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arctickat2400 · 3 years

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Grace - Part 2 <> Damon Salvatore

Ten years later

Grace looks so much like her mother. So beautiful and she turned into her mother each and every day as she grew.

And today is her 16th birthday. She’s been waiting for today for so long, and all these years she hasn’t asked about her mother once. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but she’s been so happy.

Our friends are coming today for her birthday. Caroline, Elena, Matt, Bonnie, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy.

Grace never liked to make a big deal of her birthday. It may have been ‘cause Y/N died on her birthday, but I never told her that. I never told her how her mom died or that Bonnie had to save her life.

We decorated the dining room in red and black, her favorite colors, and Caroline had set the cupcakes in the center of the table when she got here. Grace didn’t like having a big cake for her birthday. Always something small.

It was almost 12 in the afternoon and Grace should be waking up soon. Everyone was here and everything was ready.

I walked upstairs to Grace’s bedroom. When she was about ten, when she decided she wanted to redecorate, we painted her walls red, put a few posters up, she had a black leather bed and her room was mostly just made of red and black.

I knocked on her door, but received no answer.

I walked in, looking around. Her room was as clean as it always was, her bed was made with her bear set on it, yet she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

She wasn’t in her bathroom and she wasn’t at her desk, where she would usually be writing in her diary.

Just then, I almost fell to the ground in surprise as Grace fell from above and onto my back. She always did that, surprising me whenever and wherever she could.

“Hey, Dad.” She smiled at me as I looked back at her with a smile of my own.

She jumped off of me, walking in front of me as I took her hand in mine and spun her around. I always did that. She was my princess and I was her king.

I spun her towards me as I held her in my arms, kissing the top of her head.

“How is my stunning princess this fine morning?” I questioned her with a smile.

The weird thing is that whoever didn’t know that I was a vampire, which mostly every knows, they would think Grace is my age, or close to my age.

“I’m pretty good. I’m clean and energized and ready for the day.” She smiled.

Grace’s POV

Today was my 16th birthday and even though dad didn’t say anything, I know that he and our friends are planning a party for me.

I couldn’t hear anything downstairs, since I was human and I didn’t have vampire hearing, but I knew our friends were down there. It was always like I could read minds. Everyone believed I could.

Wearing a red and black sweatshirt with black jeggings, I slid on my glasses and some rings. I, then, picked up my bracelet with a music note on it and slid it on my wrist. But I noticed something.

There was a charm bracelet laying next to it. I don’t remember having this.

I looked to dad as he smiled at me.

“Oh, yeah. Happy Birthday.” Dad smiled, and I let out a little laugh. “It was your mother’s and she wanted me to give it to you for your 16th birthday.” He told me. I smiled at the thought of my mother. I’ve never met her or seen her, but from how dad described her, she seems incredible.

“Thanks, Dad.” I told him as he brought me into a hug.

I slid the bracelet along with my other, adding my red heart necklace on my neck. Dad had given it to me when I was old enough, maybe three years old, and he told me to never take it off. I never have.

“You ready?” Dad asked me. I nodded as he held out his arm for me to take.

Intertwining my arm with his, we walked out of my room, walking down the stairs and towards the living room.

We walking into the living room, but no one wa there. But, within the second, everyone jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!” Even though I hated surprises. I just smiled.

“Hey, guys. Thanks so much.” I told them, hugging them all. Caroline, Elena, Bonnie, Matt, Alaric, Stefan, Jeremy, they were all here.

“Happy Birthday, Grace.” Dad said, pulling me into a side hug as I set my hand on his chest and stared at all our friends.

We started with presents, everyone sitting in the living room. Gifts were piled up on the coffee table. I don’t see how anyone knew what to get me. I mean, I didn’t even know what I wanted myself.

I opened my first gift as everyone stared at me. Never liked to be stared at either, but no one cared.

This one was from dad. It was a new journal with a dark sky lit up with stars and mountains on it.

“I saw that you didn’t have many pages left in your other journal and I know I get you a journal every year, but I knew you needed it.” Dad confessed.

“Thanks, Dad. And I do need it.” I told him, leaning over and giving him another hug. Hugging was always our thing. There were always things that dad and my mom did to show their love for each other and dad did some of those things with me. It was our thing.

After maybe 10 minutes, I had opened every gift and most of them were small but there were also some big ones. Lots of jewelry, a sketchbook, pens and colored pencils and a new iPhone. And my favorite, a new laptop. Dad knew I needed a new one. My old one had lost one of its screws and was all broken and beat up. I kept telling him how much I needed a new one.

After I had hugged and thanked everyone for their very appreciated gifts, Elena passed out the cupcakes and after we ate, everyone just hung out in the living room.

“So, what should we do? Maybe go to the grill for some pool and burgers? My treat for Grace’s birthday.” Matt suggests as he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

“Thanks, Matt. That actually sounds great. But, I need to go do something first. I’ll meet you all at the grill in a few, okay?” I told our friends. They all agreed, heading out the door and to the grill. I headed upstairs as it was only dad, Stefan and I left at the house.

I snuck up to Dad’s room, hoping he wouldn’t find me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom lately. I never mentioned her to dad since the night after the incident, but I’ve always thought about her. I’ve always wondered what she looked like and who she was.

Dad must have a photo of here somewhere in his room, and it’s today that I’d like to see and know about her.

I looked through his bookshelves, looking in books that he always seems to have out and a few that he seems to never even touch. I looked inside his dresser and in his closet. I couldn’t find anything. Did he even have a photo of her?

Just then, I remember that one night I saw a box on the mantle of dad’s fireplace. It looked special. I didn’t want to go through his private stuff, but I just had to see mom.

I walked to his fireplace, taking the box down and walking to his bed. I sat down opening the box. There was so much in there. There was jewelry and then there was a note and a picture. I looked at the jewelry. There was a ring in there that had an engraving in it.

I love you. Always and Forever. Is what it said. I guess that was her wedding ring that dad gave her.

I, then, saw a necklace in there. It was a silver chain with a diamond heart. It was beautiful. I took out the note. It read:

My beautiful Y/N,

I love you so much. Nothing can describe the love I have for you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You make me a better person and I can’t thank you enough for the love you have for me. I will never stop loving you for as long as I live.

I love you, baby girl.

Always and Forever.

I wonder what the note was for. It’s sweet.

I, then, took out the photo and I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was so young. It was a photo of her and dad together. They looked so amazing together, with his arms wrapped around her as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

I ran into dad’s bathroom with the picture. I stood in front of his mirror and held up the photo. I look exactly like her.

I walk back to dad’s bed, sitting down as I stare down at the photo. A few tears come from my eyes as I hear someone coming up the stairs.

Dad steps through his doorway, staring at me with wide eyes.

I look up at him as we stare at each other.

“I look just like her.” Is all I could say. Dad sped towards me, sitting next to me and taking the picture from my hand.

He set it back in the box along with the note and the jewelry.

Out of nowhere, “What happened to her?” I went right out and asked.

He just looked up at me with sad, but sympathetic eyes.

“I guess it’s time to tell you now.” Dad admitted. He closed the box, setting it back on the mantle and walked back to me. He sat down next me and began telling me the whole story.

“So, her name was Y/N. She was the most amazing person in the whole world. One day, she had come home from Caroline’s house and it was a full moon that night. I was at the bar and when I came home, she was lying on the driveway… dead.” I could tell he didn’t want to say that, but he did. He went on.

“She was covered in blood and she had gotten bit by a wolf. By Tyler Lockwood. At that time, she was still pregnant with you, and we were able to save you, but we couldn’t save her.” He was almost crying now. I already had tears streaming down my cheeks as I stared at him in sadness and terror.

“We were able to get you out and Bonnie was able to use her power to bring you back. You were okay, but your mother wasn’t. When she died, and I wasn’t there for her, I could barely keep it together. I didn’t even want to live. But then, there was you. I couldn’t leave you. Your mom would’ve wanted me to stay for you. And I did and I made it my responsibility to protect you and keep you safe.” I could barely keep it together. I stared down at my hands as I was so close to breaking down.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” He said to me, taking my hand in his.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I finally broke down. I cried my eyes out, bawling, as Dad brought me into his arms, holding me close as I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my head in his chest.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” He repeated. “She loved you. Even when she hadn’t met you yet, she loved you and she wanted so much to see you. And I know she can.” Dad added.

Damon’s POV

Grace has been upstairs for awhile. Stefan and I were waiting for her so we could leave.

I walked upstairs, going to check on her to see if she was okay. I didn’t hear anything except a steady heartbeat.

“Grace?” I called out. She wasn’t in her room, and the only other room up her other than Stefan’s was mine. I walked through my doorway only to see her sitting on my bed with Y/N’s box beside her.

I stared at Grace with sadness and sympathy.

I can’t believe she found it. She found the picture and now she knew. She looks exactly like Y/N.

Grace looked up at me and said, “I look just like her.”

I walked to her, gathering Y/N’s picture, jewelry and my note to her and putting them back in the box.

Just as I set Y/Ne’s necklace back in the box, Grace spoke.

“What happened to her?” I knew this time would come at some point. I knew Grace would ask about Y/N. She saw her and now she needs to know.

“I guess it’s time to tell you.” I told her. I set Y/N’s box back on the mantle and sat back down beside my daughter.

“So, her name was Y/N and she was the most amazing person in the whole world. One day, she had come home from Caroline’s house and it was a full moon that night. I was the bar and when I came home she was lying on the driveway… dead.” It pained me to say that. But, I continued.

“She was covered in blood and she had gotten bit by a wolf. By Tyler Lockwood. At that time, she was still pregnant with you and we were able to save you, but we couldn’t save her.” I almost couldn’t hold in my tears . It was so hard for me to talk about Y/N, but i had to be strong for Grace. She needs to know. Grace was already crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes filled with sadness and terror.

“We were able to get you out and Bonnie was able to use her power to bring you back. You were okay, but your mother wasn’t. When she died, and I wasn’t there for her, I could barely keep it together. I didn’t even want to live. But, then there was you. I couldn’t leave you. Your mom would’ve wanted me to stay for you. And I did and I made it my responsibility in life to protect you and keep you safe.” I told her. She looked so heartbroken and sad. I could understand that. She stared down at her hands, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” I told her, taking her hand in mine.

She finally broke. She was bawling now as I took her in my arms, holding her close as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her head buried in my chest.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” I repeated. “She loved you, so much. Even though she hadn’t met you yet, she loved you and she wanted to much to see you. And I know she can.” I added.

I held her in my arms as she cried.

After a minute or so, she sat up. I set my hands on her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

She put on a small smile as I did as well. She let out a small laugh.

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.” She told me and I loved hearing her say that.

“I love you, too, princess.” I told her, bringing her back into another hug and kissing her head.

“Now, let’s get to the grill. Everyone’s probably getting worried.” I told her.

We walked downstairs, meeting with Stefan by my car.

“Before we go, I have one more gift for you.” I told my daughter. I want Grace to have Y/N’s car. I had never taken it out of the garage and I’ve never shown Grace before.

I led her and Stefan to the garage, revealing Y/N’s 2014 Chevrolet Camaro.

“Oh my god! This is amazing!” Grace screamed in excitement.

“It was mom’s car. She would’ve wanted you to have it.” I mentioned.

“Mom had amazing taste.” Grace laughed. I smiled.

She hugged me once more before we got into her car, driving to the grill.

Grace’s POV

We arrived, answering everyone’s question to where we were and why we took so long.

For the rest of the night, we hung out at the grill, eating burgers for dinner and Dad even compelled the bartender to let me have a couple drinks. Not enough to get me drunk, but he let me have a drink or two.

I played a game of pool with each of our friends, the best game being with Dad.

He was my favorite person in the world. He’s always kept me safe, as he has wanted to for my whole life. He’s loved and cared for me and I couldn’t ask for more.

#damon salvatore #damon x reader #damon x daughter #damon salvatore imagines #vampire diaries #matt donavan #stefan salvatore #elena gilbert #caroline forbes #bonnie bennett #jeremy gilbert #alaric saltzman

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mx-julien · 3 years

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glacier drabble for @imaginehavingmotivation since my asks are open rn

gen. fluff. pre-pilot

also on Ao3 (where i clarify my writing and actually use spellcheck)

///

The golden hour floods through the back windows and the sky's on full display atop the Mountain of Impossible Height. Cole's sotting at the kitchen table, lazily sketching. Light pencil jumps and flows across the page of his sketchbook. He'll think it's a terrible drawing in a few years, and turn red when people compliment it. Objectively, it's really quite impressive for a self-taught 17-year-old who doesn't practice much.

Lily used to draw skies like this one, especially after rock climbing. His dad would point at different paintings around their house and describe to Cole the kind of trips they would take. He'd be in the back strapped into his baby seat and his parents would talk low just over the sound of soft jazz from the radio. Lou would start to hike up the other side while Lily strapped baby Cole into a carrier on her back. On the climb up, she'd hum the songs his Dad didn't like until she was within earshot of the top. They'd meet there and she'd start sketching as Lou made them a campfire-style dinner. Then they'd hike back down and sleep in the car for the night, heading back as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon.

In high school, Cole probably would have ended up with a watercolor after thinking so much about his Mom, but now he's just smiling and also trying not to go blind as he sketches the sun.

Behind him, a plate shatters. He jerks from the daydream, spinning around and leaving a dark mark on his paper.

He's greeted with the sight of a sheepish friend. Well, fellow student of martial arts. His name is Zane and he got here about three weeks ago.

"I'm sorry," he walks carefully around the mess and over to the broom, "I did not intend to drop that."

Actually, compared to the broom, he's pretty tall. Taller than Cole, at least - especially with his hair. In the minute or so they have left of the brillant afternoon light, his skin glows as he turns to sweep up the mess.

"It's okay, I drop things all the time, too," Cole stands and walks over to the broom closet, pulling out a pan, "I can help?" He cocks his head a little to the side and raises his eyebrows.

Zane pauses and nearly takes a step back into broken porcelain before aborting the motion entirely, "Oh, that's not strictly necessary," he starts sweeping the slightest bit quicker and ducks his head, "I might as well clean up my own-"

Cole bends down and angles thw pan to catch some of the shards, "Yeah, but you don't have to," he looks up, "It's also quicker this way."

His eyebrows furrow, wrinkiling his nose in what Cole is moderately sure conveys confusion, "I cleaned and tidied various shops for almost a year. I am very familiar with the process."

"Okay, so let's do it."

Zane lets out a breath and sweeps the smaller-sized bits into the pan and points to beneath the sink, "New trash bags are there," he sets the broom aside, "You should empty the pan in there while I pick up the larger pieces."

They clean the floor, surrounded by ambient plastic rustling and wood creaking from around the much too old building. Cole mostly holds the bag for Zane to drop things into, so he's free to observe the clouds or the changing shadows. Instead, he sees how the places where light touches Zane's skin shimmer, contrasting his dark complexion and bouncing off his white hair.

Then, the person in question is looking at him and smirking.

Cole nearly trips over himself trying to turn around, running out of the kitchen and to the exterior door, "I'll put this in the trash can since we're done!"

It's darker outside than he'd expected; cleaning up must've taken a bit longer than he'd thought. Cole returns after just a minute, jogging back inside to cool the heat on his face.

He's met with the clicking of a gas burner and a knife laying atop a cutting board with a pile of scallions, minced garlic and ginger, and chopped bok choi. Zane's slightly hunched over the stove and lightly pours oil into a pan.

Cole retrieves his sketchbook and is nearly at the door when he decides to just flick the lightswitch and head back to his seat, this time facing the countertop. He flips to a new page and begins to plan out a scene ontop a mountain.

"When did you learn to sketch?" Zane barely finishes his question before the room crackles to life as he drops ingredients in.

He stands, and goes to lean on a doorframe near rhe stove, "My mother used to do it and I wanted to learn how, so I just studied a lot of her old sketchbooks."

The chef of the night just nods, "I, um, might have," he turns to the window, hiding his face, "Well, your drawings are rather well-done," he looks back at the stir-fry, "I noticed your sketchbook on the table and- well, my apologies, since I didn't have your permission. It's just, rather-" he glances at Cole, "It's beautiful."

///

i ended up also making this about Lily? sorry??

no editing we die unbetaed

also the ending isn't complete because for some reason in my head it just cuts back to Cole's shocked face and the credits roll for the sundance short film this is most certainly not

EDIT: apparently it's Lilly with two 'l's, RIP me

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fic #ninjago drabble #LRGanswers #LRGwritesthings #glacier #glaciershipping #cole x zane #zane julien #cole brookstone #lilly brookstone #lou brookstone

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starsfic · 3 years

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Smoke and Gold, Chapter 5: Rhythm

Summary: Xiaotian wakes up alone, learns a rule, and starts a rhythm in his new life. @fosermi

AO3

-_-

Xiaotian woke up to an empty bed.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Husband?” he called in confusion, looking around. The room was no longer a void of darkness but he was still alone. His mind scrambled for the name he had been given- right, Red. “Red?” There was no response.

He was alone.

He turned sharply at a knock on the door. A servant entered the room with a tray. The smell of breakfast made his stomach rumble. “Good morning, my lord.” they greeted him, giving him the tray. “I hope you slept well?”

“I did.” Xiaotian craned his neck around them pouring his tea to stare at the door, wondering where his husband was. “Do you know where R- my husband is?” The servant froze before straightening.

“My lord has an important job.” they explained. “So, he will never be home during the day. But he has a rule.” Xiaotian raised a brow and they stared him down. “Never try to see his face.” The words were solemn and he couldn’t help but nod. They brightened at his agreement, continuing with their work on his breakfast like nothing had happened. “In any case, feel free to explore. He told us to tell you that he is working on getting you some art supplies.”

Oh, right, their conversation. Something in his chest fluttered at the fact that Red was getting him art supplies. He distracted himself from that by eating breakfast.

After breakfast, Xiaotian found a closet full of ridiculously nice clothes. He managed to grab a decent, not too fancy, outfit and then set out to explore. It was definitely a demon’s cave with all the demon minions, but any clue to his husband’s identity seemed to be hidden. Instead, he found the same red and gold grandness as his bedchambers.

It kept him entertained, in any case.

That night, he ate dinner, bathed, and got into bed. A few minutes later, the room went void dark and the door opened and closed. “Hey,” Red said from the door. He could hear his footsteps before the mattress sank as he sat down in bed. “How was your day?”

“This place is big.”

Red chuckled. “Yeah, it is. So…”

“The truck?”

“Right, right.” As promised, he explained his truck to Xiaotian. All he had to do to modify the original was laid out, including an issue in the engine that he hadn’t been able to work out. Curiosity burned in him and he asked questions about the engine, allowing his husband to answer. It helped that he had helped Xiaojiao with her motorcycle in the past. Soon enough, his husband let out a shout of glee, clearly having figured something out. “Thank you!” His face was grabbed and a kiss pressed to his cheek. A moment later, he could feel Red freeze before releasing his face. “...sorry.”

“It’s fine. So, you figured something out?”

Red seemed willing to accept Xiaotian’s dismissal and burst into an explanation of his solution. Finally, he came to an end. “Anyway,” he said, sounding a touch embarrassed. “Did the servants tell you about ordering art supplies?” Xiaotian nodded and there was a happy little huff. “Good. I wasn’t sure what you preferred...so I just got the basics and they should be here in the week. Is there anything special you need? Or prefer?”

He shrugged. His projects had never really been big- the biggest thing was working on his father’s biography comic.“I just really need pencils and paper.”

There was a confirming noise. “So, do you have preferred subjects?”

That was all Xiaotian needed to launch into an explanation about his comic. It was a carefully hidden secret from Wukong, who- as much as he hated to admit- was a very biased source. So far, books and Tang had held the secret close. Red responded with interest, poking informed questions. He even shared some stories he had heard! For a moment, he wished he had his sketchbook.

But it was back at Flower Fruit Mountain. A burst of homesickness filled his chest as he remembered how he had left stuff scattered about, not even having a chance to say goodbye before he left. Would Wukong get rid of it all?

“Xiaotian?” Red said, breaking his thoughts. A warm hand rested on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He missed home.

“...I’m fine.” He tried to interject some cheer back into his voice. “So, any big projects?"

The rest of the night continued like the one before.

And the day and night after that. And after that. And after that.

A servant informed him his art supplies had been delayed and Red raged about it until Xiaotian assured him he could wait.

He filled his time with exploring. And reading his way through the library. And working his way through the extensive collection of movies and video games he found. And cooking and baking. For the latter, the servants had been surprised but were willing to allow him to do his thing.

A month passed and Xiaotian's life settled into a rhythm.

#Eros and Psyche AU #my writing #Spicynoodleshipping #Lego Monkie Kid #Monkie Kid #au #MK #Qi Xiaotian #Red Son

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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Salt & Snow - Chapter 2

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: House Caspian’s only daughter returns to Winterfell, with her family in tow. She’s delighted to see her friends again, but with the end of the visit comes very startling news.

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Only two weeks passed before Y/N got her first letter from Lyanna. It was a long one, full of enthusiasm and clumsy penmanship, asking after Y/N, her family and full of questions about Ramsgate and their keep, Whitetide. Why are your lands called Ramsgate? Are there lots of goats when you move away from the sea? How big is Whitetide? Is it really right on top of the beach?

Y/N eagerly wrote back, and her mother gave her the idea to include some seashells, a starfish and a sand dollar, all little treasures that Y/N collected on her many walks on the beach. She couldn’t wait for Lyanna’s response, asking the guard who watched for deliveries every day if there was something for her. Lady Talia finally had to ask her to leave the poor man alone.

But the next correspondence was by raven, of all things, a little message with a cute drawing of a direwolf and a big thank you from Lyanna and Benjen. The maester handed it to her parents with great confusion, and they in turn blinked at it before giving it to Y/N. She gladly kept it safe in her sketchbook.

The next letter detailed the great scolding Lyanna received for using one of Winterfell’s ravens. She worried her mother wouldn’t let her send any letters at all, but instead she was forced to stay inside for two weeks helping Nan knit and practicing her penmanship with the maester. Y/N giggled at the thought, and made a point to compliment Lyanna’s handwriting. She could already imagine the girl’s grimace and cramped hand.

The letters became a staple in the next year. It was towards the end of the ninth moon when Lyanna sent an especially long one. Y/N read it halfway before she was jumping on top of her bed in excitement.

She ran down the steps, nearly crashing into a washerwoman and narrowly avoiding a guard. Lady Talia frowned at her daughter arriving in the great hall in such a breathless flurry. “Y/N, you’ll trip over your skirts and break open your head if you carry on like that —”

“Mother! Are we going back to Winterfell?”

Lady Talia almost dropped baby Rickard. She recovered herself and sighed. “Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise! Did your father tell you?”

“No, Lyanna did!” Y/N waved the letter at her mother, too fast for the woman to actually look at it’s contents. “When are we going? Is it soon? Is it tomorrow?”

“Yes, soon, sweetling. Think about what things you want to pack. It will be a long stay, so bring all your dresses and some books.”

Y/N almost didn’t hear her. She was buzzing. How long was a long stay? How soon was soon? She would’ve asked a dozen more questions if her mother hadn’t shooed her out.

Two maids helped her pack. Y/N expected to use the small wooden trunk she and Willam shared last time. It was colorfully painted and had manta rays carved into the sides, so she especially liked it. Instead, the maids brought in two large trunks, the ones grown-up ladies used to transport their fine gowns and furs. She gaped at all the space on the inside, and how finely it was lined. A whole person could fit in there, or at least both her and Willam!

She already pulled dresses from the armoire — it was easy, she only had so many — but the maid was taking everything out of her closet, even her long winter socks that probably didn’t fit anymore. The other maid was neatly stacking all of her books.

“Oh, um, I was only taking four,” Y/N said to her.

The maid smiled. “You’ll want all of them, milady.”

No, I only wanted four, Y/N thought, but the maids listened to her lady mother, not her. It would be useless to argue with them. If the men who packed up the carts complained about the weight of her trunks, she’d know what to tell them.

At dinner, her father asked, “All excited for the trip, little ray?” and he was delighted with his daughter’s enthusiastic response. She hadn’t noticed her mother looking less excited, but Lady Talia still gave Y/N a smile when she looked her way.

“I’m going too!” Willam declared, as if he worried he was going to be left behind. Lord Gareth tousled his hair and promised he could ride along with the knights and guards.

Seeing Winterfell for the second time was just like the first; breathtaking and no less a marvel. It was still hard to believe that a castle that big existed, and it was so close to Ramsgate, and she had a friend waiting inside. She was buzzing to get out of the carriage and just run up to the gates herself, but her mother was far less permissive than her uncle. She fretted over Y/N’s hair and tried to smooth her dress as they rode through the gate, and Y/N used every fiber of self-control not to squirm away. Her mother’s eyes said she was not in the mood to be disobeyed.

Finally, finally, the carriage door opened. Before the Winterfell guard could even greet her, she was flying down the steps.

Y/N heard her mother calling, but she pretended not to hear. The cold, saltless air blew through her hair, and she took a deep breath. It smelled like the dirt of the yard, the savory smoke from the kitchens and the distant pine of the forests. She only had a few moments to take it all in before the wind was thrown right out of her lungs.

Y/N choked as arms were thrown around her. She very nearly teetered over, the only thing stopped her was Lyanna yanking her back. The girl had a frightening grip. “Y/N! You’re here! It’s been forever!”

“I-I am!” Y/N coughed. “My mother is here this time, and Willam is back, and I have some things for you, and —”

“Lyanna, unhand the poor girl.” Lady Stark’s voice was familiar, but her appearance was a surprise again. Y/N realized she’d somewhat forgotten what the Lady looked like, but she remembered the pretty, long hair and grey eyes. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again, sweetling.”

Y/N was able to do a proper curtsy once she was unhanded, but she still felt a little dizzy. “Thank you for having me again, Lady Stark.”

“Where’s your lady mother, and lord father? Goodness, did you run ahead of them?” Lady Stark shook her head, but she didn’t seem truly upset. Had she always been so pale, though? Y/N couldn’t recall, and her friend easily took her attention away.

“Y/N, we have some new horses! You haven’t seen them yet, they’re so pretty. I’ve gotten to ride them already.” Lyanna just realized something. “Mother, can I show her?”

Y/N was expecting Lady Stark to put up a fuss, as her mother might have, but the woman looked too tired. She simply nodded and waved the two girls away. Y/N wondered if it was truly okay, even as Lyanna pulled on her hand. Y/N went along, figuring she’d see her parents and the Lord and Lady Stark at dinner tonight, anyhow. She could do her proper courtesies then.

To Lyanna’s disappointment, the new horses she was so proud of had been taken out on a hunt, so the next stop was the library of Winterfell, which surprised Y/N. She hadn’t taken Lyanna for the type to read these huge, dusty things, but it wasn’t a huge or dusty book that Lyanna pulled out. There was an old chest at the bottom of one of the bookshelves, and when she opened it, a collection of rolled-up parchment was inside.

Y/N’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “Are we allowed to look at these?”

“They’re here for the Starks.” Lyanna replied. Y/N felt like her friend could have unrolled the old parchment a little neater.

Lyanna set two heavy inkpots in either side of the parchment to keep it from rolling back. The beautiful drawings unfurled before her, and Y/N realized it was a stylistic, detailed map of Westeros. She gasped in delight. “Oh, it’s so pretty!”

The linework was so fine and detailed, each little mountain, tree and even tiny ships on waves were drawn out. She immediately looked for Ramsgate, and it saddened her that the Caspian ray was not there. It was still the merman of Manderly. This must have been a very old map, then.

“Your manta ray isn’t here!” Lyanna realized it as well, perhaps for the first time. “Hmph. They should update these dusty old things.”

“I don’t think that’s possible ... It’s still beautiful.” Y/N said. She sat in the chair with Lyanna; it was so wide, both of them could sit in it with just a little discomfort. Lyanna was skinny for her age, but she was already taller than Y/N. Y/N could swear they were the same height last year. “I love how they painted Winterfell. There’s even direwolves around it, and look here, each castle has its Godswood drawn, too. You can even see some of the Godswoods in the Southern castles, but they’re not as good as the one in Winterfell.”

Lyanna was proud of that. She pointed out some of her favorite parts of the map: The kraken encircling the Iron Islands, the collection of trouts running down Riverrun, the beautiful flowers and crops that covered most of the Reach. She and Y/N shivered as they saw the detailed flayed man of the Boltons, and they admired the horses of the Ryswells.

Lyanna pointed toward the Vale, where the Eyrie was drawn in splendid detail, its white, blue and dark grey ink only slightly faded. A beautiful sky-blue falcon perched on top of it. She tapped it with her finger and sighed. “Ned’s here.”

Y/N didn’t quite understand. She floated her own finger above the parchment, tracing from Winterfell all the way to the Eyrie. “But why? It’s so far away,” She said. “It takes days to get from Whitetide to Winterfell, and only if the weather is good. That’s what my father said.”

“I don’t know.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “I didn’t want him to go. He didn’t, either! But mother and father said it was important for young lords to learn … whatever they said. Hmph. Why couldn’t our maester just teach him?”

“And Brandon is the oldest. Shouldn’t he learn all the important things?”

“He should! He’s thick as an aurochs, though. That doesn’t mean I want him to go away to a big, stupid mountain, too. Even if he deserves it.” Lyanna huffed. “Ned writes sometimes, but letters take too long to go up and down the Eyrie, he said so. He said you have to take a donkey to go up, or ride in a basket of turnips!”

“A basket…?”

“They use a rope to pull you up, like getting water from the well.”

That didn’t seem right, but Y/N didn’t know anything about the Eyrie. Lyanna continued with a huff. “The last letter he sent was all about some lord he’s friends with, a boy named Robert. He’s a Baratheon from Storm’s End. He’s the first son of that house, so why did Ned have to go?”

Y/N knew where Storm’s End was. She was familiar with most coastal cities and keeps, like Oldtown and Lannisport, and Storm’s End was no different. It’s two great walls that looked like big drums, her Uncle said, and she was delighted to see it painted just as he described. There was a rearing black stag sitting atop it, and it was just as far from the Eyrie as the direwolf was.

“It must be very sad to be so far from home,” Y/N said. She couldn’t imagine.

Lyanna frowned. “Ned should come home so I don’t have to hear about stupid Robert anymore.”

“Who’s Robert?”

The sudden voice made Y/N yelp and jump almost a foot in the air, and that reaction made Lyanna fall right out of the chair and onto the floor. She scrambled back to her feet. “Benjen! Don’t sneak up on people!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention. Who’s Robert?”

“The boy from Ned’s letter, remember? We read it together!”

“Are you allowed to take these maps out?” Benjen asked.

“Ugh, we’re done with it, anyway. You really do sneak around like a shadowcat.” Lyanna removed the inkpots and Y/N took charge of carefully rolling the map. Maybe I can look at it later? The pictures are so pretty … Even if it doesn’t have a manta ray.

“I’m bored.” Benjen said. He clearly expected his sister and Y/N to do something about it.

“We can play a game?” Y/N offered. She watched with some concern as Lyanna closed the trunk and tried to shove it back on the shelves. She couldn’t remember if that’s how it looked when they found it.

After much discussion and debate, hide and seek was declared the game of choice… with some rules. Lyanna made it very clear that they were only hiding inside the living area of the keep, and only in rooms they were allowed inside, and only in rooms with no adults. She looked directly to Benjen as she said all of this. Lyanna was declared “it”, and Benjen wasted little time in grabbing Y/N’s sleeve when she began counting.

“Where should I hide?” Y/N asked. “I don’t know the castle. I could get lost.”

“Just keep going down that hall until you see a big window, and choose any of those rooms,” Benjen pointed. “There’s lots of tables to hide under. Oh, if you find a blue yarn ball anywhere, that’s Nan’s. Tell her I didn’t take it.”

Before Y/N could question that, Benjen shoved her in the direction of the long hallway and went scurrying off. Y/N could only faintly hear Lyanna counting in the library, so she hurried, trying to decide which room to dart into. Lyanna would expect her to hide in one of these rooms. After all, Benjen went somewhere else, somewhere that was actually difficult to find.

She noticed one of the rooms was being occupied. The door was closed, but there was light and warmth coming from under it. Y/N suddenly felt she was intruding, so she walked carefully past it. The voices from inside were feminine, and very familiar. She stopped suddenly when she heard her mother’s familiar laugh.

Her mother’s voice drifted behind the wooden door. Y/N leaned against the door, assuming she’d hear her brother or father, but instead there was another lady’s voice. Lady Stark. They were probably doing needlework by the hearth. She was ready to move on, but she heard her name.

“Y/N is a very dear girl, I think she’ll be happy …”

I’ll be what? Y/N pressed her ear against the wood. She remembered the keyhole, and while it was too small to peek, she could put her ear to it.

“You cannot consider the offer,” That was Lady Stark’s voice that sounded so stern, like when she scolded her children. “You musn’t, Talia.”

“I told Gareth about it, but he said …”

“ … Men are foolish about these things, you shall not …”

It was hard to catch the conversation, and Y/N worried about leaning on the door too hard - it might creak - but her curiosity was burning a hole in her. She couldn’t help but pick up several morsels as she listened in.

“If they think … my only daughter …”

“… We could always … She’s young, but a good child …”

“… It was supposed to be in a few years, Lyarra …”

A pair of hands grasped Y/N’s shoulders, and she screamed as Lyanna tackled her. “YOU’RE IT!”

There was exclamations and the sound of something breaking inside. Lady Stark swung the door open and was greeted to two girls sprawled on the floor. They were promptly dragged inside and forced to sit and participate in the needlework that the two women were doing. Y/N glanced at both Lady Stark and her mother, both peeved, both not picking up whatever conversation they were having earlier … because it was about her.

Y/N tried to focus on threading the needle. I heard my name, there’s no mistaking it. Am I in trouble?

Thirty minutes into the forced needlework, Lyanna gasped and realized they were supposed to find Benjen. Lady Stark sharply told her to sit. Benjen walked past the open doorway a few minutes later anyway, tying some blue yarn into complicated knots. He stuck his tongue out at Lyanna while his mother’s head was down, and Y/N pulled back Lyanna’s arm to keep her from tossing her embroidery hoop.

Y/N enjoyed an entire week at Winterfell, and she didn’t have a moment without the Stark children. Lyanna was an almost constant presence, of course. They had lessons in the day and ate together in the evening, and at night they even shared a room. They’d whisper and chatter under the furs until one of them finally fell asleep, usually Y/N. Benjen often joined in their more lively activities, and even Brandon would come along now and again, although it was usually just to annoy them. He fancied himself an important “man” of fourteen, and didn’t think much of silly girls.

Lyanna didn’t want Y/N to leave, so she tried not to think about how short a week really was. She hated having to waste time doing embroidery and staying inside, even if Y/N made such beautiful drawings on her canvas, and even if she was a surprisingly elegant dancer at her young age.

It was the seventh day, and Lyanna and Y/N groggily went through their morning routine. The septa helped them lace their clothes and braid their hair. Y/N looked over at her chest, still open and … empty?

“Septa Alys, where are my things?” She asked with some concern.

The septa was not terribly old. She had a sweet disposition and was more prone to wringing her hands instead of scolding whenever Lyanna acted up. “They were put away yesterday, dear. Did you not notice?”

“But why? I’m leaving today.”

Septa Alys was more occupied with Lyanna’s hair. “You’ll have to ask your lady mother and lord father, dear.”

“Maybe the servants were mistaken? I’ll help you put it back.” Lyanna offered, but she didn’t sound happy about it. Now that she was properly awake, she was sullen. She spent most of the previous night sulking.

Septa Alys helped Y/N secure the pearl and silver string in her hair, complimenting how lovely it looked with her pretty hair. Y/N didn’t completely hear her. She walked down the hall with Lyanna, who let out another sigh.

“We can still write,” Y/N said. She wasn’t happy, either, but she didn’t want their last day to be so gloomy. “I’ll send you things again, too.”

Thankfully, Lyanna was willing to be cheered. “I want to send you things too, but we don’t have seashells or anything like that here… I’ll think of something. I’ll send you blue rose petals! You wanted to paint them, right?”

“Oh, yes, I’d love that. Weirwood leaves, too. The ones at your Godswood are so big!”

The girls fell into an easy chatter as they entered the great hall for breakfast. The four parents were there, as Y/N expected, but there was no food on the table - they weren’t even sitting yet. Brandon, Benjen and Willam were nowhere to be seen, nor was Ser Roderick or the maester or any of the other staff that were slowly becoming familiar. Lyanna sensed the strangeness, too.

“Mother, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Girls, we have something important to tell you.” Lady Stark beckoned them. She didn’t look as tired this morning, in fact, she seemed like she was trying to keep from smiling too much. Y/N instantly looked to her mother, who was beaming, and her father, who had a smile with tension behind it. Lord Stark looked thoroughly amused.

“Y/N, do you like it here?” Her mother asked.

Y/N thought it was a silly question, and not what it seemed, but she didn’t know how to answer. “Yes, I like Winterfell very much.”

It was Lord Stark’s voice that boomed, and Y/N didn’t expect it. She startled a little. “Would you like to stay here for a longer time, little Y/N?”

She looked to Lyanna, who was just as confused, then to the parents again. “For how much longer, my lord?”

“Well,” Her mother tried to sound excited, but she was using the same voice she reserved for carefully explaining something to Willam, especially after he was about to cry about something. “Until you’re a woman grown, Y/N. In Winterfell you’ll learn to be a proper lady and wife, doing the same lessons as Lyanna. You’ll be like sisters.”

“Sisters?” Lyanna gaped.

“She’ll live with us for a few years, not as a guest, but as family.” Lady Stark said to her daughter. She didn’t speak to them like they were Willam. “You have heard that Ned is fostering in the Eyrie? It is like that, my dear.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was struck with absolute disbelief, like she was still walking around in a dream and she’d wake to Lyanna’s arm hitting her in the face again. Happiness hit her, excitement, but also nervousness, and then —

“But - Willam is not staying? Mother and father aren’t …?”

“Just you, little ray,” Her father finally spoke. He bent down to her level, still in light armor in spite of the early hour. “With Lady Stark and the septa, you can get a proper education here. You’re our only daughter, and we want you to be taken care of.”

He sounded sad, and his eyes didn’t meet her’s completely, but he took her hand. Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be excited anymore. Could her family not take care of her? Was baby Rickard really so fussy, was Willam really so much more important?

No, Willam might foster in a few years, too, but not here. He’ll be a page or a squire. It’s an important thing for lords to do, especially first-born ... Mother and Father must expect a lot from me ...

Even if they had another daughter, Y/N was the oldest by far. She was always responsible for Willam, and she’d already helped plenty with baby Rickard. Her septa and maester were also often pleased with how she progressed in her lessons. A sense of duty and pride filled Y/N, combined with all the other swirling emotions. She’d miss her family very much, but her mother had told her many times about the duties of a grown lady. Wasn’t this part of that?

She felt Lyanna take her hand and squeeze it. Y/N could have been sent anywhere else in the North, or like Ned, far away to some mountain keep — to a place where she had no friends, and no familiar faces.

It must have been very hard for him, Y/N thought suddenly, but she shook those thoughts free when she realized everyone wanted a reaction from her. She nodded, looking toward her father first, because addressing everyone felt frightening. She might start crying.

“I’m very happy,” She said, hoping she sounded as such. She wasn’t sure how she felt; too many emotions were buzzing about and not staying still. “I’ll miss you, and mother, and my brothers … will you still visit? Can I visit?”

“Of course! Especially during the harvest season and the melees.” Lord Stark said.

Her mother added, “You’ll write me weekly, I want to read about all the things you’re doing. Time will pass before you know it.”

“It will be so nice to have lessons with you!” Lyanna blurted. Y/N was surprised how still and quiet she was being up until now. “It’s fine enough with Benjen, but he doesn’t do the lady things I have to. Oh! Mother, will we still share a room?”

“Yes, especially when winter comes, it will be too cold —”

The situation had fully sunk into Lyanna’s mind, and now she couldn’t stop. “You could have a horse of your own! Can you ride? No, you told me, so you’ll learn! I’ll teach you! We can watch the fighters spar, and we can walk in the Godswood, and sometimes when father goes to Winter Town —”

“Lyanna.”

She was hardly discouraged by her mother’s sharp tone. Y/N noticed her father looked much happier, and he kissed her brow before standing back up.

“Let’s break our fast, then!” Lord Stark went to his old friend and slapped his back. “I’ll call the rest in, the Others know where Brandon ran off to, though. Lyarra, where’s that son of your’s?”

“Your son is in the yard, swinging that new sword about. Sit beside us on the dais, sweetling.” Lady Stark patted Y/N on the head as she walked past her. Y/N’s mother smiled approvingly, and pulled her soft braid forward. The pearl glinted in the morning light.

“I’ll send you many more things, so you don’t feel so homesick, little ray.” She said. Then she turned to Lyanna. “It will be nice to have a sister for once, won’t it?”

“Yes, thank the gods.” Lyanna said bluntly, and the adults laughed to themselves, even Lady Stark, who was failing to look embarrassed. While the servants poured in to serve the food, and men at arms entered, and finally Benjen, Brandon and Willam, Y/N was quiet. She filled her plate, but much of it was untouched. Her stomach and her chest were fluttering at the same time, and if maybe one of them would settle, she could eat something more.

Lyanna was excited, too excited, enough to make Y/N feel uneasy. Her parents and Lyanna’s parents were pleased, her friend was delighted, the various members of Winterfell expressed their well-wishes.

Winterfell is big and beautiful, and Lyanna is my very best friend, and her brothers are nice, too. Lady Stark, Lord Stark, the maester, Septa Alys… No one has been unkind to me.

Y/N wanted to excuse herself. The hall was noisy, so she could have slipped away, if only they weren’t on the dais. Benjen was beside her, and he leaned in so their shoulders touched. “What’s the matter?”

She glanced up at his big, wondering eyes, and quickly said, “Nothing.”

Very little escaped Benjen, she knew. He was a year younger, but sometimes Y/N felt like he was older - only sometimes, when he wasn’t teasing them or playing a stupid prank. “It’s okay to be unhappy.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. “I’m not. I like it here. … I’ll just miss home sometimes, I think.”

“It’d be strange to not miss home, right?” Benjen said. “You said you can’t smell the sea here.”

Y/N deflated. Now she truly wanted to cry, but she held it in, and touched her pearl. There were no pearls in Winterfell, no seashells, no sunsets making the water glitter, no giant ships with their billowing sails. There was no smell of salt or sound of waves.

“I’m sorry,” Benjen said quickly. He touched her hand where she left it, under the table, and squeezed her fingers. It was much gentler than the way Lyanna grasped it. “We should go to Whitetide one day.”

“You’d want to go?”

“I’ve never seen the ocean or a manta ray. Not even a ship.” Benjen looked on the other side of Y/N, where Lyanna was sitting. “Lyanna! Let’s go to Ramsgate.”

“What? When?” She stared at Y/N, as if that was who gave the suggestion.

“Um, some day,” Y/N said. “Maybe some day soon. Our castle isn’t big as Winterfell, or Lord Manderly’s keep, but I’ll show you the beach and the ships.”

She smiled as she thought of that. She could already see Lyanna building sand castles and getting completely dirty, and Benjen would sneak behind her and dump sand down her tunic. Brandon could come, too. He’d watch the ships with her uncle, or even board one, because he was a lordling and a man now. Maybe, somehow, Ned could come, too. She wondered what he’d like to do on the beach. Perhaps he’d just watch the waves hit the rocks, but that was fine in and of itself - because at night, you could see the stars the sailors navigated with. Y/N knew almost all of them.

This is what she said to Lyanna and Benjen, who listened with rapt attention. As she thought, Lyanna loved the idea of sandcastles, but she wanted to feel the waves crash against her legs, too. Benjen wanted to see a ‘tide pool’, and the little crabs that sat inside them - Y/N couldn’t imagine why he wanted to catch one of the mean things. Even Brandon overheard them, and chimed in. He couldn’t hide his own curiosity as he asked questions about House Caspian’s flagship.

When she returned to Lyanna’s room, her trunk had been stowed away somewhere, and her clothes were in Lyanna’s armoire. Her books were on a small shelf, and her other few belongings were with them. I need to ask mother and father to send my paints. She cared more about that than her cloak and riding boots.

It wasn’t long after that her parents and Willam had to leave for Whitetide. As Y/N expected, Willam cried. She hugged him and promised he could visit, or maybe she’d visit, and she’d write letters, although that meant nothing to him. Sometimes he was more like baby Rickard than Benjen. Still, she was glad her little brother had so much affection for her, and she ended up crying herself as she hugged her mother and father. It pained her that she couldn’t give a proper goodbye to Uncle Cole.

All of the Starks and Y/N watched as the carriage, horses and few men-at-arms disappeared. Eventually Lord and Lady Stark returned to the castle, but the children stayed by her side. Lyanna was holding her hand, Benjen slightly leaned on her other side, and behind her was Brandon’s strong presence. He was already so much taller than any of them.

Y/N thought her tears would have dried eventually, but they kept silently falling. She got tired of rubbing at her face with her sleeves, and she was glad no one was bringing attention to it, even if it was making Lyanna sniff at rub at her own eyes.

Y/N felt Brandon’s hand on her head, and while the gesture would normally annoy her, he wasn’t trying to tease her this time. As she looked up at him, Brandon almost looked sad.

“Manta rays shouldn’t be away from the sea for so long,” He said. “So you’ll have to be a wolf for now.”

“She’s too nice and pretty to be a she-wolf,” Benjen said.

Lyanna quickly asked, “What does that make me?”

“It won’t be for long.” Brandon said. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that for once, he seemed unsure with his words. He was usually so self-assured. The lordling gently touched her hair, where the pearl was tied in. “You’ll always have that to remember.”

Y/N looked down at the iridescent pearl, and while the silver glinted prettily in the sunlight, the pearl’s beauty was something else. It was a little bigger than her thumb. It wouldn’t be her only pearl, but it was her first, and her father did away with several before finding this one for her. It was almost a perfect sphere, almost.

Brandon seemed done with sentiment for the day. He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned away. “I’m going to practice. Lyanna, your face is going to stick like that if you keep making a stupid face.”

“Your face is already stuck with stupid, Bran!” Lyanna retorted hotly, then added, “And use your sword like a sword when you practice today, yesterday you flailed it like a reed!”

Y/N laughed as she rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. Benjen said, “There’s some snow up on the walls, want to make snowballs?”

“Yes, and throw them!”

“At what?” Y/N asked. “Each other? Our dresses will get wet.”

“So we’ll throw them at someone not in a dress.” Lyanna looked at Brandon’s retreating figure pointedly. She pulled up her skirt to her calves, always the one who had to get a head start, even if it wasn’t a race. “Come on! I know the fastest way!”

#game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #game of thrones imagines #ned stark #salt & snow #libra fics

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xazz · 4 years

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Moth Wings 2

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, Insect wings (but no bugs of any sort), fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

And more vampire AU! Malik shows up... next chapter I wanna say? But if you want Malik rn you can subscribe to my patreon. There to can read the full like 17k of this AU I’ve written so far. See my blog page on how to get to my patreon. Patreon also only has two chapters... but they’re long. They’re so long. And next chapter is going to get saucyyyyyyyy

———

He only woke because his stomach hurt.

He groaned, pushing himself up. His stomach hurt and complained loudly. He was famished. He crawled out of bed and in the dark put on some clean clothes before leaving the closet. He checked behind the heavy drapes over the windows. It was nearly sunset. He’d slept all night and day. He wasn’t surprised.

His growling stomach made him leave the castle. There was no food for him here. They only kept livestock for drinking in the castle. The castle itself sat in the shadow of a mountain and at the bottom of the mountain was a town. They all knew vampires lived up there and it was better than any human lord they’d ever had. The coven didn’t hunt in the valley. All the town had to do was provide them with amusement at night. Festivals, fairies, music, plays, singing and dancing, and, of course, taxes. But Altair had heard about other towns, beyond the valley, that also had to pay taxes, and it was almost all people had. No. The masters might not have always been kind to Altair but it was far better than the alternative. They never actually threatened to eat him. They just scared him telling him about the humans in the cellar. And he wasn’t even sure that was true.

He was from the town at the bottom of the hill. It was called Castlesong. He’d been born there, lived there his entire life. Then a year and a half ago the Matron had come looking for a strong, abled, young man of sound mind and able to follow instructions. He’d been ‘volunteered’, against his will, by his neighbors. He knew it was because he was ‘too pretty’ they always said. Too distracting to their wives, daughters, and even sons.

He hadn’t even done anything. He’d been the son of the town’s violin maker for goodness sake!

It wasn’t so late the pub was closed yet. He went in and sat alone. The maid came and he ordered something to eat for now and a few pies to eat cold later, and a big mug of ale. He waited, picked at stuff under his nails he’d missed from last night, and was happy when the food was brought. He stuffed himself and washed it all down with the light ale until he was tired again. It was still light out. And he had to wait for his pies. He ended up dozing in the booth. The maid woke him, made him pay, and then rather nicely kicked him out with a basket of pies for his trouble.

Yes. Of course they didn’t want the coven’s ‘pet human’ around longer than necessary.

He trudged back up the mountain to the castle. He could hear the coven inside, laughing and talking loudly. He slipped past the dining hall as he went down to the kitchen. The coven was enjoying breakfast of cups of blood. It looked like they were drinking wine.

Altair put his pies into a cool box in the kitchen for when he got hungry later. Then he went back upstairs. Meals were always short for the coven. They all had a cup of blood and then went about their business. The master was always last to leave. He waited until the others except the master and mistress were gone before presenting himself, looking down at the floor. “Master.”

“Ah, Altair. Good good, you’re here. Perfect timing.”

“Is this really so, William dear?” the Matron asked.

“My love, when was the last time you raised a child?”

“And instead a human shall?”

“For a little while. Our other children turned out fine, dove,” Altair heard the master pat the mistress’ hand gently. “But the first years are so tedious. And it’s better this way. You know that. Gets them acclimated to being around humans and they’re less likely to break away.” The mistress made a noise of complaint but said nothing. “Altair, at last the task you were brought here for is upon you.”

“Yes, master,” he said.

“Our new son, Desmond, will need constant care. Day and night. That is now your responsibility. The only task you will not have is his feedings. As our son he will have real blood.”

“And I’m not allowed in the cellar,” Altair said.

“Absolutely not,” the master agreed. “But he should need feeding only one or two more times more than us. If such a time comes I’ve already spoken to the coven they are to assist you without complaint in ensuring my son is fed. If they do not comply you are to come to me immediately and inform me. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

The child was then thrust at him. “If you mess up, Altair. You will be the first live meal I’ve had in decades,” the mistress hissed.

He swallowed. “I don’t wish to disappoint, mistress,” he said, holding the child to him. “And… Desmond, you said his name was?”

“Yes. Desmond,” the master said.

“I will keep him close, master, mistress,” he bowed.

“See that you do,” the Matron sneered.

“Come, Desmond, let’s go find your room,” he said and left the dining room.

It was easy to find the babe’s room. He had been told of it several times while he was a chrysalis. It was a cheerful room, painted pink and yellow and full of soft things, both fluffy and perfect for biting. They’d all been gifts from the towns in the valley for the lord and lady’s new child. More toys than a little boy could ever want or play with in a lifetime. Though perhaps vampire children lasted longer as children than human children. The chrysalis had been there a fair amount of time before Altair had been brought to the castle.

He put the babe on the floor and got out some toys for him to play with. Brightly colored blocks painted on the side with letters and scenes of the valley. “Blocks, Desmond. See,” and he started stacking them. Desmond watched him but didn’t understand at first. Altair sighed and leaned back on his arm and just kept boredly stacking the blocks into pyramids and towers and knocking them over. Desmond couldn’t stand or walk but he could sit up on his own. And he just sat there watching Altair with wide black eyes, amazed at what he was doing. After a few builds Desmond leaned forward and knocked over the tower Altair had made. “See, you can do it too,” Altair said. He offered Desmond a block. He took it but just dropped it. Altair sighed. Right. That was too much to hope for. He was hatched yesterday. His wings were still against his back, limp and useless along his spine.

Altair spent the rest of the early evening playing with blocks with Desmond and talking to him softly. Around midnight he took Desmond to go for his midnight feed with the rest of the coven. He gave him over to the mistress and retreated down into the kitchen to have his pies. Up in the dining room he heard the vampires cooing and awwing over the baby, laughing and talking loudly about how cute and funny he was.

Altair just ate his pies and thought about what he was going to do. Who knew how long he’d be here taking care of Desmond. He needed to have a plan. At least so he didn’t go crazy. He was expected to care for this child and… teach it? Maybe? He wasn’t quite sure. At the very least probably teach him to talk and walk and run and play.

He put his pie down half eaten and put it back in the cool box. He slunk out of the kitchen and unseen past the dining room where the coven was making a big uproar about something their newest member was doing. He went to his closet of a room and grabbed his sketchbook and pencils and left them in Desmond’s room. He returned to stand outside the dining room until the coven had all otherwise left. The Matron walked out and he looked down. He just wordlessly held out his hands. Desmond was placed into them and she walked away.

“Your mother is a nice lady,” Altair told Desmond sarcastically. Desmond just stared at him. He took Desmond back to his room and they played with the blocks some more before Desmond laid down on the floor to sleep. Altair quickly transferred him to his bed. If one of the others saw him letting the child sleep on the floor he didn’t want to think of what would happen.

Once the boy was asleep Altair pulled out the sketchbook but didn’t draw. Rather he started writing. All the ideas he could think of that wouldn’t make him go insane in the years to come. Things that a little boy of a lord should know. “What am I going to do?” he asked himself, rubbing his forehead. He’d come up with ideas but. He was just the son of a craftsman! What did he know about raising a lord’s son?!

Well at the very least he could teach Desmond to be kind. That’d be a start. Kinder than the rest of the coven. Maybe even give a shit about humans. At least a little. That, if nothing else, seemed like a good place to start. He could manage that.

#altmal #Assassin’s Creed #malik al sayf #Altair #Desmond Miles #Moth Wings

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cheswirls · 5 years

Text

it’s your extension (let me extend) 1/6

[ small preface: this is one giant 30k oneshot. its meant to be read as a oneshot, especially with the formatting. ive divided it up for sa week bc i think it fits all the themes collectively, but on day 7, ill post it all together as a oneshot. probably definitely on another platform, ill link it here, though. each piece is around 5k words, and i cant promise each one will fit the day’s themes exactly. collectively, all the themes are in here somewhere. it’s not gonna align perfectly.

with that all out of the way, i hope you enjoy! ive been working on this for a little over a month, now. if you recognize the au it is, you won’t notice many changes, but i like how it came out anyway. if you don’t recognize it, get ready for a ride.

also thanks to @saboace-week for hosting ! ]

he reminds ace of his mother.

light, blond hair hanging just past his nape; piercing eyes that hold an array of emotions, none of them harsh; fair, fair skin, and if he squints he can envision a smattering of freckles dusted onto his cheeks, not unlike his own. he cards a hand through the hair; his eyes narrow.

he can see her.

the scar catches him off-guard. it’s not noticeable until he parts the hair a little, but then there it is, stark as day, red ragged lines breaking up the pale skin. it’s not until he takes off the old sweatshirt functioning as a pajama top that he realizes the extent of the damage.

the red ran all down his left side. cutting into his shoulder, up his neck; circling around his ribs, and he turns to see it nearly to his spine on his back; down to his thighs, to his knees, just barely on the border of red on his calves; his arm is littered with white scars and red burn marks, and he finds himself growing curious. whatever it was from, it was Big.

it was intentional.

ace blinks and the movement echoes in the mirror, blue eyes gazing back at him. and he blanches, finally waking, finally realizing no, this was not normal, this was actually happening he brings both pale hands up to his face, tries to hide his eyes. his breath stutters.

a shrill alarm sounds and he jumps, spinning around to find a discarded phone on the bed going off. he moves over to it and it reads koala on the id and he panics and taps ‘ignore’ and lets his heart calm down.

the alarm goes off again and he jumps again and picks up the phone, almost ready to turn it off, when he finds its an actual alarm going off. ‘you’re late at this point’, it reads. ‘good luck’, it reads.

ace turns it off and takes a seat on the bed, head falling into his hands. stringy blond locks fall around him.

what the fuck. this isn’t what he wished for. he wanted-

and he sits up, sudden, limbs jerking in protest. he climbs the rest of the way onto the bed, towards the small window in the corner, and pulls a blind open, peering out.

a view of goa greets him. traffic, towers, teems of people absolutely everywhere.

ace slowly closes the blind, turns around, and sinks back onto the bed. he takes a deep breath, in and out.

“THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT!” he shouts from the top of his lungs. when he said he wanted to live in the city, to be in the city-

when he wished he were reincarnated as-

“am i dead?” he breathes. only the quiet answers him back.

sabo rolls over in his sleep, prying his eyes open. he breathes out in a huff, squinting as he realizes he can see through the slats of the door. what, did he fall asleep at his desk again? and then fall out of the chair? that seemed a bit impossible, so then why . .

he tips his head, and his cheek brushes fabric, and he hums, realizing there was something under him under the floor.

before he can process that, the door slams open. sabo’s eyes widen as he’s met with little feet, and then he looks up, meeting the gaze of a scrawny kid.

“ace, get up already!” the kid snaps. “we already ate all of the food! if you’re not ready in ten minutes, i’m leaving you.”

he slams the door back into place, and sabo lies there, eyes blown and mind wide awake.

he’s so taken in by the kid’s words that for a second he finds himself scrambling up, counting down the seconds, remembering the time limit.

then he turns around and realizes he was asleep on a futon and he was in a wooden room and he trips on his way to look out the window before grasping the sill, raising his head above it, and his jaw drops as he’s met with a sprawling lake view, and of a whole community painted into the sides of a mountain. no, not a mountain, his mind helpfully supplies. the sides of a crater.

he blinks and his gaze zooms until he’s gazing at his own reflection, except it’s not him in the window. it’s a boy with tanned skin and long, black hair that fell just to his shoulders. they were broad, and he frowns, looking down as he runs a hand down the washboard chest, bare. damn. his eyes catch on a red band looped around his wrist, tied in a sloppy knot. he tugs and it comes loose, unraveling easily, and he hums as he spies a few other colors near the end.

“ace! let’s go!” a voice calls from somewhere deeper in the house, and sabo scrambles to his feet again, dropping the band on the ground. he swivels his head until he spots a uniform hanging from a closet door. it’s nondescript, so he hopes there’s only one school in this small town, else he go to the wrong one.

. . on second thought, with the kid leading him, maybe not.

he patters over to it, pausing once he grabs the hangers to look at his reflection in an actual mirror. oh. okay. so this was actually happening. he was in the body of someone named-

he stops. blinks. no. this had to be a dream, right?

he throws the white shirt over his head, tugging the collar down, and hums to himself in affirment as he works on the pants. right. this was a dream. had to be.

he’s slipping on the jacket when the kid barges in again, comes over, grabs him by the back of the jacket, and begins to shove him out of the room. “now! come on! we gotta go!”

“o-okay,” he voices, marveling at the change in pitch to what he was used to. deeper, slightly. he spies the red band again and lunges for it, tumbling out of the kid’s hold for a moment. “wait,” he breathes, grasping it, and then the kid’s on him again, pushing him towards the door.

“ace!” he whines. “come on!”

“luffy!” a voice calls from somewhere below. they exit the room and sabo spies a figure near the bottom of a staircase. “you’re going to be late!”

“coming!” luffy yells, still pushing him as sabo struggles to get his bearings, still grasping at the change in scenery. he clutches the red band tightly.

ace stumbles from the room, marveling at the change in height. the guy had a few on him, that was for sure. he moves down the hall, passing the simple furnishings until he’s in the frame of the kitchen entry, nose twitching at the smell of stale food.

a woman looks up from her phone at the small table for two, eyeing him for a moment before humming and looking back down. after another moment, she removes herself from the chair, shuffling around some dishes. “what was that shouting about earlier?” she asks, gesturing for ace to take her seat. he does, sliding down and picking up the extra pair of chopsticks.

“uh, nothin’,” ace mutters, mouth already full of leftover food.

“right.” the woman rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling a moment later. “well, i’m out. there should be another train leaving in half an hour. you have until then to get ready.”

“‘kay,” ace mumbles, nodding as she waves and exits the room. a moment later, a door shuts from the end of the hall. ace finishes the food soon after and sighs, setting the chopsticks down.

school, then.

he wanders back into the bedroom and approaches the uniform hanging from the back of a chair. the first issue was getting there, which . .

he glances at the phone. koala would know, right?

but, as soon as he thinks it, he lets the thought go.

he opts to take a picture of the crest stitched to the blazer instead, doing a reverse image search to determine which goa school it belonged to. a result pops up pretty handily, and he hums, putting it into a map. oh. so, it was pretty far. he glances to the window again.

after a moment, he searches the map for the nearest train station. not close either.

. . . his gaze moves back to the window.

ace sighs, slumping where he stood. there was no way he was catching that next train. he’d be lucky if he made it there by noon.

why was city life so hard?

after he’s gotten dressed and grabbed a bag, he stuffs whatever he can think of down into it. phone charger. notebook. wallet. pencil. sketchbook? he blinks, eyeing it for a moment, then shoves it in as well. no harm, right?

he moves back across the apartment and pauses at the mouth of the kitchen, gaze fixed on the small dishes still set out on the table. sighing, he slides the backpack off his shoulder and steps forward. right. there was no gramps to clean them up, so he’d have to do it himself then.

he pauses again after locking the front door, keys halfway shoved into his pocket. he didn’t even know this guy’s name. well, it probably wouldn’t be long until he did, but hopefully it wouldn’t cause any problems.

catching the train is a rush. ace sits in a seat very close to the door, sighing as everything begins to move. while he waits, he takes out the phone again and looks through it, trying to find anything to help him out. he ends up tapping on a social media app, and when the screen loads, hums.

“sabo, huh?” he mutters under his breath. okay. he could work with that.

sabo doesn’t have to worry about luffy guiding him, because they run into some people he apparently should know.

“ace!”

the word is a single, concise syllable, spoken loud and with momentum, and, more importantly, from right behind him. sabo jumps, just about crawls out of his skin, and spins around to see a girl just about his height looking at him funny, lips pursed, and a hand poised to chop his head. he steps back more, glancing over at luffy, who huffs out a sigh.

“i’ll meet you at home,” he says, motioning to a fork in the path ahead. one slopes down, curving a little around the cliffside, and the other continues upward, towards the crest. “whatever’s going on, i hope you’re over it by then.” with another odd glance, luffy tightens his hold on his backpack straps and takes off down the path. sabo is left alone, and turns to watch as a boy approaches the girl, and therefore him, as well, pushing a bike at his side.

“nothing’s going on?” he mutters, even though that’s an obvious lie. whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it wrong.

“are you sure?” the girl says, crossing her arms. “because it looks like you couldn’t even be bothered to brush your hair this morning.”

sabo blinks, reaching up to tug on one of the black strands. he thought it’d been naturally unruly. guess not.

“whatever. let’s go already.” she turns and nods to the other boy, then grabs sabo by the arm and pulls him into a walk alongside them. her eyes turn down and she makes a little noise in the back of her throat. “you brought your ribbon and you’re not even using it?”

sabo glances down as well, spying his impulse grab hanging from his hand. he lifts it. “ribbon?” it didn’t look like it.

the girl shrugs, waving a hand. “might as well be. look, if you didn’t have time to do your hair, you can just say so. but we’re not even there yet. i have a mirror if you need it.”

she fumbles for her bag, searching through it, and then frowns. “nevermind. hey, kidd, you got one?”

“always,” he boasts, passing over a small pocket mirror with ease. sabo takes it, frowning. he looks down and attempts to pat the hair down, and then glances again to the band in his other hand. so, if it functioned like a ribbon . .

well. that made sense.

he hands the mirror back and holds the band in his teeth, using his hands to situate the long black hair. then he grabs the red with one hand and strings it around, until it held the hair in a loose knot. he glances over at the other two after finishing, waiting for approval. the girl shrugs after a moment.

“good enough, i guess.”

sabo sighs out in relief, and then they’re in front of the school and kidd’s parking his bike and something chimes in the far distance. they grab for each of his arms and pull him through the front doors, moving quickly to a classroom. it’s not until they’re inside that he realizes another dilemma. people were still moving in, and there were open seats.

he reaches back to grab the girl’s arm, a small look of panic fixed on his face despite his best efforts. “where do i sit . . ?”

her eyes widen, and she stares at him. and stares. stares.

then, very calmly, she blinks and points to a desk near a window, almost in the corner of the room. sabo just nods, head down, and moves toward it.

ace moves down the hall slowly, still paging through a twitter feed on the phone. there were background shots of a classroom, and it had a high window, which meant the second floor. if only there was a glimpse of a number, then he’d really be set-

“sabo!” a shout echoes down the hall, making ace throw his head up. a redhead marches toward him, looking pissed, and he blanches, turning the phone off and trying to straighten out.

“uh, whatever i did, i can explain,” he says, because ace has always been about resolving conflict. then he mentally slaps himself, because that was the worst possible thing he could’ve said. he didn’t know the first thing about sabo, much less what he did to piss off the girl so much.

“you better!” she huffs, stabbing a finger into his chest. ace takes it with a wince. “ignoring my call like that! how dare you.”

so it was his fault, then. “i thought it was my alarm,” he says quickly. “it went off right after your call. sorry.” okay, so maybe not exactly true, but it would work. he eyes the girl in a new light. so this was koala.

she crosses her arms over her chest. “which one? had to be the ‘you’re late anyway, so hurry up’ one, right? how can you be here at noon?” she sighs. “it’s lunch, for god’s sake!”

“sorry,” ace says again.

her lips purse. “fine. i won’t press. c’mon, it’s stuffy in here, let’s eat outside.”

eat. his expression changes as he realizes. koala glances at him and rolls her eyes.

“you forgot lunch, didn’t you?”

he did, and he’s kinda hungry. he claps his hands together. “please share?”

“you’re lucky i like you,” koala mutters, jerking a door open.

koala insists he come to a cafe with her after school, and ace’s mouth waters at the thought. the closest they had out in fuusha was an old vending machine on top of the crest. inside, it’s crowded with people, but koala squeezes them into a two-seater and props up a menu, then begins rambling about the day. ace tunes her out, eyes widening as he glances at all the pictures. he wanted to try them all.

“that’s a lot of money,” koala comments, and he realizes he’d spoken aloud. ace looks up, then digs in his bag, looking into his wallet. he lets out a sigh.

“yeah, guess you’re right.” he hums, flipping the page and spotting a piece of cheesecake dripping with strawberry sauce. his mouth waters again. “then, i’ll just take this one.”

halfway through their meal, ace’s phone pings. he picks it up carelessly, smiling, too busy enjoying his cake. the text makes him reconsider.

koala pauses in her movements upon noticing his expression. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m late for work,” ace tells her. apparently.

“oh, you had a shift?” she waves him off. “go, then. i don’t mind.”

“yea, thanks.” he stands, pocketing his phone, and stuffs the last of the cake into his mouth in a big bite. koala doesn’t comment.

he walks off a few paces, spins around on his heel, and comes back to tap koala on the shoulder. “uh, where do i work again?”

her brows raise to her hairline.

sabo wakes slowly.

he’s balanced on the edge of the bed, curled up like he doesn’t know there’s supposed to be a drop. it’s jarring, and as soon as his phone begins to vibrate, his body jerks and he’s on the floor, crashed in a heap with the comforter curled around his legs.

with a moderate groan, he reaches up and silences his phone.

the door opens a moment later, as he’s rubbing his head. red hair is his only giveaway before shanks is fully in the room, peering down at him. “whoa there, kid. took a tumble, huh?”

“i’m good,” sabo mumbles, sitting up. he blinks, screwing his eyes to cast the sleep away. “had the strangest dream.”

“let’s talk about it over breakfast, kay?” he jerks a thumb over his head. “makino has it ready.”

makino is already gone, too, apparently, because it’s just him and shanks at the table. it only sits two anyway, so it’s not often all three of them eat together. still.

sabo squints, picking up his chopsticks and trying to recall. “i was some kid living out in a mountain village for a day. had an annoying little brother and everything.”

shanks hums, swallowing his bite of food. “sounds boring.”

sabo snorts. “great, thanks for your input.” he pauses again. “it just . . felt so real.”

later, sabo will go back to his room and pick apart his backpack, confusion on his face for every random item he pulls out. he pauses at one point, hand wrapped loosely around the spine of his sketchbook. definitely didn’t remember taking that out of his room. what did he even draw, he thinks, flipping through to the last filled page-

he stops. his hand trembles. the forgotten page flips over, and the front half of the book hangs limp in the air. he stares at the page.

‘who are you?’ is written there, in big, blocky letters, scratched over and over by a worn pen.

“are you gonna play with your hair again?” luffy asks, entirely unimpressed, as he pulls open the door to ace’s room, looking to his elder brother warily. ace blinks the remaining sleep from his eyes, sits up fully.

“what?”

luffy huffs. “nevermind.” he begins to slide the door shut. “at least you’re up today.”

ace frowns at the comment, then immediately turns to look out the window. the sun was barely peeking out over the edge of the crest, as usual when he woke. he sighs and stumbles to his feet, electing to ignore luffy’s comment.

breakfast with garp is a quiet affair. he eyes ace warily, but doesn’t say anything out of the ordinary, more of the usual. ace has to pull luffy away from the table, again, per usual. he sighs as he closes the front door, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. luffy grumbles at his side, wiping rice from the corner of his mouth.

he takes luffy halfway to school, then watches as he runs down the path with zoro and nami, sprinting in a race to see who can reach the grounds first. ace continues up the slope by himself, and doesn’t stop until he’s sliding his classroom door open, tugging his scarf a little looser in the heated environment.

he’s sitting his bag down on his desk when the door slams open, and he turns calmly while a few others jump, entirely expecting this kind of entrance. lami pinpoints him immediately and stalks up to him, kidd not far behind. ace stands at attention, turning to face her-

and makes a noise of protest as she grabs his cheeks, pulling his face closer to hers for easier inspection.

it’s a few tense moments of silence before he frowns, features distorted. “can i help you?” he says, words muffled by the pull of his lips. lami’s frown mirrors his own, and she releases him.

“are you back to normal?” she says, hands on her hips. ace only turns to look at kidd behind her, silently asking for help. the edhead steps up with a muffled snort.

“you were . . weird, yesterday,” he admits. “your hair was a mess, you were all spaced out, you couldn’t remember where you sat-”

“you got all of crocus’ questions right!” lami snaps. “his insanely hard, out-of-thin-air pop questions! you got them all right. answered like it wasn’t even a challenge. like you knew the ins and outs of the material already.” she crosses her arms. “you better not upstage us all again today.”

ace blanches. “what? you’re lying. that’s impossible.” and his hair . . ? he reaches up, fingering the braided cord that held the black locks in a high ponytail.

lami shakes her head. “no, i’m serious. you were weird yesterday.” she echoes kidd’s words and the redhead nods, confirming.

“well, whatever,” he grumbles, turning away, a bit put-out. “i’m fine now. okay? let’s just forget about it.”

the door opens, and in ambles crocus, old hips still in desperate need of replacement. he takes a stand behind the podium and pauses as he finds ace. “hm. portgas.”

ace lifts his chin, eyes narrowing. after a few tense moments, their teacher turns away, looking back down to his papers. everyone finds their seats after that.

‘who are you?’ echoes over and over in sabo’s mind, as much as he can allow it. school is vicious today, the teachers going hard and not leaving anyone a moment’s rest. it’s not until everything is done for the day that sabo can break away, and that’s when koala approaches him, a wary look marring her gaze.

“what’s up with being late yesterday?” her eyes narrow as she comes to a full stop right in front of him. “y’know, if you were gonna show up halfway through the day, why’d you even come at all?”

“late?” sabo blinks. as he could recall, he was here a half hour early, like today, like always.

“yeah.” she huffs. “you were late to work, too. listen, are you feeling better, at least?”

sabo’s hairs begin to stand. “yesterday,” he says, very slowly, “i didn’t have a shift.”

“what?” koala’s eyes begin to ignite. “then you just ditched me? what the hell, sabo!”

“what are you on?” sabo snaps back, trying to make sense of it all. “we were together all afternoon. we split crepes! remember?”

koala’s mouth opens, but she remains silent. her brows scrunch, and the fire dies out. “that was monday,” she recalls.

sabo shrugs, still off-put. “yeah?”

“sabo, it’s wednesday.”

he blinks. blinks again. “no-” he begins, but before he can finish, koala’s whipped her phone out and is showing him the date.

he stands very still. a shiver runs through his body.

“why . . can’t i remember?”

lami and kidd wrangle him away for the afternoon, walking while the bite of the cold wasn’t too bad. unluckily for him, the path they take leads into a head-on collision with one of dragons’ rallies. ace can hear his speech before he sees the crowd, and then he’s hissing to himself in panic, ducking down behind kidd’s lanky form. the redhead scoffs, but doesn’t move.

“i guess it is election time,” lami notes, gaze wandering over.

“wonder why he bothers,” kidd says. “he’s bound to get reelected anyway.”

ace frowns, eyes still facing the ground. he doesn’t want to hear dragon, or see him, but most importantly, he doesn’t want dragon to see him.

a pause in the speech reaches his ears. lami moves closer to the pair. “hey, heads up-” she begins to mutter.

“ace!” dragon calls, and he closes his eyes, jerking to a stop. slowly, his eyes move until he meets his father’s over the heads of the crowd. he doesn’t look very pleased. “straighten out already!” he calls.

ace forces out an exhale and moves out from behind kidd, standing taller. he turns his gaze back to the road and starts moving, quicker this time. he feels dragon’s eyes on him all the while, but what’s more, the eyes of the crowd as they turn to face him, as they turn to witness the town mayor mocking his eldest yet again-

“don’t let him bother you,” lami says, once they’re out of earshot. she turns to kidd, giving him a pointed look. “hey, let’s go to your mom’s shop?”

“diner,” kidd corrects. he frowns, knowing more than anything that it wasn’t a question. but, well, it was still too early for dad to be home. “sure,’ he sighs, giving in. immediately, ace perks up at the prospect of food.

“sacha!” lami calls, just as they burst through the doors. an older woman comes out from the back room, wiping her hands with a towel. her gaze brightens as it lands on the three.

“oh! come in, come in.” she puts her hands on her hips as they all pile into a table. “so, how was school?”

“horrible!” ace groans. “crocus kept asking me all these questions i couldn’t answer. and only me!”

from beside him, kidd snickers. lami pokes ace with her elbow. “it’s because you were a smartass yesterday.”

ace huffs, slumping to the tabletop. “sacha, they’re being mean to me!” he whines. “please, the only thing that can help is food! please feed me!”

sacha rolls her eyes at the act. “sure. whatever you say.” she winks to the other two, already turning towards the back. “i’ll bring some stuff right out.”

“thanks, mom!” kidd calls. lami echoes his words, and then they’re both turning to ace, who’s still slumped against the table.

“hey,” lami says suddenly. “fuck dragon. don’t think about it.”

ace hums, head still buried in his arms.

if only.

sabo has the dream again.

he sets upright, and everything is at a lower angle, and pieces of stiff, black hair fall in front of his eyes. he hums, thinks nothing of it. okay. so it was a do-over dream. maybe he could do better this time.

luffy opens his door with a short bang some time later, and pauses for a moment to eye him with trepidation. sabo cocks his head to face him, but otherwise continues bouncing his newly-acquired black locks. he couldn’t help it -he’d never had hair this long.

“breakfast!” luffy snaps. he closes the door with the same amount of force he’d opened it with, and it hits the frame harshly. sabo’s hand drops from his hair, finally.

breakfast is, unfortunately, not a quiet affair. sabo has to fight over rice, fish, soup -everything, really- until it’s all properly dished out. a little radio in the corner of the room blares out about town hall news, and sabo cocks his head to it as he nibbles on some meat, swiping his chopsticks out to keep Luffy from his rice.

“also, in regards to the upcoming mayoral election-”

garp has already stood up by this point, and pulls the plug on the old machine before the announcer could continue. he comes back to the table in the newly quiet atmosphere, and luffy sets down elbows up on the glass top, sighing.

“you really should make up with him already,” he grumbles. “both of you,” he adds, turning that glare to sabo. sabo only blinks, not knowing the context of the words, and chooses to resume eating in quiet rather than respond.

“it’s an adult problem, kid,” garp grunts, setting down his empty bowl. “go on, now. get ready for school.”

luffy lets out a long-lastings sigh as he throws himself to his feet. “right,” he says, letting the word drag out, and drags himself from the room. sabo sets down his rice bowl after his last bite, nodding to garp.

“thanks for the food,” he mumbles, standing as well. garp grunts, but grabs for sabo before he can pass by completely. sabo pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“don’t forget, the ceremony is in a few days.”

that’s all he says, then he releases sabo. he doesn’t know the context, again, so he just nods and hurries up the stairs back to ace’s room.

the red band isn’t around his wrist this time, and it takes a bit of digging around, but he does find it in a spare drawer. he takes a brush through the thick locks, then binds it into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. if a knot wasn’t right last time, maybe this was. he uses the band in place of an elastic, pulling it tight, and nods once he’s satisfied.

luffy is waiting for him downstairs. he bounces on his feet, using both hands and a loud voice to say bye to their grandpa. sabo just nods, and garp nods back, letting them go.

lami and kidd run into him before the pathway splits, and luffy looks on in indifference until lami has him on her shoulders, and then he’s squealing with delight or annoyance -sabo can’t tell. it only takes a moment for her to set him on the handlebars of kidd’s bike, and the redhead breaks out into a jog, balancing luffy, who does enjoy this one -evident by him throwing his arms over his head and shouting in joy. lami loops sabo’s arm through her own and they follow at their own pace. when the pathway splits, they help luffy down and he waves them off, continuing towards his own school.

sabo finds his seat by the window, but once class starts, he can’t focus. it’s all stuff he’s learned already, so he spends time instead jotting stuff down in a blank page of the notebook. ace’s family was two people. his brother, luffy, and his grandfather. there’s a third person him and ace share in conflict with. he has two close friends, lami and kidd. kidd is the son of a electrical contractor -the guy who controlled all power out here in the town. which, technically speaking, seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere. the high school sat over the ridge, and it was all sabo could see for miles around -that was, nothing but rolling hills.

“portgas,” a voice says gruffly, enough to grate sabo’s ears, and he looks up to find the entire class staring at him. his brows furrow, until he meet the teacher’s gaze, locked on him. sabo swallows, setting down his pen.

“yes?”

crocus lets out an overdue sigh. “nice of you to finally respond. define ‘twilight’ for me.”

sabo blinks, then stands in one clean motion, nodding. “it’s . . a time between night and day,” he finally settles on, unsure of what the man was looking for. he’d gotten all the questions right last time, but they only served to annoy him. and also bring on more questions. sabo wasn’t exactly sure how to respond here to get it right this time.

crocus grins, and sabo feels a little nervousness run about. “not quite what i was looking for.” he gestures with his hand, and sabo sits down, confusion growing.

“‘twilight’ is neither day nor night. it’s a time when the two become blurred. where all the funny stuff happens. afterlight, in other words. right before dusk.”

“what about half-light?” kidd pipes up, hand slightly raised. crocus allows the outburst, humming.

“that’s more local dialect, but, yes.”

sabo lets down his guard again, and goes back to doodling, scribbling notes in the columns.

he finds the diary after school.

it’s a small pocketbook, easily overlooked. call sabo curious, though, for upturning the room. ace is organized, and his small script is neat. reading through the entries doesn’t help, though. sabo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. guess he had to do this on his own. well, for a do-over dream, he thinks he did rather well. if it happened again, maybe he’d get to finish learning what he only discovered this time around.

he’s settling down on the futon when a stray thought comes to mind. the words ‘who are you?’ scribbled in his sketchbook hit him out of nowhere, and sabo stands on the thin matress, gaze falling to the desk in the corner.

after a moment, he walks over, feet carrying him and hand reaching out for a small marker. he hesitates for a moment, then presses the ink to his skin, writing his name carefully.

sabo jerks awake, head fuzzy. shanks opens his door at the same time, and the blond has a conniption, about doing a front-somersault off the mattress. he lands on the ground in a heap, groaning.

“relax, kid,” shanks says. “it’s just me.”

sabo’s leg twitches. he lies there for a moment, only vaguely thinking about going back to sleep.

“ . . you okay?”

his phone starts ringing and sabo forces himself up to silence it. “fine,” he mutters, waving shanks off. with a shrug, the redhead leaves, closing the door behind him.

sabo’s gaze is fixed to his arm, now that he’s stopped waving it. his brow furrows, and he grasps his right with his left hand, bringing it closer. he squints.

there’s writing scribbled onto the skin. ‘sabo?’ it reads. ‘who are you? what are you?’

it was a dream.

right?

makino frowns at him as he enters the kitchen. “don’t cause trouble today,” she says quietly. sabo blinks, eyes widening and heart racing.

“what? what did i do?” he stammers. she only looks at him again, sighs quietly, and exits the room. down the hall, the front door closes.

“what did i do?” sabo asks koala, who frowns upon spotting him in the hall before class was due to start.

“you got home too late, is my guess,” she muses. “makino called me, y’know. wondering where you were.”

sabo blanches. “did i have a shift?”

“ i think so?” she squints. “you headed off in a hurry. saw something, i guess. are you okay?”

he waves her off. “fine, fine.”

she looks at him for another moment before shoving the door open. “right.”

sabo goes straight home before his shift at the restaurant. on impulse, he flips to the back spread of his sketchbook, where the last note was. his eyes widen.

“i can’t believe i got to stop a real-life goa robbery attempt last night,” he reads. “sorry, i may have gotten scuffed up?” sabo takes a step back, and the sketchbook falls from his hands. it’s loud when it hits the floor. “what the fuck?” he breathes.

he pads over to the mirror, but there’s no marks on his face. without any airs, he strips of his shirt, twisting this way and that. ah. there, on his left side, was a small patch of bruising. luckily for him, it was on his burns, where all the skin was nerve-dead. he couldn’t feel a thing.

suddenly feeling lightheaded, sabo falls to his knees. his right hand comes up to trace the bruising.

“oh, sabo!”

he turns on his heel, empty plates balanced in outstretched hands. robin walks over the last few steps. “yes?”

“thanks for the other night.” she nods. “and for making sure i got home safe. that was really nice of you.”

the pieces connect, rapid-fire, and he works hard to only nod back. “no problem,” he murmurs, then ducks quickly through the door to the back. so, robin was the one almost mugged. she must live pretty far, for him to take her and be back late enough to cause makino to worry. . . . that would also explain the weird looks he received from his other co-workers when he arrived.

sabo sighs, taking a moment to pull his arms on top of his head, open his airway. then he’s poked in the back with a ladle, and his eyes open back up. moment over. he turns to see thatch eyeing him, a lazy grin on his face.

“what’s got you worked up?” he asks. before sabo can even think about not replying to his cheshire grin, zeff is yelling for him from across the kitchen. he moves quickly, picking up dessert trays and swinging out of the room once more.

he gets a text from shanks that has him calling as soon as he’s clocked out, pressing his phone between his shoulder and chin. it takes one ring for the redhead to pick up. “yes?”

“sabo! come straight home today, okay?”

“yeah, got it.” he sighs. “sorry . . about yesterday.”

“nah, don’t worry about it.” shanks pauses, and sabo can picture him physically waving the words off. “i know you didn’t mean harm. still, makino’s a little worried, so do her this favor.”

“got it. see you soon.”

sabo pockets his phone and pulls out his metro card in place of it, stepping fully into the train station. his head is spinning.

it was a dream, right?

ace finds the diary, and it makes him sad before it gives him answers.

so i don’t forget again.

he’s found three, similar, pressed into the back of a crammed bookshelf. all of them have the same title. he finds his fingertips pressing into the burn scar around his eye. was it to do with this? was it all part of the same thing?

the last entries of the diary confirm his worries. sabo wasn’t aware of what was going on. he was slowly realizing it, but slowly was bad for ace, who knew from the first event what was happening.

i’m not dead. we’re switching bodies.

he was switching bodies with sabo triste, a boy his age living out in goa with his two guardians, makino and shanks. ace goes to sleep, and wakes up as sabo; he’d spent more time as the blond this week than he had himself.

‘stop writing in my sketchbook!!!’ is written right under his script on the same page, and ace traces the words carefully. he takes a pen and writes, right underneath, ‘surely one page is okay.’

he hesitates, then he writes, out to the side - ‘it’s not a dream.’

it can’t be a dream anymore.

#saboace #SaboAceWeek2019P2 #acesabo #one piece #writing #iye/lme #i had this out but it didnt show up in the tags and im not copying all my tags so #theyre gone #not that they were impt but theyre gone now

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idiots-on-ice · 5 years

Text

Picture Perfect

Inspiration can always be found anywhere, even in the most simple and mundane of places. Your own living room, for example, always held mountains of inspiration, especially with Tyson sitting at the other end of the couch, eyes fixed on the TV.

You never set out to draw so many pictures of Tyson in the beginning, but over the course of your relationship with him, you had amassed dozens easily. And somehow, he hadn't found your stash of them in a box in the closet. He knew you drew him, and he always loved seeing them, no matter how you felt about them, but just the amount that you had was a little outrageous, you were the first to admit that.

The sun peaking through the window shone on Tyson's face at the perfect angle, and when you noticed it, suddenly nothing was more important to you than getting a photo of it. So you grabbed your phone, unlocking it and opening the camera in record time, and snapped a quick picture before Tyson realized what you were doing. When he did, he just laughed. At least once a week you would take a picture of him for inspiration, he had grown to expect it.

"One of these days, you're gonna have enough photos and drawings of me to fill a gallery," Tyson said suddenly, making you look up from the photo on your screen.

"What can I say," you paused to move closer to him, draping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer to you when you got there. "I found my muse," you finished. Tyson smiled at you from where his head was leaning on your shoulder.

Tyson didnt say anything for a while after, he just wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck, humming in content as he did.

"So what's that one gonna have? My hair? My nose?" he asked. He had noticed that often times, you didn't draw him fully, but pulled bits and pieces for character designs. It was just another one of those little things you did that he grew accustomed to over time. You had more characters with his eyes than you cared to count. Tyson and his friends liked to joke that they were like you and his children. Parts of you by creation, and parts of Tyson with their physical looks.

"I was thinking of just drawing you. I havent done that in a while," you answered, tilting your head to see a new angle of his face. He smiled at you, a big, toothy, cheesy grin that he knew always made you giggle. "Maybe I should draw that face."

"Good luck. You didn't get a picture of it!" he proclaimed, as if he had won some debate that wasn't happening.

"Joke's on you, darling, it's forever engrained in my memory," you mused and planted a quick kiss on his lips before scurrying off to find your sketchbook. You could hear him laughing the whole way there and back.

Tyson, ever the helpful model, kept moving every two minutes, each pose he struck more ridiculous than the last, with goofy expressions to match. He knew you were working from the photo you took, so he was just having fun, making you laugh as always.

"How's this pose, babe?" he asked. You looked up to see your darling lover with one leg sticking straight up in the air, the other tucked under him. One of his hands rested on his hip while the other was slung over the back of the couch, leaving his head to loll to the side. His eyes were crossed, as well, and his tongue was sticking out from between his lips.

You laughed at him, taking a photo as you did. You smiled over at him, moving so that you were once again right next to him.

"Picture perfect, my love," you replied, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

#my writing #tyson barrie #tyaon barrie imagine #Colorado Avalanche #fluff #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #Colorado Avalanche imagine #tyson barrie x reader

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rusticpumpkin-blog · 6 years

Text

Beyond Love | Paul Lahote | 3 |

This is a longer chapter and I dont really like it all that much but I’m not realy one for angst.

|Previous|----|Next|

The ride back to Forks was silent as I sat in the passenger seat of Pauls old White pickup truck, it was dirty but it was actual dirt and according to the tool belt that he had to move out of my way to the bed of the truck he worked construction. Something to warrant the callouses that I felt on his hands.

That thought along with all of the not so subtle sideways glances he’d been shooting at me was enough to make my face about 3 shades redder.

"This is it right?" He asked pulling to a stop in front of Charlie's place house, our home. I nodded moving to unbuckle my seat belt.

"Hey Kat." He said getting my attention as he put the truck into park making me glance over at him as I reached for the door handle.

"Yeah?" I asked a little wearily.

"Are you single?" He asked the question so blatantly it made me replay it in my mind in case I wasn't hearing it right.

"Uh, Yeah, I am but you do realize that we met like 5 hours ago right?" I scoffed rolling my eyes threw the blush at the face that formed on my face. He looked like I’d just ran over his dog or kicked his grandmother or something like that, completely deflated. For some messed up reason I felt bad about it too.

"Thanks for the ride Paul." I sighed opening the door and nearly having to jump to get out of his truck.

…

I decided to move my bedroom around again, my mind clinging to everything that happened today, all the looks and things like that. I’d never really had a guy look at me like that before.

Hell even the guy at the gas station didn’t try to hide the way he looked me up and down.

I didn’t know how much I liked it, less than 6 months ago I was the ass end of a very bad prank where I was a joke date to the prom. The guy was stunning, nothing like Paul or any of the Quileute boys.

He’d fooled me into actually thinking he had feelings for me, I’d made my parents go out and pay for this stupidly expensive dress for him and his friends to ruin it by dumping punch all over me. I’d already spent the night thinking that he’d stood me up, then he and his friends had to add insult to injury and make it a point that he would never go out with a fatass like me.

Like I was.

I stopped looking in the mirror of my closet door lifting my shirt and looking at my stomach if I looked at it from the right side I looked… good. Not too skinny, not to fat there were a few stretch marks and I was pail on my tummy but I wasn’t as bad as I was right? I don’t look bad enough to do that again right?

I started physically hurting, my mind going to places it had no right going. Worrying about things that didn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be worried about never seeing Paul again, he's a 20-minute drive away. I had a thousand other things to worry about at this moment but here I was having an emotional freaking break down over the possibility of this being just another fucking joke.

I didn’t even take the time to change out of my clothes, take the shower I wanted or crawl under the comforter before I went to sleep.

…

I drug my feet as I sauntered downstairs at around 1 in the afternoon my hair still a mess and in my PJ's. "Late night?" Charlie scoffed at my appearance.

"Yeah." I grumbled walking to the fridge.

"Already turning heads are you?" He asked as I sat at the table with all the things I needed to make a sandwich. I glanced up at him confused.

"Paul Lahote came by this morning on his way to work, dropped off the stuff you left in his truck last night." He said eyeing me like he caught me doing something wrong. "It's not like that.” I shrugged as I started making my food.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you weren't out of bed yet." He scoffed making my face warm up again bringing back the events of the night before and the feelings that came with them.

Charlie sighed standing up making me notice that he was still in his work uniform. "I only came home for lunch, pizza sounds good for dinner?" He asked sounding tired.

"Yeah, are you ok?" I said kind of concerned with how tired he seemed. Wanting to take the focus off of myself just for a bit at least.

"Animal attacks happening again, it’s been a few years but this time we're gonna find them." He said like he was trying to assure me.

"Animal attacks?" I asked.

"Yeah some kind of mountain lion or something, don't worry about it. Just stay out of the woods." He sighed before he walked out the door.

I saw my bag and hoodie sitting on the couch. I sat down turning on the TV and getting into my bag for my phone, I honestly can't believe that I didn't notice that it was missing last night.

I just scrolled through my news feed for a while listening to the travel channel drone on about aliens getting bored quickly. I pulled out my sketchbook flipping to the next clean page thinking that drawing would help clear my mind. Seeing scrawled on a fresh page in heavy-handed letters a phone number and Pauls name with a note that said 'call me' Making my face instantly heat up and a pit form in the bottom of my stomach at the same time.

The whole situation just seemed like it would be best if I just left it alone and didn't bother. That way I won't get hurt if it is a prank. Besides Paul could do so much better than me, according to the way he looks he probably has done better than me. So even if this isn’t a prank, I’m doing him a favor leaving him alone.

…

I didn’t recognize the number that called me but it was a local one with a Forks area code. So I answered it and to my honest surprise it was the gas station that I’d applied at yesterday, I wasn't expecting a response at all to be honest let alone one so quick.

The older gentleman asked a few questions over the phone and asked me if I would be interested in the job. Of course I was, I wanted money to start saving up for a car of my own. I didn’t want Charlie getting the idea that he should use the money to buy me one.

He also explained that the payment was under the table so I would get paid with a personal check every week that he told me I could cash at a local grocery store. The great thing is that it was more than minimum wage and I would be working alone after training.

I was given Tuesday as a start date and like that I had a job.

I scoffed to my self after the phone call looking at the receiver as another feeling crept into my stomach. The guy didn’t ask many personal questions about work history or education anything like that and I had a feeling that the guy from the night before with wondering eyes, pushed them to hire me anyway. It made me a little sick but he was going to school soon so I wouldn’t have to deal with him forever.

…

My thoughts were broken when someone knocked on the door behind me. I thought that Charlie must have ordered the pizza already which confused me because he watched me eat like 2 sandwiches like an hour ago. I grabbed my wallet and walked over to the door anyway preparing to pay the pizza guy.

But it wasn't the pizza guy at the door, it wasn't the pizza guy at all.

Unless Pauls job was to deliver pizza in which he failed because he didn't have any pizza inside. However for some reason, the pressure that I felt on my shoulders and the pit in my stomach lessened instantly at just seeing him standing there in a red flannel and jeans. He’d obviously even taken the time to slick back his dark hair.

"Hey." He smiled at me, my fuzzy mind still wasn’t working right. The only thing I wanted to do was hug him and it made absolutely no sense at all.

"Hey, Paul." I mumbled absentmindedly moving to tuck some flyaway hair behind my ear.

I almost lost my shit when I realized my hair was tied up and he could clearly see the scars on my head and face. My smile dropped and I turned that side of my face away from him.

"I um, brought your stuff back." He said, sounding nervous probably completely regretting the choice to come back and see me again. Why else would he be nervous around someone who looks like me?

"Thanks, Charlie told me." I muttered absent-mindedly folding my arms over my chest.

"I have another question." He said sounding like he was doing his best to sound confident, even though the last time he asked a question it didn’t go so well for him.

Please, don't ask about my scars.

"Hm?" I asked still not looking at him. "Are you busy?" He asked confusing me making me look up at him.

Does he not see my face? Can he not tell that I'm not the type of girl that he would want to take anywhere? When I made eye contact he glanced down at his boots patiently waiting for my answer.

"Because if you want I was wondering if you would let me take you to dinner." He continued a little shakily said obviously this guy was blind or thinks I’m a complete idiot.

"Why?" I asked wanting to know what he was playing at. Did he think I was that much of a fool?

"Well, last night I was kind of upfront and really fucking creepy. I thought you would like it better if you got to know me first. I know this really good place on the edge of town, best burgers on the peninsula. I was hoping you would let me take you out." He said really quickly his nerves apparent it made me blush for no reason what so ever.

"Paul, are you blind or do you think I’m stupid?" I scoffed he looked at me his eyebrows arching in confusion.

"Uh, no actually I have pretty good eyesight. And you’ve never given me the I’m a fucking dumbass vibe, why?” He said confused.

"So you're just going to ignore my face then?" I asked pointedly.

"No... I don't get what you're asking, or why." He said sounding so hopelessly confused that I almost laughed at him.

"I'm not the type of person someone like you should be seen with." I scathed moving to shut the door but he held up a hand stopping me from doing so and looking at me confused.

"Why?" He asked sounding desperate to know.

"What do you mean why? Dude, look at my face. I'm pretty sure that you can get plenty of other girls who are more on your level." I said my voice dripping with venom because more and more it was looking like another prank at my expense.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about 'on my level'. I get it I was weird before but I’m being honest when I say I wanna take you out. If you don’t now that’s fine, I can wait until your cooler with it or whatever." He said pointedly in an almost forceful tone that quite frankly caught me off guard. This guy really was going gung-ho about this whole dinner thing.

"Look, dude, I'm skating by at a weak 4 and your a solid 11 out of 10." I said making him scoff at me. I watched as the color darkened on his cheeks as he shuffled his feet.

Did I just make this dude blush?

"Well whoever told you that is wrong." He said. "I don't need anyone to tell me anything, I can look in the mirror you know." I retorted sharply getting annoyed that he was making me actually think he was being serious about all this.

"Well, you're wrong." He said simply.

Oh that smooth, cheeky, bastard.

I couldn't even think about a valid come back from that comment and my face just kept getting warmer and warmer.

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're frustrated? but anyway about that dinner." He said smirking triumphantly at me.

"And what if I say no?" I asked raising my eyebrows at him a matter of factly.

"Then I go home cry about it for about 3 hours, drink myself to sleep and then try again tomorrow." He said as smoothly as if he had it already planned out but he continued. "And the next day, and the next day and then if its still no then I will try the day after that. Then If its still no I might take a break for one day where I sit in my bathtub, waisted out of my mind contemplating what aspects of my life I would need to change to get you to go to dinner with me." He rambled on jokingly earning a short laugh and a 1/2 hidden smile from me.

"Come on Kat, what could it hurt?" He asked continuing on with the joke.

"A lot more than you think, you’ve still not really given me an answer as to why. Every girl in town already heard your pick up lines?" I chatted having no doubt in my mind that Paul was a player. He just looked like he could have any female he wanted sitting at his beckon call, why he was wasting time on me I couldn’t tell you.

"Normally, I don't even have to bother asking if they're single or not." He shrugged bitting his lip and winking at me like that was supposed to make me feel better.

"Uh-huh... maybe I should keep playing hard to get then. Since, that's the only reason I have your attention apparently." I said raising my eyebrows at him threateningly and kind of feeling empowered by the look of horror that washed over his face momentarily making me actually laugh.

"Come on, please, I’m begging here." He whined in a fake begging tone. I sighed glancing outside behind him it was a gloomy day perfect for a hoodie and jeans.

"I guess." I muttered not wanting to admit that he was getting to me. The way his face brightened up told me that he didn't hear my apprehensive tone.

"Stay right here I'll be down in 5 minutes." I said before leaving him at the door.

Within 3 minutes, I was internally screaming at myself as I attempted to tame my hair that was wild and poofy from me not brushing it after my shower this morning.

There is absolutely no way I'm going to have it managed in 5 minutes. I gave up, braiding it back loosely enough to hide my scar and getting dressed in jeans a t-shirt and a hoodie.

I wasn't expecting the dazed look on his face when I walked downstairs he stood right at the door where I left him.

"Are we going or?" I asked walking up to the doorway pulling my bag over my shoulder he hadn't moved at all.

"Yeah, sorry." He said. He was acting like a gentleman the whole time, opening the door and everything it felt like it was a bit much. Forced, and that made me nervous about the whole situation. I could tell he was still nervous especially the way he kept fixing his hair or checking to make sure his shirt was still buttoned.

The ride was silent and again somehow he was able to get to my door and open it before I had the chance to myself.

"Dude, were at a burger place, not some fancy restaurant." I scoffed as he closed the door behind me. "I just want everything to be perfect." He said quietly. Putting a hand on my shoulder and leading me inside as it started sprinkling.

I was on edge, just waiting for someone to jump out and tell me I’ve been punked or something. But by the seconds that his hand was on my shoulder the feeling was melting away and it was nearly all gone when we sat at a booth and he instantly reached for my hands.

God why is his hand so warm? And, why am I comfortable with him touching my hands like this?

I can't explain it at all, the way he was making me feel. Comfortable? At ease? Like we’ve done this a million times and it was just another Saturday night.

“You see this?” He asked as he examined my palm trailing his finger along a line there a smile playing on the corner of his mouth that I couldn’t read as his dark eyes flicked up to mine.

If I didn’t know better I would think that his breath caught just the same as mine as I watched in the fluorescent lights his pupils blow out almost completely covering his chocolate colored irises. I almost didn’t get the chance to make out the flecks that were the color of brown sugar before they were flattened around pupils.

“Yeah.” I breathed completely lost in his eyes. A small part in the back of my mind somewhere was freaking out about the kind of look he was giving me. A look that was so… intense that it didn’t make sense it made me feel comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Like I wanted to see that look on his face every time I saw him it was so in love.

In love and he’s known me for about 24 hours. How stupid is that? Why does the idea make me feel so warm and content? So at ease about this completely unrealistic situation that would no undoubtedly be swept out from under my feet at any second.

Sometimes I hate how right I am.

"Paul?!" a voice chimed gaining the attention that he had been giving to me so easily that it smacked me back to reality a lot quicker than it should have. I pulled my hands away from his and back into my lap on my side of the booth where they should have been to begin with.

It made me want to smack the shit out of the pretty waitress that walked up to the table. She was the Barbie doll kind of perfect I dreamt about being when I was little. Perfect blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a figure that put mine to shame.

Even her smile was flawless as she beamed at Paul, making me want to just disappear into the seat and never, ever admit that I thought for a bit that I had his attention. It was a stupid idea.

I glanced at Paul even though I knew better, I knew it would sting if he was looking at her thinking the same things I was and those thoughts would be clear on his expressive face.

It wasn’t him looking at her like he had been me though. Confusion was one thing on his face, annoyance was another. The waitress whose name was Tiffany according to the nametag on the front of her apron.

"Since when do you work here?" Paul asked the annoyance from his face in his voice, it was sharp and cut me to the bone even if it wasn’t directed at me. Tiffany didn’t act like it bothered her one bit as she shrugged saying something like last week or something like that trying to start a conversation by asking why it been so long since he’s been here.

I just looked down at the table while he ordered his food from memory the way she giggled while writing everything down made me feel like some sort of awkward 3rd wheel. She just made a comment about how she should know exactly what he wants with how often they ate here and the worthless feeling that I had before was starting to change into something else.

The confidence I felt just seconds ago was still there surprisingly and I had to fight not to tell her to go away and leave us alone, but that wasn’t my place. I didn’t know her enough to be as angry as I was at her right then.

"And what does side piece of the week want?” It was the first thing that she said directed at me. I was still processing what she’d said wondering if she really just decided to talk to me like that when Paul spoke.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?! You can't just fucking talk to her like that Tif WERE CUSTOMERS.” Paul snarled at her as I stood and walked past her.

“Oh no, I’ve hurt her feelings, poor thing should know better.” Tiffany sneered, loud enough for me, and everyone else on this side of the dinner to hear clearly. “Besides what is she like 15? Not like you to go for the young one's baby.” She added as I pushed past the door and out into the rain.

“Kat!” I heard Paul shouting over the fat cold raindrops as I walked towards the edge of the parking lot. I’d decided about 4 yards ago that I wasn’t going anywhere with him.

HOW IN THE HELL WAS I SO STUPID?!

“Babe comes on, don’t b-.” He started as he caught up to me. I whipped around faster than he could finish stabbing him in the chest with my finger. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that!” I hissed before continuing on walking.

“Kat, please, I didn’t know she worked here!” He said grabbing my arm yanking me to a stop and to be honest it hurt but I wasn’t about to let him know that I just ripped it out of his grip glaring up at him. “Would it matter?!” I snapped. “Would it honestly matter where we went because I would be willing to bet that anywhere between here and fucking port Angles we would be running into someone that wasn’t supposed to be there!” I shouted at him. Not really knowing where all of the anger was coming from but it was here and the more he tried to get me to stay and talk the worse it got.

“Just stop and listen to me for a second, it's not like that!” He said clearly getting angry himself. “Fuck off, Paul. Leave me alone!” I shouted still and again he grabbed my wrist twisting it as he pulled me back to face him but the second that he saw my face he let go of my arm.

“I’m sorry!” He gasped as I turned on my heel again and started walking towards what I hoped was home, I still don’t really care as long as it was away from him.

“No, Kat I- I didn’t mean to, please just let me explain what happened back there and then I can drive you home or we can grab drive threw whatever you want!” He begged getting in front of me and I just sidestepped him. “What I want is for you to leave me the hell alone! I don’t know what in the hell made me think for a fucking second that you were actually interested in anything other than getting laid.” I scathed not looking at him.

“You thought that because that’s not what I want, I mean eventually but not right now, not ever if you don’t want just give me the chance to-.” “The chance to what Paul? The chance to make me look and feel like the biggest fucking fool on earth? Or the chance for me to actually fucking believe you before you find a new side chick for the week?” I snarled.

“The chance to show you that’s not how it is!” He shouted back at me. “What do you mean that’s not how it is Paul? YOU MET ME YESTERDAY!” we were both just screaming back and forth at each other at this point. It hurt.

It hurt a lot more than it should looking at him right now.

The way he looked halfway between exploding and breaking down crying at the same time.

“It was fucking mental. Psychotic. Completely unrealistic that you would be this upset about someone you just met yesterday. Do you not understand that Paul. Do you understand why just from this right here I should never fucking talk to you again?!” I shouted at him and he froze the anger that had taken over some of his features drained and his face paled even in the dim street lights.

“Well do you?” I asked because his face made me feel like a fucking monster for saying something like that too him.

I saw his lip quivering as he breathed deeply before answering the most mournful “Yes.” I’d ever heard in my life and it almost made me want to apologize… almost.

“I’m glad we're on the same page then.” I hissed before turning away from him and continuing through the rain.

I walked for a few yards expecting and half wanting him to follow after me but he wasn’t there, he wasn’t even on the road back towards where his truck was parked, like he just disappeared. I was left alone on the forested road with nothing but a few streetlamps that did nothing but make the forest around me look more ominous.

The howl that I heard way too close made me jump even if it sounded sad. The fact that Charlie had told me that there were killer mountain lions out in the trees made me want to sprint back to Pauls truck but I refused to. I hated the fact that I wanted to go back to where he was to feel safe.

It was stupid.

This date was stupid.

This whole situation was so fucking stupid.

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honestgrins · 7 years

Note

Klaroline+ winter cuddling

The Original Hybrid doesn’t cuddle.

Even in the warm firelight of his Swiss mountain chalet, with the rich sable blanket Caroline unearthed from one of its closets across his lap, her weight settled against his side, Klaus isn’t a cuddler.

He doesn’t fuss when Caroline burrows more deeply into his shoulder, nor when one of her socked feet wriggles its way around his leg. She’s watching some inane reality show in the corner, the volume so low as to be almost drowned out by the scratching of pencil against his sketchbook.

Every once in a while, her hair moves with the force of her breath. The blonde section blows across his chest, her fingers lazily reaching to bring it back, nails dragging along his shirt. She shifts, an arm digging low around his hip to nestle between him and the leather sofa.

Caroline falls asleep wrapped around him, and Klaus sighs against her hair, contentment filling him like syrup.

He doesn’t cuddle-

-but he also can’t bear to move her just yet.

Prompts are open for mini-drabble requests!

#klaroline #klaroline mini drabble #reckless spending #denielapple #thanks for the prompt!#i hope you like it!

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transcendence-au · 7 years

Text

The Manor of Alcor (2/?)

AN: Whoops! Didn’t realize this hadn’t been uploaded last month. Chapter 3 is coming soon.

Also on ff.net

Orrie walked down the east wing of the manor with his strip of paper in hand. He passed several doors with names written on them. “Sarkozy…Jans…oh, Keller.” His room was second from the end on the left side. Turning the knob, Orrie stepped inside.

The room was fit for royalty. The ceiling was high with a pretty crystalline chandelier hanging in the center. The king-size bed was lined with white, fluffy pillows and framed with silky light-brown curtains. On the other side of the fairly large room were a small walk-in closet and a tiny washroom. Around the room were other pieces of furniture, a dresser and full-length mirror to name a few. Orrie dropped his belongings by the side of his bed, taking a moment to let everything sink in.

He was actually at the Manor of Alcor, picked against all odds to solve its mystery. He managed to befriend (at least he hoped) three people already. Smiling widely to himself, Orrie pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from his backpack, flipping it to the first available page not filled with miscellaneous scribbles and doodles. Concentrating, he began to sketch an outline of the mansion, taking notes and adding details to the rooms already visited or seen. There was the parlor room, the foyer, and the east wing where the bedrooms were located. They passed several other rooms and halls, of course, but he hadn’t yet seen where they led. There was still so much to explore– judging by the building’s size and what he’d seen, he hadn’t even covered a tenth of the whole area.

There was a knock at the door. Looking up from the last of his drawing, Orrie answered it. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” someone asked. Orrie put away his belongings and went to open the door. On the other side was Cliff, no Zahia in sight. “Hey there. Just wanted to know if you want to have lunch with us. Many of the others are heading out now to enjoy some barbecue.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d love to,” Orrie answered, stepping outside. He followed Cliff down the hall. “But, um, aren’t we supposed to be solving a mystery soon?”

Cliff waved off his words. “That can wait a bit, don’t ya think? I mean, none of us really know each other very well, and this is the perfect opportunity to talk to one another. I’m sure afterwards we’ll all go our own ways to solve the mystery, but until then we should all relax and enjoy ourselves.” Orrie couldn’t argue with that. They traversed through a few halls and a magnificent kitchen with a dining nook, spotting the old couple—the Tosettis, if what Orrie read on their envelope was correct—making their steady way to the back door. Cliff held the door open for them, which they were quite thankful for, and the four of them went into the yard where the housekeepers and some of the guests were all hanging about.

It was bright and sunny, and Orrie regretted not bringing along some swim trunks so he could enjoy the pool. If he really wanted to, though, he could always just dip his feet into the cool water like Zahia was doing, several white lotuses floating daintily around her legs. Belle, Dipper, and Dug were sitting at the table, watching some game show on an outdoor TV connected to the wall. Orrie looked around, noticing a few people missing.

“Where’s Flynn? And Mr. Connolly?”

“Siegfried was busy looking for clues already,” Cliff answered, taking a seat next to Dug. “I have no idea where Flynn is. Probably wandering around himself.” While a bit disheartened he wouldn’t be joining them, Orrie still enjoyed his time with the others through talk and games, even watching and cheering Dipper on as he, Dug, and Zahia took part in a grilled-burger eating contest. They heard the story of how the Tosettis met and saw the pictures of the Lionharts’ wedding from two weeks ago. In return, Orrie showed them all photos of his family stored on his phone.

“Oh, you get your lovely hair from your father, I see,” Mrs. Tosetti exclaimed, “When did you both decide to dye it?”

“What? Oh no, it’s natural for us,” Orrie said, subconsciously fingering his blond hair streaked with strands of royal blue. “We’ve got Kinnara or something like that on dad’s side of the family. See? My cousin’s is green.”

“I wish my hair was blue,” mused Belle, “Or– no, purple! No, I’d want it to have, like, a rainbow of streaks!” Dipper just smiled, rolling his eyes at his twin.

Hours later, when the mosquitoes proved to be too much, they went back inside. Not even one minute after the last person entered the kitchen a housekeeper walked up to them. “I’m sorry to bother you at this time,” she apologized, “But Ms. Wheatly would very much like to speak with you all right now. She’s in the parlor room. If you’d be so kind.” And she bowed and left the kitchen. The group of eight made their way toward the parlor. Entering once more, Orrie spotted Flynn and Siegfried already inside. He split off from the others.

“Sorry you missed the gathering in the back yard. We were all outside hanging out. Cliff said he couldn’t find you.”

Flynn didn’t seem perturbed. “I was in the library while you were all outside. Figured I might see if there was a clue hidden in one of the books there.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit cliché if it were?”

“Perhaps.” That was all he could say before Ms. Wheatly scuttled into the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Apologies for interrupting your activities, but may I be so bold in asking how committed you are in solving the mystery of this manor? The Master is growing a bit impatient that none of you has found the first clue yet.”

“We’re serious,” assured Siegfried, crossing his arms, “Just some more than others. Besides, we only just arrived some hours ago. And some of us here don’t know how to hunt for clues.” Every time Siegfried spoke it was like he was in on the act. Which Orrie didn’t mind at all because that meant he could hurry the process along for them learning what they needed to do. And indeed Ms. Wheatly nodded in agreement to his words.

“I see. So you don’t know how to search for clues. In that case I’ll tell you. Listen closely. In this mansion there are a total of seven clues you need to find to solve the mystery. For all but one of the clues you will first need to find a key. The locations of these clues and keys can be deduced through the numerous hints scattered around the house.”

“What kind of hints?” Zahia asked, “They’re not super hard puzzles, are they?”

“Nursery rhymes,” Ms. Wheatly answered, “In the form of a riddle. Solve the riddle and you’ll find the key or clue. But I must inform you that not all keys are in the same room as their corresponding clue. The same goes for hints.”

The guests gave varying remarks of understanding. “So hints lead to clues or to keys that unlock clues,” Dipper clarified.

“Correct. But finding the hint is no easy task. Here, I’ll help you search for your first hint.” And then she made quite a show looking around. Exaggerated motions of opening cabinet doors and gazing all around its interior, of ruffling pillows and examining every inch of them, or checking underneath every single piece of furniture. Silly as it looked it did tell Orrie one thing: the hints would not be in obvious places.

“Oh! What do you know?” As if to prove his theory, Ms. Wheatly, while moving aside some books on a shelf a little too enthusiastically, knocked a bust of an old man over. Beneath the marble statue was a hole– the bust was hollow. Ms. Wheatly reached inside and pulled out a tiny brown scroll, beckoning the guests over to her. Orrie was able to read it as she unfurled the paper:

“Buried atop Old Smoky.”

He blinked. Old Smoky? Like ‘On Top of Old Smoky’? So were all the hints based on classical Pre-Transcendence nursery rhymes? Depending on which rhymes were used this mystery might be a little harder to solve than he thought.

“What’s Old Smoky?” Cliff asked, “Sounds like a volcano’s name.”

“Very close,” Ms. Wheatly smiled as she put the scroll in her pocket. “A mountain. Based on the old nursery rhyme ‘On Top of Old Smoky’. Does anyone know how the first part of the rhyme goes?” Orrie refrained from raising his hand, wanting to know if anyone else was familiar with the song. Nobody spoke up. “I’ll tell you then. ‘On top of Old Smoky, all covered in snow’. That’s the line. Now where or what resembles a mountain with snow on top of it?”

She let the guests explore the room themselves. Orrie saw from the corner of his eye Siegfried step away from the party. To anyone who knew his little secret they’d perhaps assume he didn’t want to give the answer right away, and to those who didn’t he looked like someone who’d rather have others do the work. But the look in his eyes implied otherwise. He was watching them. Judging them in their ability to deduce. Orrie hadn’t solved the hint yet, but there was no way he was going to let the man assume he was on to him, so he opted to look around a lamp with a white lampshade over it.

It was Dug who finally figured it out. And by complete accident too. “Whoops! Didn’t mean to!” he hurriedly said, grabbing the fishtank in the corner he nudged off its stand. He straightened the box up before all its contents, inhabitants, and the items on top of it could spill over onto the floor. He sighed with relief before blinking his eye at the tank. “Wait…is that Old Smoky?” He pointed to one of the little plastic decorations inside. Orrie had already seen the aquarium that was designed like multiple biomes had merged into one, but even he overlooked the small toy that looked exactly like a snow-capped mountain.

“Buried atop Old Smoky you say?” Dug shuffled through the items resting on top of the tank, most of them folded newspapers. It was between two newspapers that a piece of a third slipped out. Dug caught it before it landed on the floor. The piece of paper was significantly older than the rest, browner and far more wrinkled. Dug had to squint to read its faded text.

Ms. Wheatly stepped over to him. “Would you like me to read it for you?”

“Yeah please.” He handed her the paper. She cleared her throat, and everyone paid close attention as she read the article:

“Six Found Dead, Suspect At Large

Police responded to a silent alarm early Friday morning. The bodies of six victims were found scattered inside an unaddressed mansion miles outside the city limits. Investigators believe the victims were all members of an illegal cult as only two of the victims had visible injuries. It is presumed a seventh cult member was the perpetrator and fled the scene. The identities of the victims have not yet been revealed at this time.”

Dipper crossed his arms. “That wasn’t very helpful as a clue. But I can’t say this exercise wasn’t informative. Thanks for showing us the ropes on how to look for hints.”

“And who to keep an eye out for,” Belle teased, pushing Dug gently, “We may have ourselves a Sherlock in our midst.” Dug blushed faintly.

“I’m so happy to have helped,” Ms. Wheatly said, beaming. “Now you only have six more clues to find. I’ll leave this one right here in case any of you wish to read it again. If you need any more help just come find me. But first I must help prepare dinner.” She guided everyone to the doors, closing them shut behind them once they left.

A sudden grumble made them all look around. “Hrm, I’m still hungry,” Dug moaned, patting his belly.

“But you ate twelve hamburgers,” said Zahia, eying him incredulously, “I couldn’t even eat half that and I still feel a bit nauseous.”

Dug shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I guess I’ll check to see if there’re any leftovers I can have.”

“I wouldn’t mind a quick bite to eat myself,” said Flynn, “May I join you?”

“Sure. Don’t see why not?”

“I’d like to get started looking for the clues,” Dipper stated, turning toward his sister. She nodded in agreement.

“I think I’m going to take a quick rest before dinner, dear,” Mr. Tosetti said to his wife.

“I want to relax a bit too,” Zahia wrapped an arm around Cliff’s waist. Her husband hugged her back with one arm.

“Yeah. We’ve got all the rest of the day to find hints. Let’s enjoy our honeymoon a little longer.” He playfully bopped her on the nose before leading them toward the stairs. After quick deliberation, Orrie decided to follow them and the Tosettis. He was not, however, expecting Siegfried to come along.

“Are you taking a break too, Mr. Connolly?”

“I may as well. The remaining hints, keys, and clues won’t be hidden until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So the rest of the day is just for us to, I don’t know, relax?” Let us familiarize ourselves with our environment is what he wanted to say, but the less he made Siegfried suspicious of how serious he was in solving the mystery the less he’d have to worry about him. There was just something off about the man. Siegfried nodded.

“Precisely. Also, I wouldn’t get very comfortable with the idea of Ms. Wheatly helping us on the case.” Orrie looked ahead to make sure the Lionharts and Tosettis weren’t listening in before slowing his pace to walk beside Siegfried.

“Why not?” he whispered. Siegfried gave him a curious glance before opting to reveal his knowledge to the boy.

“Alcor is going to get a little impatient with us tonight and eliminate her as a means to encourage us to search faster.” Orrie looked up at him, horrified, but Siegfried chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s all an act. The scene will be very convincing, though.”

Orrie nodded. “Okay then…” He wasn’t sure if he should feel impressed on how realistic the staff was going to make this an authentic murder mystery or unnerved. Maybe unnervingly impressed. He smiled at that silly musing before splitting from the group and heading into his room.

That evening—after dinner and while Orrie was lying content on his bed, drawing in his sketchbook—there was a loud shriek from downstairs. There were soon the sounds of footsteps racing down the hall and, while aware of what was probably going on, Orrie couldn’t help peeking his head out in curiosity. Cliff followed closely by Zahia rushed down the stairs. Orrie hurried after them. He caught up with the couple quickly enough and wordlessly the trio burst through the doors to the parlor. Everyone save the Tosettis were already present. And everyone included ‘Alcor’.

He was standing over a very realistic corpse of Ms. Wheatly, which was face-down in a growing pool of red liquid. Strips of clothing lay tattered beside it. Ripped pillows and bloody papers were strewn around, hinting of the struggle that transpired. Zahia gasped, hand over her mouth. Dipper and Belle stood frozen, barely able to believe what they were seeing. Dug looked ill, moving as far away from the body as possible. Siegfried seemed uncomfortable but stayed where he was at by the doors. Flynn was glaring at the perpetrator.

‘Alcor’ stared back, amused smile on his lips. “Y͟ou a̸ll̴ ̢see̕m a̷ b̨it u̸p̸s͠et͠.” He spotted the latecomers. “I d̕id̸n̷’t̨ ́th͟ink ̴s͢he’d caus͏e t͢hąt̨ m̢ucḩ of a̷ c̸ommo̕t̶ion͝.” Flynn flashed a glance back at Orrie before clenching and unclenching his jaw. When he spoke, though, it was with collected calmness.

“Why did you feel the need to do this? You are aware there are children present.” Orrie hoped Flynn wasn’t insinuating he couldn’t handle a little violence. Granted, murder wasn’t ‘a little’ violent, but considering who the star of the attraction was and the fact they were supposed to be solving a murder mystery in the first place…

‘Alcor’ chuckled. “W̷hy? Be̡ca͠us͟e yơu̵’re͏ t̨aki͟n͡g̸ to̧o lon̸g.” He rose into the air, settling into a cross-legged sit. “D̛on’t̡ t̴h̀ìnk I̶ h̨a̛d́n’͢t not̶iced M͠s. W̡hea͡t͠ly ̡hel͡p̢įn̵g y͝ou ơut̡ ea̧rlie͠r. He͝r͠ as͡s̀i̧st͢ance w͡as ͝no̶t par̵t̨ o͠f t̀he dea̢ļ. B̢ut I dec͠ide͞d to ̀let it̡ s̢l͢idè…until͝ I notįc̨ed how littl̨e h͞e͢ad̢w̵a͠y̕ th̷e teǹ of̛ yo̡ų were ̡ma̷king. So̴ I͡ go̵t r̵id̵ o͏f h͠er.”

“Wait, we were taking too long to solve the mystery with her help, so you decided to kill her?” Belle frowned. “What kind of sense does that make?”

“Why ̶do͠e͡s ̷ít̵ ͟ha̢v͟e to̡ ḿake ̡s͢ęn̴s̛e?” asked ‘Alcor’, “I̷ ex̸pected̛ ͠y͡ou to̢ ̷t̢a͟k̵e t̀h̨e mys̷t̕er̡y͞ se͟riou͞sly, s̸olv̶e it͏ q͠u̵ickĺy, and͠ yo̷u d͏i̛s͢app̕ointed̸ m̶e. I̴s͞ i͏t͠ tha̡t muc̀h ̛a su̷rp̸rise ́I too̷k̢ out̶ ḿy̡ f͏r̨ustra͢t͢íon on͡ o͟n̶é ̕of m̀y s͠erv̡an͞t̶s wh̛o, in͡c͡idenţall̵y, h͠app͟en͠s t̕o̶ b̛e̴ th̵e ón̸ly ̵o̷n̵e͏ he̶lping y̨o̡u al̕onģ?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Th̴is is ͏a͞ll y̧o͞ur f̡au̸lt̨, y̧o̷u ͡k̡now. S̷he̢ c̷ou̢ld hav̴e liv̶ed. B̢ut, ąl̴as͡, yo͏u lo̧st́ y̴ou͠r̨ t̷r̛ue͏ ĺover͡ fo̡r̀ c̢ourtin͡g too̷ slow͠. My ͡s͞u̸g̨gestion? Hùr̀ry i͠t ̕ùp.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you do it?” Dipper narrowed his eyes at the person above him, the challenge in his tone heavy. Orrie felt a chill in the air; the teen’s anger was nearly tangible. “You’re so all-knowing, huh? Why don’t you use your omniscience to solve this stupid mystery yourself? I’m sure you could do it in an instant instead of toying with human lives.” He looked down at Ms. Wheatly; his face was unreadable. Belle, clearly troubled by her brother’s outburst, touched his arm.

“Dipper?”

His head whipped around toward her, his eyes widening slightly like he just remembered she was there. He again stared at the body on the ground before shaking his head. “Sorry. Forgot this was all an act. Just looked really…convincing.” He directed his leer towards ‘Alcor’ who, for once, didn’t look smug. “You know, I remember Alcor being someone who hated human sacrifices. Killing innocents because he was mildly upset was not his M.O. Only the worst of imposters would have gotten that tidbit wrong.”

‘Alcor’s’ eye twitched, indignation flashing in his sharp gaze. “P̷er̢h͡apş I ̢àm not̸ ás al̡l-pow̶ęrful̶ as͠ yo̧u̕ l̨ik͝é to̷ be͠lieve,” he growled. “Ńo͝r̸ as̶ m̵agn̶a̡ni̵m̸ous. Bưt…” He hovered closer to Dipper, nearly face-to-face with the boy. “I̴f you̢ k̵eep te͝s̵tíng m͡y pátįenc͝e, D̶ipper S͏t͟erl̨in̵g̛, o̡ne wo̴n’t ne͝e̡d o͠mn̛isc͡i͏e͡n͠ce t̷o fi͢g͡ure ou̷t͏ ͏wh͡o k̸i̴lle͞d ou̢r̸ ņex̛t̢ ͠p̧oten͠t͢ial͝ vìct́i͠m.” He snapped his fingers and Dipper was lifted right off his feet. The teen, completely taken aback, was too bewildered to fight the invisible force holding him. Another snap and he was thrown across the room, crashing into the opposite wall with a heavy thump! Everyone stood shocked by the action; Belle was the only one with enough sense to run over and check on her twin.

“Dipper!”

Her shout stirred Orrie to face ‘Alcor’, to call him out on his trick that went way too far. But when he turned ‘Alcor’ was gone. Beside him he heard Flynn curse in a weird language. “Where did he go?” he heard the elf mutter lowly.

The doors flew open, and two housekeepers rushed inside, one of them carrying a tarp. Cliff grabbed one of them by the arm. “Hey! This is getting a little—”

“Please sir,” the housekeeper interrupted, “We’ve got this under control.”

“You’ve angered him enough,” the other worker added, laying the tarp over the corpse. Orrie watched as the sheet’s pure white was slowly consumed by the absorbing red. “Just do what the Master has asked. Please go and solve the mystery quickly. We’ll take care of this.”

“Come on, Orrie.” Orrie felt strong hands pushing him out. Cliff stubbornly kept his sight away from the bloody mess as he guided the boy away. Zahia starred at her husband, worried.

Behind him, Orrie could hear Flynn speaking tersely with one of the housekeepers. “Quite graphic” were the only words he managed to overhear before being escorted outside. Siegfried and Cliff then herded everybody else upstairs.

“That looked scary real,” Zahia mumbled to Cliff, who nodded.

“Thought this would be a bit more family-friendly,” her husband agreed.

“Perhaps that’s just how their script was written.” The others looked at Siegfried. “That was almost the same scene they played out last time, and there weren’t any children present then. I’ll admit, though, they didn’t use magic on the guests.”

“Which was completely uncalled for,” Belle angrily spoke. To her brother and with a lot more concern, “You alright?”

“Well, I’ve been a whole lot worse,” he chuckled humorlessly. But Orrie could still sense the resentment around him.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Dipper. I think it’s illegal for them to actually hurt their guests. Perhaps they overdid it with the effects.”

“Perhaps.” Though Dipper didn’t look convinced. “And maybe you’re right. That was some low level magic he used. I really wasn’t that hurt.” Orrie sighed internally with relief. The party made it to the east wing. As they dispersed to their rooms, mostly gotten over what had happened, Orrie finally mustered the courage to ask the twins a question.

“Um…I know it’s kind of in bad taste to ask this now after, well, you know…but can I team up with you? For the mystery?” Belle and Dipper stared at him, a bit confused.

“You mean after what that jerk did to my bro you still want to go through with this?” Belle wondered, though she at least didn’t sound very offended. Orrie felt his face redden.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but yeah. I’m not interested in the prize and, to be honest, the acting is a bit over the top. I came here to have fun and enjoy myself. It’s another piece of Alcor I can learn about, and that’s exciting to me.”

Dipper nodded, his expression finally brightening somewhat. “I know what you mean. That challenge you just can’t ignore. Like a puzzle that needs to be solved and answers that need to be discovered.” He smiled. “Yeah! Let’s team up. We’re here to have fun after all– to learn about Alcor and solve an unsolvable mystery.” He held out his hand. Orrie took it, gripping firmly, his own smile broadening. Belle wrapped her arms around both of their necks.

“Alright! Nerds unite!”

Orrie laughed. “Well, we can start looking for clues in the morning. Siegfried secretly told me the hints won’t be hidden until tomorrow.” “Oh! So that’s how he knew what was going on,” realized Belle, “He’s been here before. Wait! Doesn’t that mean he has the advantage? He knows where all the hints are!”

“I’m going to assume the hints change locations each time guests come,” Dipper reasoned, and Orrie agreed. He bade them goodnight before entering his own room.

The sketchbook was still on his bed where he’d left it. He debated finishing the final details of what he could remember of the garden but ultimately decided against it, figuring he’d have plenty of time tomorrow. He changed out of his day clothes and grabbed something from his suitcase that was more comfortable to wear in the evening time. Sliding into bed, he looked around his room once more.

It was still just as beautiful as when he’d first entered. But…the space, the extravagance, the lingering amazement of being here…it was too foreign. Too lonesome. Orrie was familiar with it. A bit used to it. But that didn’t mean he liked it. Didn’t mean he’d admit to his new friends that he was scared to explore the entire manor all by himself. Because he liked their companionship; it was something he admittedly didn’t have a lot of back home.

Orrie settled into the sheets, wondering briefly what tomorrow would bring. For now he was comfortable and safe and had companions nearby. And in two days time, when this was all over, he’d be ending one adventure as a pre-teen and starting another by officially becoming a teenager.

Pleased by the thought, Orrie drifted contently to sleep.

Deep in the lower levels of the mansion, the man in front of the monitors smiled. His staff had pulled off yet another spectacular performance today. Mr. Goodman leaned back and stretched. With his guests full of food, sound asleep, and certainly excited for tomorrow’s mystery he could sit back and watch with ease, the greatest of the attraction’s hurdles finally crossed. It’s never easy to set a calming, relaxing air in a home blanketed with betrayal and death, but his dear employees were always up to the task of doing it, exceeding his expectations every year without fail.

He grabbed the cane by the side of his chair and used it to stand. Leaving the office, Mr. Goodman sighed to himself. Such a shame he only caught the tail end of Terry and Ms. Wheatly’s act due to helping some crew members—the realism of her death scene always unnerved even the toughest of men—but he’d be sure to congratulate them nonetheless.

And speak of the devil…

“There you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Terry.” The star of the attraction was standing by the costume closet. Already he was unvested from his suit, most of his make-up gone, his voice modifying mic removed. Terry looked back, a light smile on his lips.

“Oh, hey there, Mr. Goodman. You need something?” he asked as Mr. Goodman hobbled up to him, his cane clacking loudly against the stone tiles.

“Mostly to congratulate you on another great performance. It’s not natural to keep saying this but you are perhaps the best Alcor impersonator I’ve ever had the fortune to have.” He laughed. “I bet even the real one would agree, don’t you?”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” Terry gestured for the elder man to follow; the latter did so slowly. “You probably didn’t hear but the kitchen’s a mess after Duglas Segal requested we make him a late-night snack. We’re cancelling the staff dinner.”

But Mr. Goodman shook his head at the news. “And miss out on your friends’ cooking? For shame, Terry. You know better than to let that happen.” He and his employee chuckled at the good-humored chiding. “But,” he continued, his smile fading, “on a more serious note, Terry, I did not appreciate what you did to our guest.” He stopped walking. “Did to whom?” Terry’s attempt to look innocently perplexed did not bode well with Mr. Goodman.

“Dipper Sterling. The one you used magic on to toss against the wall.” He darkened his expression enough to tell Terry he messed up. The young man at least had the decency to look guilty. “Magic of any kind is expressively forbidden on these grounds, except in—”

“—In a case of emergency,” Terry finished, interrupting the old man. “I know, I know. But that kid was so irritating. Made me look like a fool despite all the research I’ve done on the demon. And—” He paused, noticing the leer from his boss hadn’t lessened. “And I shouldn’t have retaliated like that.”

“You shouldn’t have retaliated at all,” Mr. Goodman corrected.

A faint scowl. “…Right.” Terry, after a silent moment, took a step forward. Mr. Goodman didn’t follow. “Coming?”

“I’ll meet you in the inner chamber in a short while. I first want to congratulate Ms. Wheatly. I wonder where she went off to.”

“I heard in passing that she’s already inside the chamber. If you want to catch up with her before she heads to sleep we should probably hurry.” The other frowned. Why would she be there? She always came to see him first after her act.

“But why?” he voiced his concerns, to which Terry shrugged. So Mr. Goodman followed. He would have made it to the end of the hall, too, were it not for the muffled thump! of something heavy collapsing. Mr. Goodman stopped in his walk, turning his head slightly to the side. “You hear something?”

Terry didn’t stop. “Like what?” “Sounded like something fell.” The sound of a door slowly creaking open sent his nerves tingling, sharp and echoing in the mostly empty hall. He spun around, noticing the closet door opening up to reveal a bunch of fallen costumes piling out.

Mr. Goodman hurried to the pile. “I’ll get that!” Terry, just then noticing the old man’s action, hastened over to him. But Mr. Goodman beat him, already bent and picking up the clothes. He froze when a hand caked in dried blood appeared from underneath a large shirt he’d lifted. Props had their own room, and besides he couldn’t recall ever owning a prop like this. He started to pick it up when he saw it was connected to an arm. Confusion and unease growing, he shifted the costumes away to—

“What…Terry– Terry, what is going on here!?” That was Ms. Wheatly. Bloody and dead and buried beneath the clothing. A nasty wound was torn into her front side, chunks of clotted blood still seeping out. “H-how did Ms. Wheatly end up—” He happened to look to his side. Notice the black shoes of the person beside him. Spot the smudge of equally dried blood on their tips and edges. His increasingly frightened gaze slowly lifted.

The cold fury on Terry’s normally calm face was intimidating enough for the old man. “I was hoping this’d go smoothly.” He snapped his fingers, and Mr. Goodman was lifted off the floor against his will. Terry’s scowl deepened, and with a swift flick of his fingers, the costumes and body of Ms. Wheatly were flung back into the closet. “Can’t believe dumb luck of all things cost me my cover. Doesn’t matter; I’ll have the others move her when I’m ready.”

“Others!?” Mr. Goodman’s eyes widened. Was the rest of his staff in on this? Terry smirked.

“Oh, they aren’t the ones you should be worried about. Now, why don’t you come with me to the inner chamber, hm? I’ve got big plans for you.” Mr. Goodman had no choice as he was levitated through the dark hallway, knowing full well they were too far underground for anyone to hear his cries for help.

#submission #fic

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hazellvesque · 7 years

Text

Some Kind Of Miracle

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: G

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya's latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles? When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette's life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their potential careers forever.

An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 - Unstoppable

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On the morning of July 7th, a train wreck had hit Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s bedroom, leaving behind mountains of tank tops and shorts in its path.

Marinette herself was too busy frantically trying to tear the rest of the house apart to notice the path of fabric destruction she was leaving behind her. The storm had just barely avoided devastating the living room, and luckily, had mostly contained itself to the four pink walls upstairs. Still, the occasional spool of thread or pin had found its way down the stairs during the girl’s frantic search.

“Maman!” she yelled in no particular direction. “Have you seen my green halter top?”

“You already packed it,” Sabine’s voice floated up the stairs.

Sure enough, after rifling through the contents of her third suitcase, Marinette found the shirt she’d been meticulously working on for the past week buried under dozens of other various articles. “Thank you!” she called out. “Now where’s my sunhat…”

It felt like she had been packing for an eternity, and yet, she still didn’t have enough clothes. She didn’t even want to think about how she was going to manage to properly accessorize with what little items she was allowed to bring.

“I’m sure you’ve packed enough,” Alya said, lounging upside down on Marinette’s bed, clearly more interested in whatever was on her phone than her friend’s current fashion crisis. “It’s only two weeks, you don’t need to bring your whole closet.”

“But the weather is so different there. I’ll have to wear shorts practically every day.” She gasped and dramatically slapped her hands to her face. “What if it rains? I didn’t pack my umbrella!”

Where even was her umbrella? Come to think of it, did she even own one?

Alya flipped herself right side up and crossed the room, placing two calming hands on her friend’s shoulders. “We’ll buy one at the airport if we need it,” she laughed. “Honestly, Marinette, everything’s going to be fine!”

Marinette took four deep breaths, trying her best to come to her senses. Her eyes widened once again as another piece fell into place in her mind. “My sketchbook! I can’t believe I almost forgot it!”

“Well, okay, we probably can’t buy that at the airport,” Alya admitted.

Luckily, she didn’t need a search team to find the book. It sat just where she had left it last, on the edge of her desk next to the computer mouse.

The book looked much less important than it actually was – a simple blue-covered notebook with mostly blank pages. Marinette had taken her time writing ‘Los Angeles, California’ in large, curly script at the top of the first page. This would be the start of a new era of Dupain-Cheng designs.

“I don’t even know where I’d get one there,” said Marinette. “The idea of learning to use American money is scary enough, but the stores there look absolutely massive, I wouldn’t know where to start!”

Alya resumed her position on Marinette’s bed, scrolling on her phone as Marinette tucked her sketchbook and a few last minute smaller items into her carry-on bag. “I still can’t believe you’re going to Los Angeles and you’re going to be drawing the whole time,” Alya said.

Drawing? No, Marinette had every intent on designing a masterpiece while on this trip, and no peer pressure from Alya was going to stop her.

“Well you’re just going to be stalking celebrities the whole time. There is more to life than pretty boys, Alya,” Marinette teased. She ducked to dodge the pillow that Alya flung at her head. “What are you so concentrated on anyway?”

“I’m looking for some very important information,” Alya said vaguely.

“Right…” said Marinette. “Besides, Hollywood fashion is so different from what we see here. I can’t risk seeing something that inspires me and not being able to sketch it out. I have a feeling this-“ she tapped on the pocket where her book was for extra emphasis, “-is going to be one of my greatest fashion breakthroughs yet!”

“Mm-hmm” Alya muttered. “So long as you don’t drop it in the ocean.”

The ocean. Hundreds and hundreds of miles of water between here and their final destination. Marinette gulped, trying not to think about it too hard. The flight would be over before she knew it. She could even get a head start on her designs in the airport. After all, people from all over the place would be making their way through the Charles de Gaulle. There would be plenty of inspiration to draw from as soon as they stepped out of the car. Marinette smiled at the thought, her mind already running wild with new ideas.

“Girls!” Marlena Césaire, Alya’s mom, called up the stairs. “Are you ready to go?”

Alya and Marinette exchanged equally stupidly big grins. “Coming!” they shouted in unison, playfully shoving each other down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Sabine Cheng and Marlena Césaire had used their combined culinary skills to spend the entire morning making the girls snacks for their trip. The counters were covered in various meats, cheeses, and fruits all packed in boxes and bags for the ride. Not to mention the baked goods that were practically overflowing in their containers.

“This all looks wonderful,” Alya politely hugged her mom before voraciously digging into the closest bag of snacks with her free hand, her other still gripping her phone for dear life. “Those Hollywood socialite-types are going to love this stuff!”

Sabine nodded. “This is such a wonderful opportunity, Marlena! I still can’t believe someone so far away requested your food for their party.”

“And offered a huge amount of money and a free trip for it,” Alya mumbled through her cookie, raising an eyebrow at Marinette who stifled her giggles behind her hand.

“This is all wonderful, Mme. Césaire!” Marinette said politely. “And thank you again for bringing me along, I honestly don’t know how to repay you.”

“Just be sure to let your mom know all about the culinary scene in America. You’re her valued reporter for this trip, Marinette!” Marlena said. Sabine winked at Marinette behind Mrs. Césaire’s back.

Marinette smiled. “Alya’s your star reporter but I’ll try my best!”

Marinette knew that paying attention to the ins and outs of the food business didn’t really need to be a priority. Her parents had sat her down a few days ago and told her to just enjoy her time on the trip. Sabine and Tom liked their small hometown bakery the way it was, and they weren’t really looking to branch out the way Alya’s mother was. Regardless, it was still a good excuse to use as to why the Dupain-Chengs were allowing their teenage daughter to leave the country for two weeks, and way Marlena was so enthusiastic to have Marinette come along.

Alya gasped sharply at her phone. “Look!” she cried.

Marinette, Sabine, and Marlena all snapped their eyes to Alya, startled.

“Isn’t he gorgeous,” she sighed, pushing her phone too close to Marinette’s face for comfort. Marinette had to cross her eyes to make out the image of the boy on the screen, who had a look on his face and a gleam in his eye like he was admiring something marvelous. Though, Marinette thought, judging by the way the photo was obviously taken in a studio, he was most likely just blinding himself with the harsh lights.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to his outfit, which consisted of a blue flannel top – what was it with Americans and flannel? – and all too tight jeans that made a blush rise to Marinette’s cheeks with just a glance.

She pushed the phone away and blinked a few times, readjusting her vision. “Is he that actor you’re so obsessed with?”

The girls’ mothers laughed, tuning their attention back to their own conversation and packing the last of their food.

“Why yes,” Alya announced dramatically. “This is the actor, model, singer, beautiful human being extraordinaire Adrien Agreste, and this new photo shoot just got released! We are among the first in the world to be blessed with these images. Isn’t he amazing?”

“Wonderful,” Marinette deadpanned.

Alya lowered her voice. “We have to see him. We’ll be in his hometown, it’s practically fate! And don’t tell me you’re going to be busy, we’ll have so much time in-between mom’s events that we have to go out and explore! I know all of his favorite spots, we’re bound to run into him at one of them!”

Marinette smiled to herself, allowing her friend to get lost in her silly daydreams. Of course Marinette herself was known to be a bit obsessive over some things (i.e. the great packing debacle of ten minutes ago), but Alya had her days too. Especially when it came to her little celebrity crush. There was no denying the boy was attractive, but what made him different from any other celebrity on television nowadays?

“He’s known to hang out in a club that’s not too far away from some of my mom’s catering jobs she’s doing this week,” Alya continued to ramble. “We could totally run into on the dance floor! And then we’ll lock eyes across the room and he’ll ask me to join him for a slow song. Then he’ll ask my name and recognize me from my blog and fall head over heels for my amazing journalism skills and-“

“Alya!” Marinette had to resist laughing. “You don’t even know this boy, why do you think he’s going to be so wonderful?”

“I do know Adrien. He’s the same age as us, he’s a Scorpio, he loves chocolate chip cookies, and he reads my blog every day. He has to,” she said defensively. “It has thousands of hits, one of them has to be him.”

Marinette arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Wow, a sixteen year old Scorpio who likes food and might be able to read. Amazing.”

A mischievous look crossed Alya’s face. “You might be interested to know something else. His dad’s a fashion designer,” she sing-songed.

Marinette froze. The cogs in her head started turning ever so slowly. Suddenly this whole trip was looking to become a lot more interesting. “Let’s get there first, then we’ll figure out how to stalk this Adrien boy, alright?”

Alya gave Marinette a two-fingered salute. “Ay, captain!” Success!

“Are you girls all set?” Sabine asked, to which both Marinette and Alya nodded.

It was time.

Marinette nearly bounded over the kitchen counter give her mother a long hug goodbye before trudging up to her room and returning with her three bags, making sure to grab extra snacks before descending the next flight of stairs. She gave her father a long hug and kiss on the cheek as well after he finished loading the Césaire’s car with all of the girls’ belongings.

She slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder, Alya plugged in her phone’s car charger, and just like that, they were off to the airport.

Alya stayed attached to her phone staring at pictures of the model practically the entire way there, silently swooning. There had nearly been a fight at the security gate when she was required to put the phone away before stepping through the metal detectors.

Even after boarding the plane, Alya’s eyes stayed glued to the screen until the pilot announced that all electronics had to be turned off. She made a show of dramatically pouting before powering her cellphone down and turning over to take a nap. “Makes the time go faster,” she said.

Honestly, Marinette just could not understand the obsession. Maybe he was some swoon-worthy heartthrob to others, but Marinette had barely even heard of him aside from Alya’s pining. He was huge in America, but in Paris, his name was practically unknown.

His did have a decent body type, though. And pretty aesthetically pleasing features – the green eyes, blonde hair combo was rare, and Marinette couldn’t help but wonder how much fun it would be to dress someone like that in pops of color that would draw attention from a crowd. Plus, starting some designs now would be a welcome distraction from her flight nerves.

Huh. Look at that. They hadn’t even left France yet, and already, Marinette had found a new source of inspiration.

As they taxied down the runway, Marinette removed her sketchbook from her bag and flipped open to the first page. Just underneath the title she’d written earlier, she hastily scribbled two words: Adrien Agreste.

In just a little over twelve hours, she and Alya would be in Los Angeles, California for the trip of a lifetime.

This was going to be fun.

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #ml fic #my writing #some kind of miracle #i have 3 papers a speech and nanowrimo to be worrying about right now so naturally here i am with a fic #updates will be weird because life is happening but i will try my best!#the whole thing is outlined already so i'm ready to go!

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miraculously-fangirling · 7 years

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Springtime Connection - Chapter 19

Alya whipped out her phone as if she got a text and wrapped her arm around Nino's waist. She tugged on his waist with a smug grin pulling at her lips. "Nino, Juleka and Rose need help in the storeroom. Won't you come with me?"

Nino glanced over to Marinette and Adrien before smiling back at Alya. "Sure," he said with a wink. Nino turned and tapped on Adrien's shoulder. Marinette looked away from her tablet as Nino explained how he and Alya were going to help some of their classmates.

Marinette looked over to Alya, who gave Marinette a thumbs up before walking out the room with Nino holding her hand. Marinette rolled her eyes before returning to her tablet. She and Adrien went through various pages to review the details of the upcoming festivals and list the tasks that still needed to be done. Adrien was unusually close to her. Knowing it was her partner next to her, made Marinette more comfortable with the limited space.

Adrien leaned onto the table with one hand resting under his hand while the other followed the lines of text down the screen. Marinette watched him concentrate. He was unusually Chat-like as he casually rested his chin. It reminded her of how he leaned on his staff while talking to akuma sometimes. It was strange: just two weeks earlier, her heart would have pounded at just the thought at Adrien, but now she comfortably shared a screen with him.

A few classmates whispered to each other at the their work stations, but Adrien and Marinette paid them no mind as the continued to work through the materials.

They were soon done. Having nothing better to do than wait for Alya and Nino, who Marinette had no doubt were just flirting behind some corner, to return. Marinette sat in her usual seat as she put away her tablet, making sure to not bump Tikki in the head as she did so.

Adrien leaned against the desk and glanced out the window. He sometimes really hated downtime. He never got much, and therefore never knew what to do with himself when there was no one telling him what to do. A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves outside. The leaves' bright green color made Adrien think of the other night. He turned to Marinette just as she had brought out her sketchbook and pencil.

"Hey, Marinette, have you finished your costume?" he asked tentatively.

Marinette leaned back in her chair as she set her pencil atop her sketchbook. "Almost done," she said, " What about you? Did that top hat work out?”

Adrien's face lit up a little as he thought back to the makeshift hat Marinette had made for him. It wasn't the most professional thing in the world, but no one could tell the difference with the way that Marinette hid the cardstock base with stretchy fabric. He nodded with a grin while leaning closer to Marinette. Marinette got a good look into his green eyes and felt her heart skip. The way that he looked at her greatly resembled how Chat looked at Ladybug. He was her those 'heart eyes' that girls online always went crazy for. Usually she would ignore this expression, but seeing it on Adrien's face made her strangely uneasy in a good way.

Adrien's phone pinged and his nose scrunched just as he opened the new message. It was from Max. The frantic message outlined how tea had gotten spilled on his laptop and that he had to clean the entire hard drive in order to avoid damage. Max quickly sent a second message saying that he no longer could work on the shift schedule. Adrien sighed as he read over the message once again before turning the phone to Marinette. She read the messages and sighed in turn. There was always something.

"What do you want to do about this?" Adrien asked while scrolling through some social media.

Marinette shrugged. "Only one thing we really can do," she said, "do it ourselves."

Classes were over for the day, so only those working on the festival were in the room and there was no obligation to stay. Adrien turned to Marinette. "Right," he said, making sure to make strong but not too strong eye contact with her, "how about we head somewhere then? It's kind of noisy here." Adrien leaned against the table and opened his texting conversation with Natalie. He was sure it would be fine. It should be fine. Yes, everything would be fine. He shot her a quick text saying he was going to work on a project with a friend but didn't say who.

Marinette's heart skipped before she nodded with a smile. The two proceeded to pack up their things and leave the classroom together, drawing a few curious glances from their classmates. Sabrina, who was painting a poster that Chloe couldn't bother to finish, made sure to snap quick picture of Marinette and Adrien leaving together. She looked at the picture with a grin before sending it off to Chloe.

_________________________________

Chloe surveyed her closet for the tenth time that day trying to figure out what to wear for the cafe when her phone buzzed. She ignored it at first as she thought about how she could outshine all the other 'amateur' costumes that her classmates were sure to bring.

She bit on her thumb nail when her phone pinged again. She stomped her foot on the tile flooring before looking at her phone. Choe's brows shot up as she clicked on Sabrina's photo. She clenched her hands as she zoomed in on Adrien walking behind Marinette. She wondered what the hell he was thinking and where they were heading. She quickly shot Sabrina back a text to follow the two of them.

Chloe collapsed onto her king sized bed and screamed into one of her many over fluffed pillows. The butler standing right outside her door sighed and immediately turned around, not ready to deal with whatever teenage drama was plaguing Chloe this time.

______________________________

Sabrina closed her phone and put it back in her bag with a smile on her face. She nodded to herself to psych herself up as she gathered her things and quietly left the room, leaving her mountain of work behind.

Sabrina hid behind the corner above the stairs as Adrien and Marinette reached the courtyard. The two lingered in the middle of the opening, each texting their respective parents saying they were staying a little late. Adrien was enjoying the slight degree of freedom maybe a little too much.

"So where do you want to go?" Adrien asked with a smile that he thought he could only pull as Chat.

Marinette smiled a bit at the Chat slipping through. She wondered if he was unconsciously catching on that she was Ladybug. She highly doubted it though. Unlike him, neither her hair nor eyes changed when she was Ladybug. If he hadn't figured it out within the past year, then he most likely was never going to. "I don't know," she said, "so long as there's wifi, I'll be fine with it.”

Adrien chuckled a little, more to himself than anyone else. "Oh really?" he said. "Well then, my - er - Marinette, may I suggest a cafe?"

"That sounds good to me." Adrien quickly pulled out his phone to Google the nearest cafe, but Marinette tapped him on the shoulder. "No need for that, I know a place," she said before taking the lead.

Adrien slid his phone back into his pocket fell in line with Marinette. Frankly, he was liking this side of Marinette, the more confident her. He wondered how much more of this he would see the closer they got to the festival.

Marinette's heart pounded as she led Adrien into the labyrinth of Parisian streets. She remembered a quaint spot that her father had taken her to a few times on Sunday mornings. It was run by his college roommate or something like that. She didn't remember how the two really knew each other. She just knew that they served some of the best coffee that she ever had. She took the series of confusing turns with ease, with Adrien staying close by.

Adrien had been around the city plenty, but not like this. He had never experienced the city streets so intimately as a civilian, and it made him feel wary and excited at once. He noticed the different people riding through on their bikes and walking in groups. It made him feel like a normal teenager. Marinette made her final turn and head down a small walk way surrounded by small businesses and a row of cramped apartments.

She walked down until she met the familiar sign of a dragon silhouette coming out of a teacup. She walked under the simplistic sign into the shop where the smell of fresh espresso and lavender hit her. Adrien walked in close behind her and was overwhelmed by the space. The walls were covered in a light wallpaper accented by small roses that had started to fade from the many days basked in the sun shining through the sizable windows that lined the far wall.

Marinette sat near the window and Adrien followed suit. He sat across from her with his bag hanging from the back of his chair. Tikki peeked out of the bag after Marinette took out her tablet. Plagg did the same. The kwamis made eye contact and silently nodded before sneaking out of the bags and slipping through a cracked open window behind Adrien. Marinette caught sight of them but said nothing as she opened her email.

__________

Sabrina turned the same corner for the third time. She leaned against a streetlight and sighed as she tried make sense of the old neighborhood. She never really went anywhere without Chloe, and the diva would never be caught dead anywhere this ... common. Sabrina's phone buzzed with Chloe's ringtone. Sabrina's stomach dropped as she took it out and checked the message. She was met with a large wall of angry, all caps text saying how she was slow. Sabrina managed to text in an apology amidst the barrage of angry texts, but was only met with more backlash as Chloe let out her ever frustration. Sabrina eventually silenced her phone and collapsed into a nearby bench. She leaned over her knees and sighed again as she thought back to Chloe's angry texts.

She scratched the back of her head as a few children come running down the street laughing with one another. Sabrina hugged her knees. She wished that she had friends like that. That she wasn't so useless when she needed to be useful.

___________

Hawkmoth smirked. It must've been Christmas. Two akumas in such short a time? He would nearly call it miraculous. He quickly tainted a butterfly, preparing to send it into the city. He watched Sabrina sink further into self-doubt.

He questioned whether or not the butterfly would work a second time, but shrugged as the butterfly slipped through the window.

The butterfly sought out Sabrina and turned her phone a deep violet. Hawkmoth smiled as he sensed the Vanisher returning.

Sabrina took her phone, which had also vanished from sight, and slid it into her skirt's pocket before walking down the sidewalk. She bumped into a group of school children, but she didn't stop to apologize like she usually would. The children looked at each other confusedly as Sabrina barreled down the walkways. She caught sight of a familiar pair of pigtails out of the corner of her eye.

__________

Adrien and Marinette huddled around the tablet, arranging and rearranging the various shifts so that not one person was doing all the work. The duo were completely engrossed, enough so that they didn't notice how close they had gotten. From outside the café, Plagg stuck out his tongue and fake gagged as the teens accidently bumped shoulders and apologized with pink cheeks. He rolled his eyes as he hid behind some daffodils while Tikki sat atop a rock.

"Why don't those two just confess already? It would save us from all this gushy crush stuff."

Tikki rolled her eyes. "Plagg, just wait until after Friday. Remember?" Tikki said with a poignant look, "That's the plan, and we should stick to it.”

"But this has taken so long. Look, it's obvious that they like each other. Why don't you just go and show yourself to Adrien? Wouldn't that solve everything?”

Tikki sighed as she facepalmed. Plagg truly hadn't changed at all in the past centuries. She wondered how much longer he was going to act like a younger brother when she heard footsteps behind her. Plagg and Tikki both jumped and climbed under a row of shrubs to hide from whatever pedestrian decided to take the back way around the cafe.

The peered out of under the shrub to find nothing. Plagg crawled out, assuming it was just some kid running by. Sabrina smirked as the cat kwami came out into the open. A familiar violet mask covered her face as Hawkmoth talked to her.

Hawkmoth’s eyes bulged as he spotted Plagg in Sabrina’s view. "Vanisher, grab the kwami and bring him to me," Hawkmoth said with a tap of his cane on the tiled floor.

"Of course, Hawkmoth," Sabrina said as she reached out for Plagg. Plagg jumped at the voice and attempted to zip back into the shrub, but was caught. He struggled in Sabrina's grip, but couldn't break free. His eyes bugged at he tried to figure out where the force was coming from. Tikki's hands flew to her mouth as she watched Plagg get taken away.

Sabrina snuck Plagg under her sweater vest so that he would vanish as well and clasped her hand over him so he wouldn't escape. She glimpsed over at Marinette and Adrien through the window one last time before Hawkmoth threatened to take her power away unless she brought him Plagg. She gritted her teeth as she walked away into the labyrinth of city streets.

______________

Tikki's heart thumped in her throat as she watched Plagg vanish from sight. Her eyes turned to saucers as invisible footsteps lurked away into the empty alleyway. This was bad. Really bad.

Tikki couldn't tell when it was safe to come out. She didn't know whether or not the phantom that had kidnapped Plagg was still lying in wait. Her heart pounded as seconds seemed like hours. She had to do something. She crawled onto her belly and made her way through the decorative leaves and blossoms until she reached the brick edging of flower box. She scraped her arms as she felt along the brick, looking for the opening in the glass that had let them out in the first place. She slipped in and crashed to the floor which made Adrien and Marinette jump. She looked down as Tikki crawled on the old linoleum floor and finally flew back into the bag breathless. Adrien looked around him desperately for the voice as Marinette peered into her bag with knitted brows.

"What's going on?" Marinette whispered.

"Plagg's gone!" Tikki said.

"What?" Marinette said. Adrien's head whipped up from his frantic search to look at her.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Marinette's head whipped back and forth between Adrien and Tikki. She bit her bottom lip as she went over her two options: tell Adrien or leave to find Plagg.

#springtime connection #writingfaber #ml #miraculous ladybug #chapter 19 #adrienette #akuma #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fic

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