to his words. “Lukey,” Ashton says, stringing out the second syllable too in a softly mocking manner. “What do you want?” “A cuddle,” Luke announces, “from my favourite boyfriend.”

say you’ll never change

@Luke5SOS: It feels like we’re ready to crack these days you & I

it feels like we’re ready to crack these days, you & i [extended version of above fic]

It’s not really that pathetic that Ashton’s got tweet and text notifications on for Luke. Not really.

we gamble with desire

“Guys,” Michael says, making his way into the back lounge. “Have you heard of fanfiction?”

rules of the band

In retrospect, it’s kind of Ashton’s fault that it all starts. He’d eaten the last of the Vegemite, something he knows Michael and Calum feel very strongly about, and it had resulted in a sheet of paper pinned to the fridge by a frog magnet that had ‘Rules of the Band’ scrawled in Calum’s handwriting at the top. Rules of the Band

NOBODY WILL EAT THE LAST OF THE VEGEMITE!!!

soulmates

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

my friends are a different breed

“What’s happening?” Calum says, walking out into the living room. “Luke and Ashton weren’t kissing,” Michael informs him. Calum nods. “We weren’t,” Ashton says in what he hopes is a believable tone.

i’ve got a lot of friends who are stars

The city’s fucking beautiful at night.

dreams only last for a night

Luke prefers it when Ashton’s asleep.

happy father’s day dad :-)

@Calum5SOS: @Ashton5SOS happy Father’s Day dad :-)

my friends are everything

CH: Who’s eaten the last of the fucking vegemite

AI: wtf that was like rule number 1

my new comfort zone

It’s when it starts getting to the tense, anticipatory bit of the film where the gang of actual idiots are about to enter the house which Luke’s ninety-nine percent sure has a murderer in it, that’s when Luke whimpers and turns away from the screen, burying his face in the crook of Ashton’s neck.

as the night gets older of you i grow fonder

Luke’s eight when Ashton moves in next door. (based on the video for you belong with me)

coffee shop soundtrack

“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asks, and there’s a kind of apologetic hint to his tone. “Everywhere else is full.” Full? The coffee shop's never full- Oh. Apart from today, apparently. Every single seat is taken. “Oh, Luke says. “Uh. Sure.“

taking the long way home

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

if these walls could talk (they’ve seen way too many things)

The announcement comes late, at eight p.m., interrupting radio and TV broadcasts and flashing up on phone screens. Due to the current pandemic, the state is now on mandatory lockdown for three weeks. All citizens have until midnight to return to their places of residence. Those outside after midnight will be subject to severe penalties. Further information to follow. “You have to leave,” Ashton says. “You have to go.” Luke blinks. “They’re locking down the state.”

as he faced the sun he cast no shadow

Ashton doesn’t really realise he’s fallen out of love until it’s happened.

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon (soulmate au)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six ~ chapter seven

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns. “What’s my what?” “Your tattoo.”

fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet

Luke hates a good ninety-five percent of his job. A solid thirty percent of that comes from the fact that he works as a receptionist at a hotel, which he thinks is possibly the most thankless job humanity could possibly have created. A further ten comes from the fact that his desk is right next to the kitchen, meaning mouth-watering smells are constantly wafting under his nose, and Luke’s not allowed to eat on shift. Fifty-five percent of it, though, is Ashton.

there’s no time for running away now

It’s three a.m., and Ashton’s awake. On the surface, that might not appear to be a problem. And ordinarily, it wouldn’t be - ordinarily, Ashton would either roll over groggily, will sleep to come with every fibre of his being and maybe a quick prayer or two, or read something mind-numbingly boring like his urgent work emails to send him back to sleep. This, however, isn’t the most ordinary situation. Ashton is awake because of Luke.

-------

malum

make me a promise here tonight

“Calum,” Michael says, walking into the bunk area and stopping in front of Calum’s bunk. “Cal.” “What?” Calum asks, not looking up from his phone. “I think we should get married.”

we know this is the way it’s supposed to be

Calum’s always the first person Michael rings in an emergency. Like right now, for example. Right now’s an emergency. “What the fuck do you want, Clifford?” Calum groans, voice tinny through the shitty phone line, but he’s picked up after the first ring so Michael knows he doesn’t mean it. “I need help,” Michael says, trying to stop the phone from slipping down his chest from where it’s pressed between his shoulder and his ear. “Green, blue, or black?“

the first time i’ve seen love (and the last i’ll ever need)

“Tell me a story.” The words are whispered into the fabric of Calum’s shirt, and Calum’s arms tighten around Michael as he hums in response. It’s familiar, the situation, because it’s what Michael always asks for when he’s tired, scared, lonely, or just wants to hear Calum’s voice.

it should be criminal that you could be mine

He can’t help but get a little jealous when Ashton and Luke start properly dating, though. He can’t help but get jealous of the way Ashton’s always taking Luke out for dinner, always holding his hand, always buying him presents, always making these romantic gestures that Michael’s never had from Calum. (or calum’s version of a dinner date)

it always will be you (wherever you are)

It started off as something kind of unnecessary. Calum already had a Twitter account, and he wasn’t someone who was afraid to speak his mind. If he had something to say, he’d say it on his public account. He’d only made the account for when he was in a bit of a shitty mood and wanted to vent or when he had an inappropriate joke that only Michael would find funny.

falling asleep on a stranger

As it is, his bus is running late today and Calum had run all the way to the bus stop from his house (a good two minutes of exercise, at least, which means he’s breathless and almost breaking a sweat by the time he reaches the bus stop) because he’d thought he was late. When he realises, however, that he could have had an extra ten minutes and actually eaten some breakfast, he groans, lets his eyes flutter shut and mutters “fuck me.” “Excuse me?” a surprised voice says, and Calum opens his eyes so fast he thinks he might have accidentally blinded himself. Standing to his left, an amused look on his face, is a boy with fluffy-looking blue hair (blue).

this could be the start of something new

He pushes past throngs of tired-looking businessmen to get into the last carriage, looking around for some seats. He’s not the only one who’s had that idea, clearly, as the last carriage is nigh-on full and Calum has the choice of two seats - one next to a balding man who’s eating what looks to be a tuna sandwich (Calum balks at the very idea) and a tattooed-up-to-hell punk kid with a shock of light pink hair in a suit, jacket on his lap. Calum goes for the latter.

you’re already the voice inside my head

“Michael didn’t say anything, mate,” Luke says, confused. “Yes, he did,” Calum says, exasperated. “I…no, I didn’t,” Michael says slowly. “What the fuck, Mike?” Calum says, perplexed. “I didn’t say it, Cal…I thought it.”

i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window. “The new PE teacher,” Michael says. “He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously. “He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls. “Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.” “Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

only you (and you can hear me)

“Uh,” Calum says, looking out into the crowd, and Michael follows his gaze, trying to find what Calum’s staring at. “I’m going to go to the teepee with Heather.” Michael’s stomach sinks. “Really?” he asks, before he can stop himself, looking over at Calum. “Yeah,” Calum says, turning to look at Michael, and Michael whips back around before Calum can see the look of please don’t written all over his face. “Alright.” (tiny dancer scene from rocketman but happy)

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. - or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

couldn’t make it more obvious could you (be any more obvious?)

“D’you think he was being serious?” he asks Ashton, who’s already engrossed in his phone again. “Hm?” Ashton says, without looking up. “‘Bout what?” “Jack.” That makes Ashton look up, brow furrowed. “What about him?” Calum hesitates. “Y’know,” he says, a little uncomfortably. Ashton cocks his head, raising his eyebrows in an I don’t know sort of way. “About them. Sleeping together.” “Oh,” Ashton says, shrugs, and turns back to his phone. “Yeah, obviously.”

love would burn this city down for you

There’s something so comforting about the city. Calum remembers the first time he’d got it, that rush of everything and nothing and beauty and reverence as he’d stared out at the brightly-lit scene before him, overwhelmed and trying his best to drink it all in. Fuck me, he’d thought, a delicious numbness licking at his nerves. I’m fucking irrelevant. (It was the first time he’d ever known peace.)

——-

cashton

‘cause all of the stars are fading away (just try not to worry you’ll see them someday)

Growing up isn’t easy. Nobody ever told him it would be. You’ll get hurt, his mum would say, eyes big and sad, and he’d shrug and say that’s life, not really understanding what she meant because he was yet to spend three nights in a row staring up at his ceiling, drunk and high and so miserable it somehow felt like everything and nothing at the same time. It’ll be difficult, his manager had warned, when they got their first tour with One Direction, and Ashton had shrugged and said isn’t everything?, not realising that what ‘difficult’ meant was sacrifice; his sleep, his home, his self, everything torn out at the roots and tossed aside for him to gather back into his arms again. The hardest part of growing up, though, isn’t when things happen to him, when someone breaks up with him or wakes him up two hours after he’s gone to bed or puts him on another plane six hours after he’s just got off one. The hardest part of growing up is when he looks around him and realises I’m not happy.

#ignore this post #also im gonna have to put up posts of the ones that i havent posted on tumblr yet soon #cos rn half of them are just linked to my ao3 #but im gonna space it out bc its annoying #and also i'm going to be very discerning #bc some of them are...to put it politely...RUBBISH #and when i say some of them i mean every single one of them #being proud of things you've written? could never be me

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whattodowithace · 3 years

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Roommates Code: How it Began (Seyoon’s Story)

Title: Roommates Code: How it Began

Pairing: Liju x Seyoon & Donghun (But can be reader x Seyoon & Donghun)

Genre: Humor, slight spice

Word count: 2187

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

"Would you stop playing that video?" I groan, ready to throw my textbook at my schoolmate who sat on my head watching a music video for the hundredth time.

"I have to watch it closely. It's for science." She answers me, her eyes staying glued to the screen in front of her.

"You could help me with our homework project due in a few days. For science." I mimic her wording, making her narrow her eyes at me before shutting her laptop down to get her books.

This is how our relationship was. And how it probably always would be. My relationship with my classmate was fairly new. Both of us meeting one day at a study group in the library at our school. We continued to see each other for the next four weeks. The group we were with ignoring us most times, leaving us with just each other to talk to. Now we had moved our study sessions to my house. Us studying for school together becoming a weekly habit on top of sitting next to each other during lunch break at school as a excuse to hang out.

The room is silent for five minutes before she pipes up again; "You know, with the amount of times we talk to each other and see each other, we could move in together as roommates once we graduate." She tells me.

I look up from my book to meet her eyes, surprised to see she was actually being serious. I lean back in my chair as i say, "We would probably kill each other."

She shrugs, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she does so. "We might." She says, "Or we might not. We've been hanging out with each other for five months now and haven't manged to argue yet. And we don't seem to stress each other. And i don't see you or i getting boyfriends means how we like being alone so much."

I laugh, the idea amusing and sounding fun. But it seemed a little outlandish means how we still had another nine months of high school left.

"We'll see where we are when we finish school. We might hate each other by then." I say before turning back to my book.

``````

The problem with us, however, is when we kid about something, it often times happens somehow. Two months after graduating high school we found good paying jobs and a available apartment.

"I'll let you two look around a bit more." The landlord of our new apartment said as she walked down the stairs, "Congratulations on getting the place."

We both thanked her with smiles on our faces before shutting the door and letting out an excited scream. Our place small but roomy enough for us, making it feel like a palace compared to our small bedrooms at home. And the biggest difference was this was our place.

"Which room do you want?" She asks me as we make our way down the hall.

"You can have the bigger room. You have more things than i do." I tell her, stepping into what would be her bedroom.

"You've never had a big bedroom before though." She says, sounding guilty.

I laugh, "Please, my room has a bathroom. That's a luxury by itself."

We both laugh as we continue walking around our rooms. At one point I stand in my room trying to think of how to arrange things when i hear her call,

"If we shut our bedroom doors can we still hear each other?" She asks, poking her head into my room.

Our bedrooms were stationed right next to each other, the thought of being able to talk even from our rooms making me giggle.

"Lets see." I say through a laugh. Shutting my bedroom door, hearing her do the same a moment later.

She taps on the wall next to my room, the sound echoing through my empty room. "We could learn mores code!" I hear her say as she starts randomly taping the wall with her hand.

I laugh and lean my back against the wall, "If our walls are this thin that means our neighbors can hear us. Which means they're going to wonder why your using mores code to summon Satan."

I hear her laugh as she walks out of her room and into mine, "But if we ever get boyfriends it might be an issue. We'll hear more of each other than is wanted."

``````

Four years later:

I sit at the kitchen table one afternoon scrolling through my Ipad when the front door unlocks and my roommate steps inside. I open my mouth to greet her but quickly shut it when i see the man standing behind her.

"Thank you again for walking me home, Seyoon." She says, smiling at him as she leans her body weight against the door.

"It was no problem." He says sweetly, smiling back at her.

I bite my lip and slowly move off my chair to try to sneak away to my bedroom to give them some privacy. I had just stood up when she turns her head and looks at me,

"Where are you going?" She asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I straighten and force a smile on my face, silently cursing her for drawing attention to me.

"Nowhere." I answer in a sweet voice, my eyes narrowing at her.

"Hey Seyoon." I wave at him.

Seyoon waves back at me, "Hey, good to see you." His smile widens as he looks back at my roommate before saying, "I should get going. But it was really good to see you all. Thank you for letting me walk you home." He says. I don't miss the way his hand slightly reaches for hers that rests on the doorknob or how he lingers at the door though. All of this making me smirk.

She thanks him again before shutting the door completely and whirling around to throw her bag at me. I let out a cry when it hits me on the shin.

"What the heck do you keep in there? Bricks?" I grumble as i rub my leg.

"I keep them in there for when i need to beat you to death." She fires back. "I told you to stay in the same room as me if we ever see him. Then you try to wonder off!"

"He looked like he wanted to be alone with you!" I shout, a smirk on my lips.

She narrows her eyes at me before running up and kicking my feet out from under me, making me land on my back, air leaving my lungs.

She kicks me in the butt, making me scream.

"He walked you home! That's a clear sign he wants a relationship with you!" I scream at her. Her face going red.

"I don't care, because i don't want a relationship with him." She mumbles quietly.

I stand up from the ground and brush myself off, "Are you sure about that?" I ask, making her hesitate but still narrow her eyes at me.

This had been an ongoing conversation between us for the past month. Kim Seyoon was her workmate, he also only lived a block away from our apartment. For the past month, he had been making it very clear he liked her. Making lunch for her, sending her texts to check on her when she didn't show up at work. He even brought over some soup once for me when i was sick and she had stayed home to make sure i didn't die. Clearly trying to get on my good side as well.

Needless to say, i liked him for her. But her being the stubborn person she is, refused to admit she liked him or wanted a date with him. So for the past month we had talked, argued, and screamed at each other about the matter. Even though she denied it, i could see her walls cracking slightly. She was growing more of a weak spot for him than she wanted to admit.

"I'm going to go. I ordered a Pizza for dinner for us." I tell her as i pick up my car keys.

A smile grows on my roommates face at the mention of her favorite food. "This doesn't change anything. I still don't like you."

I laugh and roll my eyes, "I know." I sigh out as i walk out the door.

```````

"This one?"

"No." I answer after observing the dress briefly that she had pulled from her closet.

"I don't know what to wear!" She groans in frustration. Raking her fingers through her hair.

After three months of bucking liking Seyoon, she finally caved in to him. Tonight being their first official date that he was going to pick her up for in an hour.

"I still say this dress," I tell her, holding up a red low cut dress with a thick black belt around l the waist.

"But i don't want to wear it." She whines, stomping her foot slightly.

I sigh and put the dress down on her bed. "You look good in it and you know he would like it. You just are too scared to wear it."

My roommate glares at me, mumbling words under her breath as she goes to put the dress i picked out on.

For the remaining hour we walk around our apartment finding things she needed to complete her look. Which included her borrowing one of my necklaces, me doing her hair while she worked on her makeup, and us arguing back and forth like always.

The doorbell rain as she was putting her shoes on, the noise making her jump and look at me panicked. I smirk at her as i wonder down the hall to my door so he couldn't see me when she opened the door. She gave me a passing glare as she went to open the door, Seyoon greeting her warmly in a white button down shirt and black slacks. His blonde hair falling over his eyes in fluffy locks. His eyes widening slightly and his voice going nervous when he saw her.

I smile to myself as i watch the pair walk out the door. I retreat into my bedroom for a night to myself while she was gone.

```````

I stumble into the kitchen sleepily the next morning. My eyes refusing to stay open. I go to the fridge and pour some cold coffee into a cup when my roommate comes out of her room, her eyes sparkling.

"Good morning." She say brightly, going to the fridge to pour herself a glass of milk. Her long hair doing little to hide several of the dark patches that cover her neck and collarbone

I stand by the counter with a glare on my face as she does so. My gaze on her making her meet my eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that? And why do you look so tired?"

"Maybe it's because certain people wouldn't stop moaning and panting last night." I snap. Making her almost spit her mouthful of milk all over the floor.

"You heard us?" She coughs.

"Our walls are paper thin!" I say, "Your bed is close to the wall so i could hear everything. Until 3AM i heard many many things."

"No.. you... you didn't, did you?" She asks, her voice cracking and her eyes wide from shock.

"That's a good boy." I mimic, using one of her choice words that night.

She gasps loudly, her face and neck going red. "I thought you would be asleep!"

"I was. But all the noise definitely woke me up." I tell her, finishing off my coffee to put the cup in the sink.

"We need a code of some sort if he's going to be coming over here a lot for your make outs." I tell her.

She gives me a nervous look, her face still red. "What kind of code?" She asks.

"Something. An agreement that we will leave when the other one wants to spend time alone with their boyfriend or something."

"You don't have a boyfriend." She jabs, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Shut up." I snap, making her laugh.

For the next hour we sit on the couch going back and forth on the rules of this code. The code being simple enough, but holding a measure of trust that the other one would respect the others privacy when asked. We had just finished setting special text tones for each other as part of the Roommates Code when Seyoon walked out into the living room. His blonde hair sticking up in funny places and several dark marks littering his neck.

“Do you guys always laugh so loud?" Seyoon teases, a smile tugging at his lips as he rubs his eyes.

"I know someone else who's loud." I mumble under my breath, making my roommate stand up quickly and chase me to my room, screaming at me the entire time. Leaving a chuckling Seyoon to stand in the living room alone.

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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In My Head, We Belong (Gigi/Crystal) Chapter One - Zyan

Summary: Gigi tries to keep her feelings for Crystal as a secret, while juggling orders, her side job as a seamstress, helping her very clueless friend Jan ask an equally clueless Jaida out on a proper date and begging Silky, Heidi and Dusty to please stop their Who Can Cook Faster competition.

a/n: new fic who dis. I’m back back back again! The new season really has sparked my creative juices :) This began as a small request I did on my blog and it turned out into a very fluffy universe. I hope you like it! Much like Genie AU, I’m having a lot of fun writing this. 💖 Frey is the bestest beta, and y'all can find me over at @chachkisalpaca. The title comes from the Doja Cat’s song “Streets.”

Widow’s restaurant might not be a five star one - or four even - but she keeps it neat and clean, the walls get painted whenever Widow spots the tiniest of cracks in the paint, and she’s got a handful of regular patrons. She’s also the best boss Gigi has ever had.

She makes sure they all eat a good meal before beginning with their shifts, pays them a little extra the nights they’re full and still manage to serve all customers as good as they can, understands when they can’t come to work for whatever the reason might be, and doesn’t need much explanations when they request a night off, because she trusts her girls. As far as the staff is aware, Widow is an angel disguised as a human.

They’re usually full on Saturdays, the kitchen turning into a war zone as Dusty, Heidi, and Silky try to get the waitresses orders ready, sometimes competing between each other who’ll gets their order ready the fastest. For a moment it’s amusing to the waitresses, until they get carried away and have to be reminded that it’s not time for their foolishness, it’s time for dinner.

This Saturday though, it’s almost empty - a couple with their kids being the only clients they’ve gotten so far, since a storm broke loose.

“Well, the weather man did say we’re gonna have a few days with rain,” Jan comments, standing in the tip of her toes to watch the rain from the window of the back door.

“Yeah, but this is not Singing in The Rain type of rain, this is like, I dunno, Sharknado kinda weather,” Crystal replies, throwing a green nine to the table. Jaida huffs and reaches for a card in the pile before passing.

“Have you ever seen Sharknado?” Heidi asks; her brows are knitted in a confused frown as she throws a green +2. Silky bangs her fist on the table, proceeding to frantically search for a card to kill off Heidi’s.

“… No,” Crystal admits at the same time Silky slams a +4. “Fuck! I hate y’all,” she groans as she draws six cards from the pile. Heidi and Silky high five with smug smiles and giggle.

Gigi watches them, completely amused, leaning against the door frame. She’s not sure if they should be playing Uno during work hours, despite not being a single soul around, but Widow gives them more liberties than a boss normally does. Hell, sometimes she’s the one to come into the kitchen with a Uno deck, asking if anyone wanna play.

“I’d join, but I feel like Heidi and Silky have some sort of trickery going on,” Brianna says, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, glancing up at them from time to time.

Gigi looks at the pair, noticing the looks they share from time to time and cocks a brow. She’s not even surprised; Heidi and Silky are a competitive duo, though Heidi shows it a lot less.

“Do you think one of them is sitting on a bunch of +2 cards?” Gigi asks, stifling a giggle. Brianna snorts, locking her phone.

“Most likely, it’s like the fourth time they made Crystal pick up since they started playing. Notice how suspicious it is that she hasn’t picked any +2 or +4 yet?” She comments just as Jaida slams a card on the table, yelling ‘Uno’.

Gigi snickers; though she prefers full nights because it’s a good moment for tips, she doesn’t mind when once in a while it’s completely deserted and they get to relax and have fun together.

Though that fun results in Crystal throwing her cards to the ground after a collective work between Jaida, Heidi, and Silky in which each of them throws a +4; she abandons the game saying she’ll never play again with them. She goes over to Brianna and Gigi with her arms folded and a childish pout.

“Please, tell me I’m not the only one that believes they’re cheating,” she says as she looks back at Silky and Heidi. They’re now battling against each other to see who the final loser is, and it’s honestly hilarious.

“I wouldn’t be surprised; I’m used to them cheating whenever we play anything. They’re competitive bitches,” Gigi replies, Crystal laughs softly and Gigi smiles to herself.

Sometimes the fact that she’s still there after two years surprises her; she’d never thought she’d actually like this job and her co-workers, considering them her second family.

She also has feelings for one of the members of said family, but she’ll never say that out loud.

Gigi’s so distracted by her thoughts, she doesn’t hear Jackie behind the door, almost falling on her back if it wasn’t for her.

“Wow! You okay, G?” She asks with a concerned voice. Gigi nods, and Jackie helps her stabilize herself. “Girls, please clean this up, believe it or not we’ve got clients. Silk, they ordered two menus of the day; can you take care of it?”

Silky stares at Jackie for solid five seconds before slowly starting to get up and all of a sudden there are several Uno cards spilled all across the floor. Well, guess Brianna was right.

“You cheating bitch! I knew you had something up in your sleeve,” Crystal exclaims, completely offended.

“Or your ass,” Jaida points out with a laugh, kneeling to pick up the cards. “You are one shady bitch, someone remind me to tell Widow to ban you from the Uno games.”

“Ban who from Uno?” Widow asks as she enters the kitchen. Jaida points at Silky, telling her about the cheating. Widow clicks her tongue. “Silky, I’ve told you already; if you’re gonna cheat, put those cards in your thighs, not ass!” Widow scolds, but soon she’s loudly laughing along with Silky.

Jackie pinches the bridge of her nose, counts until ten, and claps her hands, hurrying Silky to get her orders ready. Then, Widow remembers why she stepped into the kitchen in the first place.

“The storm is getting really bad; does everyone have a way to get home safely? I wouldn’t mind going out of my way to drop some of y’all off,” she offers, speaking loud enough so everyone in the kitchen can hear her.

“My grandpa lent me his car because he heard it’d rain today. I could also drop some of y’all home,” Dusty pipes up from the other side of the room.

“I came here with Jesus and an umbrella, so I’ll take any of you two on that,” Heidi says, looking back and forth between Dusty and Widow.

“Well, John is picking me up today, so I guess I’ll pass.” Crystal shrugs, and Gigi knits her brows in a frown.

“Who’s John?” Gigi asks before she can stop herself. Crystal looks at her with a toothy smile that may or may not make her heart sting a little.

“Oh, he’s a guy I met at a friend’s birthday party. We’ve been going out for like, two weeks or so. I thought everyone knew, I’ve pretty much annoyed everyone during Friday’s lunch shift talking about him,” she explains excitedly, and Gigi has to restrain herself from letting her devastation show on her face.

“I’m not on the lunch shifts, just the night ones,” she simply says, and the topic soon goes back to the previous one, Gigi remaining silent for most of the conversation, except to say she’d appreciate a ride home.

The rest of the night remains uneventful, since they’ve got no other clients. They close early, and they only leave when Crystal’s guy arrives, the redhead quickly says goodbye to all of them as she climbs inside his car with a big smile.

As she stares out the window, watching how the streets empty more and more, Gigi thinks she couldn’t be upset with Crystal for going out with people, since she isn’t planning on confessing her feelings to her.

It doesn’t mean it hurt any less, though.

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