#should she burn the set? YES or NO; argue in the tags :D

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @thesingularityseries <3 | Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @aceghosts @madparadoxum @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @euryalex @sstewyhosseini @detectivelokis @purplehairsecretlair @jinfromyarikawa @shegetsburned @clicheantagonist @locustandwildhoney @fourlittleseedlings @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @wrathfulrook and anyone with something to share this week <3

I'm dropping bits and pieces from Chapter 9, this it the final WIP post on it before I post the whole thing sometime later this week.

After taking few minutes to shake off the sleep and what remained of the awful dream, Sabrina got up, her eyes focusing on their bags by the door. She knew it was time to stop avoiding the inevitable, so she picked them up and put them on the bed, methodically pulling out clothes and folding them in a dresser at the far end of the room. When Savannah's things were neatly sorted away, she moved onto her own bag, opening the zipper and taking out garments until something made her freeze and blink in confusion. What the fuck. The lacy bralette John had picked up back in her room and joked about was now in her hands, when she had put it back into her underwear drawer. To make things worse, tucked between a pair of jeans further down into the bag was what he probably deemed as the matching panties. No way. There was only one explanation, and she laughed at the ridiculous idea, until she remembered his lack of boundaries and how he was on his own in her room for a short while. But why would you even… She thought back to what she could only describe as lust filled looks he had given her then, how he always managed to invade her personal space. Thinking I'm putting these on? Watch me burn them in the fireplace, Seed.

[John is a broody boy and misses dinner because he's conflicted af]

She was set on catching him as he came home, on not letting him sneak off without getting anwers. Even if she fell asleep on the couch, it was a better alternative than waking Savannah up with her reoccurring nightmare. As she waited she took her time to snoop around the living room, shooting another look of disgust at the portrait of Joseph. Something that kept tempting her since her arrival was a landline that was placed on a side table there. With her sister fast asleep she took the chance and picked up the receiver. Who do I even call? Sabrina didn't have many numbers memorized, aside from her ex-partner's number in Portland and her precinct's, The Spread Eagle's since Joey regularly ordered food from it for the Sheriff's Department and the one of the jail her mother was serving her time at. She knew she could depend on Leslie to believe her and get outside help, that he would go as far as finding a way to storm the County even with the lockdown Eden's Gate was enforcing. She took a deep breath and dialed his number, but the line refused to connect.

"Fuck. Why did I even think it would work?", she whispered, then set on punching in the bar's digits next. The same thing happened again, making her huff in frustration. Then another strange number that was haphazardly jotted down at the the phone itself caught her eye. "What do we have here?", she stared at it in curiosity and before she could stop herself she dialed it. Seconds passed by that put her on edge, making her question her choice as she feared who would pick up and wondered if she should hang up. Instead an automated voice finally responded, "You have one new message from September, 4th." "Voicemail, thank fuck.", she released the breath she was holding and held the receiver to her ear as the machine prompted the caller to leave a message after the tone. The voice she heard next spread goosebumps over her skin, an awful reminder of the arrest and the constant nightmare that haunted her. "After all the Atonements, all the Confessions, all that you've done for me and Eden's Gate is not enough, is it, John? I worry what has gotten into you since the Reaping had started. You ignore my calls, anytime I reach out to you I'm met with Mathias on the other side instead, telling me you're busy. It's the urges again, isn't it? You have to cast away your past, John. You need to open up your heart, you need to see that there is more love all around you. All the pain and suffering you spread will not help us in the long run. These actions will only feed the sin inside you. It will grow stronger, it will convince you to do wicked things. Those you scar too deeply, they will heal, they will become carriers of your sin. They will spread that sin to others. I've seen your death in a vision, you are destined to be slayed by your own sin. It will come back around in a new form, it's only a matter of when. I've seen you die young, I've seen you die old. The difference between the two outcomes is how much love you let into your heart. I pray that you hear these words before it's too late. I want to see you become an old man in the Paradise we prepared for. I love you brother." Joseph's voice faded away, replaced by the automated one, "Press 1 to listen to the message again. To delete the message, press 2." Sabrina put down the receiver back in its place, leaning against the table as her mind ran over what she had just heard. "What the hell…", she sighed. She doubted John had listened to the message. What worried her more was the fact Joseph seemed suspicious of his brother's behavior. "If it's so damn important, why leave it in a voicemail, Joseph?", she gritted out. Sabrina wanted to laugh at Joseph's hypocrisy masked as concern. His tone, the ultimatums, subtle guilting, all sounded way too familiar to her. He wanted John to let love into his heart, yet he was enabling him in his quest of hurting others. The Project's pointless torture he called "Confessions", was the reason he almost had died on that road that very morning, she doubted Charlie would be the last one to go after him for revenge. If Joseph wanted someone to blame, he didn't have to look far. "And Savannah is now in the middle of it all.", she bit her lip, the frustration making her restless. Joseph's warnings were a cryptic mess, hinting at someone's arrival. She had no doubt if he ever finds out about her visions, he'd declare her to be that person, convince John she would cost him his life, when she had seen him alive as disaster struck, the event his brother predicted as "The Collapse". "You're going to live, Seed. I'm going to make sure of it, then your brother will show his true face. His type always do eventually." She didn't delete the voicemail, instead retreated back to the couch and wrapped a blanket around herself. It was way past midnight when she heard the front door open and quiet footsteps carrying towards the stairs. John was either set on ignoring her completely or hadn't noticed her sitting in the dimly-lit living room.

After the realization he missed Sabrina and looking into her phone, John threw himself into Confessions even harder, convincing himself at one point he'd manage to exorcise her out of his thoughts. He found himself making Wyatt bring in Sinner after Sinner until 12 am rolled around. By then he could tell the man was exhausted and quite suspicious at the urgency he was showcasing. His people were used to him burying himself in work prior to Sabrina's arrival, but never really to that extreme, so he wrapped up the last Confession for the day reluctantly. He parted ways with Wyatt and after cleaning up and picking up his things, John got into a truck and headed back to the Ranch. On his way over he contemplated if sleeping on the couch at his office like he'd done so many times before was a better idea, but he was aching for a shower and his own bed for once. He hoped Sabrina would be asleep, that she would have taken the hint, and keep her distance. He didn't want to face her, not that night, not when no matter how much he tried to focus on the Sinners in his chair, thoughts of her poured back in little by little until he felt like he was drowning.Until the Confessions became the distraction while she turned into the main thing occupying his mind.

John parked the truck, releasing Mathias from his post for the night, the man gave him a strange look as he passed him on the way to the front door. Bennett knew his moods well after working together for years, so he left with a simple "Goodnight". He stepped inside, navigating the living room in the darkness, moonlight and memories of the layout guiding him to the stairs, to the safety of his room. "You're here.", her voice stopped him in his tracks, the one thing he had been yearning to hear the whole day, instead of Hartley's whiny voice or the Sinners' neverending screams as he released their sins. John's lack of response didn't discourage Sabrina. "I have a feeling you're ignoring me for some unknown to me reason, but I don't deal with situations like that, John.", she sighed, "You told me we'd go over the fine details of the deal, so let's talk like adults. And… Savannah waited for you at dinner." John stole a glance her way, memorizing the way her gray hair picked up the faint light from the windows as she sat on the couch. She looked almost illusory. A part of him wished she'd disappear and take the urges with her. "You gonna reply at some point or am I as good as talking to a wall here, or maybe one of the taxidermy animals? Scary fuckers." He couldn't help a smirk from emerging on his face at her undying wit, still he kept his silence, gripping the railing, while his feet remained rooted at the spot, unwilling to move. He had no idea how long he stayed like that until he heard Sabrina let out another disappointed sigh as she got up from the couch. Her footsteps nearing him, anticipation raising in him at her approach, at the unknown. What are you up to, Deputy? She simply breezed past him, her own feet hitting the first step, as she said, "Fine, play your childish games on your own, Seed. Goodnight."

He wasn't holding the railing anymore, instead grabbing her hand as she passed him and turning her around until she was facing him, one step above him, bringing them to the same eye level. John's gaze drank her in hungrily: running over the tight blank tank top that hugged her form and matching sleep pants she was wearing all in contrast to her fair skin. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves, her tattoo was peaking out under the straps, teasing him. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, her pulse beating against them, picking up as the seconds passed. "Sabrina.", it was the first thing he had said since entering the ranch. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, as they searched his. "So you do speak… Can we move onto full sentences next? I'm kind of on my way to bed." John's gaze shifted to her forearm, the sight of a bandage making him smile. He felt pride at the fact she had listened to him and taken care of the wound. "Okay, this is officially awkward.", Sabrina pursed her lips, the move drawing his attention to them. His free hand grabbed a piece of her hair, wrapping it around his fingers, her breath hitching as he said, "Kept you waiting again, didn't I?" She shook her head, "Nope, you're not doing this again. I have questions, John. I'm not in the mood for whatever game you're playing." He couldn't help but smile at the fire in her gaze, "Tomorrow, Deputy, we're both exhausted." "How do I know you will keep that promise? I left you a plate, you know. Even though you didn't show up." Her words held a note of disappointment while her face remained passive. "I'm sorry." "Do you mean that, or is this another act?" Sabrina wasn't holding back, her eyes shining in conviction. "I mean it, Sabrina." "Why are you avoiding me?" "Just doing us both a favor." The cryptic reply made her roll her eyes, "You're just going to keep doing this, eh? Fine, one last thing. Did you pack things for me while I was gone from the room?" John raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion while knowing full well she was talking about the lacy number he had shoved into the duffel bag, but he wasn't going to incriminate himself. Sabrina ripped her hand out of his grip, shaking her head, "Let me guess, you have no idea what I'm talking about?" "Yes.", he challenged. "You're unbeliavable. First chance I get, I'm throwing them in that fancy fireplace of yours, John." "Now that would be a shame." "I thought you didn't know what I meant? Are you getting rusty, Mr. hotshot lawyer? Losing track of your claims?", her lips curved into a triumphant smirk. "I assure you, Sabrina, nothing is rusty about me." She rolled her eyes and took a few steps up, holding the railing for security while she was still facing him, anticipating he might try to stop her from retreating again, when there was enough distance between them and no indication for anything nefarious, she turned her back, headed to her own room. As she made it on the second floor she called out, "We're talking tomorrow, Seed. I'm holding you to it." "Wouldn't expect anything else, Deputy." Good, walk away, before I do something we both regret. He waited until he heard her door close before he climbed upstairs too, preparing himself for another night where she would reign over his dreams, wearing allure like a second skin. Promising all kinds of sinful things if he just gives in. Daring him to forego Eden.

Bonus scene because I know y'all love Savannah.

"Where did he go?" To his bunker. But saying that would raise even more questions, instead she replied by simply saying, "He had some business to take care of. He's a lawyer, you know, boring adult things." Torture. Kidnapping. Murder. Running a cult. Checking crimes off his list at a rate that would make him into any lawyer's worst nightmare. Hell, he'd probably represent himself. Just boring adult things. Savannah giggled, "Does he wear an actual suit?"

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 8. Snowballs

A/N: So this one is just pure fun. I just wanted to write something that would hopefully make you laugh, or at least smile xD ^^ Please, tell me your favourite part/line in the comments :D

Setting: Hogwarts Grounds, Snowball fight among students in the courtyard

Characters: Snape, McGonagall, Filch, Flitwick (early years, Snape is about 23-25)

Word count: 1576

Warnings: Prepare to laugh (I think/hope)

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

"Take that!" A snowball came wooshing through the air, the girl it was aimed for ducked just in time. "You!" she hollered and threw a snowball back at the boy. He jumped to the side and it hit the back of a Slytherin girl. "What the- oh you Gryffindors!" she snarled and threw a snowball back. It smacked the girl right in the face and she fell backwards just as the courtyard was filling up with students walking between classes.

"OH IT'S ON!" the Gryffindor girl shrieked as she gathered snow. "IT’S WAR!" the Slytherin girl screamed as she did the same. Students took sides, Gryffindors an Hufflepuffs on one side, Slytherins on the other with a few Ravenclaws as well while others just watched the unfurling of a full-on snowball war between the houses.

Commands were shouted, snowballs were made and thrown. It was chaos. And what usually happens when there is chaos? Accidents.

A snowball flew through the air at a high velocity just as the teachers marched out to clear of the ongoing battle. It hit Snape right in the face with a harsh splat. The whole courtyard froze. Everyone stood still as snow fell from Snape's face and his eyes burned with rage.

"50 points from Gryffindor!" he roared as the snowball had come from that side of the courtyard. "Now, hold on Severus," McGonagall said as she came up behind the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, "it was just a snowball." Snape sneered at McGonagall.

The students remained still and quiet. "Oh really?" Snape purred. McGonagall's eyes bulged. "Now, hold on just a moment Sev-" *smack* McGonagall's face was hidden behind a splat of snow. She wiped it off with her hand in one swipe.

"You- you disrespectful-" "Now, now, Minerva," Severus purred, "it was just a snowball." He threw her words back at her and McGonagall seemed to explode. "Just a snowball? Just a snowball?!" she thundered with that high pitched voice of hers. Severus gave her a malicious grin.

"Oh, I have had enough of this!" McGonagall shouted, "this is no time to play!" The students watched the bickering between the teachers. Unaware that Snape had in fact already summoned a heap of new snowballs. This ought to shut the old cat up. With non-verbal magic, he began to throw them at the students belonging to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. And McGonagall.  

"Severus! Enough!" "Oh I'm not doing anything, it's my clever students," Snape purred and McGonagall's face turned red. She glared at him as he smiled wickedly. "Oh this is WAR!" she roared and the students cheered on her side of the courtyard. "Damn right it is!" Snape called back before he roared at the student to attack with all their strength.

"Flitwick, more snowballs!" McGonagall shrieked, "Abernathy, throw harder! Flake, throw longer!" she commanded as the gryffpuff side rolled into action. "Not so fast!" Snape roared back before he turned to his students, "are you Slytherins or not?! Throw the damn snowballs!" he hissed and wicked smiles spread out. "How hard?" a broadly shouldered boy said as he bounced a snowball up and down in his hand. "As hard as you can, McRoy." The boy smiled. "You hear the professor boys and gals, it's on!"

Snowballs flew left and right, students and professors ducked as they tried to avoid them. "Professor! What are you doing on their side?!" a girl cried out, her robes in Ravenclaw colours. Flitwick seemed embarrassed and at a loss for words as McGonagall commanded him left and right. Snape chuckled. "He's chosen the weak side," he growled and the girl seemed horrified by it. "Let's show him how clever his students really is, no?" The girl nodded, seemingly pissed off at her own head of house and Snape was clever enough to use it.

And boy oh boy did his side do well. As he Slytherins used their brute strength and rallied themselves by their pure ambition to win the Ravenclaws used their wits to throw balls that curved and split into several. Some even went so far as to throw chasing spells on the snowballs so they would find their targets no matter what.

"Clever, very clever!" McGonagall screamed with huffing breaths. "What's the matter little kitty? Lost your spirit?" Snape chuckled out and Minerva seemed to get even more infuriated as she herself began to throw snowballs using magic.

Snape sneered, oh, playing hardcore now, are we? Well, two can play that game. Snape waved over three Slytherins. "Take the flanks, use non-verbal magic, pound them." The rather large boys smiled wickedly at Snape's command. He gave them a very tight smile and off they went. He was just about to partake himself when a familiar voice rang out over the courtyard in an echoing pant.

"Students throwing snowballs! Students at the courtyard throwing snowballs!" Filch called out as he ran in a weird fashion with a hand on his chest and Mrs Norris hot on his tale. "THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO THROW SNOWBALLS YOU BLUBBERING IDIOT!" McGonagall screamed at the poor man who looked utterly confused at the strange scene. "Sorry, mam'" he sighed as he looked out over the courtyard that had paused at his arrival. Everyone was looking at the scabby man; throws were frozen mid-air.

Filch threw and threw, by Merlin did he have good aim for such a scrawny looking arm and half-open eyes. He had put Mrs Norris to work as well, she stroked around behind enemy lines so the students fell as they stumbled with her jumping between their legs. Students shouted, professors commanded and snowballs flew in a flurry.

"Well don't just stand there! Help! Get more snowballs Mr Filch!" McGonagall chided. Filch looked at her and then at Snape; who smiled at the man who he had actually grown quite close to during his school years. "Sorry mam', my allegiance is spoken for," Mr Filch stated and he hurried over to Snape who smiled triumphantly at McGonagall who seemed to be quite near a complete explosion at that.

"Welcome to the winning side, Argus," Snape said with a smile and Filch nodded as Mrs Norris stroked Snape's legs, "Attack!" Snape roared in a thunder of command and the snowballs flew yet again as students screamed at the opposite side to 'take that' and 'run away loser' paired with some laughs and screams as snowballs hit their intended targets.

McGonagall had hauled din more students from among the onlookers. Snape had not, he did not force anyone to participate but boy oh boy did he get the ones engaging to fight as if it were life or death.

A snowball hit him right on his hooked nose with a thudding splat. McGonagall laughed and that had been the final straw. Snape made snowballs rain down on the enemies. Wave after wave of snowballs until there was so much snow they could no longer move. "VICTORY!" shouted the slytherclaw side with joyous glee as they jumped around while howling with laughter at the losing side. Snape gave McGonagall a wicked smile before he walked over.

"Just a snowball, was it?" he drawled on a chuckle. "Oh alright, fine! Now get us out of here," McGonagall shrieked. "I believe a reward should be given for such a great achievement." Snape smiled as he straightened and looked towards his side of the courtyard. "100 points to Slytherin," he said and the students clad in green colours cheered, "and 100 points to Ravenclaw," he continued and the few students that had participated on his side of the snowball war beamed at him.

"Yes yes, whoopie-do for you," McGonagall muttered, "now get us out of here," she continued and Snape vanished the snow with a swirling motion of his wand that set lose a controlled flame that melted the snow without burning anything else. "Fabulous, now I'm soaked." McGonagall took out her own wand and dried herself as best she could before she told the student's to get changed before next class.

Everyone filed out with loud talk of epic snow battles and awesome teachers. Snape could not help but chuckle, but as he moved his eyes to his college she angrily tapped her foot and glared at him.

"We do not teach students to battle in this way," she chided. "Oh, well you could have ended it at any moment, Minerva. We all know that, don't pretend you didn't have fun." Snape arched a brow towards her and she huffed. "I will not admit that this is the most fun I have had in years, and I will definitely not admit that it was thanks to you. And I will most certainly, under no circumstances, admit that I'm hoping it's a new tradition at Hogwarts." Snape laughed out loud as McGonagall walked away with her head held high and a strut to her steps.

"Come on, Argus. Let's get inside," Snape said as Filch stepped up to him with Mrs Norris in his arms, "No need to clean this up, it's just snow. It will sort itself out." Filch seemed relieved at Snape's words and gave the young man a grin that showcased his yellowing teeth.

"You did a good one here lad," he said and Snape nodded with a smile at the man before they both strode in tot he castle with a victorious air about them as the rumours had already started to spread around Hogwarts.  

I really hope you enjoyed this one and had fun while reading it! :D Please, please tell me your favourite part/line in a comment - it would make my day! :D

As you can see I'm working on not doing too long fics as there is no way I'd be able to do all of Snapemas if I write 4k+ fics xD I'm not very good at it though; I always feel as if there should be more - but it's good practice! :D

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

[Dec:2020]

Tags: @lizlil​ @snapefiction​ @morphineisouthoney​  Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[livelivefastfree]

have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished!  Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things.  So process is pretty slow, haha.  But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window.  Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer.  He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water.  From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting.  Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night.  His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water.  There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives.  There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway.  Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.  

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead.  “No calls from Abraham.  No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.”  Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise.  “They’ll come.  They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment.  Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low.  “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons.  Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly.  “Three Climbers.  Two on North Side, one coming up from the East.  And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim.  “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18.  Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

--

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble.  The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery.  The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk.  Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights.  There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble.  Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform.  Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect.  The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter.  Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.  

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado.  “Easy.  Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says.  “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder.  “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford.  A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes.  He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.  

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms.  “Yeah, I didn’t figure.  Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading.  “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet.  He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care.  Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head.  The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt.  The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar.  “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.  

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.  

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer.  Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder.  “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

[smalltowndetective]

“He’s really got you, doesn’t he?” for F x detective if it is not too late to request.

It’s never too late to request! Thank you for it anon! 

I am so sorry this took so long. I had 2k words written for this, scrapped that, started over, then I wrote 1k words, scrapped that, started over, but it looks like third time, may not be the charm, but it’s better then it was earlier. :D

I am so happy to finally get it done, even if that means posting it at almost midnight where I am haha!

But I really hope you like it! :)

Prompt- "He's really got you, doesn't he?"

Ao3 Link

Title: Haley’s Bakery

Pairing: Felix and Thea (Hints of it, at least)

Words: 1.1k

Summary (And Notes): I suppose this needs some explaining for a bit of context. Tina does not know about the supernatural in Felix and Thea’s route. We also don’t know if Tina/Verda know if the detective is dating either F or N at this point, but let’s pretend that they do for this at least haha

Tags: @lilyoffandoms

The early signs of summer had finally come to Wayhaven.

               The marigolds that adorned about in any spot where they could fit were starting to bloom, their bright yellow and orange hues contrasting brightly to the long green grass. Trees were fully leafed, and butterflies could be found in just about any spot with flowers. And during the cooler nights, the crickets came out to chirp, the noise almost comforting in the otherwise quiet nights.

               Summer was Thea’s favorite season, but with work, it had not been something that she had been actually been able to fully enjoy. The past month had been a constant cycle between work at the station and work at the warehouse, and there was not much time to really take even a few moments break to just enjoy the little things that were happening around her.

               Another thing that was also pulling down her spirits was the fact that her and Felix had barely had the chance to figure out their new relationship, and just be an actual couple. Not that she would take back the little times here and there, bottling each of them in order to look back at them later, a smile forming on her face every time she thought about them.

               Wayhaven had felt busier than it had for all of the time she had lived there, and even though there were some days where sometimes she wished that everything would calm down a bit, she was happy with the team being in here anywhere, instead of having to leave after the case like she thought they would have.

               That would have been awful if that happened.

               And I’m really glad it didn’t.

               It was not something that she would have wanted to dwell on, the “what ifs?” if they had gone to their next mission like they were supposed to, instead trying to focus on all of the positives that had resulted from them staying in the first place, even with the seemingly increased supernatural presence in Wayhaven.

               It’s certainly been interesting having them all around.

               Which I wouldn’t say is a bad thing.

               “Thea”, Tina suddenly said, and she looked up, realizing that she had been absentmindedly been running her fingers on the rim of her cup of tea.

               That morning, with the small amount of free time that she did have, her and Tina had gone to Haley’s for breakfast, but with her brain on overdrive from all of the thoughts in her head, she did not feel like the best companion.

               “Sorry”, she almost whispered.

               “Don’t be”, Tina shrugged, “I know you’ve been busy recently”

               “I had hoped it would quiet a little by now…”, she said, more to herself then to Tina.

               “I’m sure it will”, she replied, adding a small wink, “Wayhaven has always had that tendency”

               Thea laughed, “It sure has”

               “So”, Tina began, setting down her drink on the table, a hint of seriousness in her brown eyes, but it was almost drowned out by the normal mischievousness, “Do you want to know the real reason why I invited you this morning?”

               “Real reason?”

               “Yes, the real reason”, she repeated, holding an unblinking stare with her, “Because the audacity Thea, the audacity”

               She could feel her heart to race at the statement, her eyes growing wide, almost in panic, “What do you mean?”

               “Did you really think”, Tina continued, “That you could just text me, and say you were dating someone, and give me absolutely nothing else?”

               Thea could feel her face start to burn, but she tried to bite it back as best she could, “What else did you want me to say?”

               Tina playfully scoffed, “Uh, everything? How it happened? Every little last detail, don’t leave anything out”

               Her voice then got quiet, “It is that Agent with the golden eyes, right?”

               “Who else would it be?”, she responded, the whisper of a laugh in her words.

               “Just making sure”, Tina confirmed, “Now, we got about 30 minutes before we have to get back to the station, so start talking”

               Thea shook her head, but she smiled anyway, “Well, ever since he’s been back, I suppose there was always that hint? That we could move forward with something if we wanted to. But I wasn’t sure if he wanted to, and it was something that was stuck in my mind for a while”

               “Then, one night, he asked to kiss me”, she said, trying to ignore how Tina’s grin was somehow growing wider as she continued, “And well, we did. It was- pretty amazing. And it meant a lot. A whole lot to me”

               A smile so wide that it even could rival Tina’s formed on her face as she continued, “I was kind of worried that it was only a kiss to him. But it wasn’t. And that next morning, well, I suppose that’s when it really happened. When it became-official”

               She then looked back at Tina, who had surprisingly not said a word since she began.

               “I wish you could have seen just how much your face lit up just now”, she said, and even though her tone was joking, there was a tinge of seriousness to it as well”, “He’s really got you, doesn’t he?” 

               Thea could feel her face flush even more, and Tina let out a snort at the sight of it, “What? It’s really adorable”

               A softer, gentler, smile formed on her face, “It’s really good to see you happy. Like, truly, genuinely so”

               She was struck speechless at that, not knowing what she could possibly say to something like that.

               “Tina I- “, she stammered out without really thinking about it.

               “I’ve got to get to know this guy better though, especially if he’s going to be hanging around more”, she went on as she had not said anything, “So, what about, when everything quiets down a bit, we could go out to the bar. And now, I know that’s not really your scene, but it could be fun!”

               She laughed, “I’ll think about it” But a thought made her pause, “I don’t know if I really want to make you the third wheel though. It seems kind of unfair”

               “Thea Annaliese Holland”, Tina said flatly, and she could feel her eyes widen with the use of her full name, as if she back to being a kid again, “I will be the most fabulous third wheel there has ever been”

               Thea shook her head, but she was unable to hide a smile, thoughts of a night like that, even if it was really not something that she would normally want to do, making a new found hope fill in her.

               Maybe this the chance we’ve been waiting for.

               “Now”, she suddenly said, “As much as I would love to stay here and chat about this all day, we should probably get back”

               “Can’t argue with that”, Thea replied.

               The two of them then left Haley’s bakery, a new found spring in her step.

               The future is sure looking brighter then it’s ever been.

If you ever want to request anything from me, feel free to! I’m taking requests from this collection of lists, but I’ll take just random headcannons and the like as well! I’d love to try writing anything that you can send me! :)

[ladylouoflothlorien]

Our Littlest Treasure

Anonymous asked:

Can I request a Dwalin x reader? They’re about to have their third child. All boys. But then Dwalin has to leave for the adventure. He’ll miss the birth (he thinks) but she ends up having the baby early and it’s a little boy with a birth defect (malformed legs -will be crippled his whole life and have to use crutches)

-

Ok so I know I said I would be writing this without the birth defect because of my family history but as I was writing this it wasn’t as triggering as I’d expected it to be so I ended up writing the original request without altering it, although it’s pretty vague. Again thanks to anon for being understanding the first time when I said I didn’t want to write this 💗

trigger warnings: early pregnancy, birth issues, mentions of miscarriage words: 1604

I could kill Thorin Oakenshield. You thought, subconsciously running a palm over your swollen stomach in a futile attempt to soothe yourself. You didn’t mean it, not really. You remembered what loosing Erebor had felt like, and you wished to live there again one day as did any of the Dwarrow who’d been rather forcibly evicted by Smaug the Terrible. You understood as well as any that for this dream to come true, the Dragon would have to be forcibly evicted – or killed – in return. What you didn’t understand was why Thorin had decided to go off on a fool’s quest now. Not when you were 6 and a half months pregnant.

It had been inevitable really, the argument, but there was no way you could’ve stayed silent. You’d had to ask Dwalin not to go on the quest. Then again, just as you had to ask, you knew deep down that Dwalin had to go. How could he not? Whatever Thorin needed, Dwalin was there to provide. Though in this instance you were frustrated, you could not fault his loyalty. It was one of the qualities that had attracted you to him in the first place.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying and failing again to soothe yourself. This wasn’t your first pregnancy, it wasn’t even your second. This would be your third child. It should have been an easy process, but now your husband was off preparing to go on what was really a glorified suicide mission. He wouldn’t be there for birth, and what was worse, if you thought about the balance of probabilities he probably wouldn’t be coming back at all. The chances of reclaiming Erebor from Smaug were at least 1000/1, even if more Dwarrow agreed to join the quest other than the initial 12 Thorin had managed to persuade, which you truly doubted would happen.

You felt your baby kick in your stomach, and you groaned a little as you took deep breaths to slow your heart rate. It wouldn’t do, allowing yourself to get this stressed this late into the pregnancy.

---

Dwalin’s scowl was firmly set on his face as he sharpened his axes. It wasn’t exactly necessary, he always kept them reasonably sharp, but he wouldn’t have another chance to do so for a long time. He was due to set off in a few weeks, but his heart was torn. It pained him so to argue with his mizim, but she’d made things unnecessarily difficult. He could see in her eyes that she knew he would go even before she asked him not to, but then she asked all the same. He did not appreciate the guilt now placed upon him.

Suddenly there was a frantic knocking at the door, and Dwalin sighed heavily.

“Please ghivashel if yer here to argue again-”

He couldn’t continue, because once the knocker heard Dwalin’s voice, they burst into the room. It was Dwalin’s oldest son.

“Adad! Come quickly!”

He had to pause to take a breath, evidently having ran to find his father. Dwalin felt a chill settle around his heart. His inùdoy was not overly fond of exercising. Something serious must have happened to get him to run all the way to his father.

“It’s amad… the baby is coming now!”

“Mahal, no.”

---

Dwalin burst into your room. He’d sprinted the entire way there, having left his eldest far behind him. His eyes found your face, twisted in pain and glistening with perspiration as you tried to breathe through the contractions, and he was by your side in an instant.

Your hand reached for his and your fingers thread together, and Dwalin didn’t even grimace when you squeezed hard to get you through a particularly difficult contraction. The healers in the room were trying to remain calm, but you could see the worry in their eyes. An early birth, nothing more perilous for the baby.

You felt something wet on your cheeks, and it was only then that you realised you were crying. One glance at your husband showed that Dwalin was barely keeping himself from doing the same. You’d had no issues with any of your other pregnancies, something you were very grateful for, as Dwarrow were not known for their fertility. A third pregnancy hadn’t been something you’d been expecting, but it had been a blessing all the same. Now, you weren’t sure the baby would even survive.

“D-Dwalin”

You spoke through gritted teeth as you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts, that were growing steadily darker and more self-critical.

“Ay, ‘am here amrâlimê.”

“I’m sorry.. for before .. I know..”

Dwalin squeezed your hand and went to reply, but all that came out was a rather strangled, choked sound. He swallowed thickly and tried again.

“Ye’ had to ask lass, I don’t begrudge ye that.”

You felt your eyes burn as you brought your joined hands together and pressed your lips to the back of his.

“I love you..”

Your speech was cut off by a loud cry which you only vaguely recognised as your own. This was far more painful than any of your other births.

“Dwalin.. what if.. what if we lose the baby?” You gasped out, breathless from the agony your own body was putting you through.

Dwalin’s grip on your hand tightened and he looked at you with his signature fierce determination that you adored, as if anything were possible if he merely willed it hard enough.

“Don’ even say tha’ lass. We’ll get through this together, with another pebble to love and care for.”

---

Hours later, your mind swam back to consciousness. For a few blissful moments, it was like any other time waking up, but then your memories came back to you. You quickly tried to sit up, but found yourself too weak and in too much pain to do so. Groaning, you turned you head to see Dwalin asleep, his body slumped forwards in a chair and his head resting on the mattress beside your body.

One of the healers noticed you trying to get up, and walked over to your side, looking solemn. You felt like your heart had dropped out of you.

“M-my baby?” Your voice was scarce louder than a whisper, your eyes wide as tears quickly gathered, ready to spill.

The healer thankfully seemed to realise what you were trying to ask, and came and sat down lightly on the side of the bed Dwalin wasn’t leaning against.

“Your baby is safe, alive…”

You did begin to cry at that, your face crumpling in relief. You knew the statistics of early birth among your kind, and they weren’t good.

“But…”

Your tears abruptly stopped as the healer trailed off, evidently not sure how to continue. Panic gripped you, and you once again tried to get up off the bed. The healer’s hands quickly came up to push you back down.

“Easy, easy! You bled a lot, you are very weak.”

You didn’t care about that, how could you?

“Let me see my baby!”

Your voice was loud enough that it woke Dwalin, who’s head jerked up off the mattress as he blearily tried to adjust to being awake. When he saw that you had finally regained consciousness, he exhaled and smiled at you, clearly exhausted himself.

The healer rose from the bed and went over to a little cot, their motions slow and cautious. You wondered why they seemed concerned as they brought over your baby to you, as if they were wary of your reaction. Idiots. You thought to yourself. When you finally had your third son in your arms, you thought that he was simply perfect. Beautiful, perfect, and alive.

---

Over a year later, you arrived in Erebor with your three sons, as well as many other Dwarrow from the Blue Mountains who were ready to move back into their true home. It had been hard, naturally, to spend the first year of your third son’s life without your husband and his father there to share in the experience of parenthood, but you’d managed it. Dwalin had more than repaid your effort by simply remaining alive, and now you could raise all three of your pebbles in the home you’d both been raised in.

You let your two eldest run ahead at the first sight of their father’s bald, tattooed head, and you walked slowly behind them carrying your third son. At just over a year old, he’d already began to start making garbled noises that almost resembled words if you didn’t listen too closely. You were excited to introduce your husband to his third son properly, as he hadn’t had much time with him before he’d set out on his quest.

You looked up and saw your eldest son running back towards you, evidently with some message to deliver that couldn’t wait the short walk. Your son’s enthusiasm warmed your heart, and you looked past him to meet the gaze of your husband, who looked on with the same fond expression you knew you shared.

“Amad! Amad! Adad says uncle Bifur and uncle Bofur have promised to carve nadadith some pretty crutches when he is big enough!”

Uncle Bifur and Uncle Bofur? They hadn’t been called that before, but then again, you supposed they had just faced death in the face and laughed alongside your husband, so you could get behind the titles. When you finally reached your husband, and his big hands reached out to hold his third son for the first time since he’d left the Blue Mountains, you knew that everything would be alright.  

Khuzdul translations:

Amad – Mother Amrâlimê – My Love Adad - Father Ghivashel - treasure of all treasures Inùdoy – Son Mizim - Jewel Nadadith – Younger brother

Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea​ @cd1242​ @strongandfreedc​​ @pixierox101​​​ @jotink78​​​ @luna-xial​​ @underthemoon-imagines​

[damienthepious]

oh boy. oh boy. oh fuck. oh boy. SCATTERED RETURNS????? y’know that reckoning chapter that tried to kill me? it happened again. also we ain’t done quite yet, darlins

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 16)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [ao3] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: A confrontation, of sorts.

Chapter Notes: This chapter took a long time, huh? I'd say I'm sorry but I don't want to make my friends sad by being overly critical of myself. It's rough right now, not gonna lie. We're all doing our best. I hope this chapter will do at least a little bit to make up a little bit of softness. Be safe. I love you.

~

On the balcony outside his workshop, Arum draws his claws through the air, plucking invisible threads, his intent aligning with that of his Keep to play the swamp beneath them like a harp.

Unweaving the new border surrounding his home is not a difficult task. In fact, it is of an appropriate delicacy that Arum can utilize it as a sort of test, as a way to measure how much he has fallen out of practice.

The boundary softens slowly beneath them, each branch and vine relaxing, relenting, returning to its former growth, and Arum can feel the Keep relaxing as well, as the reality of Arum's homecoming settles within them both.

When they have managed perhaps a third of the border, the Keep tugs at the edges of his mind, and Arum could argue, perhaps, could try to push the Keep to continue the work for a little while longer-

But he is tired, in truth. The journey, the quickened healing, the- the depth of emotion he felt to be reunited with his Keep, all have left him feeling shaky and faded. The borders have been like this for some time now, he reasons. He need not rush.

Besides, he thinks, his lip curling wryly, Amaryllis would surely give him that narrowed-eye look if she knew he tried to push himself so soon after coming home. He cannot risk the force of her stubbornness combining with that of the Keep. Arum buries a laugh at the thought, sighs instead, and steps back in from the balcony to his workshop.

The Keep sings softly as he reaches to pull down a familiar set of knives, as he straps the hilts on again, feeling them more as a talisman than a defense.

"I know," he murmurs, drawing his palms over the hilts by turns, sighing. "I would apologize, but-"

The Keep sings less softly, then. Arum laughs.

"Precisely. I did not think you would." He pauses, feeling the safety and familiarity surrounding him. "Keep," he says, very softly, and then he closes his eyes and tries to pour out the affection that is coiling within him, how deeply he missed his Keep, how warm and relieved his love. It is easier, this way, to let the Keep know how he feels. Words- between the two of them words do not always feel right. He is the Keep's Lord, its Creation, and he may brush their minds together as easily as reaching out to take a hand. He knows his Keep can feel it, his pulse of love, and he feels it brighten before he is twined again in vines, before the rush of love and contentment the Keep sends him in return nearly folds his legs with its fierceness.

It sings, closer to a lullaby than a message, cradling him close, and Arum pretends not to rub his eyes again, allowing himself to be held for a minute or so more before he squeezes one of the vines around him, silently signaling to be let back down.

"Yes, well," he mutters, tail flicking as the Keep gives a vague hum. "There is still much to be done, I imagine. Bring me down to the kitchens; I expect they will be hungry soon."

The Keep pauses, then, and lilts an alternative.

He chokes a laugh. "Oh, fine. Do as you will, then. I expect they will be grateful, anyway." He tilts his head, worrying the edge of his mended cape in one hand as the Keep hums an affirmative, slowly coiling a different doorway out of the floor. "I- yes. If they are waiting, then. Go ahead."

The Keep lets him out into the greenhouse, drifting its attention away to prepare a proper meal for its Lord and his guests, and Arum-

Arum sees them, Amaryllis and Damien seated close together on the mossy bark of a fallen tree, their hands clasped together in their laps, their heads ducked close together as they murmur something unknowable to each other, and when Amaryllis' jaw clenches, Damien lifts a hand, cups her cheek, and then gently brushes an errant curl back behind her ear as her expression softens again.

Arum's own hands tremble, but he shakes his head hard, ensuring that his footsteps are too loud to miss, even for their limited human hearing as he forces himself to approach.

The both of them startle as they hear him, leaning back to watch him, though they do not untangle their hands.

"I hope you have been amusing yourselves well enough in my absence," he says, feigning mildness, but his attempt at levity does not seem to work. Amaryllis glances to Damien, something silent passing between them before she stands, Damien standing a moment later.

"Arum," Amaryllis begins, gently, and Arum's scales shiver with nerves automatically. Her tone is… serious, which is both unusual and concerning.

He forces himself not to flinch in a visible way as he meets her eyes, noting the gentle curve of her frown, the tension in the way she is still holding one of Sir Damien's hands, and he narrows his eyes in concern, ducking his head slightly. "What… what is it, Amaryllis?"

He can feel it already. They've decided to leave tonight. Decided that staying in a monster's den is too much. He should have expected-

"I have a- a question, actually," she says, and then she bites her lip. "And I need to know- I wanna know that you're gonna be- that you'll answer honestly."

"What call would I have to lie to you?" Arum says, more surprised than insulted. "You have already seen me at my lowest, Amaryllis." He pauses, then snorts. "And Sir Damien has rather helpfully pointed out that he is perfectly able to discern when I attempt deception."

Damien's lip turns into a wry sort of frown, but he does not interrupt. Clearly, it is Amaryllis leading this charge. She worries her lip between her blunt white teeth for a moment, her frame radiating strange tension. More concerning still. He is unsure if he has ever seen Amaryllis display this sort of- nervousness, before.

"Well?" Arum says when the pause draws long. "Ask, doctor. You won't get your answer in silence, I can assure you of that. I have many talents, but reading human minds is not among them."

"How do you- feel about me," she blurts, her tone going breathless and weak on the latter half, and Arum chokes on his own breath in surprise.

"Wh-what?"

"I know we said- we talked about what happens after. And about trust and about- about we and- and how we're going to miss each other, but- but I still don't know if…" she sucks in a breath, wincing and glancing away, and Arum sees Sir Damien's hand squeeze her own, and after a moment her shoulders settle slightly from their tension, and she meets his terrified eyes again. "I don't know if you feel like I do. Mind reading isn't in my wheelhouse either, Arum, and- and I just want to know. Before we- before we leave. I need to know if we feel the same way about each other, or if-"

"Amaryllis, I- don't be absurd." Arum can feel himself panicking, can feel a distant buzz of confusion from the Keep as it feels his spiking distress, and he skips back an awkward half step as Amaryllis reaches a hand towards him. "You know that I am- am impossibly grateful for all you've done-"

She winces at that, too. She draws her hand back to cover her mouth for a moment, and then she shakes her head. "Is that- is it just that you feel- grateful? Just- still the same way it was when you tried to leave that last time- just- thank you for services rendered, such as they were? Is that all that it is? Is that all that you feel about me?"

Arum looks away. "I think you know perfectly well that that is not even remotely the extent of- of-" he breaks off, not knowing any safe way to complete that thought. "I think you know."

"That's-" her face splits into something that is not a smile, if only because of the way her eyes are wide and strange and sad. "I don't know, Arum. That's kind of the whole problem. I need to know how you feel about me because if I don't know then I can't do anything about it."

Arum goes still, panic easing into something calmer, more cruel.

"Do anything about it," he echoes. "You feel you would need to do something about it, were our feelings misaligned? If I do not feel as you hope I do? If I have- overstepped, if the depth of my emotion has infringed on his claim?"

Amaryllis blinks, and then she glances where Arum has pointed, towards a Damien who appears equally puzzled by Arum's words. "Wait, what?"

"Have no fear, little human," Arum growls, his tail coiling behind him in a threat. "I have no misapprehensions about what we are. I have no delusions about what has passed between us. A kindness and a mercy, both, but nothing more."

"What?" she says again, and then she releases Sir Damien's hand and tries, again, to step closer. "Wait, no, that's not-"

Arum snarls, and Rilla pauses, her hand outstretched in the air between them.

"I will be forever indebted to you, Amaryllis of Exile," he says, forcing his voice low and steady. "Indebted to your knight as well, as infuriating as that detail remains. But I will not be mocked in my own home. You have shown me kindness and mercy beyond what I deserve, certainly, but that does not free you to treat me cruelly in turn."

"Cruel-"

"In the morning, the both of you will leave, and if the Universe is kind we will never need see each other again. Do you not think it cruel, then, to draw that grief out? To force our focus upon it?"

"But if we just talk about it, we might not n-"

"I know I have made myself a fool," Arum spits, and then- he wilts, his shoulders sagging. "I would do so again, I think. But I will not abide you holding my foolishness to the light."

"Arum-"

He turns, the softness in her eyes too utterly unbearable. "I am… I am tired, Amaryllis. The Keep will bring the both of you food in short time. When you are tired, ask for a place to rest and it will provide one. In the morning it will open a way back to the edge of the swamp. Farewell."

"No- wait," Amaryllis says behind him, her tone sharp, almost scared. "No. Wait- I am not saying goodbye to you yet-"

"Keep," Arum says, voice flat and toneless. "Back to the workshop. Now."

There is a pause before the Keep obeys, but it is short. Arum relents to the pain behind his ribcage only barely, only enough to glance over his shoulder one more time. Amaryllis looks caught between misery and fury, looks half tempted to bolt after him, and Sir Damien- Sir Damien looks stiff, unreadable.

"Farewell," he says again, more quietly, and then he turns away.

He is only a step from the doorway when Sir Damien's voice rings out behind him.

"Lord Arum!"

Arum clenches his teeth. He should ignore the knight entirely. He has said his goodbyes. He has closed this chapter with his own hands. He has reshelved the book.

"Lord Arum, I demand you face me, now. I will not condone so cowardly a retreat."

Arum spins on his heel, exhaling a sharp shocked laugh. "Cowardly - how you dare is beyond-

"I see you are armed, now, Lord Arum," Damien says, his voice rather carefully even. "Armed, and healed, and there is still a duel you owe me. I would see that challenge fulfilled."

"The duel?" Arum wrinkles his snout, bares his teeth. "I should laugh. I am an artist with my blades, but even I could not best an archer with weapons meant for closer quarters than these."

"I still carry the weapon you sharpened for me; I imagine it should prove a reasonable match to your own steel. I would see our duel fulfilled," he says again, "blade to blade."

Arum scoffs. "A meager tool you use, but it would suffice. Do you wish to die, knight? Or have you finally remembered your duty?"

"You will you duel me, then?" Damien asks, insistent, ignoring Arum's questions.

"Oh," Arum says, something between a snarl and a bitter laugh in his tone. "Oh, so now the little honeysuckle means to kill me? Now you are amenable to-"

"I have no intentions of the sort," Damien says smoothly. "But you said yourself that you did not prefer to leave matters unsettled, and this matter remains so, between us. I believe you need be reminded of that."

"Ha," Arum snarls. "Unsettled. It would not be unsettled if you did your duty-"

"You conceded to my skill in wordplay, friend lizard," Damien says, his cheeks dark and his smile soft. "I am curious to see who will triumph in swordplay."

Arum narrows his eyes, and it is some combination of reckless despair and curiosity that compels him to draw his own blade, at last, in response.

"Very well, little fool. Keep," Arum snarls, though his eyes are still fixed on Damien. "Close the door, and then back as you were. I command that you do not interfere. This duel will be mine and mine alone, no matter which fate the Universe intends for me."

"Thank you," Damien says as the Keep closes the way again with visible reluctance, and Arum growls low, tail coiling as he brandishes the blade.

"Okay this is stupid," Amaryllis says, stern though her voice is still wavering, but Damien is smiling now, and he lifts a hand in her direction.

"Trust, my love. I will beg you to trust me. You know my heart, do you not?"

Rilla presses her lips together tight, her eyes meeting Damien's for a long, torturous moment, and then she gives a small grim smile and nods. "I do."

"How precious," Arum drawls, dancing his knife between his fingers. "You wanted this duel, Damien. Now fight me."

"As you say, Lord Arum," Damien says, closing his eyes for a with an utterly strange smile. "I am Tranquil, and I am ready. Face me as you will."

Arum coils, tense, for a long moment, feeling out Damien's steady, waiting stance, but the knight is more patient than he. Arum strikes first, a wild lunge meant to unsettle Damien's footing, but Damien in unmoved as their blades clash, and then he deftly steps sideways as Arum lunges again.

"A fine opening," the knight says mildly, as if they were discussing something so simple as the day's meal. "I was correct to think that your reverence for the blade would translate to a certain deftness with this sort of comba-"

Arum lashes out, interrupting with a snarl, but Damien's smile flashes brighter as he parries.

"Even in this you lilt, little songbird?" Arum complains. He is already beginning to feel warm, breathless- he has not exerted himself in this way in ages. Even with his body healing properly under the Keep's influence, Arum is stretching muscles he has not had cause to use in quite some time.

Arum struggles not to find the feeling exhilarating.

"I have a talent for prattling, Lord Arum, as I have been told again and again." Damien grins wide, flicking his wrist out to clash against Arum's next strike. "If you compel me to silence it will be a feat indeed."

"We shall see, little knight."

"So we shall," Damien murmurs, and they are- close, but Arum shoves and Damien spins away, stance defensive to await the next attack. "There is another matter still unsettled, however, more important than my own lilting tongue."

Arum struggles not to roll his eyes. "It is always something with you creatures, isn't it?"

"You failed to answer Rilla's question. Perhaps you thought your deflection sufficient-" he pauses to leap as Arum strikes with his tail, his footwork elegant enough to be repurposed for a dance. "Sufficient," he continues, "to distract from that fact, but I would have you answer, before you give your farewells."

"They have already been given, knight-"

"And yet," Damien says. His cheeks are dark, but Arum can hear that his breaths are still steady. He has barely begun to exert himself. "Prematurely removing yourself from us will not change how you feel, Lord Arum. Nor will it change how we feel."

Arum manages not to stumble, but only barely. He flicks his blade up just in time to keep the knight from pinning him, ducking low and rolling beneath Damien's arm. "I am- perfectly aware that I am incapable of changing your feelings, knight," he snarls, keeping low and defensive as Damien circles him.

Damien's expression softens, oddly. "You cannot change how we feel now," he says. "I am unsure if you understand, however, the degree to which you already have."

Arum leaps, nearly catching Damien's arm with the tip of his blade, but the knight sidesteps with a sliver of space between his skin and the edge.

"Arum, you cannot-"

Arum snarls, striking before Damien fully manages his footing again, but he cannot seem to unbalance the knight.

"Arum, you cannot conceal how you look at her, and I know you must- you must be able to see how she looks at you-"

Arum's scales shiver with a flash of cold, these words more than the risk to his life filling him with terror. "I see," he spits, tail thrashing and frill flared. "Of course. Insulted on behalf of your lover, of course, I remember- I remember quite early on I implied your Amaryllis might have grown some ill-placed fondness for me and you nearly killed me for that alone. Of course this- yes. Little knight, you must, of course, defend your Rilla's honor against so foul a beast as I."

Damien laughs, bright and oddly keening as he dodges another blow. "I should hate to contradict a Lord, but I am afraid you are as far from the mark as you could hope to be. She is radiant, Rilla is light and love herself, she is brilliance and glory and she is made to be adored, of course you would feel that glow, of course you would." He smiles, shocking and full of heat, and Arum hates himself for the way his ribs seem to clench around his heart like sharp cold fingers. "And you, Lord Arum, you-"

"And I am a monster," Arum hisses, and his next strike is sloppy with despair, and the edge of Damien's blade catches against the curved base of his own, and the knight flicks his wrist so deftly, so easily-

The knife flies aside, gleaming steel painting the air in flashes before it thuds to rest on the mossy floor of the greenhouse, and the blade Sir Damien wields is cool and close against Arum's throat in the same instant.

They pant, for a long moment, and Damien is so close that Arum can nearly taste the heat of him, his gentle eyes bright and focused on Arum's own.

"Well?" he breathes after the pause has drawn long. "Do it, then."

"Do you still believe, truly, that I have any desire to harm you?" Damien says, his tone lilting like song, and Arum's heart clenches again.

"Your knife certainly seems to say so," he growls.

"I told you, Arum. I only wished to remind you. Once, yes, I swore I would slay you, when we finally dueled. This I admit. But I am not the same man I was, so short a time ago."

Arum laughs, choking and desperate, the steel still tickling his neck.

"I have won this duel," Damien says gently. "I would have you answer me honestly, now."

Arum swallows, clenches his teeth. "Ask, then. Ask, and be done with it."

"Do you-" Damien pauses, a layer of his smooth confidence shifting aside, a hint of nerves showing through. "Would you- want us to stay? If we could, if- if we were not pressed by responsibility, would you have us stay?"

Arum would have expected nearly any other question, before the one Sir Damien has posed. He expected one particular question, first. He cannot remember how to breathe, for a moment, and the nervous tilt to Damien's smile makes him wish to lean forward, despite the knife, and-

And Arum's lips are parted, but there are no words upon his tongue.

Damien waits, though. In his periphery, Arum can see Amaryllis waiting as well, a hand pressed to her mouth.

"If-" Arum pauses, swallows, flicks his tongue. "If it were possible. If you could."

Damien's eyes are so bright they are nearly hypnotic, and his own lips are parted, now, though he does not interrupt.

"I only wish to see you gone," Arum admits, helpless and hopeless and keening, "because it feels like breaking again, to know you cannot stay. The faster the break-" he chokes, and looks away, and he knows his voice is breaking too, "the cleaner it will be."

"If we offered you anything you desired from us, what would you ask?" Damien asks, his voice low and steady, though Arum can feel his heart still thudding hard.

"I- I have answered one question already, honeysuckle, I do not-"

"You conceded to me in two contests, Lord Arum. I believe two questions is a fair exchange."

Arum snorts. "Fair-"

"What would you ask of us," Damien repeats, firm, "if we offered to grant you anything that was in our power to give?"

Arum presses his lips together tight, his throat thick and his eyes hot. "Anything?" he asks, his voice catching ragged, snarling, monstrous, but Damien only smiles even more gently.

"Anything."

"If… if I could have anything," Arum whispers, claws clenching, and then he closes his eyes. His pride is such a small thing to lose, in the end. "A place at your table," he says, soft and full of too much undeniable longing. "A place for me, seated at your sides, for as long as you would have me."

Damien's grip loosens, and when Arum blinks his eyes back open Damien's own eyes are wide and shocked, his cheeks darkening as his heart stumbles. Arum can hear that heart, can hear the way Damien swallows, then, as well.

"Oh," Damien says, too soft. "Oh, Saint Damien, your Tranquility, now when most I need-" he inhales, exhales with a smile, and then he drops the knife away from Arum's throat.

"Wh-what are you-"

Damien holds the blade out, hilt first, and presses it into Arum's palm.

"There is one more question before you," Damien murmurs as Arum's fingers curl around the metal, and though he is no longer pinning the monster against the trunk of the tree behind him, the poet is still close, is still crowding Arum with his heat and his scent and the rhythm of his heart. "I would hear your answer under no duress, if you choose to do so."

Damien seems so utterly unafraid of the blade that Arum now holds, the gleaming, newly sharpened edge that he holds close against Damien's collarbone. He is looking up into Arum's eyes, something in his expression nearly shy, and Arum-

Arum-

Arum drops his hand, slipping the knife back into the sheath at Sir Damien's hip. Damien's breath catches again, his dark cheeks going even darker, but Arum can only spare a hint of attention to that while he steels himself, while he clenches his teeth and inhales and lifts his head to look over Sir Damien's shoulder, to see Amaryllis where she stands.

Amaryllis stares both of them, her dark eyes wide, her hands clasped over her mouth, and-

Arum is not brave. He has never been. But Arum remembers every single time this creature before him has reached out her hand to him despite every reason not to.

... and Arum thinks that perhaps he can pretend to share even an ounce of the bravery she has shown him.

"I love you," he says, and there is a lightness that comes as the syllables escape him, a freedom that makes him feel reckless, and as Amaryllis' stares at him with something like awe shining on her face, he thinks he might have begun to smile. "I have for some time, now," he murmurs. "I love you, and meeting eyes with death was a small price to pay for the honor of knowing you."

Arum is certain he is smiling, now. He is just as certain that there are tears in his eyes.

He manages to pull his gaze from Amaryllis', after a moment, with no small degree of effort. "And you, little songbird," he says, glancing down, "as for you-"

Arum is interrupted.

Sir Damien's lips press to his own, muffling him to a humming gasp, and the poet's hands are upon him, one on his cheek and the other twisting in his cape, pulling him down. It arcs through him like magic, like- like poetry. Certain lines of which he cannot help but remember, just now.

"I love you," Damien breathes against him when he breaks the kiss, soft and sure as birdsong.

"Damien," Arum says, too shocked to say anything else, and the shyness slips back into Damien's eyes again.

"I understand if our former conflicts are- too much to move beyond, for you, if you do not feel about me as you do about Rilla, if-"

Arum pulls Damien closer, arms wrapping snug around him, slipping the claws of one hand into the poet's hair now that he can do away with pretense, now that he no longer needs to bury that temptation. Damien gasps against his mouth, and on instinct Arum catches his bottom lip with his teeth, careful and testing. "Ridiculous- ridiculous little bird-" he presses his lips against Damien's again, and his own words- they are insufficient. "So ascended I," he growls, pulling Damien closer, closer, "alight- and burning-"

Damien gasps again when he recognizes his own verse, something like a sob in his voice. "Arum-"

"I love you, honeysuckle," Arum whispers, and Damien chokes, folding against him, allowing Arum to hold him.

Just to hold him. So simple, and so much, all at once. Damien's hair is soft against the scales of Arum's palm, as soft as Arum imagined that it would be.

"Saints," Rilla breathes, and Arum blinks, glancing towards her again as she presses a hand against her chest and shakes her head. "I swear the two of you are trying to kill me."

"Amaryllis," he says softly, but he cannot think what to say beyond that.

She comes closer, her lip pulling like she's burying a laugh as Arum holds Damien more snugly against his chest, and when she is close enough he reaches out and she- she smiles wider, cupping his cheek and slotting herself in beside the poet.

"Amaryllis," he murmurs again, and she wraps her other arm around Damien, the palm on Arum's cheek slipping further to cup the back of his skull, making him shiver, making his chest rumble deeper.

"I love you too," she says, and Arum realizes- he realizes that he knew, already. Somewhere deep and hidden, somewhere he did not allow himself to look, before. "Can I kiss you?"

Arum chokes on a laugh. "I- of course you- ridiculous, Amaryllis-"

She rolls her eyes, and as the laugh bubbles from her lips he leans down, nuzzling against her lips and reveling in the brightness of her mirth.

"I love you," he says again, his scales tickling Amaryllis' skin, his hands holding Damien close. "I love you." He pauses, holds them both even closer for a moment. "I… I do not know what we are meant to do. What this will mean, for all of us-"

"Big questions, Arum," Amaryllis says gently. "Good questions, too, and we're gonna have to talk about them sooner rather than later, I think, but-" she wets her lips, giving him a cautious sort of smile. "But maybe that can wait until tomorrow? I- I just kind of- I just want to be like this, for a little while. Okay?"

Okay, as if he would possibly object. There is no possible way for him to hold her closer. Instead he presses his face into her neck, burying himself in the softness of her skin. "Of course," he whispers there. "It will keep, Amaryllis."

"It will keep," Damien echoes in his arms, and then his voice goes a little higher, a little more frightened as he fists his hands in Arum's cape. "I apologize for- I am sorry to have drawn upon you, I only-"

"Thank you," Arum says, before Damien can lose himself to the panic, "for making me stay."

Arum feels the tug in his mind only a moment before the Keep sings, bemused and uncertain, and and Arum reluctantly loosens his grip on the humans.

"Ah," he says. "Right. Er- I don't suppose… the pair of you are hungry?"

Amaryllis laughs, and Arum struggles against the desire to press their mouths together again. "Yeah, actually. Long, long day." She shakes her head as they disentangle from the embrace, still smiling, and then she- reaches out again, and tangles her fingers together with his own. Damien smiles, and on his other side the poet echoes her, slipping his warm palm against Arum's, and Arum's hands flex, his chest rumbling with something like joy. "Lead the way, then."

~

Dining together is familiar and strange and wonderful, all at once. He has shared so many meals with the both of them already, but never at this table, never with his Keep humming its additions to their conversation. Never with Amaryllis leaning against his side, the edges of the space between them softened to nothing at all. Never with Damien refusing to release his gentle grip on one of his hands for the entirety of the meal, his expression soft and adoring, his lips tumbling with new poetry, hopeful and loving verse. Never with the knowledge that he can reach for them, when he wishes to.

He spends most of the meal wishing to.

They do not seem to mind.

~

Eventually the meal is done, the conversation dripping off to quiet contentment. One human leans on each of Arum's shoulders, speaking slow and drowsy, Amaryllis playing with his hand, pressing the pads of her fingers against his palm, turning his wrist in her hands with fond curiosity as Damien murmurs something rhythmic and quiet against Arum's neck between kisses that are so gentle they make his scales feel electric. Eventually Rilla's grip upon him goes slack, her breaths evening out, and honeysuckle follows not long after.

When they have drifted into unconsciousness still beside the table, the Keep reaches out with vines, draping a blanket it has pulled from Arum's bedroom around all three of them, tucking it around their shoulders and then leaving soft new runners twining around Arum's shoulders, his horns, adding to the embrace.

Arum has never felt quite so warm, before. He has never felt quite so- so certain, so fierce.

He loves his Keep. He would go to war for it. He would fight and scrape and claw his way through anything for the sake of his home, his counterpart. He would die for the Keep. He would.

He would die for the creatures in his arms, now, too.

He shifts very slightly, brushing the backs of his knuckles down Amaryllis' arm, feeling Damien's heart beating soft against the hand that is pinned between his chest and Arum's side.

Yes. He would die for them.

But… Amaryllis wants him to live. She and Damien both. They want him to live. They want- they want more from him than that, even. They-

He cannot think it. His mind shies from it. He is not unsure, not at all, he knows, now, how they feel, but- it seems too fragile a thing, still. Too new and delicate to bear the scrutiny of his mind. He sets their words aside for the moment. He refocuses. They want him to live; that is enough. They, and the Keep, as well. It wishes him alive, it loves him, it is not mere duty that binds them.

“The Senate thinks I am replaceable,” he whispers above the sleeping humans, his memory of the attack still bright in his mind as he shares it with the Keep. The way the representative had shrugged and grinned with sharp white fangs and implied they had found someone better, to make use of the Hermit. “They think I am disposable.” The bright pain of the attack from behind, the further pain and rage that followed during his frantic attempt to defend himself, the bittersweet satisfaction of lifting the Hermit towards the light, the blow that cracked his horn and made his head spin, the choice in less than a breath of further claws or the fall, the water-

Not like his swamp. Not the familiar, still, life-filled water of his home. Water rushing and cool, the bite of sharp rocks until he whited out to almost blissful nothing for immeasurable time, and then the strange, strange stillness that came before the mud, before warm hands and voice and-

Amaryllis’ face, in the darkness. All concern and determination, framed by hair that looked as if the night sky were pouring down around her, before he lost himself to blissful nothing again.

The rest of it the Keep will learn in time. It knows the most important part, now. Arum feels the heat of affection bloom through his counterpart, sees the curling growth of small sprigs of white and orange flowers the Keep is blooming above his doctor.

“They think they can use me and discard me and I will simply die,” Arum murmurs. “Perhaps. Perhaps I may have simply accepted that, once. Perhaps.”

The Keep's vines around his shoulders tighten, secure, and when it sings of comfort and home and life life life, Arum feels it in his mind and in his bones.

“They were wrong,” Arum says, quite simply. “On all accounts.” He pauses, inhaling, feeling the strength he has been missing slowly returning to him, the gentle care of his doctor given new expediency by his home. “We will live, and we will not be used again.”

[->]

[drawlfoy]

The Wonders of Ohio P.3

masterlist request guidelines

part 1    part 2 

pairing: draco x muggle!reader

request: no, this was my idea from forever ago

summary: american high school student y/n’s senior year is interrupted when a british exchange student comes to live with her. 

warnings: cursing

a/n: i’m being so unproductive since my ankle is hurting ughggghghghggh. also: if you like this muggle high school au please please check out @silversslytherin and @fallatyourfeet and @jhspuff as they all have fics that contain some element of this fic! i pulled a little inspiration from them so give them some love!! also second a/n because i worked on this about a month ag oand i’m back now: hey everyone! it’s been a while! it’s going to be a longgg time until i’m posting like i did over the summer, unfortunately, but i will do what i can to get some writing out in my free time.

word count: 2,350

tags: @eltanin-malfoy @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @fallatyourfeet @daintyyukhei @lunathepettuna @writerandee 

music recs: cherry hearts rac remix by the shins, everyone but you by young veins

Y/N took a sip of tea, staring down her mother.

“No. There’s no way. He wants nothing to do with me.”

“Y/N, sweetie, you’ve got to,” Mrs. Y/L/N said. She had a plate of semi-buttered toast in front of her, but she was paying no mind to it. Instead, her coral nails were tapping the surface of the coffee table. “He’s just in a bad place. He’ll feel better once you two are more connected.”

“I don’t know if going out for a day on the town is going to fix this,” Y/N argued. “He’s got some major issues that he needs to resolve on his own. We’d probably be doing him more of a favor by taking him to a therap--”

“Good morning, Draco,” her mother cut in cheerily despite the death glare she sent Y/N. “How polite of you to wait by the doorway for us to finish our conversation.”

Y/N refused to turn around to face Draco. She knew her face was burning red, and besides, she wanted to pretend like he didn’t hear what he just said for as long as possible. Draco seemed compliant to this idea as he glowered by the toaster, waiting for his bread to be done. 

“How did you sleep?” Y/N asked, noticing how dark his undereye circles were. 

“I’m sure not very well,” her mother cut in. “Jet lag and--”

“Mom, I was asking him.”

Draco shifted his eyes onto Y/N’s face in an unrelenting stare. “Not very well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. The tea didn’t help?”

He scowled and turned his back to her, suddenly waiting very attentatively for the toast to finish.

“I was just telling Y/N that she should take you with her into the city,” her mother said as she began to butter her toast again. “You’ll love Cincinnati. It’s unlike anywhere else.”

“No thank you,” said Draco simply. Y/N took note of how tensely he was gripping the counter, watching how the veins in his pale hands strain. 

“Draco, I insist! It’ll do you some good to see the city before orientation tomorrow,” Mrs. Y/L/N pushed. “I’ll be out to see Y/D/N and pick him up at the airport for the majority of the day, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here after only one day. It’ll give me some peace of mind to know that my Y/N is with you. She doesn’t bite.”

Y/N snorted ungracefully at this, tearing off a piece of bread to dunk in her tea. He seemed unimpressed and ready to refuse again when the pop of the toaster rang out through the kitchen, making him jump nearly a foot in the air.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a loud one,” Y/N offered. “You get used to it after a while.” 

His cheeks were just turning a carnation pink when he spun back around to plate the bread and reach for a knife. 

“You two can go whenever you’re ready, Draco,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, setting her bread down and getting up to clear her dishes. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

With that, she turned and left the two with the kitchen to themselves. Y/N was still working on her toast and fruit and began to curse whatever it was inside that made her a slow eater as Draco settled down across from her, elegantly ripping open a tea bag and plopping it into a mug.

“So, uh...” Y/N scrambled to think of a conversation topic. This conquest was made harder by Draco’s intimidating tilt of the head. “How’s the British school system? I’ve always wanted to know. Britain seems like it has it together.”

“I went to a rather unorthodox school,” Draco answered, “so I don’t think my experience would be a good example of my country’s education.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

Y/N busied herself by eating, attempting to do so without getting to many crumbs stuck on her lips. It had never been a problem before, but now that a very tall and broody boy was sitting across from her and looking like he might off her right then and there, it became much harder to eat normally. Draco ate almost robotically, only pausing to sip daintily from his tea. 

Y/N finished before him, and she was up on her feet and clearing away her dishes in record time. “Draco, I’m going to go get my things ready,” she called as she began to make her way out of the door. Come find me when you’re ready to go.”

He sent her a tense, tight-lipped smile that was so forced it looked painful. 

<^>

Y/N was in the middle of her physics homework when a light tapping on the door took her out of focus, prompting her to drop her pencil and shut her notebook. “Yes?”

“I’m ready.”

His voice, apart from the obvious muffle, was noticeably more reserved, like he was defeated or something. Y/N closed her eyes and readied herself before she opened the door to see a very well dressed boy waiting for her, clad in a very expensive looking silk suit. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You can’t wear that into the city!” she exclaimed. “You...you look like you’re about to walk the red carpet or something! Not the streets of Cincinnati on a Tuesday morning!”

He looked at her blankly, like he didn’t understand a word she had just said. “This is what I wear in England.”

“I mean, it suits you,” she said, leaning into the doorframe to look him up and down. It certainly did--black was a welcome contrast with his ivory features and gold-spun hair, and the expensive fabric seemed to match his elitist aura. His shoes were strangely unique, with a very exotic pointed toe. 

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity in which she was examining him. 

“Uh, yeah, let’s get going then,” Y/N said, making her way down the stairs to the garage and suddenly feeling very self conscious about her fashion choices for the day. 

<^>

The car ride downtown was exceedingly awkward, with only occasional breaks in the silence for light conversation. Y/N managed to pull out certain facts about Draco--he was an only child, he was born in June, and no, he hadn’t been able to contact his friends back home--but he was still frustratingly vague and secretive. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Y/N asked, unlocking his door and getting out of her own side. “I have to get some last minute stationary, but other than that, the options are endless. I have a few special locations that I have in mind, if you want me to take you to them.”

He shrugged. Y/N suspected that he was beginning to regret his clothing choices as he saw that no one else in the city was dressed as formally as him. 

“D’you like history?” she prompted, stepping a bit closer to him. 

“Not particularly.” God, it was crazy how Draco could make anything he said sound regal and beautiful. 

“Perfect. Follow me.” Y/N locked the car and grabbed him by the sleeve, ignoring his protests about the material or the tailoring that she was going to completely ruin. She pulled them through alleys and backstreets until the bustling city was almost completely behind them and all that stood in front of them was a small shop, with a sign that read “My Grandfather’s Attic”. 

“This is the coolest antique store you’re ever going to find here,” Y/N told him, proudly standing tall in front of the entrance. “I know it’s probably not nearly as old as the stuff from England, but half the stuff in here is so obsolete that I can’t even identify them.”

Draco scowled at the ground. 

“If you don’t like it, we can leave,” she said. “All I ask is that you come in and see it with me for a moment. Maybe you’ll be interested in it.” 

Y/N boldly grabbed his arm again, noting just how stiff it was, like an iron rod. Draco scoffed, attempting to tug it out of her grasp, but she held fast. 

“You are coming with me,” she commanded through gritted teeth, resorting to dragging him to the entrance. “Would it hurt you to be enthusiastic? Or manageable? Just once?”

“I don’t want to be here!”

“And you think I’m enjoying having to sacrifice my senior year for some rich kid with daddy issues? As if!” 

Draco’s silver eyes were blazing as he jerked away to glare down at her. Y/N was once again reminded that he was substantially taller than her and began to feel uneasy.

“At least I have a father to speak of” His voice was cool, unfeeling, and deliciously savage. 

“I have a father! What are you talking about?” This prat was really going to try that?

“In theory, sure,” he said. “But he spends more time traveling than he does with you, right?”

“That’s...no!”

He raised an eyebrow. “So the calendar that your mother has set up isn’t accurate?”

Y/N, flustered, curled and uncurled her fists. “It’s been a bad year. He just wants to make sure he can pay for my college tuition.”

Draco made a sound that was infuriatingly disinterested before striding into the store, tossing her a rather sour look. 

“If you really wanted me to come in, all you had to do was ask. Nicely, mind you. No need to manhandle me.”

<^>

Y/N hadn’t been in the old antique shop for over a year, and she was stunned to see just how many items she’d never seen before. None of them looked like familiar household items--instead, they were strange looking contraptions, worn with age and marked with the writing of older generations. 

The most surprising aspect of it all was Draco’s sudden turn of mood as he floated about, picking up strange items with a familiarity that confused Y/N. 

“Draco,” she called. He snapped his head up from something strange that he was looking at...was that a broken piece of a twig? “Come over here, will you?”

He set down the weird looking ragged stick with an especially broken end and strode over to her, a rather annoyed expression on his face. “What is it?”

“Do you actually know what all of this stuff is?” Y/N asked. “I think it must’ve come under new management...I knew they sold it last summer. The new owners totally revamped it; I don’t recognize any of this.”

“I don’t know what any of this is.” He was suspiciously quick to answer.

“Now that I think about it,” she continued, “I’m surprised I even found this place. I’ve tried looking for it with my friends before, and maybe we got lost or something since we couldn’t find it. But I found it this time, with you, so obviously I must’ve... I don’t know.”

Draco suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. 

“I think I’ve had enough. Do I have your permission to leave now?” His tone was snotty and not unusual, but there was an underlying sense of urgency.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Y/N agreed, visibly shuddering. “The energy in here just feels weird.”

He laughed at this, a real, genuine laugh, and Y/N was treated to the sight of shallow dimples in his cheeks. “I can’t imagine why.”

<^>

Y/N was holding that strange looking box she had picked up in the antique shop, only it was black and much heavier. Her head hurt the longer she held it, and the simple engraving of a symbol she couldn’t recognize burnt into the skin of her palm. 

How had she gotten here? And how was a simple box glowing like...that?

She shot awake, nearly banging her head on the headboard. It was only then that she realized she was dripping in sweat, her brow frothy with perspiration. 

Gross. What kind of dream was that?

One glance at the clock made her heart drop: it was 6:05, and time to get ready for orientation. Her senior summer was really, truly, and absolutely over. 

Y/N wasted no time in getting up and ready, taking extra care to wash off the sweaty remains of her dream in the shower. It was quickly fading from her memory, and by the time she was heading down to the kitchen for breakfast, she had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. 

“Good morning,” she greeted her father, who was sitting at the head of the table and staring down at a crossword. 

“Oh. Good morning,” he said, glancing up from his paper for a moment. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. Is it time for school already?”

“Orientation. I have to take Draco this morning.”

“Draco? Did your mother get a dog or something?”

Y/N laughed stiffly as she prepared her tea. “No, Dad, our exchange student this year from Britain. Don’t make fun of his name so loudly, I’m sure he can hear you.”

Mr. Y/L/N simply nodded and returned to his work, occasionally taking a sip from his half full cup of coffee. Y/N had never been close with him, but they had spent enough time around each other to feel comfortable in silence. 

Y/ N had only just sat down to eat when she saw a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye, prompting her to look up and see Draco, wearing slightly less dressy clothes and a matching scowl.

“Hi,” she said, faltering under his gaze. He simply sniffed and entered the kitchen, floating over to the kettle and looking inside of it. Unsatisfied with the contents, he changed the water and placed it on the stove.

“This is my father,” Y/N attempted again. “He just got back from Australia on business.”

The two made brief eye contact and her father grunted in acknowledgement. Draco seemed wholly unimpressed and sent Y/N a “I told you so” look that made her want to get up and slap him. She stood up and forcefully stacked her dishes in the sink, turning around before she completely left the room.

“I’ll be ready in 10,”

final a/n: i’m still kinda swamped with work tbh and i don’t think it’s very fair of me to expect to get out anymore work than what i had going at the beginning of the month, but i’m hoping that once january begins, i can start writing more often. i know i promised a dramione fic that’s based in the fall but i’m not sure if i’ll have the time to do that...maybe once i’m in university? i apologize for any of the typos i may have made in here, i don’t have the time to proofread and just wanted to get something out to prove to you all that i’m not dead. love youuuuuuuu

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reid’s Got a Girlfriend

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 1,519

Warnings: just plain fluff

Summary: Spencer has been hiding his relationship with you from his team for a while now, but the secret is slowly unwinding.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me. Thank you @kendall-michele for the idea. if your tag doesn’t work three times in a row (three stories I post in a row) then I will be removing you.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“I’m heading off to work!” Spencer called from the front of the apartment. His voice prompted you to scramble out of your writing chair and rush down the hall to him. He smiled when he saw you running, and he opened his arms for a hug and kiss he knew was coming. Jumping into his arms, you placed a kiss on his waiting lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His snaked around your waist so that he could hold you to him. He was taller than you so you barely came off the ground before he set you back down.

“Have a good day at work,” you grinned before hugging him and placing a kiss on his neck.

“I will. I’ll call you when I’m on my lunch,” he promised before pulling away from you. As you watched him walk out the door, you noticed you left a shimmering light pink mark from where your lips had met his skin. It was faint, but if someone were to pay attention, they would notice it. Spencer’s hair was no longer long, so it was visible to whoever looked his way.

Deciding to let him wear it on his skin, you shut the door behind him and went back to the chapter you were working on. When the two of you met, you were a struggling artist while he was just starting out in the BAU. None of his coworkers knew you existed before Spencer liked to keep his private life away from work at all times. The more time progressed, the more you and Spencer grew close. He was nervous as hell, but he was the one who asked you out first. Life was going well between you two, and you figured it was because none of his friends were in the way to ruin things.

One day, you told Spencer a few weeks ago, that you would like to meet his friends. He promised he would get around to it when the time was right. He had been going on back to back cases for a while now, so you gave him the space he needed. You knew he loved you with all his heart, so he would tell them when he was ready. It’s not like he was ashamed of you or anything, just nervous about how it could turn out. He figured if the world knew you and him were together, you could be an easy target for criminals.

Spencer made it to work on time, and he rushed to his desk to get started on the files you made him leave at his desk last night. Everyone was filling in for the day, but Rossi and Hotch were already in their offices. He sat down at his desk and got to work straight away, busing himself with today’s work. Derek was the last one to come into work, and he passed by Spencer’s desk every morning. Each time he saw him, he was either working on his files, texting someone furiously, or talking on the phone. Every day he looked the same, but today was different. Derek gave him a slight look as he passed by but halted when he saw the faint lip gloss mark you left on his neck.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” he said as he backed up to his desk and leaned on it. Spencer looked at him in curiosity, wondering why his friend had a sly grin on his face. “When were you going to tell us about her?”

“H-Her?” Spencer stuttered, racking his brain to figure out how Derek found out about you. Any and all the pictures you took of him to post to your Instagram, he made sure none of them showed his face, and he didn’t post any of you since all his coworkers were his friends on there.

“What’s that?” Derek grinned before moving the collar down to see the mark better. Spencer grabbed his phone and turned it on camera mode before looking at his neck. He mentally cursed himself for letting this happen. He knew Derek wouldn’t let this go until he got an answer that satisfied him. Your boyfriend smacked his hand away before wiping the mark off.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. You got a lady, Reid?”

“No, leave it alone.”

“Oh, so you’re hooking up then. One-night stands kind of thing? I didn’t peg you for that kind of man.”

“I’m not, Morgan. Just leave it alone. I was hanging with Henry, and he got some sparkles on me.”

“What’s going on?” Emily asked as he headed over to the duo.

“Reid’s got a girlfriend,” Derek grinned.

“No, I don’t. Please, can we get back to work?” he asked before placing his face in his files. Derek laughed as he teased the kid of the place before going to his desk to work.

Spencer was dead tired the next morning that he came into work. Coffee was really the only thing that was going to wake him up now. When he got home last night, he told you about what Derek said, and you two d a long conversation about when you might be able to meet them which then turned into arguing which then turned into some great sex. So great, that Spencer housed a pretty hickey that you left on his neck from the night before. He was so tired, he forgot to ask for your makeup so he could cover it up. He was so tired, he walked right past Derek who was on the phone at his desk. Derek looked up and almost immediately ended the call once he saw the red mark.

“I got to call you back,” he said as he slammed the phone down. Spencer jumped at the loud noise, but he continued to the break room where the coffee was practically begging for him.

“Whoa, Pretty Boy. You may have been able to explain that mark yesterday, but you can’t explain that away,” he grinned as he pointed to the mark. It took Spencer a few seconds to gather what Derek was trying to say, and when he did, he immediately pulled his collar up which hid the mark.

“I burned myself.”

“With what, a curling iron?” Derek teased.

“...yes.”

“Bullshit, you got a secret lady,” he laughed.

“Morgan, can we please be adults about this?”

“You either have a girlfriend, or you’re hooking up with someone. Who is it?”

“No one, okay?” Spencer groaned in frustration.

“You either tell me or this teasing is only going to get worse,” he laughed before winking and leaving the room. Spencer was always teased by his coworkers. Never in a bad way, but he was frustrated that he couldn’t outright express the love he had for you. There was only one way to change things and stop the teasing.

“Come to work with me,” Spencer said as he slung his messenger bag around his neck and shoulder.

“Wait, really?” you gasped as you saved the draft you were working on and stood up.

“Yeah.”

“Was Derek teasing you again? I didn’t realize I made a mark until after. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s good. I don’t want to hide you anymore. I want to introduce you to my friends.”

“Okay, then let’s go,” you squealed before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the apartment. It took no more than 10 minutes to reach his office, and you were really nervous on the elevator ride up.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said in a calming voice as he took your hand.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“They will, and if they don’t, who cares? I love you, and that should be enough.”

“You’re right, it is enough,” you said with a smile before giving him a quick kiss. The elevator doors opened to reveal his floor, and you could see his coworkers inside. Spencer led you into the room, and all eyes are on you.

“Guys, this is Y/N. she’s my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Garcia gasped as she practically ran down the stairs to you. Derek laughed as he walked over and slapped his friend on the shoulder.

“My man… I knew it.”

“Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” you chuckled nervously.

“Strange enough, we’ve heard nothing about you,” Derek said.

“You must be Derek,” you smirked knowingly.

“What have you told her about me?”

“Nothing too embarrassing,” you joked.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Emily said before giving you a hug. Hotch came out of his office and cleared his throat which got the attention of the rest of the team.

“Briefing room in 5 minutes. We got a case,” he said before leaving to the room.

“That’s my cue,” you giggled as the rest of the team began shuffling to the briefing room. Turning to Spencer, you wrapped your arms around his neck before giving him a light kiss.

“Be safe, okay?” you whispered.

“I will.”

“He’s got it bad,” Derek said as he observed the couple.

“Let him be happy,” Emily smiled as she disappeared into the room.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@adlerorzel-blog  @kendall-michele  @megsyrae  @bitchwhytho  @lucipie666

[ssttitdramon]

More Random SSTTITD Headcanons

-If you haven’t read the first set of SSTTITD headcanons, I suggest you do so to avoid any possible confusion when reading this one :) 

-This one ended up being pretty long, sorry about that. Same old note tho: Everyone is back, safe and no one’s registered for the war.

-There’s a bit of IT x SSTTITD crossover at the end- which includes a small reference to a scene from IT Chapter Two, nothing major but I’d still include it as a minor spoiler just in case

That dog from last time? After the gang walked him around town all day and asked everyone about the dog, they just couldn’t find the owner 

They still put up Found Dog posters around

Chuck wants to let the dog stay at his house in the meantime but his mother won’t allow it

Chuck rants on the walkie talkie for three nights in a row about how he’ll never get a d-

“Chuck, just go to sleep already- he’s safe with me.”

After a while, Ramón decides to keep him for good

That dog follows Ramón everywhere now

The owner of the animal shelter is a sweet old lady who lets Ramón bring his dog to work and hang out with other dogs

The gang still argue over a proper name for the dog btw

“I’m telling you guys we should go with Galactus.” 

“He’s too much of a sweetheart to be named after that purple horn guy, he looks like a Max.”

"Let's name him after a month like our boy here, how's December sound?"

"Haha very funny."

“Well what about Chip? From the night we met him…”

“You want to name him after the cookies you burned?”

“....”

The gang go stargazing sometimes

They're all sprawled out on a blanket in a field

Stella talks about what she can remember about her mom

She's an exhausted mix of sadness and anxiety, some anger too

The boys just listen and offer support while she gets teary eyed 

She also talks about how scared and worried she was for Chuck and Auggie when they disappeared

Neither boy wants to talk about what happened when they were gone yet

But they reassure her that they don't blame her for any of it even if she might for taking Sarah's book

They all promise each other to always protect each other

Chuck then admits he worries about his sister more often than not

Whether she actually gets the love and respect she deserves from the guys she dates

And he's noticed that his mother can sometimes be too critical of Ruth which actually upsets him

Ramón then tells them about his older brother

His older brother who passed his car down to Ramón

His older brother who told all sorts of stories whenever their family stayed up talking in the kitchen

His older brother who would let him tag along when he'd sneak out to hang out with their cousins

Ramón didn't even notice he was crying until Auggie hands him a napkin and then sits up to offer a hug

Yes, there's a group hug

They're all crying at 3 a.m. in a dark field but they're hugging and promising each other that they'll be okay

Ramón's nameless dog is licking their tears away 

The moon is full that night which inspires Auggie to suggest they name the dog Apollo

After the moon landing on the summer of '69

They all actually agree with this one for once

I was inspired by @rabbitkind idea of IT x SSTTITD

If they had all been born around the same decade- both groups meeting as kids would be awesome

Yeah, the four of them would still be older by a few years, but that wouldn’t stop everyone from hanging out anyway

Chuck, Eddie, and Richie? That's three chaotic brain cells hard at work

“You’ve got double the dorks that I deal with.” -Stella to Bev at some point

They would totally be up for a fight against Bowers and his cronies if they’d see them start harassing the Losers

Omg the Losers piling into the back of Ramón’s car tho

There’s elbows and knees flying and many threats of being “sent to the trunk if you don’t just sit on my lap already.”

At some point Auggie and Stella have all seven of them get out, work it out and sit back in the squished order they can all agree with.

Coins were flipped on who was sitting on laps: Eddie, Richie and Stan lost

I do love the idea of the gang in their late 30s finding ways to defend/protect the Losers Club tho

Like… hey guys, lets pretty much adopt seven kids while we fight off this clown

Be the guardians they needed when they faced their monsters back then

But like… imagine Pennywise getting to them

Whether they're adults or kids (idk maybe Pennywise decided to travel to Mill Valley in the 60s)

((On that note: AU where Sarah wrote Pennywise into both towns :O and Stella would just *UNO Reverse Card*))

((Ok that's not the point of this hc, just wanted to throw that out there))

Pennywise taunting Stella about her depressed dad and making her feel guilty

Showing her Chuck, Auggie and Ramón being tortured

Auggie is just making soup and the clown crawls out of the pot

"Why don't you add a pinch of salt and some toes there, son?"

Haunts Chuck with the idea of being doomed to hell in the twisted form of his Christian mother

Also shows Ruth being torn apart by giant spiders

Toying around with Ramón's memories of his brother- seeing his brother's head crawl around à la Stanley's head coming out of the fridge

Or if we're talking adult Ramón and don't ignore canon this time: knowing Ramón is a veteran with ptsd, Pennywise makes him relive his Vietnam war trauma :(

Pennywise taking the form of an angry, demonic Sarah Bellows who lurks in dark corners and chases the gang around Mill Valley

That’s what makes Stella angry the most, “I literally just got rid of Sarah and this clown wants to play around like this?!”

Ok but the gang going to Derry to track down Pennywise’s origin and teaming up with the Losers Club to take It down??? That’s eleven badass kids in the sewers, half-scared to death and half-pissed off with the motivation of keeping each other safe and alive

[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

Supernatural - Road to Revenge Chapter 4

Authors Note: Here is chapter 4! Hope everyone is well. Thank you to all for the likes and re-blogs. If anyone wants to be tagged in the upcoming chapters please send me an ask. Bit more drama to be added to the plot. Word Count: 2934 Warnings: There is some angst in this one. Character death.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

My heart had just shattered into pieces.

Nia was dead…

I had seen plenty of bodies in my lifetime but with this being Nia’s body and not just some stranger. It was different. It was a member of my family so now it was personal. 

Her body was tied to a chair, the rope that once bound her was drenched with her blood. Whatever blood was still in her body still slowly dripped onto the floor. Her head tilted backwards - lifeless. Her eyes had rolled and dry tears and what makeup was left stained her once perfect features. Nia’s long black hair was matted and messy. I noticed her top had been cut, pulling the knife I had in my boot. I used it to carefully peel the blood soaked garment away for a closer inspection, the new anti-possession tattoo she had gotten a mere few hours before, the tattoo that was meant to keep her safe had a large gash breaking it. And just like a devil's trap or salt circle once it was broken you were no longer protected. 

I felt something wet on my face. I was crying. I didn’t cry. I was never allowed to. But suddenly I just collapsed to the ground, the knife that was once in my hand clattered to the floor. The last and only normal part of my life had been taken away from me. I curled up into a ball on the floor. I felt weak, powerless and vulnerable. 

Was she in Heaven? Was she in Hell? 

As I laid there on the floor. I remembered...

Weaknesses are not tolerated. Failure is not an option.

My training started when I was five years old, I was taught how to dismantle and reassemble a handgun, then shoot it with precision by seven my marksmanship was the top of its game. I even rivalled some of the adults. At eight I had to prove that I was the top of my class, my opponent  and other classmates finally understood why you never brought a knife to a gunfight. I was being trained into the perfect killing machine, they were lucky I was a blank slate when I arrived. When my fourteenth birthday came I was sent out in the field, it was also the day I escaped from the clutches of my handler.

“Nicole, step forward.”  

I did as I was asked and stepped forward, there was a line of us eight of us to be exact both male and female. All dressed in black, our hair was neat and tidy and the same solemn expression littered each individual face except for one.

“Maxwell, step forward.”

The boy froze in his place. 

“Maxwell, step forward. You know the rules if your name is called out you step forward.” The voice said again this time firmer with more authority.

The boy finally stepped forward and the rest of the line was dismissed, they dispersed quickly and quietly hardly making a sound.

“One of you is ready to graduate. But you must prove your worth. You must prove to ‘The Men of Letters’ that you are ready.” 

With that we were left on our own. We knew that only one would leave the room - That person would be me.

“Nicole… We don’t have to do this.” Maxwell whimpered, his eyes searching for a shred of hope.

“This is what they have trained us for.” I said bluntly looking at the few weapons that were left on a nearby table.

“But…”

“Maxwell you are weak. And weaknesses will not be tolerated!” I shouted as I picked up a throwing knife and launched it at him. I missed by an inch.

“You were chosen because you needed to be dealt with. Failure is not an option, you have failed the Men of Letters because you are weak.” I stated as I cornered him.

And right before I had him pinned up against a wall…

I shot back up but this time I wasn’t alone Dean had me cradled in his arms. I then broke down, tears streamed down my face once more, I buried myself in his jacket. From that moment the remnants of the person I used to be, came flooding back. I will hunt down this demon and nobody is going to stop me.

 “Nikki I’m so sorry.” Dean said, trying to shush me to try and calm me down.

“I need...I need to put her to rest.” I muttered trying to get out of Dean’s embrace. He wouldn't let me go at first.

Escaping Dean’s iron hold I clambered back up to my feet, bending down to pick up the knife. The silver blade being a welcomed cold feeling on my palms as I tightened my grip. Carefully making my way to Nia’s body I sliced through the blood soaked ropes. 

“I know she wasn’t a hunter but I think a hunter's funeral would be best.” Dean said softly. 

I nodded, finally through all of the ropes that held Nia. I closed her eyes and Dean walked over and carefully picked her up.  

“Please be careful with her.” I whispered. 

Dean never uttered a word but simply nodded. As he held Nia close to his chest, not caring that her blood stained his clothes, we made our way through the empty bar and back to the impala, opening the back seat door Dean slid Nia’s body onto the smooth yet worn leather. We drove towards the Las Vegas Ranger District as that was the closest place to give Nia a proper hunters funeral. The drive was silent, nothing but the odd glance at one another. By early morning we arrived, Dean immediately got out of the car and got the axe that lived in the trunk. I still sat in the car keeping Nia company, I turned to look at her.

“Ni, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I have been a crappy sister. But I promise you that I will find the bastard that did this to you and I will make them pay. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy and at peace.” I whispered to her, reaching out to hold her cold and lifeless hand one last time. 

Once Dean had cut down enough trees to make a base, he offered to get Nia out of the car but I declined, I had to be the one to do this. I opened that car door and picked up my sister. Even though she was slightly taller than me I was still able to lift her. I put her on a white sheet that Dean got out of the trunk and placed on the floor. Smoothing out her hair, I kissed my fore and middle fingers and planted them on her forehead.

“Sweet dreams sis.” I said softly and wrapped her up tying the sheet where necessary. 

I carried Nia to the base, I struggled to place her down and Dean with an act of kindness aided me, he didn’t take over he just helped and I was thankful for it. He then took a step back as I doused Nia’s body with salt and the gasoline. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver zippo style lighter - it was Nia’s lighter, the one I had bought for her on her birthday when she turned 21. I had it engraved with the words. ‘Smoking is bad for you. You're a pain in the ass. Try not to lick anymore window glass.’ I took the lighter. It seemed fitting to do it with this. As I flicked the lighter a flame appeared. I watched the mix of blue and amber dance together. 

“I promise I will avenge you Ni…” And with that I threw the lighter onto the wood and flames roared to life as they ate up her body. 

Dean pulled me close, both of our eyes were red…

“Has your past got something to do with Nia’s death?” Dean asked me to break the silence.

“Yes…”

We stayed with Nia for a good twenty minutes and then headed back to the car. My walking pace was faster than Deans.

“Actaeon as in the wind, we need to rethink how we are going to do this.” Dean suggested softly. 

“How I’m going to rethink this.” I said stopping and turning to face him.  

“Nik, you can’t do this one alone.” Dean replied, coming to a halt.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t do this alone? You should know me better than anyone Dean, that if I’m told I can’t do something I will do the opposite.” I argued raising my voice.

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Dean snapped.

“Then so be it! I just had the last shred of normality ripped away from me.” I shouted back.

“You want to end up like Nia? You want it to be where it’s me and Sam burning your body? Is this what you're aiming for? You are the best thing that happened to me Nikki and I’m going to bloody make sure you're still around. If Nia’s death is connected to your past then you need to fill me in. Even if it's just the basics.” 

“You know the basics Dean. I was in a foster home when I was fourteen, I met you and Sam a couple years later.” I replied bringing my tone of voice back to its softer tone of voice.

“Why were you in that foster home though?” 

“Because I ran away from what I thought was my home. Because I wanted no connection with my past and coming to America was the best way to do that. Because I wanted to forget what I was being turned into, but when it’s drilled into you 24/7 for almost a decade you don’t know any different!” I ranted.

Every time I spoke Dean inched closer to me and by the time I had finished speaking we were face to face, I had told him too much. I let my emotions get the better of me. He pulled me closer and kissed me hard but full of love and passion, he held my face in his hands. But while he was doing that I had another idea in mind, I reached into my jacket pocket and held onto a set of handcuffs that I shoved in there earlier, and with a grip on the metal restraint I slowly pulled them out quietly so I wouldn’t be caught.  

“I am so sorry.” I whispered as I pulled away from Dean. 

I quickly attached one cuff to his wrist, maneuvering around so I stood behind him. I grabbed his other hand and cuffed that one as well. A look of disbelief was plastered over Dean's face. 

“Nik? What are you doing?” He asked cautiously, spinning back around to face me.

“I have to find him D…I have to send that son of a bitch to rot back in hell. He killed my sister…” I replied with tears falling down my features once more. I cried more times today then I had ever done in the past. 

“Revenge is a dangerous road to go down. You told me that.” Dean pleaded. 

“I don’t want you to see the things I’m going to do.” I said plainly. 

“Please when this is over I hope you forgive me.” I added and punched him in the face with such force I knocked him clean out. 

As Dean fell backwards I fished my phone from my pocket. Dialling Crowley’s number he picked immediately.

“Fawn pleasant surprise.”

“Where can I find him?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder still seeing Dean passed out. 

“Like I said you don’t find Actaeon.”

“Then point me in the right direction Crowley…” I snapped.

“Fine, fine.” 

The phone line went dead but however he appeared at my side. Peering over my shoulder he saw Dean still unconscious; he pulled a sarcastic face. 

“Dean will wake up with a headache and nothing more.” I told him.

“If you say so.” 

“Anyway, so like I have mentioned time and time again, you don’t find Actaeon. But I can point you in the right direction. Head over to this address. You're looking for a sweet thing called Kandy. And by sweet I mean fickle and conniving."

“So just normal demon behaviour? So this Kandy she works for Actaeon?” I replied sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

“Your reputation precedes you Miss Callahan…”

“Nobody calls me that now…”

“You really think a change in last name and moving to another country would keep you safe?” Crowley asked.

“It worked well so far…”

“Do Moose and Squirrel know of your past?” 

“No and it stays that way. Do you hear me?” I almost shouted back.

Crowley put both of his hands up in surrender. “Alright Fawn I won’t say a word.”  

Still holding my phone I threw it on the ground making sure it smashed in the process, I couldn't have Sam nor Dean track me. This would be my fight. Satisfied that my phone no longer worked I walked over to Baby knowing that putting a knife in her tires would definitely end my relationship with the unconscious hunter so instead I took the dust caps off letting the air out. I needed that small head start before Dean came around. I took off the two thigh holsters and left one of my weapons on the ground near the impala. I wanted to use it as a sign to Dean that I would come back.

I turned to Crowley. “Let’s go.” Holding one of my guns, sliding out the magazine and checking the chamber, and then tucking it into the waistband of my jeans hiding it with my jacket.

Crowley got me to where I needed to be, Omaha Nebraska to be exact. I was currently looking at this small bar located down this alleyway, standing in a small puddle I turned to look at Crowley. “This is where this Kandy is?” I asked.

“Correct Fawn, this is the end of the line in where I shall be assisting you. Good luck.”

“I know you didn’t have to help me, but thank you.” I replied.

Holding my head high I entered the small bar, this time there were actual people inside which was a good sign, as I approached the counter I took note of the bartender cleaning glasses. She was around 5ft5, bubblegum pink hair with bright blue eyes. Her makeup was full and her false eyelashes were one of the most standout features, she stood out. “Hi Sugar, what can I get you.” She asked in a southern accent.

“Whiskey neat please.”   

The bartender picked up a clean glass and put it on the counter bending down to get a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous helping into the glass. She nudged it forward. Taking the glass I brought it to my lips and took a sip, pausing for a moment appreciating the taste I placed it back onto the counter. 

“What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?” The bartender asked me in her southern drawl.

“Could ask you the same question?” I countered.

“Well I work here sugar. What's your excuse?” 

I took another sip of my drink enjoying the burn. “I’m looking for someone.”

“I make it my business to know everything and everyone about this city.” 

“Do you know where I can find someone called Kandy?” I asked tracing the rim of the glass with my finger.

“Well you're looking at her. Now are you a friendly hunter or do I need to get my friends over there involved?” She asked pointing to some of the bar patrons as her eyes flickered to black and then back to the radiant blue.

I turned to look over my shoulder seeing the potential demons by the door.

“If you don’t give me a reason to shoot you then I’m a friendly hunter I shall be.” I replied, flashing her a smile. 

“I’m told you work for Actaeon, do you know where I can find him?”

Kandy let out a chuckle and leaned towards me. “I sure do. But why would I go against him? I mean Actaeon keeps me safe from the likes of your kind.”

“You know how I said before that I wouldn’t shoot you, you're now starting to give me a reason to.” I told the pink hair demon giving her a wink. 

I downed the rest of my drink and slammed it on the counter. “Unless you want a bullet in between your eyes. I know, I know it won’t kill you but I’m pretty sure I can get hold of an angel blade that will. Actaeon may have protected you from other hunters but he won’t be able to keep you safe from me…” I added in a sickly sweet voice. 

“And there is the person that I’ve heard so much about.” Kandy said with a chuckle.

After that moment a bag covered my head and I was restrained. I struggled in the grip that held onto my tight. Kicking my legs trying in any attempt to break free from my captors. “Let me go!” I attempted in a muffled shout. As I was moved into another part of the bar I was forced into a seated position, I then had my arms tied behind my back to the back of the chair. 

“Well, well, well” Said an unknown male voice. 

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Straight Boy

Part 2: together

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 10365

Chapters: 2/4 [All chapters]

Read on AO3

AN: Oooooh this chapter is fuuuuun :) I loved writing all this fic but especially this chapter. Also, forgot to mention it last chapter, but yes "Baz in glasses" is BACK baby!!! I love this HC and I will keep putting it in fics until I die. Well, enjoy this chapter :D

Tagging: @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

I have to do a double take of the building. I check the address Baz text sent me, and it’s right. This fancy ass mostly glass white condo is definitely the right place. Well, Baz said his family was rich, maybe they bought him a whole condo for uni? Yeah...

I walk and type in the buzzer code Baz gave me. It rings low and loud, until a very pissed off voice comes on. And it’s definitely not Baz.

“What?!” The posh woman barks out. I instinctively step away.

“Uh, I’m here to see Baz?” I say with extreme caution. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Oh, right, Basilton said you were coming.”

Basilton? What? Okay, not important right now. There’s an obnoxiously loud buzz and the door unlocks. I rush in and go towards the elevator. It’s all cold grey fancy steel. I feel very intimidating as I go up to the twenty fifth floor. Luckily, Baz’s flat is just to the right, so I don’t get lost. (Penny says I get lost turning left.) I knock on the door lightly. A few heavy steps come towards me, then the door swings open, making me take a step back.

This woman is definitely not Baz, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re related. Same skin tone, same grey eyes, same black hair. Though she has a thick white blonde streak at the front. I can’t tell if it’s dyed or natural. She’s wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans with old Doc Martens. She looks like she just came out from a seventies punk bar, and she was the headline act.

“Uh, hello,” I say very cautiously. “I’m Simon.”

“So, you’re Simon,” she replies with a weird suspicion. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”

“Um, sorry?”

“Fiona!” I hear Baz shout from behind her. He appears suddenly, glasses on top of his head, hair falling in a lazy wave over his angry face. He's dressed in a loose white shirts and blue jeans we picked out at W Wood. Wait, are jeans his lazy clothes? Huh, odd. He looks good, so whatever.

“Stop picking on Simon,” he growls at the women, apparently called Fiona, glaring viciously. Fiona glares right back.

“I wasn’t picking on him,” she says with bite.

Baz rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course you weren’t.” He finally looks at me and immediately grins. “Hi, Snow, glad you could make it. This is my Aunt Fiona. Please ignore her. She’s over protective, like an old pit bull.”

Fiona scoffs loudly and smacks his arm. “I am not old, you wanker! I’m only thirty eight!”

“Not the important thing here. Now, Fiona, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He raises one eyebrow impossibly high. Fiona glares even harder.

“This is my apartment, y’know.”

“Our apartment now. And you’re going to Nicky’s. Seriously, why don’t you two just get a flat together and give me the place to myself 24/7?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. Wow, I can see where Baz gets it from. “Please, we’re too new for that.”

“You’ve known each other since high school.”

“But only been dating for a few months. We’re still in the sexy honeymoon phase, Basil,” she says with a wink. My cheeks heat up, Baz is obviously unimpressed, and Fiona looks very smug. I feel like I’m intruding on a much larger conversation.

“Fiona,” Baz sighs, “please, just go see your boyfriend. Come back tomorrow.”

She sighs over dramatically. “Fine. Leave my kitchen and living room in working order by the time I come back, please.”

Baz sighs in the exact same way. “Yes, of course, now go!”

Fiona walks past me, patting my shoulder as she goes. “Nice meeting you, Simon. Have fun.” Her nails dig into my skin for a brief moment. Not enough to really hurt but enough to sting. I don’t think she likes me that much...

Baz physically pushes Fiona out the door. She flips him off. He groans and gestures me inside. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in. I’ve almost got supper ready.”

I follow in after him, unzipping my hoodie, since this fancy place is certainly well heated. “It’s fine, man. I didn’t know you lived with your Aunt.”

“Yeah, sorry, never came up. She lives close to campus so it was easier to just take her extra room instead of trying to find another place. And I think my parents want her to spy on me for them.”

I chuckle as I kick off my trainers. “And how is that working out? She didn’t strike me as someone who would tattle to your parents.”

Baz’s lip pulls up into a smirk. “Well, she likes to be a shit and pretend she’ll tell them about my activities. But at the same time, she let me smoke half her joint last night while we watched Monty Python and ate peanut butter from the jar.”

“Oh my god,” I giggle. “That sounds amazing!’

“It certainly was. Now come on, I’m starved.”

We walk down the short hall into the actual apartment. I have to stop myself from gasping. The whole place is kinda intimidating but cool. It’s like what you see in catalogues. All white walls, modern furniture, and large bay windows with a view of the steel and brick horizon. Though there’s also enough personality to it to show that two people live here. There's lots of photos on the walls of Baz and Fiona and people who look enough like them to be relatives. Some old books are spread out on the coffee table, with lots of sticky notes on the pages in Baz's wispy handwriting. And next to the volumes are rolling papers I can safely assume are Fiona’s. Looks like a fun place to live.

“Just nearly burned supper, goodness,” Baz chuckles.

I follow his voice into the kitchen. It’s all white with fancy high tech chrome appliances. Baz is bending over the oven, making the denim stretch across his arse. I blush and avoid looking. The memory of...that part of his anatomy is still burned into my brain. It never goes away, just fades and pops back up at literally the worst possible moments. Like late at night, persuading my hand to “accidentally” slip into my pants. Or right now, when I really can’t let my hand go anywhere to relieve the heat he makes in my stomach. Fuck, my head hurts.

“Perfect,” Baz says cheerily. “Cooked all the way through.” He pulls out a pan with two herb covered chicken breasts and oily asparagus stalks. He opens the pot on top of the stove. It’s filled with absolutely divine tomato sauce. My eyes get very wide.

“Wow,” I gasp. “When you said you were making supper, I thought you meant boxed pasta or some shit.”

Baz smiles smugly. “I’m classier than that, Salisbury.”

His smirk makes my stomach even hotter. I shrug. “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Damn right. Now go sit down, I’ll bring the plates out in a second.”

He gestures to the large glass dining table near the window. There’s two rich crimson placemats across from each other, twin wine glasses already filled. The lights are low, matching the setting sun. Everything is soft orange, red, and violet. It’s really nice. This is the fanciest supper set up I've ever seen. And Baz did it for me. He's so nice. My knees wobble a bit as I take my chair. Baz soon comes out with two full plates.

“Dinner is served,” he announces grandly, placing the food in front of me. It’s chicken, asparagus, and some unfamiliar rice dish. It’s got lentils, fried onions, chickpeas, macaroni noodles, and that amazing tomato sauce all on top. My mouth immediately starts watering.

“Thank you,” I reply as he sits down. I wait for him to unfold his napkin and everything to be polite. Mum taught me that. But it’s hard. I really want to eat.

Baz gives me an amused look. “Dig in, Snow, I can see you salivating all the way from over here.”

I roll my eyes, but still grab my utensils. “Shut up.” I put a large forkful of rice in my mouth, and it’s a flavour explosion. My tastebuds are singing with joy. I’ve never had something this good. I start shovelling huge bites in, making Baz snort with laughter.

“You like it?” he asks with amusement.

“Uh, fuck yeah! What is this, ambrosia?”

Baz chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just some good spices. That’s called koshari. It’s a very famous dish in Egypt. I’m half Egyptian, so I wanted to try to make it. Connect to my heritage and all.”

I try to smile, but my mouth is partially filled with koshari, so it’s difficult. “That’s awesome. Like, it’s really cool you’ve got that connection to your culture and stuff. Plus it’s just like super delicious.”

He half smiles, lifting his wine glass like a true gentleman, “The chef appreciates your compliments.”

I lift my own and clink our cups together. Like we’re fancy or something. “You’re very welcome.”

We trade easy conversation as we eat. Baz has completely caught up in his classes. Actually, he’s probably ahead. He’s incredibly smart so I’m not surprised. I’m getting better at paying attention in class. Penny gave me a fidget spinner, which I think was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually helped me channel some of that restless energy. Plus I’m just super interested in our therapy unit. It’s what I study social work for, to help people. Baz calls me exceedingly noble. From his small smile, I assume it’s a compliment.

Once dinner is finished, we put our plates in the sink. I try to start washing but Baz slaps my hand away.

“None of that,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it later.”

I put my hands in my pockets. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, amazing stubborn bastard. “Alright. What should we do? I don’t really feel like going home yet.”

A strange look crosses over his face. Both nervous and excited maybe? It’s so fleeting I can’t tell before it’s gone. He nods slowly. “Want to watch a movie? I’ve got Fiona’s Netflix account.”

“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

We walk over to Fiona’s pristine white couch. I flop down while Baz sits properly, ankles crossed, straight back, hands in his lap. Jeez, he can still be so uptight sometimes. He flips down his glasses, probably so he can actually see the TV. Fuck, they really do look good on him. I have to make an effort not to stare.

“What should we watch?” I ask. “Horror? Comedy? Drama?”

Baz shrugs. “Well, I only watch documentaries, which you’d probably find very boring. So I leave the choice up to you, Salisbury.” He hands me the remote like a gentleman offering a bouquet. I take it graciously.

“Oh thank you kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent. Baz rolls his eye and chuckles.

I flip through Netflix for a little while. Well, Baz wasn’t lying about only watching documentaries. All his recently watched are movies about forests and wars and violinists. Bo-ring! I go to the romcom section, because I love stupid tropey shit. Penny calls me a hopeless romantic. I just like that everything works out in the end. Real life isn’t usually like that. It’s nice to pretend. So I pick “Notting Hill”. It’s one my favourites.

“Dear Lord,” Baz mutters part way in, “what is this?”

“It’s a rom com,” I reply.

“So, I’m supposed to believe that a movie star just happens to wander into this guy’s store? And she kisses him impulsively? Seriously?”

I playfully smack his arm. Wow, his hands are rough, his arms are smoother than sea glass. “It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s supposed to be fun.”

He snorts. “Well, all I can focus on is the plot holes.”

I sigh. My head, heavy from food drowsiness, lolls to my right. It takes me a bit too long to realise it’s fallen on Baz’s shoulder. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. He’s incredibly tense, every muscle pulled tight. I nearly move off, but then he relaxes. His legs uncross, and his hands fall to beside his sides. So, I guess this is okay. And his shoulder, despite it’s boney-ness, is actually really comfy. Yeah. this is cool. I’ll just stay here.

The movie keeps going, but it kind of falls to background noise for me. I know it off by heart anyway. I’m more focused on other things for some reason. Like the feel of Baz’s soft shirt on my cheek. Or that his whole jean covered leg is pressed against mine. Or how close his rough farmer-violist hand is to mine. I’ve only held it a couple times, and only loosely. I do wonder...

Before thinking about it too much, I reach over and grab his hand. Baz inhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Our hands rest together. We stay like that for awhile. Watching the movie, just casually holding hands. Normal friend stuff. His skin is still as scratchy as I remember, creating sparks of sensation all over my palm. And his fingers are quite long. Pianist fingers, I think that’s the term. They’re nice. I like his hand. I like holding it.

Eventually, I lift my head up, and my eyes flick over to him. I just want to see if he’s enjoying the movie. Holy shit, he’s looking back. His grey eyes are staring right at me. It almost feels like he’s looking through me they’re so piercing. It makes me shudder involuntarily. His eye move lower, to... Wait is he looking at my-

And then he kisses me.

Holy shit. A guy is kissing me. More importantly, Baz is kissing me. His face is so close to mine, black hair falling around us, glasses pushing against my nose. Baz’s lips are smooth, soft, and kinda cold. Well, not cold, just chilly, like an ocean breeze. It feels nice. His kiss feels nice. Oh my god, I’m musing about a guy kissing me, about how much I like it. What the hell?!

Our mouths are still, just pressed together chastely. Like we're a pair of awkward pre-teends having out first kiss. But really I’m too stunned to move. Then Baz pulls away slightly. His eyes are a bit glassy and his breathing is unsteady. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

That’s a really good fucking question. Am I okay with this? My lips are still tingling, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get close to him again. I nod. “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly, “yeah, it’s okay.”

Baz smirks, pushing his glasses on top of his head before kissing me again. He’s less hesitant this time, moving his mouth more insistently and curling his long fingers around my nape. I try to match his pace, try to pull him closer too, clutching his shirt in tight fists. I just want him so close. I let out an involuntary moan when his nails prick my skin. The slight sting makes everything go spinny. My mouth falls open, and I moan again as his tongue slowly slides across mine. Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any kiss I’ve had before? I’ve only snogged a few of people, so it’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience, but I’ve got enough. And this is by far the best snog I’ve ever had.

I don’t even realise I’ve been leaning back until I’m laying down with Baz over me. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other trailing along my side, and a leg between mine. I’m holding his hips, dangerously close to going under his shirt. I really want to feel those muscles I saw in the changeroom, but I don’t want to do anything like that without Baz’s permission. Consent is necessary and all. But suddenly, without even moving off my mouth, Baz grabs my wrist and shoves my hand right under his shirt. Okay, pretty damn sure that’s consent. I trace the ridges and planes of muscle in his back, memorising the how ridiculously good they feel. He groans into my mouth. It makes my whole body shudder. And I full on gasp when he grinds his knee between my legs. My whole brain fucking explodes. Oh man, I am certainly “reacting” very, very strongly right now.

Through all the arousal haze, I wonder if this, what we’re doing, means I’m gay. But I don’t want to kiss Baz because he’s a guy. I want to kiss Baz because he’s Baz. Because he’s nice and funny and watched Doctor Who for me. And sure, he’s also really pretty with his wavy black hair and deep sea eyes. But anyone would notice that. I’ve noticed that other guys are pretty before. I can be straight and observant, right? I don’t know. It’s all too confusing to think about now. I just want to keep holding Baz. I have to do that.

Fuck, how long has he wanted this? How long have I wanted this? I would say I didn’t, but then why are a list of things I want to do to Baz? Like this; I push a hand into his hair. The strands are soft, slipping through my fingers, just like I thought. I clench my fist and shove his face more into mine.

Suddenly, Baz pulls off my mouth.

“Sorry,” I say (I’m out of breath it’s embarrassing.)

“No, no, don’t be sorry. Just,” he takes a breath, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

I’m panting very hard, but so is he. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and wet. He looks fucking hot. My whole body is vibrating with energy. I want to pull him down and kiss him until our mouths are sore. And well, this couch is a bit small to stay here for that long. So I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”

Baz grins, showing all his bright white teeth. “Wonderful.”

He climbs off me. His legs are shaky, but when I stand up, mine are too. Baz turns off the telly and takes my hand, leading me down the narrow hall towards a room. Once we enter, it’s very obvious that this is Baz’s room. It’s extremely neat because of course Baz is a clean freak. But the desk is covered in a mess of books and sheet music. His violin case sits in the corner. I wonder if I’ll ever hear him play.

We stop in front of the large bed. His sheets are all black, and they look like silk. Well, that's definitely more comfortable than the couch. Baz turns towards me. His face is lit up by the setting sun, skin glowing perfectly in the fiery light. Wow, he’s somehow even prettier right now. But, is he nervous? He’s chewing on his lip, and the hand I’m not holding keeps flexing. I guess he is. Huh, I haven’t seen him anxious since the W Wood. And right now he’s much worse.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat a bit, “how far do you want to go? We could just keep snogging, that’s fine with me. Or we could do more. Whatever you feel like, I’ll be fine with.”

Fucking hell he’s so considerate. It makes my heart speed up, for some reason. But, what do I want? I want to touch him, to kiss him a lot. For him to kiss me and touch me too. Maybe in places other than my lips. Actually, fuck "maybe", I desperately want that, the need itching under every part of my skin. Even though I've never wanted a guy to do that before. Even though I’m straight. I’m trying not to think too much about those contradictions and focus on how good kissing him felt. I really don’t need a headache at this time.

“I-I’m good for anything.” Wait no, not right. “But not ‘all the way’, though. I don’t think I’m prepared for that, in every sense of the word.”

Baz chuckles, his other hand grabbing mine. “That’s fine, no worries. Neither am I, to be honest. But there’s lots of other stuff we can do.”

I look down at the floor, stomach twisting terribly with nerves. “Um, if I’m being honest, Baz, I, uh, have no clue what to do. I’ve never done this before, with a guy.”

He doesn’t say anything. I expected him to laugh, to tease me at least a bit, but instead I feel his rough pianist finger knock up my chin. His mouth is soft, and his eyes are kind and understanding. Why are my knees so weak? “It’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. We can try things, but you can absolutely stop me if I you want to, alright?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to trace my jaw with a single callused fingertip. “I’ll take care of you, Simon.”

Bloody Hell, I’m not sure I have knees anymore now.

We lean forward simultaneously, lips instantly moulding together like we’ve been kissing forever. It feels so fucking good that I barely notice him pushing up my shirt. He pulls away when he reaches my arms. His face asks the silent question, and I nod in reply. He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. I push at the hem of his. He happily helps me get it off, whipping it on the floor. My hands instantly go to his bare torso and chest. I try to touch all of it. Stomach, chest, shoulders, everything. I feel every bit of smooth skin and sharp angle, and they’re just as wonderful as I imagined.

“You’re actually perfect,” I murmur.

Baz smirks. He clenches his stomach, showing off his stupid perfect abs. I can’t suppress the squeak that pops out of my mouth.

“Why thank you,” he drawls sarcastically. I scoff, hoping it makes up for my red cheeks. He slowly runs his hand over my bare side the across my stomach. My whole body feels electric. I shiver and sigh. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Snow.”

I attempt to laugh off my embarrassment. “T-Thanks.”

He kisses me softly again, arms winding around my neck. I hold his waist tightly. I nearly pull him over as Baz spins me around and pushes me on the bed. He stands over me, cupping my cheeks as we keep kissing. Soon he breaks away and starts trailing his cool lips slowly down my neck. It feels so good my eyes roll back in my head. I fall back on the mattress, propped up on my elbows, legs still hanging off the edge. He goes further and further. Across my collarbone, down my sternum and stomach, until he reaches just above my trouser waistband. Baz looks up from where he’s kneeling between my legs, eyes so dark I can only see the smallest ring of grey, and places a tentative hand over the button.

“May I?” he asks breathlessly.

I’m gripping the sheet so hard my knuckles are white. I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or anticipation. Probably both. I know what he means. I know what he wants to do. Part of me is still confused by my own desire, but a louder part is only thinking in sex. In “yes, yes, please, more, do it.” And it’s a lot louder.

“Yeah,” I say, falling fully onto my back, "you can.”

I lay there, staring at the blemish free white ceiling, breathing harshly, just waiting. Everything is quiet. The only sound is the distant honks from far below and my own clamorous heartbeat. Baz doesn’t do anything for awhile and I start to think if I fucked up somehow. Am I too eager? Has he changed his mind? Is this all one big stupid mistake?

But then he pulls my pants down and takes me in his mouth. Then, well, I’m not thinking very much at all anymore.

———————————————-

I roll off Baz and flop next to him on his bed. We’re both panting and sweating and a bit sticky, bare bodies glistening in the city lights. It’s very dark out now. The sun set awhile ago. I manage to twist my still dizzy head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Holy shit, we just spent over two hours having sex. My muscles are totally dead, throbbing with blissful exhaustion.

And it hits me, again: I just had sex with Baz, with a guy, and I really, really liked it.

So does this mean I'm gay? But I liked it because it was Baz, not because it was a guy. He was so patient, so attentive, pushing just enough to get me to try new things but never so far that I was uncomfortable. I'm still unbelievably confused, but mostly just really fucking satisfied.

“Wow,” I say, voice raw and scratchy. “That was just, wow.”

Baz tries to chuckle, but his voice isn't much better than mine. “Had fun, Snow?”

“Uh, yeah! That was like the best sex I’ve ever had.” It’s only after the words burst out do I realise how fucking embarrassing that sounds. Baz laughs, of course. I cover my burning face. “I’ll shut up now,” I groan.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed, darling.” Baz peels my hands off, grinning face now hovering over mine. I can feel his foot pressed to my bare calf. He kisses my knuckles lightly. A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. “It was really good for me too.”

His face is shiny with sweat, wavy hair all tangled because I kept pulling it (not that he complained). The city light dances across his skin perfectly. There’s a lot more butterflies flying now. I cup the back of his head and pull his mouth down to mine. I just want to be closer to him right now. It’s not urgent like before. It’s simply a lazy slide of our tired mouths, a calm way to end the frantic evening.

Baz pulls back slowly. His breath tickles my face. Then he collapses on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I snort out a laugh I can’t help. He’s just too adorable.

“You tired, Basilton?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “And don’t use my full name. Only my family does that.”

“But it’s so funny! Your name is fucking Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You sound like an Edgar Allan Poe character.”

He chuckles against my skin. “Then you’ll love my first name.”

My heart does double time. I look down at him as best I can. “What the hell is your first name?!”

I feel his shit eating grin on my collarbone. “A man is allowed to have a few secrets, Snow.”

Damn, I really want to throttle the smug perfect bastard. He groans as pushes himself off me, slowly rolling onto his back then sitting upright, legs hanging off the edge. He stretches his arms to the sky, showing the grand muscular expanse of his back. (There are a lot of angry red scratches from my nails. Fuck, I was really into it.)

“I don’t know about you,” he yawns, “but I’m completely knackered. I’m brushing my teeth and going to bed.” His head turns halfway, showing just one eye, gaze slightly unsteady. Is he nervous again. “You want to stay? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Honestly, I’m not sure my muscles are strong enough right now to get me home. Even so, I do want to go. So I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

His mouth quirks up. “Good.”

Baz slips on his boxers and hands me mine. He leads me to the washroom. It’s huge and pristine and white of course. Baz gives me a fresh toothbrush, which is really thoughtful, because he’s really thoughtful. The vain bastard keeps hogging the mirror though. Once we’re done with our teeth, we go back to the bedroom and Baz takes out his posh red silk pyjamas. He tries to offer me a pair but I’m fine with an oversized t-shirt that looks totally unworn.

“That thing?” Baz says slightly disgusted. “I got that from the overeager poet’s society back at Oxford.”

Huh, makes sense. It does have a Byron joke on it. I shrug. “Eh, it’s fine. Kinda funny too.”

Baz waves dismissively. “Very well. You can keep it if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”

I pull at the hem. Well, if he’s offering, sure. It’s really comfy. And or some reason, I sort of like the idea of keeping this shirt. Keeping Baz’s clothes...it’s just sorta nice.

I flop down on the silk sheets and immediately sink into the comfy mattress. It’s like a goddamn smooth cloud. I’m already drifting off into dreamland when Baz lays next to me. He pulls the quilt over us. Distantly, I feel his long arm drape across my waist and his body curl around mine. His breath hits the back of my neck, almost immediately evening out in sleep. I instinctively snuggle closer, because he feels good. This whole night has felt good. Maybe I should just focus on that instead of the storm in my brain. Yeah, I’m fine with that.

———————————————-

I’m waiting for Baz at Goat while trying to do my readings. He meets me after class, then we have lunch and talk. We’ve been hanging out a lot more on campus the past three weeks, ever since I slept over. I do that a lot more too, actually. I go to his place at least once a week, usually more. Sometimes we just eat supper, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep in Baz’s bed. Other times we use the bed for...other things.

I’m still straight though. That's still how I think of my self. I just also like this, whatever it is. It’s a sorta weird but awesome friends with benefits thing. I think. We haven’t really defined it. But whatever. We’re having fun. Who needs labels?

“Hello, love.” Baz’s hand is a comfortable weight on my shoulder. He bends around the back of the chair and kisses me. It’s just a short, sweet greeting kiss. He does this a lot now. I like it. I smile against his mouth.

“Hi,” I reply as he sits down across from me. “How was class?”

Baz stretches out his hand. “Well, my fingers hurt, so very good. How was your’s?”

I lift up my heavy textbook. “Professor Blowhard assigned extra readings again, of course. Does he realise we have lives outside of class?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t care, obviously. Because he's a dickhead.”

“Damn right. I need scones to feel better.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Ebb already getting our food ready?”

“Ebb’s finished your food.” I jolt slightly. When did Ebb get here? Did she manifest out of thin air? She holds two plates with our usuals. A latte, sour cherry scone, and grilled cheese with tomato and spinach for me. (Baz suggested I try the last one, so Ebb made it, and it’s really good.) And a fancy turkey-pesto panini and pumpkin mocha breve for Baz.

Baz smiles up at her. He’s gotten very friendly with her. “Good day, Ebb. How’s it going?”

Ebb shrugs. “Pretty okay. I sort of want some new dishware but I’m not sure I have the funds for it.”

“Well, Christmas is coming up. Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ebb laughs and ruffles Baz’s already messy hair. She’s very friendly with him by now. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, Baz. Sweet of you to say though. He’s certainly a keeper, Si.”

She winks at me before sauntering off. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I flick my eyes over to Baz. He’s taking a sip from his overly large coffee cup. When he lowers it, there’s whipped cream on the tip of his long nose. I snort and giggle. Baz’s brow furrows.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, actually genuinely concerned. He’s always very concerned about his appearance. It’s funny, and kind of cute.

I reach out and use one finger to swipe the whipped cream off. His nose scrunches like an adorable child. I hold it for him to see.

“You’re making a mess,” I tease, then lick my finger. Baz’s eye go wide, and he might blush. It’s hard to tell sometimes, what with his complexion and being emotional display repulsed British gentry. I’m not sure why though. I just don’t like wasting food.

“Christ, Simon,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His eyes flick up to mine and he smirks. That expression makes my stomach do a lot of funny things. “Like you’re one to talk about messes," he says. "My kitchen is still recovering from your pizza debacle.”

“It turned out to be good frozen pizza though.”

“Yes, at the sacrifice of a clean oven.”

I shrug, reaching my foot out to tap his for emphasis. “I’ll destroy my own next time, alright?”

He goes a step further, tracing the toe of his Oxford on my bare ankle. It makes me jolt, but in a good way. Baz seems to have that effect on me.

“Hm, y’know, I haven’t been to your place yet. Invite me over for oven destroying pizza sometime?” His voice is smooth as butter. It makes my legs feel weak, even though I’m already sitting down. And he’s right, he hasn’t been over yet. It’s not because of anything, his place has always just been easier. That should be corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” I chirp, “I’d like that. Though my flatmate might interrogate you. She still isn’t sure she approves of you.”

Baz shrugs dismissively. “Understood. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll warm up to me. I’m very likable.”

I scoff. “And full of yourself.”

He pushes his foot until it’s fully under my jean cuff. I yelp  in surprise. “Got you to like me, didn’t I?”

Shit, why is my face so flushed? I try to use my book to cover it, but my eyes peek out over the top. Baz is still smirking, still slowly moving his shoe up and down my skin. It’s sort of hard to say no when he’s doing that. Bastard. “That’s true, I suppose,” I say shakily.

“Exactly.” He leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his palm. “Want to come over tonight? Fiona’s at Nicky’s again. Those two need to just move in together already.”

“Yeah, agreed. And I can come over as long as you help me revise for a midterm.”

“Very well,” he sighs dramatically. “If that’s the price I must pay for a good shag.”

And I thought my blush couldn’t get any worse. I use a hand to cover my bright red face. “Baz,” I giggle, “shut up.”

He chuckles and slowly peels my hand away. I’ve found his violin calluses feel weirdly wonderful on my skin. “I’ll help you, love, don’t worry.”

Fuck, he’s always so nice. Just so kind and helpful and fun to be around. He’s like Penny, I guess, but our dynamic doesn’t feel like me and Penny. Not better, just different. My heart and stomach don’t feel twisty around her. And I definitely don’t want to snog Pen silly. Baz is just different. Whatever we have is different. I don’t know what it is, but I like it. And I certainly don’t want to stop.

———————————————-

A week later, Baz is scheduled to come over. I’m trying to salvage my stupid homemade stupid pizza when there’s a knock at the door. I run over still wearing the apron and oven mitts as I open it. Baz is standing on the other side, gym/overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He blinks at me confused, eyes big behind his glasses. (He’s been wearing them more. That's good. He looks amazing, and he needs to see.)

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, kissing him hello by habit.

“Good evening, Snow,” he says. “Nice apron.”

I look down. Right, this is Pen’s “Snog the Chef” apron. Micah sent it to her as a joke. He made the false assumption she cooks enough to need one. Both of us usually cook from a box or order take away. I chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Still trying to make supper. Come in, come in.”

I race back to the kitchen, leaving Baz in the living room. I can still see him through a small square space in the wall. (The previous tenant had a thing for cutting random holes in the wall.) He scans the room, taking in his surroundings.

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “Nice place.”

I laugh loudly so he can hear me. “You don’t have to be nice, y’know. I’m aware it’s gross. I tried to clean a bit.”

“I’m serious, it’s nice. Love all the Polaroid pictures. Is this blonde girl your roommate?”

“Uh, no, that’s Agatha. The other girl, Penelope, she’s my flatmate. We all went to high school together.”

“I see, that’s nice. You all look happy.”

I lean out the weird window hole. Baz is looking at the picture from the summer, when we all went to Agatha’s family beach house. I smile. That was a happy time.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Summer before final year. Can’t tell Agatha was about to break up with me a few weeks later, huh?”

It’s a joke, but I immediately regret it. Baz tenses up. Shit, that’s a serious topic, and I shouldn’t talk about Agatha like that.

“There’s no bad blood though,” I say quickly. “Like, it sucked when we split up but it was for the best in the end. We’re way better as friends. She lives in California now. She skypes me and Pen a lot, tells us all about America and shit. I sent her a British flag for Christmas last year, and she sent me a California one.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m babbling, sorry, I’ll stop.”

Baz turns his head. He’s smiling, no anger or disappointment, thank God. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. She sounds lovely. I’m not jealous. Unless I have a reason to be.”

His raised eyebrows and toothy grin tells me he’s joking. I chuckle. Why would he have a reason to be jealous anyway? I mean, Agatha’s pretty, but so is he. “No, you definitely have no reason. Maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime. You can compare expensive hair products.”

“Hey, you like my hair.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen how many bottles you have in your shower. And how many bottles did you bring with you tonight?”

Baz doesn’t answer. I snicker as I pull my pizza out of the oven. Well, it’s not much of a pizza anymore. Sort of a dough, cheese, and sauce liquid mess in a pan. I groan and lean my head on the cupboard over the oven.

“Trouble with supper, love?”

I look up. Baz is leaning in the window hole, arms crossed over the sill and head on his bent elbow. He looks nice like this, relaxed and all. Huh, he really is a lot less uptight than he was two months ago. That’s good, I suppose. I smile weakly.

“I think this pizza is even more of a disaster than the last one. And this time it’s completely inedible.”

He frowns sarcastically. “Aw, what a surprise.”

I take a mitt off and throw it at his stupid smug pretty face. “Fuck off, I tried!”

Baz doesn’t looked fazed by the glove projectile, just holding it as he smiles. “I know, darling, and you did your best. Now, shall I order take away?”

I sigh, shaking off the other mitt so they lay in a messy pile on the counter. “I guess so. But I’m paying for it. I was supposed to make you a nice supper, I should at least pay for the substitute.”

“Well, I certainly have no problem with that.”

I turn off the oven and take off the dumb apron. With heavy steps and hanging head, I go into the living room. Baz immediately reaches out and pulls me against him, hugging me close. I wrap my arms around his firm back, easily sinking into his embrace. He smells nice. Like cedar and bergamot, I think.

“Want to watch a movie?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.

“Sure,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Do you like Pixar?”

He chuckles. It’s a really nice sound, washing over me like a warm, relaxing wave. “Yeah. Pixar is wonderful.”

We don’t move for a bit though. We just stay there, hugging in the middle of my living room. He’s a good hugger, so I don’t mind. I just close my eyes, breathe in his smell, and let his strong, firm arms hold me.

———————————————-

“Why does Buzz go still?” Baz asks. “He doesn’t think he’s a toy. Why would he pretend to be one when a person walks in?”

“Shhh.” I reach up to blindly hit his stupid smart arse mouth. “You’re ruining the movie.”

“I’m simply pointing out a flaw in the film’s plot.”

“Just shut up and watch, arsehole.”

Baz makes a displeased noise, but does thankfully shut up. Our half eaten take away pizza is still sitting on the coffee table. The sun has mostly set, the light of the telly the main source now. I’m junk food tired so I’ve ended up with my head in Baz’s lap. His legs are comfortable. And I like the way he strokes my hair. I could probably fall asleep like this if I wanted.

“Sorry again about supper,” I mumble into his thigh.

Baz hums softly, winding a finger around one of my curls. “It's fine, love. You made the effort, that's what counts. And I appreciate it.”

I hum, throwing an arm over his knees. “You’re nice.”

Bizarrely, he scoffs at that. “You’re the first person to say that, Snow. Most people say I’m rude and mean.”

“You're not, they're all wrong," I say immediately, almost angry for him.

He pauses for a moment, hand still in my hair. "You really think so?" he asks, voice slightly shaky.

"Yeah, of course. You tease me but you also made me supper and watched Doctor Who. That means a lot. You’re, like, snarky nice. Fuck, does that even make sense?”

Baz runs his thumb over the nape of my neck. “No, I get it. Thank you, darling, you’re incredibly sweet.” He brushes his long fingers against my ear. “Sometimes I wonder how I found you,” he sighs.

I chuckle, sound muffled by his trouser leg. “You ‘found me’ in a boring psych lecture, remember?”

“Yeah,” he whisper-laughs. “Glad I did though. Honestly...” He takes an audible breath, like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff or something. “I think you’re the best thing to come out of moving to Watford.”

My mouth suddenly feels dry. And my heart is bruising my ribs it’s beating so hard. That was definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But it doesn’t feel like when Penny or Agatha or Mum are nice. It feels so...new. I wish there was a more eloquent word for it, for what I feel when he says something like that. It’s an all encompassing sensation I've never experienced before. Like a supernova in my brain and chest. I just can’t place it.

The end credit music starts playing. I turn my head back to the screen. “Oh hey, it’s done,” I say. “Wanna watch something else?”

I can’t see Baz’s face, but I feel him lean back against the sofa. “Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Actually, yeah, I've got something. You’ll like it.” I fumble for the remote, then start flipping through my Netflix list. I know it’s there... “Aha! This!” I highlight a movie I found yesterday. Baz leans forward with curiosity.

“A documentary on an Australian string quartet?” He chuckles. “Really?”

Shit, I thought he would like it because there are string instruments and stuff in it. But it’s not like every chef adores cooking shows. “S-Sorry, it was just an idea. We can watch something else.”

Baz puts an arm around my waist and squeezes my stomach tight. I immediately relax. “No, that wasn’t a discouragement. I’m very intrigued. I’m just surprised you’re offering to watch it. It’ll be quite dull for you.”

I shrug. “Eh, maybe. But you’ll like it, and I’m willing to try.”

Baz doesn’t answer. Well, not with words. His arm holds me even tighter, and he leans down to kiss my hair. His cool lips press lightly to my scalp. I can’t help the shudder it makes. When he pulls back, he goes back to to softly stroking my hair. I feel like I could melt into the couch.

“Put it on,” Baz sighs. “Try not to fall asleep, Snow.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, meaning it genuinely.

So the movie is objectively boring for me, because I'm not a violin student, and I’m not a huge fan of documentaries period. But there are some good parts. I like the people, following their progression and lives and how their careers influence everything around them. Baz likes that too. Though he’s also fascinated by all the fancy instruments. I just think they’re all really pretty.

“Hey,” Baz asks, “where’s your flatmate?”

“Oh she’s-” The front door suddenly slams, making both of us jolt. A few footstep sounds later, Penny is standing right in front of us. “She’s right here. Hi, Pen.”

Penny is frozen. She blinks at us in complete silence for a few long seconds. I don’t know what’s so baffling. “Hi... What’s going on here?”

“Baz and I are watching a movie.” What’s going on with her? Pretty sure that was obvious.

She quirks an eyebrow. “So this is Baz?”

“Oh right.” I gesture to her. “Baz, this is Penelope Bunce.” I gesture to him. “Penny, this is Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Hello, Penelope," Baz says smoothly. "May I call you that?”

“Um, sure.”

“Wonderful. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He offers his hand like the gentleman he is.

Cautiously, Penny takes the handshake. “Same for me. Good to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise.”

Their hands fall. Penny has a weird expression on her face. Her eyes keep flicking between me and Baz, looking positively perplexed. I don’t get it. We’re just watching a movie. She said it was okay to bring Baz over, but it still must be weird for her to have someone new around. She doesn’t like new people.  But Baz is going to be hanging around with me indefinitely, so they should probably get more comfortable with each other.

“Wanna watch and eat with us?” I ask. “Pizza is lukewarm but still good.”

She seems even more confused, head pulling back and mouth twisting for a moment. “Uh, sure, if that’s alright with both of you.” She looks pointedly at Baz.

“It’s perfectly fine with me. Snow’s the one taking up the entire sofa.”

I scoff and smack his knee. “Fuck off.” I swing my legs dramatically, putting myself upright. It makes my vision spin a bit, so I fall against Baz, head on his shoulder. I don’t think he minds though. “There, happy?”

He chuckles and throws an arm around me, pulling us even closer together. “Positively elated, Snow.” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to my cheek. I make a disgusted noise as I wipe it off.

“Arsehole.” I kiss his cheek too. Fair’s fair. I look up, and Penny’s eyes are incredibly wide. I gesture at her. “C’mon, Pen, there’s room now.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Alright then."

She sits down, but closer to the other end. Weird. I try to make more room, putting my legs over Baz’s, pressing against him. But she doesn’t move any closer. Actually, she moves further away. Weird, but I get wanting your own space. She is watching the movie intently though.

“This is good,” she says through her pizza. “That violin is incredible.”

“It’s called the Gibson ex-Huberman Stradivarius,” Baz interjects. “Made by Antonio Stradivari of Cremona in 1713. Many say his string instruments are the greatest ever made. He’s estimated to have made 960 violins, 650 of which are still around. What I wouldn’t give to play a Stradivarius.”

“Right," Penny chuckles. "Simon said you were a violinist.”

“Yup, he is,” I say. “Which makes him a total music nerd.”

Baz flicks my far ear then kisses the other. “Says the Doctor Who nerd. And not just music. I enjoy history and English language too.”

“Hey, so does Penny! She never shuts up about that book about working people.”

“‘The Making of The English Working Class’ by EP Thompson, Si,” Penny says with some exasperation. “It’s an interesting read.”

Baz makes a contemplative sound. He’s good at those. “I’ll have to look it up. Shall we compare notes sometime?”

Penny turns her head. She seems to be examining Baz over her spectacles, brown eyes moving up and down over him. She does that a lot, examines people, like me the first day we met all those years ago. She’s assessing him, figuring out whether he’s worth her time. She decided I was. I can only hope she likes him

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. They get along, thank God. Neither of them notice the sigh, but they do notice the loud yawn I can’t help afterwards.

“Tired, Snow?” Baz teases.

“No,” I grumble. I rub my aching eye, which doesn’t help my case.

Baz sighs, then shoves off my legs and stands over me, all tall and looming and handsome. He offers his hand. “Then let’s go to bed. I have an early class tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay.” I take his hand and he hoists me to my feet. I’m a bit wobbly, but Baz keeps me steady with an arm around my waist. Damn, I’m tired. “Can you put away the pizza, Pen? I’ll clean up the rest in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” she says absentmindedly, already flipping to her own show.

“G’night, Pen.”

“Night Si. And Baz.”

“Goodnight, Penelope. Lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sigh again, because she sounds genuine, and I don’t need two of my best friends feuding. There’s no need for unnecessary drama.

Baz and I wash up quickly. (He hogs the mirror again.) I throw on my usual baggy shirt and sweats. I assumed he brought his ridiculous posh silk pyjamas, but to my surprise he takes one of my Watford sweatshirts and a matching set of grey trackies. I look at him with utter amusement.

“Really?” I chuckle.

“I left my bag in the living room,” he says nonchalantly. “And I don’t feel like going to get it.” His pretty face become nervous for a moment, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Is it alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I curl my fingers in his elastic waistband, making him stumble closer. “You look good. You should wear my clothes more often.”

He chuckles, leaning down to capture my lips. I sigh and melt into it. Baz holds my face, slowly running his finger over my cheek. I encircle his waist. Warmth spreads from my mouth and through my entire body. Damn. No matter how brief or how long, how fast or slow, Baz's kisses are always pretty damn great.

He pulls back slightly, leaving the smallest space between us. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on, now. I’m tired and so are you. Let’s sleep.”

I yawn right on cue. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Baz pulls me towards the bed. He lays down first, putting his glasses on the nightstand, and I follow, head pillowed on his strong chest. His arms wrap around me tightly. I like when he does that. Baz always makes me feel better just by holding me. How the hell does that work? Why does he feel so unlike any friend I've had before? I don't know. And I don't care, so long as he just keeps holding me.

“Night,” I mumble.

“Night, love,” he sighs.

I drift off with his left hand in my hair, his right tracing circles on my back, and his heartbeat right under my ear.

———————————————-

“Snow? Snow. Simon.”

I groan at the voice disturbing the my sleep. A rough, callused hand shakes my arm. Of course I know who it is, so I don’t even open my eyes.

“What?” I grumble

“I have to go,” Baz whispers. “I’ve got class until seven. Lunch at Goat tomorrow?”

“M-hm.”

“And are you still staying at my place Friday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you understand anything I just said?”

I roll over, bleary eyes opening slightly. The dawn light doesn’t hurt my eyes too much. Baz is a blur of black, reddish-gold, and grey.

“Goat tomorrow, your flat Friday,” I mumble. “Got it.”

There’s white in the blur now, what I assume are his teeth in a wide grin. He leans forward. “Wonderful. See you later, darling.”

“Bye, love.”

He presses a kiss to my hairline. Even half asleep, I can feel his cool lips on my forehead and the smell of all his fancy products waft up my nose. I listen as his shoes click out the door.

I think I fall asleep again, because when I wake up it’s a lot brighter outside. I groan at the burning sunlight and bring the sheet over my head. I don’t have class until two so I don’t have to get up just yet. I just lay in bed, trying to block out the day. And under those sheets, it hits me that I called Baz ‘love’ for the first time. Huh. Guess his use of cute nicknames is rubbing off on me. It’s new, but so is a lot of stuff we’re doing, and I’ve like it all so far. I think I like this too.

My stomach growls like an angry lion. Guess that’s my cue to get up. I throw off my sheet and immediately shiver. Fuck, it’s chilly. I look over and see that Baz left my sweatshirt folded on my dresser, so I slip it on. I press it to my nose. It still sort of smells like him, a gorgeous mix of his cologne and fancy products. That makes me smile like an idiot, for whatever reason.

I saunter into the kitchen. Penny doesn’t have any class, so she’s sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of textbooks spread out. It’s like the school library threw up on it. The coffee in the pot is old, but I don’t feel like making a new one. So I pour it out and put it in the microwave.

“That’s disgusting, Si,” Penny sing songs.

“Shut up, Pen,” I reply with my most chipper voice. The microwave beeps. I drink from the mug and promptly spit the whole thing out in the sink. Oh Christ, it is disgusting.

“Told you so.”

I glare at her through the kitchen wall hole as I pour the coffee out. I start setting up the kettle for tea instead. Screw coffee. Baz says tea is better for you anyway.

“So,” she says very matter of factly, staring at me through our lovely wall hole, “Baz.”

She doesn’t continue. Nothing to explain what the fuck she’s talking about. She just looks at me with narrow eyes while twirling a pencil in her hand. I blink at her, silence hanging between us, and still nothing.

“Yeah, Baz,” I chuckle.

“You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s cool.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sort of?”

I shrug, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s nice in the important ways, y’know? Helps me out when I need it and treats me well. But he also teases me. In fun though. I tease him too, and I try to be nice. I hope he thinks I’m nice too.”

The kettle whistles. I get out my Adventure Time mug and a peppermint tea bag. When I look back at Penny, she’s twisting her lips, brow furrowed together, pencil tapping on the table rhythmically. That’s her concerned friend look. She always looks like this when I make a major life decision, or when I attempt cooking.

“And, you’re happy, right?” she asks carefully.

I blink at her in confusion again. That’s a weird question. I’ve been depressed before, sure, but I haven’t lately. So I’m not sure why Penny is concerned with my emotional state. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She chuckles and her concerned look goes away. That’s a relief. I don’t like making Penny worried. “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, laughing at the absurdity of this.“Fun talk, Pen. Enjoy studying.”

“Will do. Get to class on time!”

I scoff, walking towards my room with lovely steaming tea in hand. “If I got to class on time, I wouldn’t be Simon Snow Salisbury.”

Penny sighs with exasperation. Now that’s a sound I’ve heard since high school. It’s become weirdly comforting in a way. Penny’s always going to be a bit frustrated with me, and she still loves me anyway.

———————————————-

“Simon, what are you doing this weekend?”

I look up from my fancy grilled cheese, mouth still full. Baz has finished his panini and is now in his “villain position” again. One long leg over the other, bony elbows propped on his armrests, fingers pressed together. It’s still half intimidating-half badass. I swallow my food. Don’t want to be rude with him.

“This weekend?” I ask. “Uh, nothing. I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

He drums his fingers together slowly. Total Bond villain. “Well, I have a proposition for something we could do.”

That makes me put down my food and shift in my chair. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You see, my parents wanted me to come home for the whole break next week. But I couldn’t do that with my practice schedule. I still want to see them though, so I’m driving up for family dinner on Sunday.”

“Okay...”

“And the thing is...” He drums his fingers on the wooden table and chews at his lip. “I’ve mentioned you to them, and they’re wondering if you’d like to come up with me.”

I nearly drop my sandwich. I stare at Baz silently for an inappropriate amount of time. “Your parents," I say cautiously, "want me to come over for dinner?”

He nods slowly, face pinched together in nervousness. “Yes. They’re both eager to meet you, though they may not show it outwardly. But please, love, don’t feel pressured. I told them it might be too soon for this but they can be...insistent. It’s completely up to you though. They’ll survive if you say no.” He rubs his nose under his glasses. “Sorry, this is just a whole mess. I thought about not asking but I wanted to give you the choice.”

“O-Okay.” I nod, like a very slow moving bobble head. Wow, this is just a lot. I haven’t met a friend’s parents since Agatha. And we were dating, which made it very scary. This seems even scarier though. My heart is pulsing too fast. Fuck, why does this feel so intimidating?

Baz grabs my hand, thumb tracing the back of it. It immediately calms me down. “Don’t panic, love, no matter what decision you make I’ll understand. It’s not like we’ll stop speaking if you don’t come to dinner with my pushy, posh parents.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you, love.”

Right, up to me... Fuck. Do I want to meet Baz’s posh family? Even though it’s scary? I mean, I guess it would be nice. They’re probably smart like Baz, cultured too, all that. It sounds intimidating, and it was with Baz at first, but I learned. And maybe I can learn with his family too. I'd like to know more about Baz, be part of another aspect of his life. That's what friends do, right?

“Okay,” I say, “I’d like to come.”

Baz’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It sounds fun, and I’d like to meet your parents. If they’re anything like you, they’ll be posh, really smart, and weirdly nice.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to see them.”

I giggle too, leaning closer to him over the the small table. “Okay, good to know. Anything I should bring?”

“Well, Sunday nights are our ‘fancy dinners’, so we dress up. You’ll have to wear a suit.”

I frown. “I don’t own a suit.”

He nods like some thoughtful scholar. “Hm, alright. Well, I’ve got one you could borrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure. If it fits me, Mr. Tall and Lanky.” I poke his muscular shoulder for emphasis, making him laugh.

“You’re not that much shorter than me, don’t worry. So we’ll go up Sunday afternoon and leave Monday morning. I’ll certainly be drinking, so I don’t want to drive home the night of.”

“Very responsible, love, very responsible.”

Baz chuckles softly, and I do too. He looks me in the eye. All I see is kindness. Who the hell ever said he was an arsehole? He’s actually incredible.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” he asks, his voice still concerned.

I adjust our hands, so we’re smooth palm to scratchy palm, and smile as big as I can. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Baz smiles back. Not as big, but it’s still kind and calm. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

And weirdly enough, neither can I.

———————————————-

AN: So the documentary is real and called "Highly Strung", and the book Penny mentions is real too. Hope you all liked this. I like writing this fluffy definitely-not-a-relationship haha. Tomorrow, "adventure" :)

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin | Chapter 09: “Fury Rising”

Pairing: Kol x Salvatore Sister!Reader

Chapter Summary: The reader and Stefan stole Klaus precious coffins on their retaliation trip and for once have the upper hand against their nemesis. Unlikely allies are made as they try to protect the precious cargo, that for some unknown reason is spelled shut by a witches spell.

Warnings: unbeta´d all mistakes are mine, canon divergence, typical tvd violence, swearing

 Word count: 2978

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Open Coffin Masterlist

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Samuel Johnson once wrote “Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.”

But revenge is not always solely passionate, most times it is acted out of desperation.  The need to avenge wrongdoings with the most primal thought in mind; An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, blood must have blood - whatever you prefer to call it- with no other alternative in near sight.

People would argue that forgiveness, the common ground for the combat between past grievances and future healing, is the noble high ground, and while that might be true, one, you have never considered yourself as particularly noble and second, in your experience the taste of revenge, however fleeting it is, is undeniably sweet.

And lucky for you, forgiveness is the last thing on your mind...

“Open up you wooden piece of shit!” You clutch the axe in your hand before bringing it down, the blade ever so barely stopping right before it would scratch the coffin´s surface.”FUCK!!”

“Are you done?” Stefan asks, leaning against the cold stone wall.

It has been two days since you and Stefan snatched Klaus precious coffins he had been driving around in his very suspicious white van.  

It's safe to say that you have never been this close to one, playing Klaus like a puppet and second, to Kol.

But like everything in your life, something has to get in your way. For whatever reason, the coffins are spelled shut, and there is no way to open them.

Which does not mean you won´t try your hardest.

“Does it look like I´m done?”

“Kind of.”

“Haha, you´re so funny. You know, I don't even understand why these witches decided to screw with me anyway. I was an ally to their kind back in the day.” You bring the axe down once again, hoping that your persistence would make a difference, when clearly, it won´t “Where's your loyalty now, huh?”

Even Bonnie, your newly made ally tried to get it open when she showed up after her dreams led her to the burned down house.Whatever is going on, witchy dreams are never a good sign.

At all.  

“You and witches? You hate witches.”Stefan asks surprised, the sheer thought of you working with witches hard to grasp. You always seemed unsympathetic towards them. Or so he thought.

“I don't hate witches. I just hate what they can do to me. Especially the aneurysm. Ouch.” You remember the first time a witch gave you an aneurysm, it felt like your head was about to explode like fireworks. And not the good kind. “But I do have to say, I like Bonnie. She hates Klaus almost as much as we do. I like that in a person.”

You decide to give the axe one more try. You bring it over your shoulder, ready to break this coffin in half if you have to. You swing the axe down for the millionth time but as expected, it didn't hit the surface.

“I give up.” You throw the axe aside and let yourself fall on the floor, your back resting against the wall next to Kol’s coffin.   

Stefan joins you on the cold floor, his jacket scratching against the textured stone wall. “Tell me about him,” he says glancing over at the coffin.

“About who?”

“Your boyfriend. Klaus brother.”

And there it is. You knew he must've eavesdropped.

“So you did hear my conversation with Klaus. Why didn't you say anything? You ask.

You knew Klaus didn't just start talking about Kol just for the fun of it. He must´ve seen

“I don´t know. Busy saving my buddy Klaus I guess.” He jokes.

To other people I might seem like his forced flipped switch is done and dealt with, but if your family is known for something is definitely to bury feelings under any form of wit.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” You roll your eyes, the thought of the epic failure that was supposed to be Klaus downfall makes you want to dig a hole and never come out.  “Look, I know how this must look for you, but Kol is different. He's no-”

“Is that his name? Kol?” You nod “Do you know who the others are?” Stefan asks. He has been wondering who he's been carrying around.

“These two are either Elijah or Finn. Only this one, I don´t know who that is.” You say pointing to the coffin It's true you don't have the slightest idea who might be in that coffin. Perhaps its the spare coffin for Rebekah?

“How can you tell who is who?”

“I´m not sure with Elijah or Finn. But with Kol...I just feel it.”

“You...feel it?” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He must think you´ve gone completely mad.

“Never underestimate the intuition of a woman, Stef.” You joke, earning the most exaggerated eye roll from your little brother. “Look, I know it sounds impossible to love anyone close to Klaus after everything he has put you through. But Kol hates Klaus as much as you do. Maybe more. No, definitely more. And I love him, Stefan. I really do.”

“So he's the reason you came back? Because Klaus has him?” He asks, his gaze evading yours by fumbling with his daylight ring.

For a fleeting glimpse there, young and vulnerable Stefan seeped through the cracks of his mask of bloodshed and vengeance. He must be worried that he's just a stepping stone to get Kol back. But of course, that's not true. You are glad you get to spend time with him after all these years. Even under these circumstances.

“Yes and no. he’s a very big factor as well, but you were and will always be my number one priority. If I had to run into a burning building to drag you out I'd do it. Again.” You say, the memories of that incident still so fresh in your memory as if they happened yesterday.

“But while we´re on the topic of me coming back to this god awful town, there is something you should know about that involves Elena and you're probably gonna hate me fo-” You stop midsentence, as two very familiar voices reach your ears. You always use your vampire hearing once in a while just to be safe of anyone that might be coming for you “Oh Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

You gesture to your ears and then upstairs, the chattering of Damon accompanied by Elena as they approach the ruins, reaching Stefan's ears. He looks at the coffins, the moment he lays eyes on them they disappear. These witches think fast.

Stefan?” Elena approaches the dark room with caution. Damon had to wait outside because the witch spirits resting in this house hate his guts and screwed with his daylight ring. Honestly, you can't blame them.

“Buh!” You whisper in her ear. Even a blood-sucking monster has to have fun, right?

“Y/N?! She jumps back in shock “What are you-” Elena begins, but Stefan's dramatic appearing from the shadows startles her.

“Elena, go away, you shouldn't be here,” Stefan tells her, his voice indifferent and cold.

“Stefan, I need your help.” She says, her voice shaking with worry and anticipation “Bonnie said that you would be here.”

“Well, Bonnie sucks at keeping secrets,” Stefan replies.

“Listen, you two need to give Klaus his family back.”

“Oh, really? Is that what we need to do?” You scoff. There is no chance you will let any of these coffins out of your sight again. Not until you know how to open them.

“Klaus compelled Jeremy to stand in front of a speeding car!” Elena argues.

“I don't really see how that involves us.” You shrug.

While you understand the need to protect your little brother, if Klaus resorts to such methods he is beyond desperate.

“Don't you get it?”You shrug again “Stefan, he's not gonna stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Elena, stop talking.” He rolls his eyes and you chuckle at his annoyed undertone he developed ever since Elena entered the room. “I'm not giving Klaus anything.” He shakes his head.

It must be hard for her to acknowledge the fact that even though Stefan flips his switch, and you're certain he did after Klaus set him free, he is not running back to her immediately.

“Are you listening to me? He's gonna kill Jeremy!”

“Not really my problem.” Stefan shrugs his shoulders.

Elena raises her hand and slaps Stefan with all the force her mortal being possesses.

Interesting. There is some fire in her after all. Who would´ve thought?

“And you can go to hell!! She yells at Stefan, then turns to you “Both of you.” she says on her way out.

“Already there, Elena. Already there.” You mutter, not caring if she even hears it or not.

You and Stefan only have the chance to share a look before Damon rushes through the house, his skin sizzling like bacon in a pan.

“Wow! That was impressive.” Stefan says in a sarcastic tone, almost sneering “But the coffins aren't here, so...You can go away now.”

“I don't care about the coffins.” Damon winced as his skin heals from the sunburns.”We need to talk.”

“Okay, let's talk.” You lean against the wall to your right “Tough, If you prefer a punch in the face again, let me know.”

“Nothing's ever easy with you two, is it?” Damon says before he attacks Stefan, vamp speeding him out of the house, so he doesn't have to watch out for the light shining through the windows.

You hurry after them, pushing Damon off of Stefan when he tries to hurt him with a wooden stake. Instead he plunges it in your chest, several inches away from your heart. Of course, he's not trying to kill you, just to hurt you.

Stefan punches him in the face as retaliation, but Damon is quicker and stakes him in the stomach with a tree branch.

Perhaps Stefan even wants him to let out his anger Damon has every right to be angry. From his point of view, Stefan blew the only chance of getting rid of Klaus. However, he doesn't know the whole story.

“That is for screwing up my plan! You stop me from killing Klaus and you steal his family! Why?? Doesn't make sense!” He yells and twists the branch and Stefan groans in pain. “Answer me!!”

“Stop it!!!!” You throw the piece of wood you retracted from your chest into Damon's shoulder before pushing him off of your little brother.

You wrap your hand around the branch and pull it out of Stefan's chest with one tug.

“Piece by piece Klaus took everything from me.” Stefan groans as you reach for his hand to pull him to his feet. “I'm doing the same to him. We both are.”

“But I had him, Stefan!” Damon snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Stefan “Why did you screw it up?”

“He did it to save you, you dumbass!!” You yell at him.

“What??” Damon freezes, the sickening feeling of realization settling within his bones “No. No way! You didn't do this for me.”

“He was one step ahead of us.” Stefan explains “If Klaus died, his hybrids would have killed you.”

“When are you going to get it through your head? Stop saving me!!” He yells at him and walks back to the house, his shoulder purposely colliding with yours.

But then he stops.

“Do you know what I can't figure out? Why steal the coffins?” He asks and faces both of you again.

“Even if it doesn't seem like it, Klaus´ siblings are a weak point we can exploit and use against him.” You tell him.

“Use against him to do what? You're not gonna kill him, you know how I know? 'Cause there was only one way to kill him and you blew that to save me.”

“You're wrong Damon.” Stefan shakes his head, reflecting Damon's usual denial “Klaus doesn't just get to live forever. There's another way. There has to be.”

There is. Two ways actually, one deadly one non-fatal but equally painful. But telling them isnßt an option. They would use the same weapon to get rid off all of them.

You can´t let that happen.

No, you won't let that happen. Even if it means you have to lie to them. Again.

“Fair enough.” Damon nods “But whatever you two are doing, I want in.”

“We don't need your help.” You shake your head. Planning anything with Damon most likely ends in a disaster. History speaks for itself.

“Really? Last time I checked you're hiding in a haunted house.” He argues and cocks his head towards the burned ruins.

“So? We like spirits. And not only the alcoholic kind.” You

“You're going after Klaus; Y/N.” Damon needles reminds you, as if you didn't know that already. “You have to be cutthroat and devious. I'm so much better at that than you two.”

Oh if you only knew, brother. If you only knew...

“Come on.” Damon continues “What do you say? If you're gonna keep saving my life at least make it for a good reason.”

“You want in?”

“Yeah.”

Stefan looks at you, waiting for your reaction. Having Damon on board would certainly be easier as facing his fury, but there is also the risk of Damon being….well Damon.

“Okay, fine.” You sigh “But it's just us three. Your precious Elena stays out of it, alright? Completely. If this is going to work we have to stick together.  No matter what happened or will happen. This is the only advantage we have on Klaus. We can´t let anyone screw it up.” You look at both of them and while Stefan nods, Damon rolls his eyes. How typical “No matter the consequences”

“Fine. Whatever, it's a deal.” Damon sighs, his foot impatiently tapping on the floor.

“Good.” You nod your head; ”Follow us.”

“Wait. I'm not so...welcome in there.”

“Don't you worry Damon. We all want the same thing.

You and Stefan lead him to the bad lid and dusty room and Damon follows close behind eager to know where you might have hidden the coffins.

“Have a look.” Stefan gestures to the empty room.

“What? Klaus is allergic to dust?” Damon jokes and looks at Stefan with a questioning look on his face.

“Hm...Look again.” You tell him and he promptly does as you ask, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Witch spirits hate Klaus as much as we do. They're using their powers to hide the coffins.” Stefan explains.

“So even if he comes in the house…”

“ ...he won't be able to find them.” Stefan finishes his sentence and Damon smiles, enjoying this hide and seek already.

While Damon ran back to bring Elena the news of his epic misjudgement, Stefan decided to dig deep into the lore, trying to find a way to open the locked coffins. And you, well….you don't want to let the coffins out of your sight. Especially, of course, the one with Kol in it.

He has been lost for decades upon decayed and now he's so close, so undeniably close with only a wooden barrier separating you.

You close your eyes for a mere moment, perhaps for a breath or two, leaning on the coffin supports. The air suddenly feels heavier as questions upon questions fill your head, the silence forcing them out of the shadows.

Why would the witches close the coffins? Will working with Damon work? Will they forgive you if they found out what you did? Will you ever see Kol again´?

But when you open your eyes again, instead of the pale, rigged surroundings, a different view lies before you. A beautiful night sky stretches itself above your head, the stars twinkling in shining as bright as they can while a street parade strolls through the streets, the music filling the silent night air.

You don't have to turn around to know where you are. How could you ever forget this night? But how the hell did you get to New Orleans, on the same rooftop of the Mikaelson house? Is this a dream?

You smile as the song you and Kol danced to start playing on the old Grammophon. You breathe in the feeling of tranquillity and wholesomeness spreading throughout your body.

This has always been your happy place. No matter what your immortal life threw at you, you always had this memory to come back to.  And being here in person, or whatever this is, couldn´t be more perfect.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Your heart jumps at the familiar voice, you can feel it hammering in your chest. This great pounding, this great pressure, every beat now magnified.

Could it be….

You turn around and your heart now completely sinking to your knees, your eyes fixated on the person in front of you.

“Kol?”

To be continued….

A/N: Well isn´t this a mean cliffhanger ;) Sorry not sorry.  I do hope you liked this chapter though!! I know it was a long time coming again, but I promise I will post the next chapter a lot quicker now that I seem to be out of the bad writing hole.  Please PLEASE let me know what you think. Feedback fuels my writing like nothing else!! Also, I hope to see you next chapter as well! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day/night!

Open Coffin Tags:   @shadyladyperfection @laitalianax3 @newurleans @originalbish98 @christinalibertymikaelson @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @captain-amelia-bradley  @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincess @mustachio1616 @thealyana   @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez09 @akshi8278 @sincerelystiles

[crazyfreckledginger]

New Year, New Friends

Original art

This story includes Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Jason Todd (Red Hood), Tim Drake (Red Robin) and Damian Wayne (Robin).

Your PoV

Walking towards Gotham Academy, I started to feel the pressure rising. What if no one likes me? The only people I know are the Waynes, well not even, we only met once at a gala because my dad forced me to go with him for 'impression purposes'.

I stopped once being in full view of the Acadamy Yikes that's huuuuuge! I thought. A crowd of students were walking into the school. Here goes nothing I said to myself again.

------------------Time Skip-----------------

"Class! This is our new student (Y/N) (L/N)." The teacher called out.

A few students greeted me before the teacher gestured to the Wayne with a white streak. He took his bag off of the table and smiled at me as I sat on the chair next to him.

"Long time no see!" he whispered once the teacher resumed her lesson.

"Which one are you again? Dick is it?" I asked, slightly harsher than intended.

"Ouch baby doll, I'm Jason!" he asked, faking a hurtful expression.

"Hilarious!" I smiled sarcastically.

After a few minutes of paying attention to the lesson, Jason whispered again "You up to go to Starbucks after school?"

"And why would I do that?" I smirked at him.

"Because I'm the most attractive Wayne in this class!" He flirted.

"What? There's another Wayne here?" I asked looking around.

"No! Don't get distracted by someone else's looks, mines are the best!" he put his arm around my shoulder so that I didn't turn around.

"Wait, no quit it!" I pushed him off, which nearly made him fall to the floor.

Looking around, I saw a familiar young boy who smiled at me when we made eye contact with him. I smiled back then turned back towards the board.

"I'm still hotter right?" He asked hopefully.

"Will you shut up if I say yes?" I deadpanned.

"Yes!!"

"Then yes!!"

He sighed, satisfied with my answer.

-----------Time Skip-----------

This was my last lecture before the end of school. I must admit, it wasn't so bad after all.

I looked to my left to see Jason actually focusing on the lesson. To be honest, the lesson was interesting but I was getting bored. I was thinking about today, then another thought occurred to me. I nudged Jason to get his attention. he hummed in response.

"How old is Tim again?"

"Why you want to ask him out? You're way out of his league!" I rolled my eyes at his statement.

"I meant isn't he a little bit too young to be in this grade?"

"Yeah but he's a smarty pants!" Jason mocked, before concentrating back on the lesson. I sighed, looking around at the huge auditorium the physics teacher was using for our class today. I then looked behind me when having a feeling I was being watched. I turned my gaze to an area at the back of the auditorium and I examined Tim who was grinning cheekily and waving widly in my direction, I smiled and turned back towards my notebook, feeling heat rising to my cheeks.

"What are you blushing about?" Jason teased.

I just looked down, hiding behind my hand.

"Stop it, Jay!" I smiled shyly. His suspicions grew, after a few seconds, his eyes widened and he looked back to Tim, who was still smiling cheekily at my action, his gaze still on me with a light blush. He gave him the I'm watching you! gestured and the I saw her first and she's mine! look. Tim just shrugged at his action then acted as if he was paying attention to the lesson again.

---------Time Skip----------

The lesson was finally interrupted by the bell. Everyone hurried outside to get away from school or go hang out with their friends. As I stood up from my seat to go home, Jason grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He miscalculated his strength, making me fall in his lap, the action making my arms instinctively go around his neck. He smirked up at me with a proud expression.

"You never said yes to Starbucks!" he soothed, mesmerised.

Huffing, I thought for a few seconds before surrendering.

"Fiiine!" I sighed, rolling my eyes, a slight smile tugging at my lips, as I got off him.

"Yay!" he squeaked, getting up after me, doing a little victory dance. I giggled at his action.

A set of footsteps interrupted his victory dance. I turned around and saw Tim smiling at me. He stopped in front of us.

"Can I come with you guys?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Sure!" "Hell no!" We said simultaneously. I then looked at Jason, an eyebrow raised. He pouted before huffing out "Whatever!" I smiled at him.

"You're such a dork!" I nudged him, chuckling. He kept his pout, wanting to show that he was still a little upset that I agreed, but his action was betrayed by a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

"HEY BROS!!!" Another excited voice called out. We all turned towards the entrance of the auditorium and saw an older boy and a shorter, younger looking boy.

"Oh Hell Nah! I've been wanting to go with (Y/N) for a coffee and I already have to suffer through Tim, I don't need both of you too!" Jason complained, sliding an arm around my shoulder possessively.

"We all know you don't have a real chance with a girl Todd!" The youngest one stated.

"Oooooh! Burn Jason!!" The eldest added. I simply raised an eyebrow at the lot.

"I'm sorry am I encroaching on some brother bonding time?" I finally asked, raising my hands in surrender. "Should I leave?"

"No no no no no! Dick and Damian were simply leaving, taking Tim with them! Weren't you!?" He informed, glaring at his brothers.

"Why? What's happening?" Dick asked.

"Starbucks!" Tim and I said simultaneously.

"Date!!" Jason stated annoyed.

"It's not a date if both of us are going with you!" Tim argued, rolling his eyes.

"Can we come?" Dick asked, tried to persuade, attempting to do the puppy eyes.

"I don’t see why not" I accepted.

"Nuuuuuh!" Jason sighed exasperatedly.

"Cool, do you want to come little D?" Dick asked.

"Tt" Damian responded.

"Whoo! Let's go then!" Dick pushed us to the exit.

"Okay okay we're going!" Jason surrendered.

Want to be tagged?

Tagging: @lumifuer

[serkewen12]

Something There Part 6

Okay it’s finally here. I’m pretty nervous about this chapter so I hope you all like it. =D

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Word Count: 8406

Warnings: *whispers* I’m sorry...

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

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Classes with Alexander for the past week had been tense to say the least. It hadn’t taken long before John and Hercules had began to notice the tension hanging between the two of you at any given moment. Angelica had been beside herself with excitement when you had told her Thomas had invited you to be his date to the gala. You were on your way to go shopping for dresses today; her treat. It had taken three days of convincing before you finally relented and agreed to let her buy you a dress. You had tried to argue that it wasn’t necessary and had asked to just borrow one of her old dresses, much to her horror.

Your conversations with Thomas had been short as well. You had barely seen him in the past week, he had gone home to Virginia to settle the details of his family’s donation for the gala and that suited you just fine. After your accidental confession to Alexander in the park, you were hesitant and nervous to talk to Thomas. If there was one thing you were going to make sure didn’t happen, it was accidentally letting Thomas know about your feelings. A task which was incredibly difficult when he called you and told you how much he missed you. His voice had been soft and held none of the arrogance it usually carried. It had dawned upon you that this was a voice that seemed to be solely reserved for you. Just the way he said hello made your heart race.

Your outburst had been as much of a surprise to you as it was to Alexander. Not only had you admitted that you were in love with Thomas, which was something that seemed so obvious to you now, but the things  Alex had said he heard from Aaron Burr also were lurking in the back of your mind. You distracted yourself and pushed down your nagging fears by focusing on the task at hand, finding a dress for the gala. You looked out the window of the cab as it traveled downtown inching it’s way through the traffic. You had thought classes had been tense, until lunch yesterday. Glaring you tapped your fingers along the worn seats with anger bubbling under you skin as you thought about what Alexander had done.

You pushed pasta around your plate as Alex sat across from you scribbling notes. His face had been turned into a permanent scowl since last weekend. John and Hercules sat next to Alexander and seemed uneasy when you turned your eyes back to your food. Their eyes traveled between Alexander and yourself unsure of what had caused such a drastic change.

“Hey guess what? I got a new tank for my turtle. I just finished setting it up last night,” John said cheerfully.

“That’s nice John,” you said quietly without looking up.

Alexander grunted in response and kept writing. John’s smile faltered and his shoulders slumped a bit.

“All right what the fuck is going on? You two have been at each other’s throats all week. You will barely even look at each other,” Hercules snapped causing you to jump.

“It’s nothing… just a misunderstanding,” you mutter.

“Oh yeah it’s totally nothing! Oh please. Why don’t you tell our friends what’s going on (Y/N)? Don’t they deserve to know?” Alexander was seething.

“What’s Alex talking about?”

You slowly looked at John and he was staring expectantly. Hercules looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You opened your mouth to answer, but the right words just didn’t seem to form. How do I tell them?

“Are you okay (Y/N)? Did something happen at your job? You know you can tell us if something is wrong,” John reassured.

“You know we always have you back,” Herc agreed.

Oh I don’t think you��ll have my back on this one guys.

“Yes (Y/N) why don’t you tell them about your "job”, Alex sneered making quote marks with his finders, “Or lack thereof?”

“Oh fuck you Alexander! It’s true, there is no god damn internship, okay! Are you happy now asshole?!”

Hercules and John sat wide eyed after your outburst. You fist were clenched and you took a deep breath to calm yourself down. Alexander’s smug look made your blood boil, he was extremely pleased with himself and you knew it. Now all you had to do is graze over what you had actually been doing and hope Alexander would keep his mouth shut.

“Um wow… so if you haven’t been working then what have you been doing? I mean we had our suspicions so I’m not that surprised,” Herc commented.

“I’ve been…” you stopped mid sentence. Shit what am I going to say?

You steeled yourself and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, “I’ve been hanging out with someone.”

“Called it! I told you Herc,” John laughed.

“Why did you lie to us about this?”

“I don’t know…” you lied.

Alexander’s expectant stare twisted into rage when he heard your response.

“She’s lying because she is trying to cover the fact that she has been plowing Jefferson!”

The color drained from your face and you sucked in a strangled breath at Alexander’s accusation. Hercules was immediately tense and turned a stern glance at you, while John just sat in stunned silence. The irritation you had felt was now a burning rage.

“I am not fucking Jefferson,” you angrily shout.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Alexander snarled back.

“We’ve just been hanging out! It’s nothing like that. I mean he kissed me, but it was one time…”

A look of disgust marred Alexander’s face at your admission.

“… He invited me to come with him to the Gala as his date. He isn’t as bad as you think, I swear,” you say desperately.

“Whoa…” John whispered, “How long has this been going on?”

“Ever since Angie brought up the internship. She made it up that day to cover up the fact that I was going to Thomas’s house for the first time,” you confess.

“That was over three months ago,” Herc snapped.

“I know, I know. Look I’m sorry okay?! I just knew you guys would freak out. Honestly I didn’t mean for this to happen. Laf said that he wasn’t a bad guy and that I should give him a chance. I decided it would be fun to try to prove Laf wrong and it didn’t go the way I planned,” you said with a huff.

“That’s right guys! You heard her! Not only has she been lying to us, but Angie and Laf have known about this the whole time and have been covering,” Alex pointed out.

You blocked out the angry yelling between Hercules and Alexander as tears began to sting your eyes. You vaguely heard Alexander telling Hercules about what he had heard Burr say and Hercules angrily questioning about what you were thinking. John was strangely silent. You looked up from your lap and looked at John through your tears and he looked at you with sympathy. You stood up quickly and ran leaving the three men staring in the direction you had gone.

You rushed past other students without a care. You couldn’t believe Alexander went as far as accusing you of sleeping with Thomas. You felt incredibly betrayed, he had the right to be upset that you had lied, but he had taken it too far. As you rounded the corner to head down toward the music building you ran head on into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorry… I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you stuttered between sobs.

As you moved around the other student you were stopped by a hand catching your arm.

“Why are you crying darlin’?”

Dress shopping was something you had mixed feelings about. An event like this was something you were completely unfamiliar with and had confided your insecurities with the Schuyler sisters. Angelica and Eliza promised you that they wouldn’t let you make a fool out of yourself and that you would look beautiful. Angelica had insisted upon taking you to her favorite dress and raved about how the shop had never let her down. Your phone dinged with a text and you glanced down at the screen. Alexander. He had tried to text you multiple times since yesterday afternoon but you had ignored them all. Ignoring him and letting him squirm was petty but you didn’t care.

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered as the cab finally reached it’s destination and you got out.

You slowly walked up to the boutique’s door examining the swanky exterior. Pausing with your hand a few inches from the handle you took a deep breath.

“You can do this, it’s just a dress store. Nothing crazy,” you reasoned to yourself.

Pushing the door open and walking in you gasped and you craned your neck to look around the store. It was beautiful. There was dark hardwood floors and the walls were a soft cream color. Slowly you wandered into the showroom and saw all the dresses hanging along the walls. The dresses of all styles and lengths appeared to be arranged by color. The lighting was perfect and every rhinestone and sequin seemed to sparkle as you moved around the room. You ran your hands gingerly along the silk of one of the dresses hanging closest to you.

“Holy shit… okay maybe a little crazy,” you whispered, “this sure as fuck isn’t David’s Bridal.”

As you looked over the display of beautiful dresses you noticed a pedestal with three large mirrors in front of it for showing off the dress you were wearing. There were white couches for family and friends who came with anyone shopping. Oddly enough the entire boutique seemed empty, no one was here shopping. You hadn’t need Angelica or Eliza who said they would arrive early and the staff seemed absent as well. Anxiety was already starting to trickle through your body. A display of glittering necklaces caught your attention as you battled with your nervousness.

“Where is everyone? They told me they were going to be here early… and where is the sales person? Are they called that?” You were muttering to yourself staring at the different pieces of jewelry,“ Consultant? Stylist? This is crazy, I have no idea what I’m doing…”

“HEY (Y/N)! There you are!”

“JESUS FUCK!!” You shout as your jump away from the necklaces and whip around to see Angelica standing there with her arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

A woman who looked to be in her late 30s came flying out of the back room when she heard your shout and looked concerned. Angelica put her hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear and they both giggled. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment because of your outburst. Angelica walked up and gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry girl, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on,” she said grabbing your hand and leading you towards another room of the store, “This is Bianca.”

“Um, hello?” You felt slightly awkward as you gave a little wave.

“Hi there, welcome! They waiting in the fitting room,” she said cheerfully pointing towards the other room. They? Shouldn’t it just be Eliza?

“I hope you don’t mind (Y/N), but I picked some dresses for you,” Angie commented.

“Oh um… okay? Hey Angelica, why isn’t there anyone else here shopping?”

“I called ahead and arranged a private consultation. I figured it would help, since you said you were feeling nervous about the gala. I thought if there was a bunch of people here it would make you feel more uncomfortable.” It’s the thought that counts I guess.

As you walked around the corner you saw a row of large fitting rooms. They each had a large mirror that took up the whole wall and a stylish bronze colored throw rugs in the middle of the floor. A small chandelier hung delicately in each as well. There was a silk robe hanging on a hook in each of the two open fitting rooms. The third seemed to be occupied with the heavy fabric curtain being closed. Seeing the selections of dresses hanging in the open dressing rooms made your pulse quicken and you felt a slight nervous lump form in your throat.

“Eliza has a head start on us,” Angelica laughed.

The curtain flew open and large familiar frame came out of the fitting room and you sucked in a breath. Eliza sauntered out of the fitting room in a flowing yellow dress and did a little turn.

“I don’t know Herc… I don’t think yellow is my color,” Eliza reasoned, “What do you think Eliza? (Y/N)?”

“It’s not my favorite,” Angelica agreed.

“I think a darker shade would be more flattering with your skin,” Hercules said while staring at you.

“Yep… I agree,” you said tensely.

“Well let’s get started! Ladies the dresses you selected are all ready for you to try,” Bianca said kindly.

Angelica hurried into her fitting room leaving you standing there staring at Hercules. You didn’t know what to say, he was one of the last people on earth you wanted to see today. He seemed just as unsure as you did, he tucked his hands in his pockets and looked down. Annoyance was beginning to replace your nervousness by the time you finally spoke up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Angelica invited me to come, she said she wanted my ‘fashion designer expertise’,” Herc said quietly, “I can leave if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I was uncomfortable the second I walked into this store,” you fire off with a slight scowl, “Angelica isn’t wrong about your fashion opinions so I don’t think she would appreciate I kicked you out.”

“Hey… aren’t you going to try on your first dress?” Angelica’s head was peeking out from behind the curtain and looked confused.

“Yeah. Sorry Ang,”

Herc followed you to your fitting room and was about to say something else when you swiped the curtain shut in his face.

Setting down your bag and taking a deep breath you began to slip out of your street clothes to try on the first dress. You skeptically looked at the first dress, it wasn’t what you had in mind but it was pretty. It was royal purple, with a sweetheart neckline and multiple straps that cris-crossed over the shoulders and connected to the back. From Herc showing you his designs you could tell it was what they called a “fit and flare”. Toto we are not in Kansas anymore. You quickly pulled it off the hanger and began to slip it on.

It didn’t take long before you were tangled in the multiple stripes of fabric.

“Oh what the fuck…” you muttered as you continued to struggle with all of the straps.

It had looked simple enough when it was on the hanger, but the minute you had taken it off it was next to impossible to figure out which hole was for the arms and which one was for your head. No matter how much you tried it only seemed to make it worse. Resisting the urge to scream you calming poked your head out from your dressing room and saw Hercules sitting on a bench looking rather uncomfortable.

“Hey Herc?”

Hercules snapped his head your direction and saw your desperate look.  He slowly made his way over to you and a smirk worked across his lips when he saw your predicament. You moved over as he walked past the curtain and continued to fiddle with the straps that were now wrapped around your arm.

“Need some help there?” His voice was teasing but slightly cautious.

If the look you threw at his reflection could kill he would have been a smoldering pile of ash littering the immaculate hardwood floors and he winced.

“Hercules I swear to…” you hissed.

“Riiiight okay I can fix this. No prob,” he reassured as he examined the dress for a moment.

Hercules looked at the fabric and structure of the dress with intensity as he circled around you. He nodded a bit and finally reached out and grabbed onto one of the straps and motioned for you to duck your head as he pulled it over to the other side. The dress was slowly looking like it was in the right place as he moved straps around and helped you untangle your arms.

“I owe you an apology,” Herc said quietly as he fixed the last piece of out of place fabric.

“What did you say?” You stared at him in the mirror.

“How I acted yesterday was out of line. I was shocked with what Alex said and I didn’t think about your feelings. John really ripped us both new assholes for being inconsiderate and he was right,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “Look I love you and I just worry about you and I mean can you blame us for being upset? He’s Jefferson for fuck sake. Uhhhhh anyways, I just want to say I’m sorry for what I said…”

“Herc… thank you,” you smiled feeling a bit of your stress lift, “Will you give him a chance then?”

“…I won’t lie, I don’t like it one bit and I don’t trust him, but I do trust you and I respect your judgement. I’m willing to give him a chance and I will try my best to be civil.”

“Are you going to make us wait all day (Y/N)?” Angelica teased from outside of the dressing room.

Hercules gave you a reassuring smile and you nodded as he opened the curtain and you walked out. Eliza and Angelica both looked excited and buzzed around you. They both thought the dress was beautiful and hugged all your curves nicely and went on about how the neckline was flattering. As they gushed over it you nodded going along with what they said even though you felt uncomfortable. This wasn’t the dress and you knew it.

“Guys, guys, it’s really pretty…”

“There’s going to be a 'but’,” Angelica pouted.

“Buuuuuut,” you emphasized with a smirk, “I just don’t like how it’s so tight on the legs. It’s not comfortable to walk in and I got tangled up in all these straps trying to put it on. It’s pretty but it’s just not the one.”

“It’s true, it looked like a bondage scene in there by the time she actually asked for help,” Hercules laughed.

The afternoon flowed from there, all three of you tried on dress after dress. Angelica was responsible for all the picks you had to work though and as much as you appreciated her efforts and fashion sense you were starting to realize she had no idea what your tastes were.

Three dresses in and Eliza had found a winning dress. She looked radiant in the blue off the shoulder number. It was fitted through the hips and flowed out beautifully. There was a layer of shimmering dark blue lace over the entire dress and the neckline had a scalloped edge. It was perfect for Eliza, classy and elegant and you smiled when you thought of how Alexander would react when he saw her. You could only hope whatever dress you found would make Thomas look at you the same way you imagined Alex looking at her, but so far the two dresses you had tried were duds.

The third dress you tried on was crimson. The color had caught your attention immediately so hope blossomed a bit, until you put it on. There was a slit that went to mid thigh on the left side, a plunging neckline, no back, and the only saving grace was the thick shoulder straps that held the dress in place.

When you walked out the wide eyed look of surprise on Hercules’s face was the nail in the coffin on this dress. He quickly reeled his expression in and tried to be supportive.

“Wow… that’s a um… good color on you,” he said awkwardly.

Angelica wolf whistled when you did a little turn for them.

“Damn girl! Thomas will definitely not be able to take his eyes off of you in that,” Angelica said devilishly.

Hercules huffed and muttered something about how Thomas could go to hell under his breath and you shot him a glare. He immediately pursed his lips and looked away with a scowl.

“Angie this dress looks like I’m desperate to get laid after prom, are you insane?!”

Eliza giggled and Hercules roared with laughter at your comment. You let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“What? No it doesn’t you look sexy,” Angelica reasoned.

“There is literally only an inch wide strip of fabric keeping my nipples from seeing the light of day. I want to look classy not like I’m a hooker that Thomas hired to be his date for the evening…”

“I bet he has had to do that quite a bit with that personality,” Herc muttered.

“Hercules! What happened to 'I’ll try to be civil’?” You asked heatedly.

“What? He ain’t here…”

“You are supposed to be using your fashion student expertise to help find us the perfect dresses! You sure aren’t helping me one bit, I saw you covering up your laughter with that last dress. Hot pink and covered in sequins? You can’t be serious right now. One more word from you about Thomas and I’m revoking your wedding dress privileges!” You seethed.

Hercules immediately straightened up in his chair and narrowed his eyes,“ You wouldn’t dare.”

“Fucking try me,” you deadpanned as you headed to the dressing room.

Instead of taking the dress off you immediately sink down onto the small chair that is in the fitting room and put your head in your hands.

“I hate this… none of these are me. This whole party isn’t me, I don’t fit in with those people,” you quietly lamented.

When you looked up there was one dress left to try on and you already hated it. Angie we have known each other for five years, girl seriously these dresses are great for you… not me.

Hercules watched as (Y/N) retreated back into her dressing room. It wasn’t hard to see that she hated having to do this, every ounce of her screamed miserable in all the dresses Angelica had pulled for her. They were all nice picks but none of them was anywhere near the style (Y/N) had when it came to formal wear. Angelica was standing there looking slightly defeated and Eliza was looking sympathetically towards the fitting room.

Hercules stood up and stretched a bit before starting to walk towards the showroom.

“Where are you going?” Angelica asked as she came up behind him.

“I’m going to use my 'expertise’ and see if I can find her something she at least likes a little bit. Angie you should try on that red dress with the cut outs, I think that one is a winner,” he commented as he walked away.

Slowly he made his was through the showroom meticulously looking at all the dresses. (Y/N) wanted classy and he was going to find it. She didn’t like dresses that were fitted on the bottom and felt insecure about thin airy fabrics. He needed to find something with a little bit of weight to it, with a good structure, and just enough sex appeal.

Moving through all of the dresses in the showroom he had found a few that were doable, but weren’t winners.

“Too many rhinestones, too short, too much tulle, too low cut, straps are too thin, too fitted…” he said to himself as he looked though the selections.

He huffed after looking through almost everything, no wonder she had been overwhelmed and looked like she was giving up. He might not be happy about the fact that (Y/N) was going to this thing with Thomas Jefferson, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her settle on a dress she didn’t like. He would tear this place down to the foundation before he let her walk out of here with anything less than perfect.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” Bianca was standing off to the side.

Hercules was about to wave her off but an idea popped into his head, “Actually Bianca are these all the dresses you have or is there anything else?”

“Well we have a stock room, but some of the things in there are being sold as is or are discontinued,” Bianca said.

“Is there any way I could look in there anyway?”

“Oh um sure. Follow me please,” she said as she lead him to a closed door.

Behind the door was racks of different sizes of the dresses in the showroom and Bianca motioned for him to follow her to the back.

“Feel free to look through whatever you like. If you need anything just let me know,” Bianca said with a smile.

“Thank you very much.”

Hercules scanned though the dresses, still nothing was catching his eye. He looked to the left and saw another rack of dresses and one caught his eye. It was midnight blue velvet, with a full skirt, fitted top that had just enough of a v-neck, and what looked a delicate vine design that worked it’s way from the skirt all the way through the bodice. A wide smile appeared on his face and he ran his hands over the soft velvet. It was perfect, almost.

“Hey Bianca?” Herc called out.

“Yes?” She said as she appeared from behind him.

“Does this dress come in any other colors?”

Bianca walked past him and moved a few dresses out of the way and pulled out an identical dress in a very familiar color.

“She owes me one,” he said with a smirk.

Angelica spun around in the red dress Hercules had suggested for her with a look of joy. You sat in your silk robe and watched with the rest of your dresses abandoned. It was a one shoulder fit and flare dress. The top of the bodice was separated from the skirt with a strip of sheer red fabric that was in an upward v shape. The sisters had both looked so beautiful and effortless in their dresses, you let out a sigh that caught Eliza’s attention.

“Hey we are going to find you something,” Eliza reassured and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I just feel like I don’t belong Eliza. You both found things so easily and look so comfortable,” you lament.

“You belong and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Angelica chided.

“Angelica is right love,” Eliza agreed.

Hercules breezed around the corner and quickly put a dress into your dressing room, “Get in here, I think I found the one.”

“Um okay…” You said and cautiously walked into the dressing room.

Hercules had a triumphant smile on his face and you rolled your eyes and looked at the dress he had found. You were speechless as soon as you laid your eyes on it and wasted no time shedding your robe and stepping into the dress. Hercules helped you with the zipper and took a step back.

“Well?”

“Herc… it’s perfect.”

Two weeks had passed and you found yourself in Angelica’s bedroom as you all did your make up, the gala was in two hours and you were a ball of nervous energy. The idea that something so over the top was going to be your first public appearance with Thomas had put you on edge. John and Hercules had done what they could to help ease your doubts, but Alexander had yet to have a full conversation with you since the scene he created at lunch. He had half assed his way through an apology, but didn’t seem to have any qualms expressing his concerns about Thomas and his motives.

Peggy stood behind you and was brushing through your hair as you put on your foundation. She had insisted upon helping with your hair, saying she needed all the practice as she could before her upcoming test at beauty school. You weren’t going to object to the offer of help with your hair, the extent of your expertise was ponytails and messy buns.

“I’m thinking we should have it all pulled up with curls,” Peggy said, “What do you think (Y/N)?”

“Yeah that sounds good. To be honest I’d be grateful to have it out of my face,” you laugh.

“Sooooo how are things with the guys?” Peggy gossiped as she started curling your hair. Shitty is how it’s going.

“Things are…” you struggled to find the right words, “Things are tense.”

“Tense? How so?”

“Well Thomas has been fine. Hercules and John were really blunt about how they felt. They said they don’t like it but said they would give him a chance and that they respect my decision. Lafayette has been insufferable… stop laughing Angie! He is so fucking smug about this whole thing. He practically oozes 'I told you so’ with every look! Alexander on the other hand has been a prick, sorry Eliza, I love him but it’s the truth. He outright refuses to even give him a chance and he rubs it in my face that he 'just knows Thomas is going to use me and throw me to the side when he is finished with me’ all because of something Aaron Bu… OUCH PEGGY!”

“Oh shit I’m sorry! Are you fucking serious? He said that to you?! I’LL KILL HIM!”

“Peggy please! I appreciate the enthusiasm for murder but you’re still pulling my hair,” you winced.

“Did he really say that to you?” Eliza’s voice was edged with rage.

“Yeah he did and John ripped him a new asshole for it, but it hasn’t slowed him down. I’m trying to just ignore it, but it’s really hard,” you comment, “I don’t blame him and honestly I’m worried that he is right.”

“What are you talking about? That’s crazy, Thomas wouldn’t do that,” Peggy tried to reassure you.

“You don’t know that though. I don’t want to believe it either because he has been so perfect, but the fact that he has been so perfect makes me nervous too,” you confess.

“Or maybe he is perfect because he is perfect. Seriously girl you need to chill out and don’t let Alex ruin this for you. Thomas adores you. The only thing that you should be concerned with is having a good time tonight,” Angelica said without looking away from her mirror.

Peggy had finished curling your hair and had began pinning the curls into a stylist updo. Your insecurities about what Alexander had said slowly melted away as each curl found their place. She loosely curled the tendrils of hair that hung loosely around your face, scattered delicate rhinestone pins throughout the entirety of your hair, and then assaulted your hair with a bottle of hairspray.

When Peggy was done with your hair you looked at your reflection for a moment and took it all in. Your make up was only half done so you quickly got to work on a smokey eye and filling in your eyebrows. By the time you had gotten to your eyeliner you were laughing so hard that you put the pencil down because Peggy was doing her best rendition of No Scrubs with the radio and Eliza and Angelica had both joined in while they finished off their lipstick.

“You should all keep your day jobs,” you laughed, “Now will you please shut it so I can do my eyeliner please?”

Thomas stood on the top of the stairs outside watching the guests slowly arriving.  He smirked slightly when he saw James walking up the stairs towards him with his date Dolly at his side. They made their way over and joined him while he waited for (Y/N) to arrive. Alexander and Lafayette stood not far off waiting as well. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out his teal colored tie when he noticed the glare Alexander was sending his way. Everything is going to be fine.

“That’s a new color for you Thomas,” James teased.

“(Y/N) refused to tell me anything about her dress, but teal is her favorite color so I made an educated guess to try and match,” Thomas commented.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Dolly gushed as James scoffed.

Thomas turned around and looked at the entrance to the New York Public Library, the three arches that lead inside were lit with blue lights and people were milling around inside and talking amongst themselves before heading to the Forum. Dolly was making comments here and there about the dresses the women were wearing and James laughed as she let it slip how much she had hated the woman who had just walked past them.

Thomas had just checked his watch when he heard Dolly gasp and his head snapped up and James was staring wide eyed toward the street.

“Thomas you aren’t allowed to wear magenta anymore,” James said with a wide smile and pointed down the stairs.

“What the hell are you talking… Oh my god.”

Thomas stared with his mouth slightly agape as (Y/N) walked up the stairs towards him. She was a vision in a magenta velvet ballgown. He didn’t even know what to say when she walked up to him with a smile.

“Hi,” (Y/N) said quietly.

His eyes skimmed over her dress and he took notice of the delicate vine designs that appeared in just the right light and how gems were scattered around in her hair. For the life of him he couldn’t find the right words to say how amazing he thought that she looked.

“What’s this? The great and eloquent Thomas Jefferson has nothing to say?”

James and Dolly snickering in the background brought him out of his reverie and he felt a rush of embarrassment when he looked (Y/N) in the eye. The mischievous glint that had been there moments before was melting into nervousness and she looked down as she fiddled with the fabric on her dress.

“I… um… it looks okay right? This isn’t really my thing… I wanted to surprise you… Do you hate it?” she was nervously rambling.

Thomas felt a pang of guilt and carefully tilted her chin up and said, “You look magnificent.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he reassured her with a gentle kiss and offered his arm, “Shall we?”

You took his arm and headed inside, you couldn’t help but gasp when you saw the interior of the library. Everything was made of marble and you marveled at the arched ceilings. Candelabras were scattered around the corners of the space and there was a marble staircase on either side of the room.

“Wow this is beautiful,” you gasp.

“Just wait until you see the Forum,” Dolly said cheerfully.

As the four of you made your way upstairs and into the ballroom you spotted Angelica with Lafayette’s arm wrapped around her waist. Eliza and Alexander were standing next to them with glasses of champagne and laughing. Angelica smirked at you and gave a little wave and you smirked at here and motioned between her and Laf with a raised eyebrow. Oh I’m definitely going to have to talk to her about this later.

“Ah Thomas there you are. How is your father doing?”

“He is doing well Mr. Brooks. It’s great to see you again,” Thomas said indifferently.

“Who is this lovely lady you have here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at any events before,” Mr. Brooks enquired.

“Hi I’m (Y/N), I’m Thomas’s um…” You paused. You had never talked about titles with Thomas before now so you didn’t know how to finish your statement.

“She is my girlfriend,” Thomas finished, “We are law students together.”

The evening was filled with more introductions to people you didn’t know, some of which were very nice, others looked like they could see right through you. You sighed and grabbed a glass of champagne and stood with Dolly as Thomas talked with the businessmen around the room. You didn’t miss the judgemental glares from some of the guests as they passed you by. One of the women that Thomas had introduced you to had even had the nerve to ask if his parents knew he was involved with someone such as yourself, which caused him to stiffen but he ultimately had laugh it off. You had used every ounce of your self control to smile politely as you said it had been nice to meet her.

“He sure is a social butterfly isn’t he,” you commented, “He makes this look so easy.”

“Well he has been doing things like this his whole life,” Dolly said.

“These people that walk by look at me like I don’t belong here. It’s stupid, they think I’m not good enough for Thomas just because I don’t have a fancy last name,” you snapped before sipping your drink.

“They are just jealous.”

You scoffed as you watched Thomas move on to the next conversation. Jealous? You couldn’t imagine why. As dinner approached you couldn’t help but notice that the arrogance that had been absent in Thomas’s voice for so long was coming back full force and you frowned slightly. He had gone from slightly nervous to a well schooled mask of privilege.

The ballroom was filled with ornate tables and the dome was lit with projected green lights. You found your seat at the with Thomas on your left and Dolly to the right. The table was covered with a silver cloth, orchid flower arrangements, and fine china. Angelica was seated two tables over with the rest of your friends. Eliza shot you a smile from her seat and Alexander looked sullen as he tried to talk to Lafayette.

Dinner was served and Thomas was debating with the man across from him at the table and you rolled your eyes as you took a bite of your steak. You felt your phone buzz in your bag and you pulled it out discreetly.

-Angie (7:30pm): Having fun?-

-(Y/N) (7:32pm): Oh yeah I love getting judged for not being one of these pompous assholes ;) -

-Angie: (7:33pm): Don’t listen to them. Have you told Thomas you are feeling uncomfortable? -

-(Y/N) (7:35pm): No… he has been talking to all these people. They are debating about the economy right now.

-Angie (7:37pm): Seriously? Just tell him how you are feeling.-

You slid your phone back into your purse and distracted yourself from your annoyance with finishing up the dinner in front of you. The steak was perfect so it was easy to enjoy and try to let the fact that Thomas hadn’t told off the woman or seemed to notice how people were looking at you slide. He probably just doesn’t care about their opinion, but still he didn’t even say anything. Hell why didn’t I tell her off? I should’ve told her off… if I see her again I’m going to tell her to fuck off… You poked absentmindedly at your baked potato with a scowl. You didn’t want to be mad at Thomas, but Angelica was right. You needed to tell him how uncomfortable you were.

You jumped slightly when you felt Thomas place his hand on top of yours and give you a gentle smile. His thumb rubbed circles before lifting up your hand and pressing his lips to your knucks. Heat raised in your cheeks and your heart hammered out of control, you felt a bit of your annoyance slip away. A small glimpse of the Thomas you had grown used to eased your nerves.

“Would you like to dance darlin’?” He asked gesturing to the dance floor that was slowly filling up with couples.

“You bet your ass I do,” you said with a smile.

Thomas lead you through the maze of tables towards the dance floor. You couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at how great he looked in the perfectly tailored black suit he was wearing. The first thing you had noticed when you had walked up the stairs that night was the teal tie that stood out against the black button up shirt he had on.

“That’s a snazzy tie you have there Mr. Jefferson,” you teased as you stepped onto the dance floor.

“Why thank you m'lady,” Thomas smirked.

Thomas waltzed you around the dance floor as the classical music played in the background. You laughed as he twirled you and pulled you back against his chest. You dress flowed beautifully as you spun.

“Hey Thomas?” You nervously asked.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas paused his dancing.

“How come you didn’t defend being with me to that woman earlier? You just laughed and waved off her comments,” you asked with more edge in your voice then you had planned.

“Because it wasn’t important,” he answered simply.

Anger flared immediately, “So people thinking I’m not good enough for you and being disrespectful aren’t important? That’s nice Jefferson!”

“That woman’s opinion isn’t important so why should it matter what she thinks,” Thomas hissed, “I lo..”

“It’s important to me,” you snarl and rip your hands out of his, “I’m going to go get a drink and say hello to my friends.”

Storming away you left Thomas on the dance floor and it didn’t take you long to find Angelica and Lafayette. The smile on her face fell as she saw the look on your face and how quickly you drowned your glass of champagne.

“Damn girl slow down! What’s going on?” Angelica took the glass away from you with a skeptical look.

“He told me defending me wasn’t important because other people’s opinions aren’t important. He has been strutting around here being all arrogant like he was before, talking down to people he is debating with…”

“Mon amie remember that Thomas comes from a family that has a lot of appearances up. At events like this all of the responsibility for his family falls onto his shoulders,” Laf said calmly.

“Laf is right honey, I know you are upset but you said so yourself, Thomas said other people’s opinions weren’t important. Which means he doesn’t care if other people don’t like it, he is here with you,” Angelica confirmed.

Taking a deep breath, “Damn it, I know you’re right. These people are just stressing me out.”

Lafayette pulled you into a tight hug and gave you a wide smile, “This dress is magnifique, the color suits you.”

“Thanks Laf. Soooo what’s this then?” You smirked and gestured between the two of them.

“It’s exactly what it looked like,” Angelica teased and laced her fingers with his.

“It’s about damn time!” You laughed.

“That’s what I told them,” Alexander’s voice came from behind you.

“Alexander… Eliza,” you said calmly.

“You and Thomas sure looked great dancing together,” Eliza gushed.

“Thanks,” you said and looked at Alexander.

Alexander finally looked you in the eye and he looked conflicted. His hands were in his pockets and you could tell he was dying to say something. Eliza walked over to the table to grab a drink and left the two of you alone and silence hung in the air.

“Can I talk to you?” Alexander spoke up first.

“That depends on what you have to say Alex,” you retort.

“I was out of line…”

“Nooooo,” you draw out with a raised eyebrow.

“Fair. I wanted to apologize to you, I was being selfish and inconsiderate. Eliza is right you two looked great together and it’s not my business to try and boss you around. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Alexander admitted.

“I’ve missed talking to you,” you confess, “Are we good?”

Instead of answering you Alex pulled you into a hug and it didn’t take long before you were all laughing about school and catching up on what had happened when you weren’t speaking. Alexander had the same level of disdain as you did for being surrounded by a bunch of 'judgemental aristocrats’ as he put it since everyone knew he was an orphan that George Washington had taken under his wing.

“I tried to slip away unnoticed but Eliza caught me,” Alex cried.

“I don’t know where you were planning on going Alex,” Eliza laughed.

“Well we are in a library Eliza so he probably wouldn’t of gotten far,” you teased.

“Please (Y/N)! Don’t give him any ideas!” Eliza cried with mock outrage.

Lafayette was staring at the dance floor oddly silent with a frown on his face. You gave him a questioning look and he pointed behind you. Angelica and you both looked where he was pointed and spotted Thomas standing with his back to you. His shoulders looked tense and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest and directly in front of him stood Aaron Burr. You sucked in a breath at the fact that they were talking. You mind immediately went to what Alexander had said he heard. Thomas was radiating arrogance as he leaned down and said something that caused Aaron to frown.

“Oh Christ… I better go. Thomas hates Burr with a passion so I should intervene before this gets ugly,” you comment and start to make your way over to him.

“Well well Thomas things seem to be going swimmingly with (Y/N),” Aaron Burr said calmly as he walked up to Thomas.

Thomas stiffened and scrunched up his nose at the sound of Burr’s voice. The last thing he needed right now with (Y/N) storming off was dealing with Aaron. He had been an idiot when she had asked why he didn’t defend her, of course he should have.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company Burr?” His voice was laced with venom.

“Ouch Thomas, you wound me. I was just curious about this blooming romance with (Y/N). You should be more careful or she will figure out what your up to.”

“What I’m up too? I don’t think it’s any of your concern what I do with (Y/N),” Thomas snapped.

“Well I know it’s none of my business but I’ve just heard some things going around campus… concerning your intentions. It would be unfortunate for her if you were using her in some way,” Burr said innocently.

“Will you shut up,” Thomas hissed, “The last thing I need is that getting around and for her to hear that. Do you have any idea how long it took me get her to trust me?”

Burr’s eyes focused over his shoulder for a moment before returning to meet Thomas’s with a smirk.

“Oh I know, you have put in a lot of effort into winning her over. I figured a smooth man like you would work quicker.”

Thomas bristled at Burr’s insult and he leaned closer to Burr with a cocky smirk, “Let me tell you something Burr, I’ll use her as much as I damn well please and it still wouldn’t be any of your business.”

“YOU UNIMAGINABLE BASTARD!” You shouted as you shook with rage.

Thomas jumped and quickly turned around with wide eyes. Aaron Burr smiled as he took s sip of his drink and walked away quietly.

“(Y/N) I can explain,” Thomas said as he reached out to you.

“NO! You don’t get to touch me! How fucking dare you?! I can’t believe this,” you ranted, “Alex warned me… Burr had told him that you were just using me, but I didn’t want to believe him. I can’t… I have to go.”

You turned quickly and pushed your way through the crowd heading out of the ballroom. You didn’t stop when you heard Alexander call out your name as you ran past them with Thomas not far behind you. You couldn’t believe him, after all this time and how kind he had been to you, it was all a sham.

“(Y/N) wait!” Thomas called and he caught your arm. “Please let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!? You said so yourself 'I’ll use her as much as I damn well please’. This was all a game to you wasn’t it? Playing with my emotions? Gaining my trust? All for what?! So when it suited you best you could just drop me and rub it in my face how you won,” you shouted. I love you.

Thomas opened his mouth to respond but was silenced when you palm connected with his cheek with a loud smack. He immediately let go of your arm and raised his hand to his face with a look of shock. Tears welled up in your eyes when you thought of everything that had happened up to this point.

“Go to hell,” you hissed and hurried down the stairs and out of the front entrance.

Thomas stood at the top of the stairs holding his stinging cheek and reeling from what had just happened. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this, but he had to try. He glared when he thought about what Burr had said and how easily he had allowed him to push him over the edge.

“Damn it!” He moved to go down the stairs to catch her again. I have to explain this.

“Jefferson! What the fuck did you do?!” Alexander Hamilton was standing directly in his way and looked ready to kill him.

“Move Hamilton!”

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that!? I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t want to believe you were this low!”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED TO FIX THIS!” Jefferson roared.

Hamilton stopped mid sentence as Thomas shoved him out of the way and tore down the stairs as fast as he could.

“I have to fix this,” he whispered as he ran out the door.

He breathlessly looked up and down the street when he got outside, but (Y/N) was already gone. His chest felt tight and he had no idea what he even could have said to stop her. She face had been angry, but her eyes were completely heartbroken and it killed him.

“What have I done.”

[astudyinimagination]

the second Obi-Wan & Mara chapter

WOW, I can't believe all the attention this got so quickly! Thank you to everybody who did a bookmark or gave a kudos! (Still, reviews mean love. :D ) I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter, so if you want to read more stuff for this AU, check out my tag for it! It goes pretty far into the future of the story, so... here be spoilers.

Today, Obi-Wan learns "Celina's" real name and story, and decisions are made. Warnings for discussion of child abduction and abuse (because this is Palpatine we’re talking about), and said child’s reaction to it (it’s not pretty, but as a girl who grew up with an emotionally abusive father, I stand by it).

This fic is now called The Hermit and the Orphan, and it’s the first in The Family You Choose series!

FFN || AO3

Chapter 2: Mara

As Obi-Wan ushered Celina into his house, he looked at the place with fresh eyes for the first time in ten years. It was small and cramped and rough. It wasn’t his home; it was just a place he lived in. Home had burned, and then been mutilated into a palace for the author of its destruction.

This is no place to raise a child. He nearly started—where had that thought come from? Obviously, he needed to give the girl some much-needed care in the present, but he would have to find someone willing to take her in if she was, as he suspected, parentless. Like you gave up Luke when you owed it to both his parents to take care of him? He shook himself, trying to shake off this sudden madness—he knew that, someday, he would have to train Luke and possibly Leia as well in the way of the Jedi, but they were young children yet and he was not yet prepared for that day!

Raising another child would be foolish. I failed Anakin. I’ll not fail another.

Speaking of the girl, she was studying his dwellings with the gaze of a child learning to observe their surroundings in minute detail. “Nice place,” she said finally, with the kind of flippancy that was the specialty of pre-adolescent children.

“It’s not much, and it’s not home,” Obi-Wan said dryly, moving towards the kitchenette. “But it is a roof to keep the suns out.” He paused. “Are there any food restrictions I should know about before I fix you supper?”

Celina shook her head, sitting on a bench and watching him move around the kitchen. Silence  settled between them, almost comfortably, and as he worked, Obi-Wan attempted to piece together what he knew about the child. She could be no older than the Skywalker twins, and she had been taught to use the Force, at least to shield. She also knew well how to fight, and wasn’t willing to trust anyone at the drop of a hat. None of these things were particularly enlightening, alone or put together: they merely built up to the vague picture of a child born to a Jedi parent, one who had escaped the Purges.

She was also alone now, so it was safe to assume that that parent was dead.

He glanced at her as he worked and tried to find features reminding him of any Jedi he knew, even if there had been thousands he hadn’t. If anything, the girl could have passed for a child between himself and Siri Tachi, but Siri had been killed before Celina would have been born, and Obi-Wan had never been intimate with Siri or Satine or anyone else. Much to your regret now, eh? He sighed and shut down that voice. He had enough regrets without dwelling on the women he’d loved, and something told him madness lay that way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the child’s eyelids drooping and smiled. “You could take a nap before supper, if you like.”

She jerked herself upright, blinking. “No thanks.”

“As you like.”

Finally, the stew was finished, and he handed a bowl, a spoon, and cup of water to the child, who accepted them with gratitude and relief in her green eyes. How long had it been since the girl had had a decent meal?

Too long. She’s much too thin.

Obi-Wan took a seat himself and began to eat the very plain food he’d concocted. He’d never been a good cook—Anakin had been, not he—and in his ten years on Tatooine, he’d never before had to foist his cooking upon another being.

Celina didn’t seem to care, nearly choking as she wolfed the stuff down.

“Careful,” Obi-Wan said mildly, not expecting to be heeded. After another bite of his own food, he ventured, “What’s your real name, little one?”

She stopped, and stared at him, as if silently saying that she’d have to be pretty stupid to trust him that far.

Undeterred, he pressed on. “Very well, I’ll tell you mine. My real name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

She did choke a little on that, eyes flying wide open. “You’re kidding!”

“I assure you, I’m not.” Clearly, his reputation preceded him.

“You’re one of the Jedi who escaped the Purges!” she said in awe. “You’ve got the highest bounty on your head in the Empire!”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Do I? Fancy that. How does a girl your age know about the Empire’s Most Wanted?”

She pondered that for a moment. “I like to know what’s going on in the galaxy.”

That was a truth, but not the truth he’d asked for. “Celina,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’ll not harm you. I want to help you.”

“Mara,” she blurted out, not meeting his eyes. “My name is Mara Jade.”

Interesting—she was actively hiding something. And why should the daughter of a Jedi dance around the truth with another Jedi?

Unless she wasn’t trained by a Jedi. He suppressed a shiver at the thought and smiled warmly at her, leaning forward and extending his hand towards her. “Mara Jade, it is nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said automatically, taking his hand and letting him shake hers. She looked just barely frightened.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Mara. I will not hurt you, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t promise that,” she said softly, pain in her eyes. What had happened to this little girl to put that look there?

“Why not?” She was hiding something from him, and she was afraid he’d hurt her. She knew that he had an astronomically large bounty on his head. As the silence dragged on, he really did not like the picture that was now forming in his head. “Mara?” He kept his voice very gentle. “You were not trained to use the Force by a Jedi, were you?”

Her eyes went wider, but she shook her head.

“Little one, whatever the person who trained you has done, I trust that you yourself are innocent.”

“I thought the Jedi believed in evil by association,” Mara whispered.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m afraid we did. But I am no longer what you might call a proper Jedi.” He softened his voice again. “Who was your teacher, Mara?”

She didn’t speak. Instead, he felt the shields around her mind sink away, and the bright light that was her presence in the Force came seeping through and filling the space around her. Only… now that he could pay attention, there were small threads, filaments, of shadow running through the light. He grasped one thread, carefully, and followed it to its source.

A memory. A memory of a decayed face, yellowed teeth bared in a rotten smile and brighter yellow eyes flashing in pride. “My child,” rasped a voice that had withered significantly, but not to the point that Obi-Wan could not recognize it immediately. “My little Hand.”

He withdrew back into himself with a gasp and stared at her, his body numb. “The Emperor? The Emperor trained you?!”

Her small body tensed, eyes wary, shields slamming back into place. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, forcing his wildly beating heart to calm. “Right. Very well. You’re not the first child he’s taught.” Unbidden, his thoughts turned not only to Anakin but to Maul, as well. Had Maul ever been innocent? He must have been, at some point—no one was born evil, not even a Hutt. Not even Anakin. And not small, scared Mara.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he said softly. “I did not intend to frighten you.”

“I’m Sithspawn, or near enough,” she said bitterly. “You should intend to kill me.”

He stared at her, horror piercing his shock. “Do you want me to?”

“...no.”

“Very well, then.” He sighed, and dragged both hands down his face. “Why are you here, then, and not on Coruscant?”

“Imperial Center,” she corrected automatically. He snorted at that. “I… ran away.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because… because… because I found out that he had my parents murdered when he took me as a baby, that’s why.” She looked fierce for a moment, and then the moment was gone. “Among other things,” she muttered.

A shiver crawled up Obi-Wan’s spine. Stealing Force-sensitive babies and murdering their parents—this was Palpatine’s galaxy. Not so different from the Jedi, though, is it? Of course you didn’t murder the parents, but you still took their children. He took an unsteady breath. “I see,” he said at last.

Mara looked up at him defiantly, and for one painful moment, he saw Anakin at that age instead of her. Arguing—he didn’t even remember what it was about, just the stubborn anger in Anakin’s eyes, his clenched jaw, his stiff posture.

Palpatine had gotten his claws into Anakin so young, and Obi-Wan bore some of the blame for that, but the Sith Lord had started on Mara even younger.

Obi-Wan set down his bowl, rose from his chair, and went to sit beside Mara. She stiffened further, hunching up to make herself as small as possible, and with a fresh wave of horror, he recognized the reaction: the response of a child who believed they were about to be hit. He reached out cautiously and wound an arm around her tiny shoulders; her body did not relax. “Mara.” He tried to infuse his voice with all the warmth and tenderness he could. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Still, she said nothing, but he caught a flash of self-loathing from her, and his chest tightened. She believed she should be hurt, or at the very least, that she deserved no kindness.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan continued slowly, “that he did.”

She looked up then, confusion replacing the pain in her eyes.

“And, frankly, I think it was very brave of you to run from him and everything you’ve ever known. Not many people have that kind of courage.” She shook her head, but he began to rub her back in slow, soothing circles. “He called you his ‘hand’; what does that mean?”

She took a shuddering breath, truly looking like a young child for the first time since Obi-Wan had met her. “‘Emperor’s Hand,’” she said, voice small. “His special agent, an extension of his will—investigation, espionage, negotiation… assassination. That’s what he was raising me to be.” She paused, but Obi-Wan said nothing, merely continued rubbing her back. “He said that I was his Hand, like I was his only Hand—over and over again. The only one. Special. Until… I was slicing into databases a few weeks ago, just for fun, you know? And… I found the others. The other Hands. For a long time, I could only just think… Why? Why would he do that to me? Let me think I was special when… when I wasn’t? Why didn’t I ever know any of them, or about them?”

She paused again, taking a calming breath. “It was so hard, shielding everything from him, then, and I felt so awful. I told myself he must have had a good reason for what he did—he always did.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s what I always told myself: he has a good reason for it. But this time… this time made me wonder if… if he’d lied about anything else.

“So I went looking. I looked up my own file. I bypassed all the safeguards around it and got the complete thing. That’s when… that’s when…”

“When you found out about your parents,” Obi-Wan murmured.

She nodded mutely.

“So you ran away.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she burst out, so much raw pain in her voice that Obi-Wan felt as if his own heart might bleed. “I wanted to hurt him.” She choked. “I wanted to kill him. He was like my father and I loved him and I wanted to kill him.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms around her and pulled her close. She relaxed just a little, but there was no trace of tears in her voice—just pain, infinite and unending as the desert. “It’s all right to cry, little one,” he murmured into her hair. Would that he had let Anakin cry more often, hypocrite that he was, rather than telling him to release his emotions into the Force.

“I can’t. I can’t cry; I haven’t been able to… not since I found out. It hurts too much.”

He understood. Watching the holorecording, watching his... brothersonbestfriend... murder children, kneel before a Sith Lord… He understood only too well.

He stroked her hair, a small part of him wondering where these paternal instincts had come from. He’d never acted this gently with Anakin. Perhaps if I had, I would not have lost him. No, Anakin had only begun to teach him to be this gentle, and Ahsoka, whom he’d met when he’d been older, more patient, more willing to learn, had completed the lesson.

The small child in his arms shuddered and relaxed only gradually. There would be no tears this time, he knew. But she was so young and perhaps she could move on with her life where he seemed largely unable to.

“Mara,” he said softly, “you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

She shook her head. “...I’d be putting you in danger. My shields will slip, and he’ll sense me.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Mara, let your shields down for a moment.”

She pushed away from him and stared up at him. “What?”

He nodded encouragingly. “I want to show you something.”

“He’ll know where—”

“He won’t. I promise.”

Her thin eyebrows slanted severely downward, but she closed her eyes, and he felt her shields lowering again. A tendril of her consciousness poked out from behind the shields, cautiously, curiously. He waited.

After a second, her eyes opened wide. “What… what is that?”

He smiled ruefully. “That, my dear, is the planet.”

“It’s so… it’s so bright. It’s so much.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t noticed the first time I came here, but when I came to stay, I couldn’t help but feel it.” The Force was strong here in a way he’d never felt before, not even on Coruscant, with its untold trillions of inhabitants. Coruscant was alive with people, but Tatooine, for all its bleakness, was simply alive. “This planet is very old. It has many memories and many secrets. Did you know that it was once a green world?”

Mara shook her head, both eyebrows rising.

“It wasn’t always a desert. And people believe that, someday, the water will return, and the desert will fade into life.”

“That’s impossible,” Mara said flatly.

“Perhaps. But I do understand the appeal of the idea.” Obi-Wan met her gaze squarely. “Mara, this planet is too loud for him to hear you all the way from Coruscant. He won’t find you out here, I promise.”

Her face twisted, clearly torn between wanting to believe him and being afraid to trust him. “He used to do that,” she said softly. “Assure me that I was safe, that I was…” Loved.

She hung her head, and Obi-Wan felt a surge of blinding anger towards the man, the monster, who had twisted Anakin into a monster and had dealt so much damage to such a young girl.

Anger is not the Jedi way.

What’s the point of being a Jedi if I can’t be angry about something like this?

He took a calming breath, nevertheless, and reached into his robes. “Do you know what the Jedi teach—what the Jedi taught—about lightsabers?”

She looked up with a frown and shook her head.

“That a Jedi’s lightsaber is his life. That it is a symbol of who he is, that it can mean the difference between life and death.” He withdrew his own saber from his robes and extended it, pommel first, to Mara. “This weapon is my life. My life, in your hands.”

She took it with an expression of awe—had she ever held a lightsaber before? She looked back up at him again. “You’d trust me… with your life?”

“Yes. Because I believe that you are a good person, no matter what Palpatine did to you. Because I want you to feel safe.”

She shook her head slowly. “...I don’t… I don’t think…”

“Give it a week,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Give it a couple of weeks. Give yourself some time to rest. And at the end of two weeks, if you really want to move on, well, then…” He sighed. “I’ll help you to do so.”

She looked at him with those big green eyes, and he saw both Anakin and Ahsoka for a moment before he saw Mara. Small, vulnerable, hurting, defiant, brave… strong. He had failed two children very dear to him in the past; he couldn’t fail this child before him now.

He extended his hand to her. “Deal?”

After a moment, she took it. “Deal.”

[hela-of-ren]

My Chosen lll

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand cue chapter 3 of my mummy!kylo AU!! There will be more Kylo in this one as well as a bit more of a change to the 2017 Mummy. I’m so excited for ya’ll to read on and I am definitely making Sundays known as ‘Mummy Sunday’ for this story. Enjoy, my loves!

Tagging: @divinadory, @itsaconquestofimagination, @kylo-renne, @littlemisscreeper101, @baensolo, @octrixdedalus, @lunaaugurium, @hughmungusisme, @inumorph, @skellingtonbatz, @darth-tantrum-wife

Warning: It’ll be a bit steamy towards the end.

Rey watched with rapt attention as you chugged back another shot followed by chugging from your personal bottle of wine. She glanced at Finn in worry as you signaled the bartender for another bottle. After you’d showered and sprayed your skin with perfume to get rid of the smell of death, Finn and Rey had offered to take you for dinner and drinks.

At this rate, you just wanted the drinks.

“Y/N, I don’t want this to sound rude or insensitive,” Finn began as you looked at him mid sip, “But how are you alive? You don’t have any scratches, bruises, scorch marks...” He trailed off as you looked over your own body, feeling every bone intact.

“You should be a charred corpse, no offense.” Rey chimed in.

“Guys, if I could give you an answer as to how I’m sitting here perfectly peachy keen, I would.” You poured another shot as the bartender set your second bottle of wine down. “Frankly, I just wanna get drunk and forget about everything that’s happened.” You lowered the shot glass at the thought of Poe and the others on the craft that had perished.

Rey and Finn gave you matching looks filled with sympathy and understanding. Waking up in the morgue was nothing short of terrifying, the smell of chemicals and feel of cold steel still sending chills down your spine. That and seeing Poe-

Wait, was that Poe over there?!

You blinked rapidly and gave your face a few light pats only to see Poe still standing over by the bar. He still looked as decayed as ever, but he had gained back his humor and spark that constantly danced in his eyes. He smirked in your direction and pointed towards the bathroom in urgency.

“Y/N...”

He began walking away towards the bathroom door.

“Y/N....”

He disappeared through the door.

“Y/N!!”

You turned your head back towards Rey as she grasped your hand. You forced a smile and gave her hand a pat.

“I need to- uhm, I need to use the bathroom.” You made your way to where Poe had vanished as Finn excused himself to the outside of the restaurant as well. Looking around as he punched a code into a small yet portable comm unit, a voice came through.

“Finn, thank goodness. What’s going on?”

“General, it’s Y/N. She’s alive, but she doesn’t seem to be all there. How do you want us to proceed?” Finn kept his voice low.

“Bring her back to D’Qar as soon as possible.” Finn nodded and went to hang up until the voice cut back in. “And Finn?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“What of the artifact her team dug up?”

“Went down in the crash ma’am, we have agents going in to investigate as we speak.” He responded.

“Good, inform Rey and call me back when you can. I have a bad feeling about this.”

While Finn ended the link, you paced the bathroom and rubbed your temples. Poe was no where in the bathroom and honestly, why would he be there?

HE. WAS. DEAD.

D E A D

But then again, so were you only an hour ago. Oh stars, this was insane.

“You bet your ass it is.”

You screamed and spun around to face the mirror only to see Poe in the reflection, his smirk ever present.

“You still have such a bad habit of talking out loud while you think, did you know that?”

You clasped your hands to your mouth and shook your head, walking to the other side of the mirror.

“No, this is impossible. You’re dead P-” When you reached the other side of the mirror, it was empty. Your hands went up into your hair in frustration.

“Oh, I know,” You spun around again with a jolt to see him in the mirror once again, “You did shoot me after all.” He snarked.

“For the love of- you were trying to kill us, Poe! What the hell was I suppose to do?” You argued.

“You shot me THREE times, Y/N!”

“You stabbed the guard, Poe!”

“THREE TIMES!”

“OKAY!! Look, this is all really confusing and I’m really scared right now Poe! Between you and me and these weird visions-”

“It’s him.”

“What? Him who?” He had your attention now.

“How do you think you survived that crash, Y/N? You’re his now and he won’t stop until he has you by his side.” His face was grim.

“Who-” Just as you were about to question him the door opened to reveal Rey. You looked back at the mirror, but Poe was no where to be seen.

“Y/N, what’s wro-” You cut her off as your brushed past her.

“I need to go outside for a minute, I need air.” ignoring her yells for you to come back, you threw open the back door to the restaurant and paced back and forth in the night air.

You finally came to a stop and bent over to put your hands on your knees. This was absolutely fucked up in every sense of the word. This was suppose to be an easy dig that ended with new discovery and popping bottles of aged wine that you’d been saving for the occasion.

The cold air bit into your skin, but the emotions running through you numbed you into a state of frenzy. Tears built up behind your eyes as you let out a sob as the events of the day caught up with you. This was all too much and the confusion and fear was suffocating you.

You fell to your knees as sobs shook your body completely, your hands scrunching into the sand beneath you and-

Wait, sand?

Hold the fuck up.

You looked at the ground to see golden sand warming your hands and knees. The air was warm witch a gentle breeze going through your hair, the night seemingly swallowed by the day.

You glanced around to see a mass of sand dunes and a few pyramids in the distance, the sky a pure baby blue and the sun high above. You stood up and took everything in with a gaping mouth and wide eyes when something caught your attention in the distance.

A blur seemed to materialize more and more the closer it got, almost as if a mirage. You squinted against the glare of the sun and shielded your eyes with your hands so you could see better.

With the shade from your hand and the figure moving closer through the dunes and heat, the figure of a very familiar man greeted your vision. It was the same man from your previous vision in the forgotten tomb.

You lowered your hand as he moved closer until he was only inches away. His deep brown pools accented in gold dust and kohl never left your own as he stopped in front of you, your chest separated only centimeters from his. His mouth was set in a gentle pout as his hands came up to hold your face, his thumbs stroking away stray grains of sand.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours as if he was trying to memorize the feeling. The wind blew his silk tunic around your ankles and legs, your hands coming to rest on his thick waist. Your fingers took on a mind of their own as they began tracing his skin, skimming and brushing over the black paint that adorned his chest and arms.

You didn’t know what had come over you, maybe it was his powerful presence or just that fact that he was incredibly attractive yet he didn’t seem to mind. He skimmed his forehead from yours and down the side of your face until his lips met the juncture where your neck met your jaw.

One hand left your face to encircle your entire waist as the other tangled in your hair, his lips beginning to suck that spot sensually. His fingers slipped under your top and traced the skin of your waist as his teeth gently bit into your neck, his tongue soothing the bite to your delight.

Your head fell back at the feeling as his lips skimmed from the skin of your neck up to the skin of your cheek until they came to lightly brush against your own.

“My Chosen...” The ancient language translated easily to you as his lips passionately engulfed your own. His hands pulled you against his body completely until you had to wrap your own around his neck as he bent his body over yours in a slight dip.

Your skin began to burn with a heat you weren’t use to as his lips took your bottom one in a leisurely suck. Witch each suckles and bite to your lips the heat intensified and at this point you knew it had nothing to do with the blazing sun above you.

Your lips separated in a wet smack yet never strayed too far from each other as he spoke against your mouth in the same ancient language.

“My Chosen, I would destroy kingdoms stone by stone and tear the gods from their very thrones to keep you safe,” He breathed you in as one hand roamed sensuously over your body, “To keep you by my side.” His deep voice was hypnotic and his touch seemed to settle into your very bones.

“Why me? I- I don’t understand..” Your whispered plea brought a small smile to his lips, his thumb stroking just under your eye.

“You are my Chosen, my Star,” His lips skimmed over your own, teeth coming to take your bottom lip in a sensuous nip, “My love...” His Star, that sounded very familiar.

Wait.

“K- Kylo?” His face lit up into a full smile as you began to fully realize that this was the forgotten prince you’d read about in the tomb, this was the mummy from the sarcophagus. Both of his hands engulfed your face once more as his lips came to rest on your ear.

“Find me...” With a final nip to your ear, you were jolted back into reality as an arm tugged your own at the sound of a loud yell. Rey pulled you into her body as a small squadron sped inches passed you on the road.

“Are you crazy? You nearly walked into traffic!” Rey scolded you as Finn ran to catch up. You looked around in a daze seeing that you were now a good few minutes away from the bar. Rey noticed your confusion as Finn caught up.

“When I came to get you, you were gone! I ran around the corner to see you getting ready to walk into traffic, it’s like you were sleep walking or something.” She brought you farther away from the road as you tried to process the sensual experience you had just undergone. You looked at Finn then back to Rey as you took a shot in the dark.

“Guys, I’m gonna say something and I need you to listen because I’m just about ready to burst at this point.” Finn came closer in a comforting manner as Rey placed a hand on your shoulder, a gentle nod spurring you on.

“That mummy that we found on the dig? I’m pretty sure he’s sending me visions. Before the craft went down, Poe tried to kill all of us after his face was nearly destroyed-”

“Wait, destroyed?” Finn interrupted.

“He opened the sarcophagus a bit and it sprayed some kind of pressurized gas onto him. But ever since we came upon the mummy, anything weird that could happen has happened.” You grasped Rey’s hand that remained on your shoulder. “I hear and see things that I shouldn’t, I know things that I shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Rey questioned gently.

“How do I know that Setepayee means my Chosen-”

“My Chosen...”

“My Chosen...”

All three of you had uttered the translation at the same time, their faces taking on shock. Your expertise lay in artifacts and hieroglyphs, you couldn’t speak the ancient language for shit. Let alone understand it when others spoke it quickly, that’s where Finn and Rey’s knowledge lay.

“I need to find that sarcophagus, I need answers-”

“And you think a dead man can give that to you? Y/N, this is probably just stress and exhaustion taking over. You’re not think-” You cut Rey off.

“Then how do you explain that I’m standing here, Rey?! Where are my cuts and bruises and missing limbs?! I’m over here losing my mind between these visions and these terrible things that have happened...” You trailed off and buried your face into your hands. With a deep breath you looked back up at them.

“Listen, I’m going to that sarcophagus. You guys can come or you can stay behind, I really don’t care at this point. All I know is that I need to go, I need to see it again.” You raised your arms in defeat and turned to walk off.

“Y/N!”

You turned at the sound of Finn’s call and looked at him expectantly.

“How do you know where to go?”

“I just...do.” You shrugged and went back to walking. Finn looked at Rey in worry as she grabbed his arm and dragged him along to catch up to you.

Miles away, the craft wreckage lay scattered and broken. Two Resistance soldiers scanned the remnants in an effort to find any missing bodies to no avail. One ventured farther into the wreckage only to find an empty stone sarcophagus, dark liquid filling the very bottom only. A crack had him raising his blaster in defense and hesitantly walking forward.

The darkness became thicker the deeper in he walked, his heart rate picking up. He stopped as his foot came in contact with something that wasn’t metal, his blaster light flickering to life to reveal a mummified body laying in a mangled heap at his feet.

His lip curled in disgust as he bent down to examine it more closely. The body was thin and blackened by time, it’s head bent at an unnatural angle from the crash. The smell wasn’t all that great either.

“Hey, Lucason! Found-” He was cut off by a raspy screech as a rough and bony hand grabbed his face and pushed it into the mud. Tendrils of darkness swirled in his vision and flew into his mouth and eyes, killing him within seconds. The hand that grabbed him began to grow more blackened skin as old wrappings melted off like water.

The mummified corpse lay gasping and regenerating as much as it could with the life force it had just absorbed. Another presence approached and gaped at the scene in front of him in horror, the sight of his comrade dead and seemingly...mummified.

The creature bent its body backwards as more tendrils shot at Lucason, holding him in a vice and flying into his mouth in an instant kill. His mummified corpse dropped to floor in a heap as the creature made attempts to stand, the life force adding hair to its skeletal head as more blackened skin grew on top of bone and muscle. Its gaping eyes turned to the dead men as it gained control of its throat and voice.

“Riiiiiiiiiiissssssse...” The voice was raspy and inhuman in its command, the two dead soldiers beginning to twitch and convulse in a demented form of reanimation. As they gained control of their broken corpses, the creature stood and glanced towards the beginning of the wreckage at the sight of more soldiers coming in to investigate.

‘Soon,’ It thought to itself, ‘Soon.’