#then do the other readjustments for the other projects in a few days hopefully | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

7K notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

British. Handsome. Charming. - Harry Styles x Reader Retail!AU

Sorta requested.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive situations, I say titties like once

Words: 2108

Summary: When your coworker calls out and leaves you alone for a graveyard shift, you unintentionally enlist the help of a certain British, handsome, and charming retail employee from next door.

A/N: Hello this is my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I put my ‘to lovers’ trope as Coworkers Harry and Y/n but I’m kind of riffing off of that trope because I wanted to do employees at different stores in the same section of the mall.

“So, Ziva just called out...” I hear my manager Kelly break the news from behind me. A groan threatens to escape my lungs but I fight the urge as best as possible to save face in front of customers. This is the third time Ziva’s called out of her graveyard shift in the past two weeks. Tonight, we were supposed to unpack the new shipment of holiday tees, gag gifts, and decorations. On a normal night, I can handle floor set by myself, but the added challenge of holiday items and displays is a different story.

“If I take another lunch right now, I can stay and help with the floor set.”

“No,” I wave her off, already dreading the exhaustion that is bound to set in, “Go home. You’ve already done your full eight, I can fly solo for tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I regret letting you!” Kelly smiles with the tip of her tongue peaking through her teeth. She thanks me for freeing her and I finish straightening the last of the yellow champion hoodies on the rack in front of me.

“The boxes are on the left side in the backroom.” Backroom… got it.

Working at Tilly’s was supposed to be my high school job. At the end of Junior year, I opted for a minimum wage position to earn some extra spending money. If I’d known I would be attending the most local university in this godforsaken town, I would’ve picked a better gig; one that pays more. Or at least one that doesn’t schedule me from 7:30PM to 3AM.

The store closes at ten but the other four ish hours are for rearranging the entire floor layout. I have to redistribute the table full of graphic tees strategically around the store to make room for the holiday items we just received. With someone else’s help I could expect to be finished by 12:30. Maybe 1. Ziva calling out wasn’t part of the plan however, so I don’t expect to be finished early at all. If anything, I might have to rush to finish before my shift ends.

Not to mention I have a prose analysis final draft due tomorrow by midnight. Ziva better have some damn good excuses when she gets back.

Readjusting the waistband of my favorite jeans against my body, I head to the dressing rooms to double check for any stragglers. Upon finding myself alone, I go lock the front doors and flick off the glowing “open” sign in the front window. Hopefully time will fly faster than it has since I got here. I should’ve asked Kelly to grab me a coffee or a coke to get me through the rest of the shift. Maybe I should do some coke to get me through the rest of the shift.

Okay. What did Kelly say?

Backroom... Was that all? I hesitantly prop the storeroom’s door with the small, tan, rubber wedge before trying to take in the overwhelming mess of the backroom. The room has painfully bright overhead LED lights illuminating my path; the brightness is mirrored off the polished concrete floors under my feet. Considering there’s no holiday bullshit directly in front of me, Kelly must have given me more directions than just ‘backroom’. Graphic tees, sunglasses, jewelry. Nothing.

In my most goddamn genius idea yet, I search the top of the self of the storeroom to see the holiday boxes sealed and intact. Lovely. I can graze the surface of the top shelf with my fingertips just enough to get them dusty, but not enough to pull down any boxes.

Fuck.

This is what we have a ladder for, but we lent it out to the Zara next door. I don’t know what time they close but intuition tells me it's soon. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I dash out of the back room and unlock the front door to round the corner into Zara. Right as I exit the store, I run into someone hard enough to lose my balance, but not hard enough to take the other person down, thank god.

“Woahhh, you alright there?” British.

I look up to the face of the person I collided with. Handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get to Zara.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.” The handsome stranger’s statement catches me off guard and the fog of my rushed mindset disappears. Charming.

“What?”

“Jus’ locked up, I’m afraid.” I look at the completely dark storefront, and then back at the stranger. His gleaming green eyes catch mine and, cliché-ly, I’m rendered breathless by the exquisite nature of his face. Employee.

“You work at Zara,” I state dumbly.

“That, I do. And you work…?” Dropping my eyes to my worn work shoes, I’m suddenly overwhelmingly shy about working at Tilly’s.

“Tilly’s, next door. We lent you guys our step ladder and I need it back.”

“Shit,” the man smiles softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I have the key to the store, but I don’t have the key to the supply closet where we kept it.”

“Dammit.” When I pull out my phone to check the time, I groan at the loss of another ten minutes. “By any chance do you guys conveniently have a step ladder that isn’t in an inaccessible closet?” The beautiful man laughs at my question and shakes his head no.

“We don’t, but I am pretty tall, maybe I could help?”

“You’re not that tall.”

“Taller than you.” My teasing is cut short by the man’s quip and I lead him into the store with conviction.

“Basically, I’m supposed to reconfigure the entire floor layout around the table for all the holiday merch, and the shipment came in but someone brilliantly placed them on the top shelf of the back room.”

“Which is why you need the step ladder from the closet that I can’t open. Gotcha.”

“If you could just get those three boxes from the top shelf right there that’d be wonderful.” After clocking the boxes in question, he nods wordlessly, and slips off his nice coat, no doubt a piece from the store next door. Underneath, he’s wearing a grey button up of which he begins rolling up the sleeves to. The action made me stop breathing for a second. His forearms are littered with tattoos of various drawings, one in particular catching my eye.

It’s a two dimensional mermaid figure with no seashell-bra, her skin transitioning into scales only after exposing her pubic bone. In the fluorescent lighting of the store, it’s clear as day that this is quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What’s he doing working at an outlet mall?

Zoning back in, I see he’s already hard at work. With a box no doubt full of gag gifts on his shoulder, he speaks again.

“I’m Harry by the way.”

I return the gesture and he smiles when he hears my name.

“Pretty.”

Returning his attention to the second box, he reaches up to slide the box closer to the edge of the shelf. When he does so, the hem of his grey shirt rides up to reveal a tiny strip of his toned abdomen, where two mirrored stems of fern leaves are tattooed in strikingly black ink.

I blink quickly a few times to redirect my focus, and divert my attention to the floor where he’s set the first box. This leads me to notice the brown suede chelsea boots he’s wearing. Black coat, grey shirt, brown shoes. Interesting.

“Oh shit!” I hear him mutter in a hushed voice. Looking up to the top of the shelf, I see that the last box has already been opened. Harry is balancing it between both limbs, his shoulder, and his head, but any movement would cause the contents of the box to fall out.

I rush forward to help. Moving the flaps of the box back over the top, I reach across Harry’s body to move them. Then, to keep them shut I place one palm on top of the seam, and use the other hand to support the bottom of the box. It isn’t until I stop moving that I notice the position I’ve put us in. I’m reaching up as far as I can to secure the top of the box which has placed the entire front side of my body to the back of his. I’m painfully aware of how my hips are pressed against his ass, and he must be painfully aware of the way my titties are pressed against his upper back.

“I’m gonna move backwards so it’s off the shelf. Just hold the top in place until I have it right side up again, yea?” I nod dumbly in response before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yeah, got it.” And with that he begins to back up little by little, moving at a pace slow enough for me to consistently adjust. The box is almost intact, but I’ve run out of space from standing behind Harry, and I have to maneuver myself around him whilst keeping the box shut. I cringe before doing what I have to do, and shuffling around the side of Harry’s body, my frontside pressed against him the entire time.

Finally, it’s over and we can set the box down on top of the other two. Harry stands up straight again and dusts off his hands. He adjusts his jeans, pulling them back up his hips, and I have to keep myself from staring once more.

“Anythin’ else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so? That’s pretty much all the heavy lifting I have to do tonight.” He nods understandingly and… dare I say disappointed? I’m probably just projecting.

“Are you alone tonight?”

“Yeah, my coworker called out, but it’s fine. My boss Kelly got most of the work done earlier when she unpacked a lot of the boxes and folded the shirts into piles, so…”

“I could help.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’re already off and I’m sure you’re exhausted and-”

“I want to.” I guess I wasn’t projecting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That way you can go home earlier.” His smile is soft and lopsided until we connect eyes, in which case it brightens to reveal his pearly teeth. I fall shy under his gaze and avert my eyes to the concrete floor below us. My cheeks are radiating at about 1000° and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” I say, more flustered than I would have liked. Why am I getting so nervous? He’s just a retail employee at Zara.

A gorgeous employee at Zara.

“I don’t mind staying back... Spending more time with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Since I already know what you do for a living, what are your hobbies?” He ignores my question.

“I don’t have much time for hobbies. I’m only part-time while I’m in uni.”

“No way, what are you studying?”

I proceed to tell Harry all about my major and my career aspirations post-graduation and post-retail. I enjoy telling people about my dreams and yet, Harry’s the first person I’ve met in a long time that’s shown any interest in me and my dreams. The way he nods attentively despite having to fold misconstrued t-shirts and holiday sweaters, ignites a fire in my stomach that warms my heart. They way he asks hyper specific, prompting questions to learn more about my plans contrasts the fire inside me by sending chills down my spine.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your dreams?” Harry stops folding for a moment and exhales a conflicted sigh.

“I’m not too sure at the moment. I’m content at Zara for the moment, and I haven’t decided what’s next. I do write music though.”

“You do?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What kind of music?” He stops to think again, a bit less conflicted than before.

“It’s like, indie-folk-pop-rock ish.”

“Indie-folk-pop-rock ish?” I can’t contain the laughter spilling from my lips over the mountain of folded t-shirts.

“Yeah. A good bit of variety, really.”

“Well, it’s nice you have something to be passionate about.”

“Judging by how you talked about your dreams for an hour, I wouldn’t say I’m as passionate as you are about your studies.”

“Passion isn’t a competition. It’s what moves you forward as an individual.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh at me.

“Okay, Gandhi.”

“Hush! I’m allowed to be philosophical.” His laugh draws into a closed-mouth smile, from humor to an adoration of sorts.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I unintentionally mirror his affectionate smile.

“Promise?”

***

A/N: This was absolutely one of those fics that, the longer I stared at it, the more I hated it and cut it down so here’s what’s remaining before I destroyed the whole thing. It’s def a puff piece and not an in depth fic but nuance is not my friend right now so, sorry about it :(

Taglist: @curlybrownhairedboys @meetmeinfleetwood

#Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry Styles one shot #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles angst #Harry Styles smut

190 notes · View notes

thewritewolf · 3 years

Text

After the End Chapter 1: Rain

Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir are triumphant! The big bad Hawkmoth goes down to roaring applause! People are crying in the streets, feeling emotions without fear for the first time in years! Everyone got everything they could have wanted...

...But the story doesn't stop just because the storyteller stops talking. So what happens when victory leaves unanswered questions and loose threads? Can they really let their guard down after so long spent struggling? What happens after the end?

Hello and welcome to my Marichat May 2021 story - After the End! We're gonna have some angst, some fluff, and hopefully a good ol' emotional time.

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The sun had set hours ago, but the City of Lights was never dark, not completely. The warm yellow glow of street lamps and the cold, white light pouring out from late night stores made sure of that, but they were small oases huddled against the heavy rain and howling wind. Tucked underneath the cover of a balcony canopy with his legs hanging over the side, Chat Noir watched the city get drenched but saw none of it. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

How long had it been now since that final battle? Four months, maybe? The moment that one parent that he thought was gone forever was returned to him, at the cost of losing the other completely. In the end, it was probably a fair trade, but even now it was too much for his heart to handle sometimes. But everyday it got a little better. He just needed to occupy himself while he got a grip on it.

And what better way than pursuing the quest that was keeping him in Paris? Although odds were good that the people he was looking for weren’t here any more now that their puppet was gone.

Chat was sure that his father would have kept some sort of record about them - if only in case he needed to blackmail them later. The problem was that the mansion was huge. Even with him spending most of his daylight hours thoroughly checking for secrets, there was a lot of ground to cover and plenty of places to hide things.

A plan of attack got put on the backburner when he finally registered what he had been unconsciously following. Someone was teetering down the street, one hand struggling to keep their umbrella over their head despite the strong winds, the other just barely holding a large package off the drenched ground. Even from where he was sitting he could tell that it was a losing fight.

A faint smile tugged at his lips and he rose to a crouch on the balcony bars, ready to pounce. Just because there weren’t akumas or amoks to fight any more didn’t mean he couldn’t still be someone’s hero.

-------------

“Stupid Professor Leclair,” Marinette grumbled to herself, stopping for the fourth time in six steps to readjust her grip on the project that would be worth a quarter of her grade. In an unflattering impersonation of him, she added, “Wah work on that cross stitching wah.”

Marinette scrambled to hold onto her things as a powerful gust of wind buffeted her, but it was no use. She’d have to drop one thing or another. Realizing that being sick for a few days would be better than losing the last few weeks of progress on her dress, she let the umbrella be wrenched out of her hands to get a better grip on her dress.

Clutching it tight to her chest to keep it dry, she braced herself for the first cold drops of the early fall rain to hit her.

She kept waiting for a few long seconds before tentatively opening an eye and looking up. To her surprise, the umbrella was still there, held in place by a hand covered in a familiar black leather suit.

“Oh! Chat Noir.” She gave him a sidelong look, eyes slightly narrowed. “What are you doing out this late? And in this bad of a storm, too!”

“No need to fall over yourself thanking me,” Chat Noir replied with a teasing smirk. “Just doing my best to help the citizens of Paris.”

Marinette gave a faint smile. “Right, sorry. Thanks, Chat Noir.”

“No problem. Care to switch?” Chat Noir held out the umbrella, his free hand reaching for the bundled up dress.

“Well… Alright, but just because I’m getting really tired of carrying it.” She gladly took the umbrella and cautiously passed the dress to him. “Just be careful with those claws, okay? That’s a huge part of my grade you’re holding.”

“Oh, no need to worry about me.” Chat Noir grinned, the white of his smile standing out against the glistening black of his suit. “These claws can be very gentle when they want to be.”

The two of them began to walk side by side at a brisk pace, with Chat crouching slightly so she didn’t need to hold the umbrella quite so high. Puberty had been kind to him and he’d grown like a weed during their teenage years. Plagg had no doubt been grumbling about how often he’d had to change the suit to keep up with it.

“I’ll take your word for it then.” But Marinette felt instantly reassured - her partner had always been true to his word, from their first fight all the way through the defeat of Hawkmoth.

Hawkmoth… The name brought a frown to her face. Not just because of the memories of a campaign against him lasting the better part of a decade, but because of how it all ended.

There were some things that even the miraculous cure couldn’t heal.

Before she had even realized it, they were back at her apartment. She had one foot in the doorway, her umbrella closed at her side and reaching for the dress as Chat Noir passed it carefully back to her. He took a step back, that same smile on his face but now she noticed something else.

“You take care now, okay?”

She realized that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, there was an exhaustion there, a weariness.

And loneliness.

“Chat Noir, wait!”

He hadn’t even made it down the three stairs that lead to the apartment’s door before he froze in place. His tail stood to attention as he half turned back to her.

“Something wrong?”

“Well, its just, um… I usually make way too much for dinner so if you ever want to come over to my place around this time to help me finish my leftovers, well…” She pointed at the balcony right above them. “...Feel free to pay me a visit sometime.”

Another teasing smirk found its way to his face. “You know what they say about feeding strays, don’t you? They might just keep coming back.”

“I don’t think I’d mind,” she replied with a smirk of her own.

“Then maybe I’ll take you up on your offer sometime.” He gave her a two finger salute and a wink. “See you later, then.”

He pulled out his baton and in a moment was out of view.

“See you later…” she repeated to the empty air.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marichat #MarichatMay2021 #ml fanfiction #my writing #After the End

54 notes · View notes

moonlightsanctuary · 3 years

Text

Kuvira x Reader The Christmas Conundrum Part I

SOOOO it has been a while. So sorry this is late, had a lot of crazy stuff happen to me and this should have been out since Christmas but unfortunately i ended up sick with COVID, and a bunch of other health issues. So i am just now posting this. It ended up being so long that i had to split it up into two parts. With that being said special shout out to @ellsss and @goldfyshie927 for their honest feed back and encouragement. They is cool peeps you should go check out their blogs. This fic was suppose to be for a commission for special someone but we fell out of contact. @kuvirasrubberducky hopefully this finds you well and i hope you are taking care of yourself.

Disclaimer: As always there will be smut so you have warned! -.-

Summary: After returning to Zaofu under the care and guardianship of Suyin Beifong, You and Kuvira have to readjust to your old life before the earth empire. Although Kuvira has proven her worth and dedication to try to amend the damage and pain she has caused she still feels alienated from the Beifongs. The reader tries to help Kuvira face the deeper issue at hand and help reconcile somethings she has long kept hidden from the world including Suyin and you. Will your plan of attending Suyin’s Christmas celebration go smoothly or will the curse of the Beifong family drama hit its peak and become a melting pot from a very salty Beifong who refuses to forgive and move on? Find out for yourselves! Set after Ruins of the Empire.

Kuvira X Reader - The Christmas Conundrum Part I

It was the most wonderful time of the year. You watched the citizens of Zaofu go about their day preparing for Christmas. Decorations lined every street corner and shops, garland decorated every lamp post, and colorful lights glimmered in every snow-covered pine tree. You clung to your coat tightly, feeling a cold breeze blow past you as snow drifted down from the sky coating the land in a serene winter ambiance. Yes, it was the most wonderful time of the year, but not for everyone…especially not for Kuvira.

Since the reunification process and the downfall of the earth empire, things have not been easy for the former great uniter. From the time the two of you were put on house arrest under the care of Suyin Beifong, the transition from total freedom to full restriction has been a very troubling and taxing situation for the both of you. The relationship between Kuvira and Suyin was very rocky but both seem to have come to some sort of common ground. Though Suyin and Kuvira had gotten better and the two seemed to have learned to be cordial around each other didn’t mean that the two were fully amended. The relationship was far from what one would call normal. Suyin and Kuvria would still interact in a way that was very awkward or tense. Almost as if they were both walking on a very cold and thin layer of ice. Regardless, you remained by her side since the very beginning and nothing has changed since the day you joined her cause. You loved her, and no matter what the two of you have been through over the years, nothing has changed.

It was the first time in three years Kuvira had been back with the Beifongs for Christmas. Suyin, a person who was always known for her grand gestures decided to host a celebration for the upcoming holidays. Suyin had taken it upon herself to send out invitations to almost anyone who was a close friend of the matriarch including her half-sister Lin Beifong. You expected Avatar Korra and her girlfriend, the Future Industry CEO Asami Sato to make an appearance as well. This celebration would certainly be very interesting, you thought to yourself growing increasingly worried about what tonight’s events would have in store for you.

You were both welcomed back to the Beifong household and given personal invites from Suyin herself for tonight’s event. You were grateful for the invite knowing full well that Suyin was doing her best to offer an olive branch but you couldn’t help but wonder what her intentions were. As the hours grew close you felt the dread building up inside you that grew stronger as time passed. You knew you were both in for an awkward situation and wouldn’t be surprised if tonight’s events would be emotionally draining on both you and Kuvira. You began to mentally steel yourself for tonight’s events, hoping and praying that everything went smoothly.

When you returned to the Beifong estate you immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere from its usual peaceful operations to the frantic movements and panic as both guards and servants shuffled past you in a hurry. You assumed the Beifong household servants and guards were bustling about getting ready for the party. You walked past the entrance hall, heading towards the parlor. You paused as an orderly carrying a large box nearly knocked into you. Quickly, you stepped aside to allow them room to slip past you. After the orderly mumbled an apology before rushing away you proceeded to enter the parlor. At the center of the chaos stood the matriarch of the clan herself Suyin Beifong.

Suyin stood at the foot of a tall pine tree with her back to you as she mulled over the tree’s decorations. You approached the matriarch carefully, watching as Suyin used her metal bending to put up last-minute decorations on the tree.

You stood quietly behind Suyin watching her use her bending to take out a large metal star from a colorful box. Suyin held it in the air and turned her attention back to the tree, looking it over carefully. You eyed the star, astonished by its beauty. The design was simple yet elegant. With unique carvings that covered the entire surface of the star and jewels that lined the outer edge. At the very center of it was a star-shaped ruby. It seemed to glisten from the Christmas lights that were wrapped around the branches of the tree. Suyin hoisted it up higher in the air, playing with the weight of it as she maneuvered it up to the top. Very gently and with much concentration she settled it at the very top of the tree, carefully setting it down and making sure the branches would hold its weight. Once she was convinced that the decorative piece was secure Suyin released it from her hold, letting her arm fall to her waist. It was quite a sight to see, just admiring the beauty of the tree put you more in the Christmas spirit that was almost nonexistent up until now.

You took a step forward to get a better look at the decorations. The gold garland that wrapped around the tree made the Scarlet and gold ornaments appear vibrant. Silver metal candy canes and pine cones also hung from its branches. The metal was smooth and reflective causing the ornaments to sparkle from the nearby Christmas lights. It was breathtaking, there were no other words to describe it.

“It’s so beautiful…” You said out loud, not hearing yourself speak. You watched as the matriarch flinched from your words, turning quickly on her heels to meet your gaze that was still fixated on the tree. It seemed the older woman was not aware of your presence despite her seismic abilities.

“Oh, Y/N!” Suyin said, pressing a hand to her chest to ease her already fried nerves. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You turned to address the matriarch, noticing how she looked a little worn and weary. You assumed the stress was caused by the intense preparation of tonight's events and believed it was beginning to eat away at her. That was Suyin. If it wasn’t up to her standards then it just wasn’t worth it. You had to give the older woman props, the amount of time, effort, and dedication she put towards her projects were quite impressive. Accepting only the very best and nothing less than that. It’s no wonder Kuvira was so dedicated and hardworking. Suyin must have pushed her hard as her protégé. It made you wonder what life was really like for Kuvira growing up. Up to this point, you only heard the few scant stories that Kuvira had shared with you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” You quickly cut in after realizing you were staring. “I was just watching you put up the decorations and I have to say the tree looks marvelous!”

At this Suyin breathed a deep sigh. Detecting an undertone of worry, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the older woman. “Is everything ok?”

“With me yes, everything is fine but I can’t help but worry about…” Suyin trailed off, causing you to stare at her with brows knitted in concern.

“Worry about...what?” You pressed, genuinely curious.

“Well... worried about getting everything prepared for tonight before my guests arrive. there are still some things I need to address such as the menu and the entertainment. Lin should have been here already, but her travels were delayed from the approaching snowstorm. So she said she will be here in a few hours.” Suyin sighed at the unfortunate news. She hoped that the storm wasn't too serious but knew Lin could take care of herself. In an attempt to take her mind off her stress she diverted the topic. “I hope you and Kuvira will be there.”

You turned to meet the Matriarch eye’s, the exhaustion evident on her features, but you could see the concern she withheld. “I plan on being there, however, I can't say the same for Kuvira…”

Suyin frowned, turning her attention to the tree, her shoulders sagged at your statement, as if your statement confirmed her fears. “I really want Kuvira to be there, it would mean the world to me. But…” Su grew quiet, her sight fixated on the tree.

Despite her appearance, you could see that Suyin’s mind was somewhere else. “Su…?” You said, trying to revert her attention back to the conversation.

Suyin cast her eyes to the ground. You noticed her hesitation to speak. For someone like Suyin, the behavior was rather odd. She was always quick to speak her mind, not caring what people thought about her. It was an admirable trait but also a flaw of hers.

“I am trying Y/N…” Suyin finally spoke after a few moments of silence.

Instinctively you took a step closer to her, careful to keep enough distance so you didn't feel like you were trying to invade her space. It was more out of care and concern than invasive.

“What do you mean?” you asked gently.

Suyin turned to meet your gaze, you could see the confliction flittered across her face as she spoke. “I know Kuvira has never been one for family gatherings. I mean how could she? Just look at what her parents had instilled in her at such a young age… and I’m afraid… I’ve only added to it.” Suyin turned away from you, it seemed that she was too ashamed to even look you in the eyes. “It’s no wonder she doesn't completely hate me… I wouldn’t be surprised if she did...”

You noticed Suyin’s expression hardened, the idea that Kuvira had possible feelings of underlying hatred towards her was eating away at her. Though Suyin was well versed at keeping her emotions in check, the suppressed hurt you saw behind those emerald green eyes betrayed what the older woman was truly feeling and trying to keep hidden.

“Oh, Su… She doesn’t hate you. How could she? You were the only mother she has ever known.” You said in hopes to help quell her fears. “I know things haven't been easy for the two of you since we were placed under your care to serve our sentences, but hate is not something I think she feels towards you. I just think... these things take time.”

“How could she not!?!” Suyin rounded on you. The action was so abrupt it caused you to take a step back, afraid that your words of comfort had accidentally upset her. “I had just as much as a part to play in her actions and for what? If I just listened to her and not brush her off… involved her more with the family - treated her more like a daughter?” Su spoke quickly, trying her best to rationalize Kuvira’s behavior and her direct involvement.

“Honestly I think she is angrier at herself at this point.” You spoke up, feeling that it was necessary. “She blames herself for what happened.” It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why do I get the feeling that it does?” Suyin asked you, trying to make sense of everything. Her eyes burned with raw emotion. “It's been months since the two of you were brought under my care and yet she is still distant with everyone, including me. She doesn't talk to me the same way she used to. She hardly eats with us, and when she does she doesn’t even bother talking to anyone. I can barely get her to hold a conversation with me that is not related to the weather or how she is doing... I had hoped that by inviting her it would show that I’m trying to reach out to her- that I’m trying to bring her into my family. I just… I don’t know what else to do.” Suyin seemed legitimately distressed as she spoke.

You stepped forward, placing your hand on Suyin’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s not you Su.” You said softly, trying to reassure her that she was not the problem. “Kuvira is at the point where the guilt is just weighing heavy on her.” You paused, taking a moment to ponder how much information you wanted to share without getting too deep into details. You knew Kuvira was rather autonomous and preferred to deal with her own issues herself. You wanted to respect that.

“Kuvira is just caught up in her own emotions. I can barely get her to talk to me so believe me it's not one-sided. She’s…” You trailed off debating whether to tell Suyin or not, hoping the information you were about to share wasn’t too much... You knew if Kuvira was here she would object. At the same time as Kuvira’s guardian, you felt that Suyin needed to know. “Su, She’s… she’s been crying in her sleep… she’s been having nightmares.”

“Kuvira’s having nightmares again?” Suyin interrupted, her eyes widening. You could tell that she wanted to press you for information. You were worried you may have swung open the door for her to do just that. Instead, Suyin pursed her lips and knitted her eyebrows, her eyes searching your face for answers.

“Yes, she has.” You reaffirmed, hoping that she didn’t begin to drill you with questions you knew you couldn’t answer. “I really shouldn’t be sharing this with you but as our guardian, I feel that this was something you should be aware of.”

“No, of course. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I appreciate you telling me, I just… I’m worried about her.” Said Suyin, doing her best to keep her voice leveled from her growing concern. “She’s had night terrors growing up, mostly about her parents. I didn’t think she still had them.”

“Well she gets them every so often but they have been rather frequent as of late. I have noticed that Kuvira tends to get like this around the holidays.”

“Well, Kuvira has never been fond of the holidays. From what I've noticed over the years they seem to get her depressed. Probably stemming from her abandonment.” Suyin took a deep breath to help her relax before addressing you again, “You don't have to worry Y/N. I won’t tell her anything. You have my word.” Suyin said firmly.

At Suyin’s reassurance, you breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that Su was not being intrusive. “I appreciate that, thank you.”

“I appreciate you being honest with me. You and I both know how Kuvira can be about these things. Though I have noticed that she has been looking rather… exhausted lately. I had asked if everything was ok, but she brushed it off as if it wasn’t anything important. I should have known better… Kuvira has a habit of undermining her problems.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement, knowing Suyin spoke with such accuracy. “Ain’t that the truth. It would take a rope and a sledgehammer to get anything out of that thick skull of hers. I swear she is so stubborn sometimes.” You shook your head, “I wish she wasn’t though. It’s not helping her and I think deep down she knows that.”

“Please!” Suyin scoffed, fixating you with an annoyed look. “I’ve been trying to break through those platinum metal walls that she surrounds herself with for years. You might as well grab a plasma saw and start drilling with me.” A small smile appeared on Suyin’s lips.

You laughed at Suyin’s statement. You knew it was in jest but had to admit the matriarch’s words held much truth. The sounds of footsteps scurrying in caught both of your attention, you turned around to see a guard rushing in. He stopped abruptly and stood at attention waiting for Suyin to address him.

“Is there something wrong?” Suyin asked the guard with a raised eyebrow.

“Madam Beifong, an airship belonging to the Republic City’s chief of police, has been spotted by the watchtower. Do we have permission to allow them to land?” The guard asked rather stiffly.

Suyin’s eyes lit up. “Lin’s here? I thought she would be longer. Yes, I grant permission. I will be there momentarily to meet with her.”

With that being said the guard saluted before turning on his heel and running back out from the direction he came in from.

“I’m sorry Y/N I have to cut this short. I need to speak with Lin. We have much to catch up on and no doubt she will want a full report on the progress the two of you have been making.”

“Oh, I understand. It’s not a problem. Besides, I need to get back to my quarters to grab a few things. I’ll see how Kuvira is faring.” You reassured Suyin.

“Thank you, Y/N. If you can talk her into coming to the party tonight it would mean the world to me. I want to see the both of you there.” Suyin said lifting her hand and placing it over yours where it rested on her shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“I will figure out what to will do with Kuvira. I might try to have a private chat with her over tea or something later when this is all over. I’ll have some chamomile tea brewed for her and sent to her quarters, later on, to help settle her nerves. Hopefully, it will help with the sleep problems for the time being until we find the underlying cause.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You smiled in agreement. You turned to walk away to leave Suyin to meet with the chief of police when a hand shot out to seize yours. You stopped, turning around to see Suyin smiling. “Really, Y/N... Thank you. I appreciate it.”

You nodded your head, feeling Suyin squeeze your arm gently in appreciation before she released you, arm falling back to your side. With that you took your leave, walking back to the living quarters that you shared with Kuvira. You wondered what she was up to. Knowing her probably some rigorous dance routine or bending forms.

When you entered your quarters you found Kuvira standing by the window watching the snow drifting slowly to the ground. When you closed the door you noticed her stiffening but as soon as she heard you announce that you were back you could see her visibly relax. You approached her from behind wondering what she was so focused on. She made no attempt to turn around to address you instead her gaze remained locked on the view outside the window. You breathed in a deep sigh, you hated when she got like this. Kuvira had a habit of retreating into her walls. Even worse into her head, blocking out everything and everyone, including you. Though she was physically here with you, you could tell that her mind was millions of miles away. You often wondered what went through that brain of hers. Her thoughts must have been just as complex as her emotions. It’s no wonder she frowned so much. She must be putting in a lot of mental effort to stonewall her emotions.

She was still in her nightclothes, her hair out of its usual style was tousled and unkept from sleep. It draped over her shoulders and stuck out in some areas. A clear indication that she hadn't bothered fixing it when she woke up. From the looks of things, it appeared as if she just got up moments ago. It made you wonder how long Kuvira had decided to sleep in. It wasn't like her to do so. She preferred to be on top of her rigorous daily routines but with her current behavior and her known issues with night terrors, it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. I made the concern you managed to keep under wraps grow, mentally processing ways to try to help, but Kuvira was a stubborn one. Opting to deal with her own affairs and problems herself and pushing anyone else who tried to get close away with very few exceptions. You being one of those said exceptions.

“Hey…” You whispered, lifting a hand to place on Kuvira’s shoulder in hopes to snap her out of her trance. “Did you just get up?

You felt Kuvira stiffen under your touch but immediately began to relax. She turned to meet your eyes, noticing your face etched with worry. She sighed deeply, “About a half-hour ago.” Kuvira answered quietly, her voice still raspy from sleep.

You took a moment to study her features, her appearance looked dejected. You saw for yourself how worn and exhausted she looked, taking a mental note on how her eyes were developing dark circles. You swore the bags under her eyes were big enough to hold her dance equipment. It wasn't a good thing, to say the least. This was beginning to become a problem, a problem you would eventually need to figure out how to rectify despite Kuvira’s stubborn nature.

“Did you have another nightmare?” You asked gently.

Kuvira didn't answer you, all but gave you a silent nod in confirmation. Your hand rubbed her shoulder, trailing down the length of Kuvira’s arm, taking hold of her hand and lifting it to your lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked in hopes she would be willing to open up.

“No, I don't. There's no point to... It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Kuvira…” You began, trying to get her not to start minimizing her issues. It was a notorious habit, one that obviously wasn’t helping if her appearance had anything to say about her mental state. “I know that is how you might feel about it, but if there is something troubling you then you need to not keep it bottled up. It’s just going to fester until it starts to manifest itself into other problems.”

Kuvira averted her gaze from you, almost as if she was trying to retreat back into her walls but not entirely. She took a deep breath and exhaled, “I know.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me will you at least talk to someone? Have you tried reaching out to Suyin?”

You felt Kuvira tense at the very mention of the matriarch’s name. She pulled her hand free from your grasp and turned to walk to the kitchen, leaving you without an answer. You stood there baffled, not sure of what to do.

No, I’m not gonna let her brush this off easily. You groaned and began to follow after her. You turned the corner and stepped into the kitchen just as Kuvira closed the cupboard, a mug in hand. She went over to the pot of freshly brewed coffee she had just made moments before your arrival and poured herself a cup. You stood beside her, leaning against the wall waiting for her reply. “Well?”

You watched as she reached for the sugar dispenser and cream, pouring in a generous amount. She grabbed a spoon and began stirring the contents in the mug. She was clearly trying to avoid your questioning gaze.

“No of course not.” Kuvira finally answered before lifting the mug to her lips and taking a sip. She exhaled into the mug, feeling its warmth spread throughout her body, relaxing her.

“Why not?” You asked, reaching into the cupboard for a mug to pour yourself a cup.

“Why would I?” Kuvira answered dryly. “What happens to me is my problem. Besides, it's not like Suyin cares.”

“Kuvira… You know that’s not true. You know that Suyin cares. Why else would she have welcomed you back home?”

Kuvira shrugged, taking a long drink from her coffee. “Beats me… Probably because Korra and Lin guilt-tripped her into taking me back.”

“Kuvira, She cares about you. How do you not see that? The times she’s asked how you are doing, the random things she has asked for your assistance on, inviting you to dinner? You can't sit there and tell me you haven’t noticed?.”

“What of it? Kuvira said sharply, growing more agitated by the second. “That doesn't mean anything…”

“Well if it didn't mean anything to her then why does she keep doing it? For Spirits sakes Kuvria, Suyin has been trying to reach out to you by offering an olive branch and you are choosing not to reach for it.”

“I don't know why? She didn't care before, why start now? Kuvira asked bitterly.

“You know she does. I think deep down you do too! Su just has a strange way of showing it, and though it may have not always been the right way she is still trying.” You pressed further, not allowing Kuvira to dismiss it as a frivolous matter. “She asked me about you today.”

Kuvira’s eyes lit up as she pulled her mug away from her lips, swallowing the coffee that she held in her mouth hard. “She did?” She asked, surprised by your statement.

You took a drink from your own mug enjoying the taste and the much-needed warmth it brought to you before answering her. “Yes, she did. She hopes to see us both at the gathering tonight. Lin just arrived before I got back.” You paused, hesitant to bring it up Suyin, worried about what her reaction would be. “Suyin asked how you were doing… She’s worried about you.”

Kuvira took a sudden interest in her coffee mug. Scratching at the matte polished surface and swirling the contents with the spoon. She was contemplating this you were sure. If her stoic expression was any proof of that then you were certain. At the very minimum, she was receptive to your suggestions.

“I really don't want to go,” Kuvira whispered. she leaned her head back to down the rest of her coffee. She straightened back up, placing the mug on the counter with a hard thump. “She really wants to see you there. I’ll be attending too so you are not alone in this….” you reassured her.

“It’s not just this party Y/N! It’s more than that. I don’t want to want to pretend everything is normal when it’s clearly not. I know the Beifong’s have said they have forgiven me but I really can’t help but question the validity of that especially the way they act around me. I swear it’s almost like they expect me to do something bad…” Kuvira said, growing more irritated. She could feel herself being overcome with old resentment feeling an unspoken underlying hurt that even she herself wasn't aware was there, but she didn't want to acknowledge it. Doing so would further cause unnecessary tension that she knew would worsen her mood.

The sudden abrupt change in Kuvira’s behavior made you raise a brow. You could tell that the concern she felt was a valid one but you could see there was something more to her words. Something she wasn't speaking out loud almost as if she was avoiding something. You didn't press for an answer that you knew she wasn't ready to discuss, but you didn't want to dismiss her concern as something frivolous. You knew that in a way she was right. Since the two of you had been put under Suyin’s care you noticed how people watched you carefully, almost fearfully. Like a barrel of blasting jelly with a very short fuse. It was to be suspected of course the two of you were war criminals by all counts. Who’s to say either one of you would not revert to your old dogmatic tendencies. You couldn't change the opinions of others, after all, you were a big believer that actions spoke louder than words. You expected to be treated as such once it became known that Suyin would be your guardian and would be aiding in your rehabilitation. Now you had to put much work into proving to the citizens of Zaofu that you were not a threat and that alone took time. You took a long drink from your mug, feeling your expression soften as you contemplated the situation.

“I know…” You whispered softly. “And I know it’s even more difficult for you since you grew up and knew a lot of these people personally, especially the Beifong’s. You have to understand that these things take time.”

“I know… I just thought that my efforts in stopping Guan in Gaoling would have been more than enough to prove that I’m not the same person. That I'm not the Great Uniter any more. I regret how in my conquest for power I lost sight and hurt the ones I cared about… I’m trying to change Y/N… Why can't they see that?” Kuvira said anger flitting over her face as she spoke. What caught your attention were her eyes, you could see the pain she felt in that moment threatening to surface but she wouldn't allow it.

You put the mug you held in your hand down and reached out to her, pulling her close to you. “I'm not the only one who sees it. Suyin sees it too. As much as you don't believe that to be true, it is. Please... give her a chance. I know it's frustrating but you are not alone in this… You have me…” You gave her a small smile, lifting your hand to cup her face.

Kuvira exhaled sharply, feeling herself relax under your touch despite her frustration. She knew you were right, but it didn't make dealing with the reality of the situation any easier to bear. She leaned into your touch and allowed herself a moment of clarity, knowing full well you were subjected to the same treatment as her. It wasn't easier for either one of you and understood that you both needed each other. She needed to be rational about this and not let her personal feelings get in the way of reason.

“I know…” Kuvira said quietly, thankful for your support despite her stubbornness. “Thank you Y/N. Really, I don't know how you put up with me sometimes…”

You chuckled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “The same way you put up with the Beifong’s.” You pulled away from her and pushed her tousled hair from her face.

Kuvira sighed deeply, finally making up her mind. “Alright, I’ll go. But just so we are clear this was your idea.” She jabbed a finger at you accusingly.

You took hold of her finger and shook it. “Glad we could come to an agreement.” You said, resisting the urge to laugh.

Kuvira pulled herself free from your grasp. Her eyes narrowed, a frown forming on her lips. “Don’t patronize me…”

You scoffed. “Me? Patronize the all-mighty Kuvira? I would never…” You smiled.

Kuvira couldn't help the pout that formed on her lips. You found it so cute when she did, loving her softer side that she kept well hidden from the world but only allowed you to see. It melted your heart into mush.

You lifted and rested both hands on either side of her shoulder. “Why don't you go ahead and take a shower. Start getting ready. We only have a few more hours until we are expected to be there and I have some last-minute gifts to stash under the tree so I need to do that before things get crazier.”

Kuvira nodded in agreement. “Ok.” She whispered softly, pulling away from you. Your hands coming to rest at your side.

She pointed in the direction of the bathroom, gradually walking in that direction. “I’m gonna go shower. I'll see you when you get back.” She said then walked out of the kitchen.

You grabbed your mug from the counter finishing the last of your coffee. Taking Kuvira’s empty mug in hand, you placed them in the sink. When you heard the sound of the bathroom door clicking close and the water turning on gave an indication you were in the clear. Carefully you walked into the bedroom and into the large walk-in closet. You pushed aside boxes and moved around clothed until you found a specific box that was buried under the lot. You pushed that box up to the side and began putting everything you moved back into place. Once finished, you lifted up the medium size box with both hands and walked back out into the bedroom. Taking a seat on the bed you peered into it, noting the number of objects that you had bought for each Beifong including Lin and Kuvira.

You shuffled through the pre-packaged gifts searching for one particular package that you didn't want Kuvira to open in front of the Beifongs. Your fingers closed around a long box. You pulled it free, giving it a quick glance to make sure the wrapping was still intact. You couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on your lips as you studied the box, feeling that familiar tug in your stomach at the idea of using it. You looked over at the closed bathroom door, listening in on Kuvira opening and closing the shower door. You were very tempted but knew it wasn't the right moment. With a small sigh, you leaned over to pull open the drawer to the nightstand, placed the gift quietly inside, and gently slid the drawer closed. Somethings were better to wait for. You hoped Kuvira would like it when the moment was right. The thought alone had you pressing your lips together to subdue your excitement. Yes you decided, there were some things in life worth waiting for and this was one of those things. Pushing the gifts back into the box you stood lifting up the box and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you for good measure. You walked out of the apartment into the cold winter afternoon and headed towards Beifong estate.

Once inside you immediately noticed that the chaos had slowed but not by much. Pushing through a group of servants putting last-minute decorations on the wall, you headed towards the parlor. When you enter you turn to peer around the corner to make sure that the coast is clear before proceeding in. You approach the foot of the tree, placing the box on the floor and reaching in to pull out presents. You heard shuffling behind you which causes you to peer behind you. You waited a few beats making sure the coast is clear before turning back around to carefully place each gift under the tree.

You heard the sound of metal shoes tapping the stone floor heading in your direction. You stood up quickly, turning around just in time to see Lin and Suyin enter the parlor, their conversation ceased as they turned their gaze away from one another to where you stood, standing in front of the tree awkwardly.

“Y/N?” Suyin spoke first. Giving you a puzzled look. Lin stood beside Suyin eyeing you suspiciously as Suyin continued. “I thought you were going back to your quarters?”

“I did. I just wanted to put some things under the tree for later since your family usually unwraps gifts at midnight.” You stepped aside so they could see for themselves. The two inched closer and peered overseeing the neatly wrapped packages under the tree. Their suspicions died down.

“Oh, that is such lovely wrapping paper, you didn’t have to do that Y/N.” Said Suyin, pressing a hand to her chest.

“I wanted to do something nice.” You stated, noticing how Lin still watched you carefully. “I mean it is Christmas after all, the time for giving.”

“Exactly! I wished some people felt that way…” Suyin turned her attention to Lin, her eyes narrowed and lips forming a tight line.

“What?” Lin said defensively, eyes widened when Suyin fixed her with an accusatory stare. “I came, didn’t I? You know I’m not one for family get-togethers.”

“While that may be true did you have to come in your work uniform?” Suyin said exasperated. “Honestly Lin don’t you wear anything besides your armor?”

“I came right from the station… it’s not like I have anything else.” Lin said matter of factly.

“Right… other than your extensive collection of coats,” Suyin said dryly.

“I don't even have that many Su.” Lin countered, “And besides what of it? It gets cold often in Republic City. So it is a necessity to have.”

“Lin, the fact that you have more coats than actual clothes is enough proof to show that you’re practically married to your work.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Lin asked, not sure what Suyin was getting at with her argument.

“And what are you supposed to wear for tonight???” Suyin asked sharply.

You couldn’t help but stand there silently, watching the siblings squabble over Lin’s choice in wardrobe. You weren’t really surprised. The Beifong sisters could only remain civil long enough before they found something to bicker about. You knew the argument they were having was completely frivolous, but at that moment both women were so focused on it that they seemed to have forgotten your presence in the room. You wanted to leave, to let them go at each other. It would have been one less problem for you to deal with, but you knew that it would only set the tone for a tense gathering. You didn’t want anything to make things difficult for Kuvira. It already took enough convincing to get her to attend. With much apprehension, you tried to offer a resolution.

“Hey, If I may…” You began. Your voice was an octave higher than normal which worked in gaining their attention.

Both sisters stopped, switching their attention back to you to glare at you, causing a lump to form in your throat. You immediately regretted your choices but had no choice to continue unless you wanted them to round on you. “Su, Lin is a workaholic and that is not an unknown fact. And Lin as someone who understands being a workaholic, it doesn’t mean you can’t have a life.”

You clasped your hands together, addressing both of the Beifong sisters at the same time. “So, Su why don’t you rummage through your wardrobe and see if there might be something suitable for Lin to wear. If not maybe make a call to your tailor to see if they can come up with something last minute.”

Both sisters stared at you with blank expressions. You could see the gears in their minds clicking as they pondered your suggestion. Suyin shifted her gaze from you to address Lin. “I’m sure there is something in my closet we can find for you to wear Lin,” Suyin said mentally visualizing what she had accessible on hand that might be within Lin’s acquired taste.

“So long as it’s not frilly or makes me look like a clown I could care less,” Lin said dismissively. “At this point, I rather just wear a burlap sack.”

“Lin No! Stop” Suyin frowned, visibly horrified by Lin’s suggestion. “You are not wearing a burlap sack. We should be able to find you something. to wear. I am sure of it.”

“Fiiiinee…” said Lin begrudgingly, dissatisfied with the idea of having to play dress-up with Suyin. She was already dreading showing up.

“Great!” You exclaimed, rubbing your hands together before folding them together over your chest. “Now that it’s settled I will let you guys continue on with your discussion.”

You took a few steps forward with the intent to walk past them but were halted when Lin raised a hand in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hang on a moment Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You raised a brow in suspicion. “About what?”

“Well as your parole officer I’m supposed to be checking in with you about once a month and it’s close to that time. The other issue being Kuvira.” Lin explained.

“What about Kuvira?” You asked hesitantly.

“I spoke with Su and she explained to me that Kuvira is showing signs of self-isolation.” Lin stood up straight, folding her arms across her chest. “Normally I don’t get involved with personal problems but seeing as it’s a perpetuating issue that is unresolved, it’s now officially my issue to deal with. Your mental stability is part of your rehabilitation. Can’t expect progress if either one of you is uncooperative and moping around.”

“I wouldn’t call it moping. And as far as I’m concerned she’s done everything she has needed to do. She’s just been distant with everybody… including me.” You expressed to Lin who listened intently.

Suyin interrupted, holding out an arm to gesture to the large sofas in the middle of the room. “Here, why don’t we all sit down,” Suyin said, laying a hand on Lin’s arm to gently lead her to a nearby sofa. You followed behind the two sitting down in front of them as they both sat together across from you.

“Look, It’s really not my place to say. I’m not one to divulge other people's personal issues… I’m sorry.” You apologized.

“I know you care about her and that you have a personal obligation to keep her affairs private but as your probation officer and Su as your guardian, it’s important that we know if there are any potential issues that might cause problems.” Lin pressed

“Kuvira is not trying to cause problems. She just doesn’t like the holidays.” You said, defensively

“If it’s just that then why is she refusing to cooperate with Su.” Lin countered.

“Lin, that’s not what I meant.” Suyin interjected, “All I said was that she has been extremely distant with me and doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Su it’s the same thing!” Lin stated.

“It’s not the same.” Suyin exclaimed, “I never said she didn’t listen. Kuvira’s done everything I’ve asked her to do, but what bothers me is when I’m trying to reach out to her she closes herself off.” Suyin explained, her tone coming out pained. “I just want…” Suyin paused trying to hide the hurt that flashed across her face. “I just don’t want her to push me away…not again...” Suyin said softly.

“Su…” Lin whispered, placing a hand on Suyin’s shoulder in a comforting manner.

“I just want to know… what I did wrong this time,” Suyin whispered solemnly, tilting her head down to watch her hands pull at the fabric of her robes in her lap.

You could see the pain and concern that Suyin suppressed written all over her face. That same pained expression that she managed to hide earlier was there in full display. You couldn’t help but be surprised by it. It was almost hard to believe to see Suyin visibly hurt and near tears by Kuvira’s avoidance. You knew that Suyin was not always direct about how she felt about Kuvira, but at that moment you could see how much Kuvira truly meant to Suyin. You secretly wished Kuvira could see for herself how much the matriarch cared for her. You wondered if it would be enough to kick Kuvira out of whatever funk she had been in up to this point.

“I know…” You said gently after a few moments, wondering what Suyin was thinking. You felt guilty for originally questioning Suyin’s intentions but just seeing her here in front of you now made you realize how inaccurate your perception was.

“It really isn’t anyone’s fault. Kuvira’s just being stubborn.” You said to Suyin, causing her eyes to meet yours. She saw nothing but empathy and compassion.

“No one is to blame for this.” You reassured her. Suyin’s gaze softened, understanding that there was more to this delicate situation.

“I did manage to talk her into going. So she will be at the party tonight. Though I have to admit it took some convincing,” You admitted.

“She’s going to be there?” Suyin asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes, she has agreed to be there.” You confirmed, finding it hard to ignore the growing smile on Suyin’s face at the confirmation.

“But she hasn’t explained to you why she’s been distant?” Lin asked you directly, not satisfied by your answer.

“I mean she has told me very little about it.” You replied.

“What has she discussed with you, Y/N? Do you have any idea as to why she’s feeling the need to isolate?” Lin asked, pressing for an answer.

You took a moment to decide how you want to answer her question without giving her too much information. “As I had mentioned earlier to Su, I don’t think she is angry at anyone. If anything I think that she is just taking the opinions of others and the way people look at her way too seriously.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Lin.

“What I’m saying is…” you paused, trying to find the right words to defend Kuvira the best way you could. “Though things have been really challenging for her since moving back to Zaofu. She’s trying her best to make amends and to fix her wrongdoings and personally… I don’t think she feels supported…”

“I don’t understand why she would feel that way,” Suyin said, confused. “I’ve been trying to get her to open up to me, but I haven’t had much luck… I’m at a loss as to what to do.”

“Su, I don’t think this is just about you or anything you are doing.” You stated quickly, not wanting your words to be taken out of context. “I just think her lack of support around her is causing her to feel hopeless and alone, but that’s my opinion. I mean besides you Su; who else has really tried to talk to her?” You asked, hoping that Suyin would begin to understand the message behind your words.

“I…” Suyin paused, it seems that she was starting to understand the situation. “I didn’t even think to consider how she’s been settling in since she came back… how she's even handling everything. I mean Kuvira is no stranger to rumors, but I didn’t even think about how detrimental they could be to her.

“Especially since she’s in a great state of emotional and mental sensitivity. The added stress could also be contributing to her sleep issues.” Lin chimed in, adding her input into the conversation.

You nodded your head in agreement. The two older women were starting to understand that the issue was far greater than themselves; it all came down to Kuvira herself. More or less her mentality and how people viewed her now that she was no longer the Great Uniter. Having so much power at once and literally having it stripped away would make anybody question their life choices and sanity, especially when it came down to their relationships with others. That is considering if the relationship was still salvageable.

“Maybe, it’s possible…You do bring up a valid point Y/N.” Said Lin, her hand coming up to scratch at her chin.

“Indeed…” Suyin nodded in agreement. “I believe at this point it would serve in both of our best interests if I were to have a sit-down conversation with Kuvira.”

“I think that would be for the best, Su.” Lin agreed. “Better to hear it directly from the source.”

“I want to hear what Kuvira has to say before assuming the worst.” Said Suyin, her face remained passive but her voice sounded apprehensive. “I’ve already told Y/N that I would have tea brewed to help with Kuvira’s sleep issues… I will find time to meet with her later.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.” You said, feeling an odd sense of guilt at keeping Kuvira’s weary behavior towards the Beifongs to yourself. You knew the two sisters meant well but there were some things that people had to find out for themselves, and this was one of those things.

“It’s okay Y/N,” Suyin reassured you. “It’s not your place to speak on Kuvira’s behalf. I’m just glad that she will be joining us tonight. Hopefully, everything goes smoothly…”

“I’m sure it will.” You stated.

“I mean what is a Beifong gathering without a little family drama,” Lin said nonchalantly.

“Lin!” Suyin whipped her head at Lin and narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

Lin shrugged her shoulders, “What? I’m just saying it’s pretty typical for our family to have some sort of drama or a reoccurring crisis during family get-togethers.”

“Well for once it would be nice not to.” Suyin spat.

“Anyways…” Lin began, brushing off her sister’s sass. “Besides that Y/N how have you been doing?”

“Oh you know, just helping out where and when I can.” You answered, feeling a bit awkward now that the conversation had diverted away from Kuvira and onto you. “I try to go where I'm needed.”

“Lately, Y/N has been helping me with reconstruction projects. I had her assist with a new design for our landscape project” Suyin confirmed.

“Yes, I have been trying to find ways to figure out how to make exotic plants thrive and reformat the layout of the grounds. It’s dirty work but I enjoy it. However, the weather has made it difficult to work so I will have to pick it back up when it gets warmer.”

Lin scoffed “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Getting here alone was a real pain. This storm is no joke. We had trouble with navigating our way here. At this rate, we might need to hunker down for a few days and wait out this storm.”

“Really? It’s that bad?” Suyin balked.

“Yes, visibility is terrible,” Lin confirmed. “If it wasn’t for it being daytime I highly doubt I would have been able to get here safely.”

“I’ll go ahead and have the rooms prepared just in case.” Suyin decided, her face etched with worry. “Hopefully the others will make it here safely.”

“They should, I radioed Korra and Tenzin before departing. They left after I did. From what I’m aware of they’re taking the future industry airship.” Said Lin.

“If that’s the case then I’m sure they’ll make it here safely. Asami has people that know what they’re doing.” Said Suyin, still showing visible concern.

Lin snickered at Suyin’s comment, earning a dirty look from Suyin. Her smug look vanished almost instantly. You resisted the urge to laugh, instead you bit your lip to suppress it. The way the two would throw shade at each other was something you found hilarious, not that you would make it known. One angry Beifong was enough to deal with… you didn’t want to do anything that would cause them to direct their anger at you. You doubted you would come out unscathed. That was a force you knew you did not want to reckon with if Kuvira’s description of their past fights was accurate as she claimed to be. You remembered when Kuvira explained to you their last fight. You almost didn’t believe it. It sounded so exaggerated and atrocious it was hard to believe. When you overheard the guards the other day talking about it after learning that Lin would be stopping by you couldn’t help but notice how nervous they became. Speaking cautiously in frantic whispers made you eavesdrop on the conversation. You had listened in on one of the guards complaining about how long it took to clean up the damage from the last time they fought. You remembered Kuvira mentioning it took weeks to fix the damage to the estate after the last time they went at each other's throats. Overhearing the guards talking with wide eyes and hushed voices made you wonder how extreme the fight was to cause that much damage. You definitely didn’t want to find out.

“Anyways…” you began, hoping to alleviate the tension. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? I probably should head back and start getting ready.”

Lin shook her head, “Not at the moment, I will get with you later on for your evaluation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you confirmed, pushing yourself off the sofa into a standing position.

Suyin rose from the sofa, “In the meantime, I’m gonna have the rooms prepared for later. That way everybody can retire after and nobody has to travel through that dreadful storm. I will get with you later Y/N.”

Lin stood up, “I’ll go ahead and radio Asami to check-in with them. Just to be sure.”

You nodded your head in agreement, “Great, see you later.”

You smiled at the two, then turned to leave. Giving them the opportunity to finish their chat before they went to carry out their tasks. At least things couldn't get more invasive than you thought to yourself. You pushed open the doors to the estate and headed down the path back to your apartment, wondering what you would return to.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #the legend of korra #the great uniter #TLoK Book 4 #TLOK #kuvira the great uniter #the beifongs #suyin beifong #Suyin

78 notes · View notes

the-bejeesus · 3 years

Text

To Those Who Say “I’m not gonna catch up on One Piece until it’s finished. Why would I watch/read 1000+ episodes/chapters when I don’t even get to know how the story ends?”

Now for the past few years, when I came across somebody who said this, my rebute would be something like “Well the series is great already. It doesn’t really matter if I don’t know how it ends, because the journey itself is enjoyable.” or “Man if that’s your excuse, who you gonna explain why you read/watch stuff like Berserk, Hunter X Hunter, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Hero Academia? Newsflash, they aren’t done yet.” But it came across my mind that I can now apply a completely different approach:

“If you start watching/reading at this pace right now, it will be over by the time you catch up.”

If you’re a fan of the series, you’ll know that for awhile now Oda has been saying that he plans to end the series in just 5-4 years. Now he’s made lots of claims in the past that turned out to be ridiculous. However, many One Piece researchers have compiled his claims and found out that they only get more accurate as time goes on, with the most ridiculous claims being found to be myths. And with the most recent claims of ending the series in less than 5 years, even his editors who are usually skeptical have started to trust that he can do this. After all, he has officially set there to be only one more saga (which isn’t necessarily one arc, but it’s either going to be 1-2 major arcs or an anthology of 5-6 shorter arcs). And now that we can trust this claim, we can essentially extrapolate how many chapters/episodes are left and what pace we have to binge to catch up at just the right time.

If you plan to read the manga (black and white):

The manga in black in white is a perfectly fine way to enjoy One Piece. It’s what Oda draws, it’s how he intends it to be viewed, and best of all, it will be the first version of publication to finish.

Out of the 1223 weeks since the first chapter published in July 19, 1997, 1000 chapters have published, meaning on average he publishes 42 chapters per year, or in other words, there are only 10 hiatuses per year (including holidays where WSJ does not publish). Now if I wanted to be more accurate, I’d only look at the chapters published this year, to exclude outliers like how he had no hiatuses for the first 200 chapters, or how he had a 4-week hiatus during the timeskip, but 2020 has been a bit crazy, so we’re not doing that for this or any of the others.

Going off of this, the final chapter would be chapter 1212 in December 28, 2025 (yes, the 28th would be a Sunday again.) So here’s how you’d calculate the pace in which you need to read One Piece, and really this is how we’ll calculate it for every version)

Now I know math is boring, but the reason I’m showing this to you is because the amount of weeks until One Piece ends will vary based on when you start this binge. Chances are you aren’t going to start the day you see this post, and there’s an even greater chance you won’t see this post the day it’s posted. For every example I’m going to assume you started binging on December 28, 2020. Now let’s try to use it for this example.

And there’s your answer, just read 4-5 chapters per week. By the end, One Piece should be nearly over or have very recently ended. To put that into a different perspective, you could purchase and read just two volumes per month and you’ll be at prime pace. Or you could read one chapter every day, but only on weekdays. If you want to, you can see this calculation in action in graph form.

While this is a very rudimentary graph, it’s a basic visualization of what we’re calculating here. We’re calculating what speed we need to binge to catch up at exactly the right moment. I say exact, but ultimately no one can predict how many chapters there will be exactly, nor how many hiatuses Oda will go on during it. It will be important, as you’re nearing the end, to find a spoiler-free way to keep up on how close One Piece is to ending. To know whether you ought to speed up or slow down.

If you plan to watch the anime (subtitled):

For years now people have hated on the anime “terrible animation!” “terrible pacing” but at the end of the day, it’s the more popular version. Or the more viewed version I should say. And personally, I think that once you acknowledge its problems and learn how to deal with them, it’s a perfectly fine experience. There’s enough good voice acting and enough good storytelling that you’re easily able to ignore the problems. Plus, the animation has substantially improved since Wano.

Now for this we’re going to have to change a lot of variables to get this right. We’re going to have to adjust when publication started, and recalculate when One Piece will end by looking at how slowly the anime adapts the manga, and how behind it is. The anime aired on October 20, 1999, and has aired 956 episodes since then. This means on average they air 44.9 episodes per year, meaning there is pretty much only 7 breaks the entire year. With these 956 episodes, they have adapted 955 chapters, making the pace almost exactly one chapter per episode. However this is really inaccurate, considering all the better-paced arcs earlier on in the story. Looking solely at episodes 2012 and onwards, the anime adapts at a pace of 0.65 chapters/episode.

Knowing that there are roughly 212 chapters left, and Toei adapts at 0.65 chapters per episode, we can assume that there are going to be roughly 324 episodes left. That sounds like too many, but keep in mind that there will be several, several instances where the manga will be on hiatus whereas the anime will keep on airing. Knowing there are approximately 324 episodes left, and that the anime only takes about 7 breaks a year, we can assume that it will take 7 years, or 374.49 weeks before the anime will end. So now we have the information we need to do the math again.

x = 1280/374.49

x = 3.417 episodes/week.

It may seem like a more relaxed binge, since you get a whole 2 extra years to binge, and you only have to do 3-4 episodes per week, compared to the 4-5 chapters. But keep in mind that these episodes are 24 minutes each. Still not at all bad, but you will be spending more time on it overall.

If you plan to watch One Pace:

One Pace is a fan project that edits the anime so that filler and padding is cut, other edits will be made to make the anime more manga-accurate, such as reorganizing scenes, or adding title cards where absent. Originally only used by a niche number of One Piece fans, One Pace has grown in popularity, and has tried to improve its quality to accommodate more fans, such as making their episodes Dual Audio (meaning you can switch between the dub and original Japanese audio tracks), and including Spanish subtitles.

You’d think we’d have to adjust for when One Pace began, how slowly One Pace catches up, and the works, but there’s not much to calculate. Fortunately for us, no matter how far behind One Pace is on editing the current arc, they always like to wrap things up just a few weeks within when an arc ended, if not the very same week. So really all we have to calculate is how many One Pace episodes there will be by the end of all this, so that we know how many you’ll need to watch per week.

Looking solely at what they’ve covered so far, One Pace has taken 573 episodes and condensed it down to 259 episodes. That’s a pace of 2.21 anime episodes/ paced episode. Earlier we calculated that there would be 324 episodes of the anime left, making for 1280 episodes total. This would mean that there would be around 578 One Pace episodes by the end. And One Pace would probably wrap up in, let’s say 376 weeks, because as I said, they’ll probably finish editing the final arc a week or two after the last episode airs.

x = 578/376

x = 1.53 episodes per week

Now that’s a relaxed pace. 1-2 episodes per week? That’s so slow, I’m not even sure if I’ll remember what I watched last week next time I watch some episodes. The only problem is some of the pre-timeskip still haven’t been edited. They’ll probably be done by the time they finish the final arc, but that’s not gonna work out fast enough. You’ll hit your first roadblock about 7 weeks in when you need to watch the Baratie arc and it’s not done. And don’t even get me started on how many arcs aren’t done in dub or Spanish sub yet. Hopefully you could just switch to the anime or manga when you hit these arcs, readjusting how many episodes/chapters you need to watch/read when you do. But that’s a bit of an excessive amount of math for something that’s supposed to be fun. So yeah, if you’re still convinced you shouldn’t get into One Piece until it’s ended, maybe this is the option for you.

If you plan to read the manga (Colored):

Since 2012, Shueisha has made a colorization of One Piece. It’s not a fan coloring, it’s as official as it gets. Many consider the color schemes portrayed in this version as the most canon, as the majority are pulled straight from whatever colored illustrations of Oda’s they can find. And quite frankly it makes the manga at least 10 times more beautiful. It’s especially great if you have trouble interpreting dense, small black and white panels.

This one is a doozy. You’d think all I gotta do is calculate how far behind the colored manga usually and just adjust from there, right? Wrong. Because how far behind the colored manga is, or how frequently they release volumes in full color, is one of the most inconsistent things I have ever seen. You wanna see what I’m talking about? This is how they’ve chosen to release each volume since 2012:

Volume 1-12: July 15, 2012

Volume 13-23: September 28, 2012

Volume 24-63: December 4, 2012

Volume 64-65: April 4, 2013

Volume 66-68: December 20, 2013

Volume 69-70: August 25, 2014

Volume 71-72: September 16, 2015

Volume 73-75: October 4, 2016

Volume 76: December 2, 2016

Volume 77: March 3, 2017

Volume 78: July 2, 2017

Volume 79: September 4, 2017

Volume 80: December 4, 2017

Volume 81-82: March 3, 2018

Volume 83: October 4, 2018

Volume 84-86: August 2, 2019

Volume 87-92: September 16, 2020

How I am supposed to find out how long it will take for Shueisha to colorize the final volume of One Piece is beyond me. I guess the first step would be to look at how far behind the manga each release was on average, but I’m going to ignore all the ones before 2013, because those were clearly just Shueisha catching up really fast cause they just started and didn’t want to be dozens of volumes behind forever. So of the 14 publications between 2013 and now, on average the last chapter of the last volume they colored was 97.78 weeks after that chapter had published in Weekly Shonen Jump. This means that if the final chapter of One Piece is chapter 1212 on December 28, 2025, then you can expect the final colored volume to publish November 14, 2027.

x = 1212/359

x = 3.37 chapters/week

So if you prefer the manga but don’t want to read 5 chapters every week for 5 years, this might be a better option for ya. But yea, I have no doubt my prediction is at least a little off for this one.

If you plan to watch the anime (dubbed):

Unlike the 4KidsTV and Odex dubs of One Piece, the FUNimation dub is a perfect way to enjoy One Piece. The DVDs come with enjoyable commentary and a marathon mode, great for binging.

FUNimation’s releases of the dub are inconsistent, although not nearly as erratic as the colored manga release. However, there was recently a 2-year hiatus we only just got out of. Since Episode 1′s dub in May 27, 2008, the dub has gotten as far as Episode 614. But that’s only looking at the DVD releases. If you’re willing to stream on FUNimationnow, the dub is as far as 641, and if you’re willing to digitally purchase it from an e-shop such as the Microsoft store, it goes all the way to Episode 654. With that being said, that would mean that on average, FUNimation dubs 1.004 episodes per week. Although if we go back to before the two-year hiatus so as to exclude it from the average, it’s actually 1.10 episodes per week. Not a huge difference, actually. And then if we look solely after the two-year hiatus, it’s actually 2.25 episodes per week, which is insanely faster. It’s hard to tell what the future of the dub will be. I can’t assume they’ll go this fast forever, so I’m just going to take the average of all 3 and say it’s 1.45 episodes per week. Don’t know if that’s the best mathematical approach, but the number seems about right.

So knowing that the dub is at Episode 654 and looking at our previous guesstimation that the anime will be 1280 episodes long, we can predict that it will take 431 weeks before the dub catches up and ends. That would be in 2029! Sounds quick at first until you notice it’s 4 years behind!

x = 1280/431

x = 2.96 episodes per week

Looks like it’s almost exactly 3 episodes per week. Not as much less of a workload as I expected, compared to catching up to the sub. You know, I figured those 4 extra years would make you binge a lot slower.

Final Thoughts:

There’s a lot of my math that was estimation, approximations, extrapolations. Feel free to correct me or fact check me, especially if you plan on using this. I figured this would be a fun thought excercise. There’s also a lot of smaller variables I simply didn’t want to take into account because of how long this is already. For example, reading the black and white manga. The calculation can vary slightly depending on if you read it the day it’s published (which I assume would have to be a fanscan unless you can read Japanese), reading the weekly publication legally on Viz.com, waiting for the physical volume release. The dub can also vary depending on whether you buy from Microsoft, wait for the FUNimationnow release, wait for the DVDs, or wait for the Collection sets. So feel free to take this into account.

#One Piece #OP #ワンピース #Wan Pīsu #anime #manga #FUNimation #dub #One Pace

44 notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 4 years

Text

Plant Your Seeds

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1604

Warnings: Swearing. Awkwardness. Sweet Fluff!

A/N: I have an entire biblical/theological story to write for one of my classes and I have no motivation and it’s due next week and I have three other projects and I am just not in the mood to do anything. I saw this prompt and had to write it. Hopefully you like it.

The ringing of the door bell broke the hours of silence you’ve remained in since you opened. It was a quiet Friday afternoon and a part of you hoped you wouldn’t get any customers so you’d spend more time planting the new Hydrangea seeds you just bought. You looked up and couldn’t see who just entered, deciding to just wait until the familiar bell rang or someone asked for help. Another ten minutes passed and you realized whoever entered never exited and wasn’t making much noise.

Quickly wiping your hands of dirt, you walked away from your working station to check on the customer. Turning a corner, you found an incredibly well-dressed man standing in front of the Lavender and Sunflowers. You hated to break whatever trance he was in, mostly because he looked focused and confused at the same time. It was kind of cute.

“Hello, can I-”

You didn’t realize how focused he was and jumped when he frantically turned around and grabbed his chest, swearing under his breath before stepping back and almost knocking over the few Marigolds left in the bucket.

“God I am so sorry I didn’t mean to-” The words died in your throat when he finally looked at you, and you realized you really wanted to know what shade of blue his breathtaking eyes were in that moment.

“Oh n-no that’s my bad I’m,” he seemed to be trapped in the same haze you were in for a second before clearing his throat and continuing, “so sorry I almost knocked those over.” He leaned down and put the bucket back in its place before standing up and pushing the glasses up his nose.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been meaning to put those somewhere else. People keep tripping over them.” You smiled and looked away when you found his eyes too intense to maintain contact with. “Umm, is there anything I can help with?”

He continued to stare at you before turning towards the sunflowers, his eyebrows immediately furrowing from the long and vibrant colors of the plant. “Would you like me to make you a bouquet of sunflowers?”

“NO!” You didn’t expect the sudden and quiet loud response but you nodded and took a deep breath.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to- it’s just that I…umm, I’m not here for the sunflowers. Not anymore at least.”

“I see, well I’ll be back there so if you need any help with anything, just holler.” You were about to turn around when you heard him step forward.

“Wait, wait…I do need help actually.” He stood there for a moment and you waited for him to ask but he never did and you immediately knew. He wasn’t the first one to walk into your flower shop feeling this way. The great thing about flower shops was that you always had a glimpse into other people’s lives, sometimes managing to help them out without even knowing.

“Listen, whatever happened, you’ll be okay. Whatever it is you’re feeling right now, it’ll pass. Perhaps not as quickly as you want it to but you’ll keep going. Life keeps going! That’s why I have that sign outside. Flowers can’t solve all your problems but they’re a great way to start. Please, take your time. I’m not going anywhere and you don’t need to rush.” You tapped his shoulder twice before smiling at him and you thought you saw something shift in his gaze but you ignored it.

You let go and walked to the counter to give him some space. A couple of minutes later, you were balancing something on the check book when you heard him clear his throat to grab your attention.

He looked much more relaxed than earlier and you were glad he managed to deal with whatever he was thinking of.

“How do I passive-aggressively say “fuck you” in flowers?”

He was super calm and collected when he asked the question which frankly you never expected to hear from him. And you couldn’t hold back the laugh even if you tried before you realized he was dead serious. You quickly apologized before asking him what he meant.

“I don’t wish to bore you with my sob story because you probably hear many a day than I ever will in a lifetime, and mine is probably extremely low on that scale, but long story short, my girl…my ex-girlfriend cheated on me, in my own apartment, and laughed in my face when I found out it was with one of my closest friends. She just got a promotion and I would love to send her a passive-aggressive bouquet of flowers except I also want it to be delivered to her boss “by accident” because frankly, she deserves it.”

He hesitated when he saw your lack of a response and he was about to apologize when you cut him off.

“Yeah alright! Sounds like a plan, a great one if I am being honest. And I know just what to get you. Come with me.” You walked to his side and went to one of the back corners of the shop, sliding one of the glass doors to walk inside and telling him it was okay for him to enter. You leaned down and pulled a few of the pink flowers beneath the roses.

“Here are some geraniums which showcase her stupidity for leaving you, and…” you kneeled down to grab another bucket that was slightly out of reach, “some foxglove for her extreme insincerity.” He took them from your hands and studied them before noticing you were already walking away.

“Here is meadowsweet and yellow carnations so she knows how fucking useless she is and how incredibly disappointed you are or were in her actions.” He grabbed the beautiful flowers and sighed, knowing he would never buy these flowers again even though they were among the prettiest in the shop.

“And last but not least, some lovely orange lilies so she knows how much you hate her…and him.” Shutting the door behind the two of you, you walked behind the counter and grabbed some green leaves to fill the bouquet, taking your time rearranging the flowers so they balanced each other.

“Would you like to write a card? It’s free.” You said to him as you tied the bow around the plastic, gently pulling up some flowers to bring out the colors of some of the others.

“W-what do I even write?”

“I mean the flowers are passive and she’s probably too stupid to understand, no offense.”

“Non taken.”

“But the card can be aggressive. Here let me write it in calligraphy.”

“Oh wow you don’t have to.”

“Please, I don’t have ‘100% satisfaction’ written on the window for no reason. How about, ‘Go deep throat a cactus. Sincerely,” sorry I didn’t catch your name?” You laughed at the blush forming on his cheeks and he seemed to notice his surprised reaction when he heard you giggle.

“It’s James. James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky.”

So not only was the man the definition of beauty but his name rolled off the tongue easily as well. Great.

“So would you like me to sign it as James Barnes or Bucky Barnes?” He was quiet for a moment before he looked up and nodded at you.

“Definitely James Barnes.” The two of you said in unison and something twisted in your stomach when you heard his sweet laughter ring in your ears.

“Now just write me the address and the name of her boss and I will deliver them myself. When do you want her to see them?”

“Oh I don’t want to waste your time, I could just-”

“The great thing about owning a flower shop is that you can open and close it at any time.” You took the flowers from him and placed them in a vase already filled with water.

“She works until six so anytime before that. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to go out of your way to do any of this.” He took out his wallet and decided to focus on the money and not the gorgeous smile staring right back at him.

“Please it’s nothing. Flowers make me happy, well, plants in general. And if the plants can help out with anything then I don’t mind at all.”

“So how much for the passive-aggressive bouquet?”

“It’s on the house.” You responded immediately, taking the small paper he wrote the address and the names on before placing it in your front pocket.

“No no please I couldn’t.”

“Please, I insist.”

“Fine, but on one condition. Can I take you out for coffee sometime tomorrow? Just so you could tell me what her reaction was.” Bucky smiled at you, readjusting his glasses god knows what time that day and you couldn’t help but mirror the joy etched on his face as you nodded.

“I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Great, it’s a date!” He took out something else from his pocket and gave it to you as he picked up a business card from the counter.

“See you tomorrow sweetheart,” your eyes widened at the pet name before waving to him.

“Bye Bucky.”

You watched him as he walked out of the shop, his steps picking up a bit as opposed to when he was lazily following you around not fifteen minutes ago. You couldn’t wait until you saw him tomorrow but you certainly couldn’t wait until you saw his ex-girlfriend’s expression when she saw the flowers and the note.

Yup, flowers were definitely problem solvers. And your wingmen apparently.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky barnes #plant your seeds #flower shop au #professor bucky #professor barnes #professor bucky barnes #go deep throat a cactus #fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian #sebstan #james bucky barnes

188 notes · View notes

arethereanyoriginalusernames · 3 years

Text

Come out of Your Cage

Story with my characters. It’s gay and everyone is a dumbass. Enjoy.

———-

The world was simple once you figured yourself out. Nothing to question, nothing to analyze. You could focus on the bigger questions. How do you topple a government? How do you readjust the economy?

And where in the bloody fuck was he going to find uranium at this hour?

Ifrit could only grit his teeth and continue digging through the pile of waste, cold and alone in the junkyard. The sun had set hours ago, and presumably everyone else had gone to bed. Hopefully everyone else had gone to bed. If Wasp or Syrellis found him sneaking out at night again, then he’d have to sit through another long and pointless lecture. Which he didn’t have time for.

Well, alright, maybe he did. But he definitely didn’t have the patience. Sometimes, it felt like he had a ticking clock somewhere in the back of his brain. It made him tense and agitated, even when he had nothing obligatory to accomplish. Every day was a project. He refused to let himself stay still. If he did…

He sighed, and tossed another sheet of what looked to be copper over his shoulder, cringing from the clanging noise it made when it hit the ground. The junkyard, despite it’s incredible size, was silent. Within the mountains of scrap metal and broken machine parts, there was not a single noise, save for the whistling of the wind. With the stars and moon hidden behind the layers of light pollution, it was only his eye adjusting to the darkness that allowed him to see. The dim lamps near the gate did little to fulfill their purpose.

He jolted at the sound of small feet pattering somewhere behind him. It was probably a rat. And he knew better than to ignore the sound of a rat.

As quietly as he could, he made his way down the pile, taking mind to not make any noise. Upon reaching the ground, he started walking towards the exit, putting a hand over his mouth to cover the sound of his breath. Halfway there, there it was again. The sound of a rat running by. He took cover under an old carriage, looking around for any sign of life. The last thing he wanted to do was have any sort of run in. Least of all, a run in with… him.

Kingsley. That bastard. That disgusting, horrible, creepy bastard! He made Ifrit uncomfortable in so many ways. Even if they were technically on the same side, with Kingsley being a double agent and all, just the sight of the blind spy made him sick. It… it made his face flush, his heart race, his head reel. It filled him with this strange feeling, fervid as a flame, that he couldn’t identify. Loathing? Yes! It must be loathing!

Kingsley was such a pretentious prick, acting like he knew everything, talking like everything was part of some convoluted plan of the crown’s. He always questioned Ifrit’s ideas. Not… insulting them, but he challenged Ifrit. And… well, Ifrit didn’t hate it. It felt good to see someone take him seriously, and not treat him like a kid. So yes, maybe he appreciated Kingsley’s company, but that didn’t mean that he was jumping for the chance of encountering-

“Boo!”

Ifrit jumped at the sound of a voice beside him, his head hitting a large wooden wheel. As he hissed in pain, he could hear a familiar laugh beside him. He threw a punch, only for Kingsley to catch his arm.

“My, funny seeing you here. The troglodyte can actually leave his little laboratory without his skin melting off! Who would’ve thunk?”

Ifrit just sneered at him, and pulled his arm away. He could tell without looking that Kingsley had that annoying smirk on his face again. That fucking, bloody smirk… His stomach started to twist into knots, but he chose to ignore it.

Kingsley seemed to be amused by his response, chuckling and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon now, I’m not that scary, am I? Surely an oh so clever mad scientist couldn’t be frightened of a blind man~” Ifrit shot a glare at him before muttering, “…You smell like garbage.”

He got up and started making his way towards the gate. He could hear Kingsley follow him, as well as his rats. Frustrated, he shouted behind him, “What d’you want, Kingsley?” He froze in front of the gate when Kingsley spoke, haven not realized how close he was.

“You avoid me.”

They were standing under one of the lamps that illuminated the gate. Ifrit dared not turn around to face Kingsley. If he did, if he saw him… He simply responded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was a huff, and Kingsley made his irritation very clear. “You’re doing it right now! What? Can’t even look me in the face?” There was a pause before he continued. “I’m on your side. I’ve helped you several times by this point. What about me makes me so untrustworthy to you? What do I need to do to get you to stop avoiding me like the plague, Ifrit?”

Ifrit said nothing, but, begrudgingly, he turned to face him. And he said taken aback. “…You don’t have your glasses.” Surely enough, he didn’t. Kingsley shrugged and leaned on his walking stick. “It’s nighttime. Nobody sees, nobody cares.” Ifrit had seen Kingsley without those comically large sunglasses before, yet he still wasn’t used to it. Kingsley’s face looked nothing like he expected it to. As much as Ifrit hated to admit it, Kingsley had quite a good looking face. His eyes being closed didn’t look terribly strange. On the contrary, he looked… peaceful. Which made no sense for someone like him. How could he be so relaxed?

There was silence between the two, before Kingsley sighed. “Y’know? I wish I could see you.” Ifrit blinked in confusion. Kingsley took his silence as reason to explain. “My rats can only describe so much to me. If I could watch your face, see what makes you hate me…” “I don’t hate you.” Ifrit interjected. “I just…” he trailed off. What could he say?

Kingsley clearly wasn’t happy with this response, and straightened up, tilting his head down at Ifrit, causing him to back into the fence. Ifrit’s breath caught in his throat. How did he keep forgetting that Kingsley was a few inches taller than him? Yet despite being backed into the fence, Kingsley towering above him, clearly displeased… Ifrit just froze. There was something about Kingsley that made his inner clock stop. He still felt tense, but he didn’t want to leave or distract himself with anything. His pulse quickened, and he could feel his throat tightening.

The taller boy was oblivious to Ifrit’s apparent plight. “Just what?” He demanded, voice rising in volume. “Do I seriously just make you uncomfortable or-!”

“Yes.”

Well, that was the truth. Kingsley made Ifrit uncomfortable. Just not in a way he entirely understood. Loathing wasn’t it. If it was, why did he not want to leave?

As caught up as he was in his emotions, Ifrit still felt a creeping feeling of guilt. Kingsley deserved some sort of explanation, it wasn’t fair to leave it there. Yet both of them stood frozen where they were, the silence ringing in their ears. Ifrit couldn’t bring himself to look at Kingsley. But, after a few moments, he finally forced himself to speak.

“I want to trust you. I want to be comfortable with you around. I just… I just don’t! A-and I don’t know why.” He inhaled sharply. “I know it doesn’t make sense, I genuinely can’t figure out what it is! Especially because… I mean, I enjoy your company. Sometimes. And I…” Words failed him as he trailed off. He stared down at his feet, wishing a hole would appear that he could hide in right now. How could he explain this? What feeling was there that made you feel strange yet want the other person around…

No. No, no, no, no, no. He didn’t like Kingsley… that way. He didn’t like boys! He’d know if he did! Besides, the idea of him having feelings for the other boy was outrageous. He could never stand it when Kingsley talked about his experience with dating other boys, and that was because… he thought it’d be terrible to date Kingsley! Right? He didn’t… he couldn’t…

“I don’t like boys, I swear!”

Ifrit flinched, and Kingsley jumped, neither expecting the sudden outburst. Ifrit could feel his face heat up, embarrassed. That wasn’t supposed to come out. He uselessly stared up at Kingsley, praying for him to not say anything about what had just happened. The telepath just tilted his head, his face hard to read. Suddenly, Ifrit found himself being shifted to the side, and the lamp’s light shone directly in his face. There was the sound of scurrying rats, and he heard a snicker.

“Your face is red.”

Ifrit opened his mouth to deny it, but a hand was placed on his shoulder, and he suddenly found himself holding his breath. His heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, and it only became worse when Kingsley spoke again.

“You sure about that not liking boys thing?”

Ifrit held his tongue and said nothing. The hand on his shoulder shifted to the side of his neck.

“Ifrit?”

He only blinked in response.

“… would you like me to kiss you?”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Still, to his own surprise, he nodded. It could be like an experiment of sorts, to determine once and for all what was going on. After all, if he didn’t like Kingsley, this should have no effect on him, right?

Kingsley’s hand moved to his face, and his fingers swept across the lower half, coming to rest on his lips. His other hand awkwardly came up to hold the other side of his face as he pulled Ifrit closer. Seeing the trouble he was having, Ifrit stiffly brought his hand up to Kingsley’s chin to guide him.

And then, it was as if the world around them stopped. It wasn’t anything impressive, as they were just pressing their lips together, somewhat awkwardly. And yet that was enough to make Ifrit come to the last conclusion he wanted to come to.

He liked Kingsley. He really liked him.

The only thing he could feel was the warmth given off by him. The gate, the wind, everything faded away, leaving only them. Alone, with each other.

And as suddenly as it started, it ended. As soon as Kingsley pulled away, Ifrit suddenly came back to his senses. He fell backwards, his back roughly hitting the cold bars of the gate. He heard Kingsley laugh again, and he was torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to smack him.

“I-I have to go.” With that, he turned to open the gate before a hand caught his.

“…I wished you’d come outside more often. I wouldn’t mind getting to meet you more often…”

Ifrit simply gave a curt nod and, with a short, quiet goodbye, he threw the gate open. As he walked rabidly back home, he fought the temptation to not just look behind him, but go back. Grumbling to himself, he forced his eyes to stare at the ground before him, still struggling with the conflicting emotions warring within him.

———

And there we go, apologies for wasting your time with shitty story telling!

- Spooky

4 notes · View notes

athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

A Truman Show Star

PART FORTY-ONE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: Ella goes to the little blue house for the last time.

Wringing her hands to keep herself from biting her nails off, Ella trudged up the front steps to Luke’s. Luckily, her old parking spot was open. It made her remember evenings when she’d come straight from visiting her aunt in New Britain. How safe the diner had always made her feel. A refuge from school and home alike. Her heart ached, traveling back into the past for just a moment. She couldn’t think of one second since her father’s death that she’d felt the least bit secure. Hopefully, Luke’s would help at least a little. But a strange, uneasy surreality flooded her as she entered the diner’s warmth. Life had gone on without her there. She noticed small changes to the place she had spent most of her youth in, slight differences in paint color, placement of certain mugs on the back display shelf, even new menus. At least the ‘No Cellphones’ sign hung behind the counter, as it always had. Ella doubted it would come down until Luke was long dead.

She didn’t take off her coat, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone for too long. Miss Patty was busy with her mid-morning tap class, Ella knew, and Babette wasn’t in sight at the diner either. Kirk must’ve been at work too. In fact, the diner was nearly empty, the transition between Friday breakfast and lunch creating a lull. She hopped up on a stool at the counter, right in front of the coffee machine. Luke was making a fresh pot, his back to her. He turned around once he had finished, coming to face her. For a moment, Ella felt a wave of relief at the sight of him. His baseball cap, his red flannel, his worn jeans. Luke hadn’t changed nearly at all over the course of her entire life. But then, an unwelcome thought about what she would do in the event of Luke’s death intruded her mind. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to think of anyone without picturing them six feet under.

Luke’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “Hey, Ella, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, fighting the urge to have any bit of emotion cross her features. “I just came to get my stuff out of the old house. Fiona’s putting it on the market pretty soon. At least, she says she is.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “You want something?”

Ella shook her head after a moment of thought. “No, thanks. I just wanted to stop in, since I was on my way by.”

“Alright,” Luke said, averting his eyes.

“What?” she asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Luke sighed. “Jess called me this morning.”

Swallowing dryly, Ella breathed in a deep breath. “Did he?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not coming, is he?” she asked. At some point on the drive, it had occurred to her that he might follow her to Stars Hollow, continue the conversation. But just the idea of seeing the hurt in his eyes was enough to make her stomach do a flip. She wasn’t ready to keep talking. Maybe she never would be.

A joyless smirk appeared on Luke’s face. “He told me you might ask that. No. He’s still in Philly. He just wanted to let me know you were coming, make sure you got to town safe.”

“Okay,” she said, again forcing down all her feelings, her face solemn. “I take it that’s not all he told you?”

“No,” he said, as Ella raked an anxious hand through her hair and once again tried to keep her nails away from her teeth. After a shot pause, Luke continued, trying to catch her eyes once more: “Listen, kid, it’s all gonna be okay.”

“That’s convincing,” she said with a humorless chuckle.

Again, he sighed, weary and frustrated. He readjusted his cap on his head. Eyes doing a quick scan of the diner, he found the other customers, all at tables, not listening, enjoying their food. “I know you don’t scare easy. And I know how angry being scared must make you.”

She rolled her eyes, and all of a sudden she looked just like a teenager to Luke. A teenager with no mother and not much of anything to go home to. No matter how annoyed she could make him, he cared about her more than he cared about himself.

“Don’t listen if you don’t want to, but I’ve lived a lot longer than you, Ella,” he began, curmudgeonly as ever. “Believe me, I know what’s gonna be okay and what’s not gonna be okay. And you are gonna be okay.”

“Sure,” she said, dejected but trying her best to go along with his advice session.

Luke sighed again. “Look, my mom died when I was a kid too. And then, when my dad died, I went a little bit nuts too. I spent thousands of dollars I didn’t have to open this place up. But eventually, things felt normal again. And look at me now.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, mocking. “You’re the most well-adjusted person I know.”

“Shaddup,” he scolded her affectionately. “I have no doubt in my mind that this will pass, and you’ll go back to your life just fine.”

She only nodded half-heartedly.

“Ella?”

“Yeah?” she asked, finally venturing to face him fully again.

“Jess loves you. You’re the thing he loves most in the world, as far as I can tell,” Luke said.

She swallowed harshly, looking away from the momentary eye contact she had held with him. For a second, she was worried she would cry, but she bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the pain instead of the sadness. “I know, Luke.”

At that, he decided to let it go. He’d never been the best with emotional, soul-searching chats in the first place. He smiled a bit at her in a way he hoped was reassuring. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? Lorelai’s gonna bite my head off if I got to see you and she didn’t.”

“No, I can’t just show up like this and then eat your food,” she said immediately.

Luke only scoffed, watching as a customer began approaching the register. “You know you’re not getting out of it, kid. Dinner’s at six.”

Before she could reply, he went over to ring up some townie Ella could barely recognize. She wanted to protest further, but knew she didn’t have the energy for an argument with Luke. And, she had to admit, she couldn’t think of anything better than seeing Lorelai. For some reason, she had a deep, sorrowful longing for the Gilmore woman’s warm hugs and kooky way of approaching life, at just the mention of her name.

“Fine,” she said, as Luke came back over to grab the coffee pot and do refills.

Luke gave an affirmative grunt in response. Apparently, the conversation was over, and neither Luke nor Ella were particularly upset about that. She slung her purse back over her shoulder, hugging her peacoat around her a bit tighter as she prepared to go outside. As she passed Luke on the way out, she stopped in her tracks for a moment.

“Hey Luke?” she said.

He looked up expectantly.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, voice sincere, though his face barely softened a bit.

. . .

The sun would soon start to set. She looked out her old window, a view of tree branches and golden clouds. The sight made her remember the day Jess had taken her to the Met, showing up at her window. And other days, when he would climb in and her small room felt like the whole world, made special for just the two of them. Swallowing harshly, she sat down on the old carpet, back against the wall and one leg crossed over the other. On the right wall, she could still see the remnants of the last mural she’d painted through the fresh white color. The realtors hadn’t taken kindly to the artwork, Fiona had said, letting Ella in, showing her the room, and promptly leaving to go stay the night at her new apartment. She’d given Ella a kiss on the cheek before going. Ella had smiled, despite the lipstick stain she knew Fiona’s bright pink lips left. She was glad Fiona was getting away, wasn’t getting stuck. Not like Ella herself was. She focused on her breathing for a moment, and she could have sworn the room still had the faint scent of lavender candles.

She’d carved out more time than necessary to pack everything up. When she’d first moved to Lane’s, she’d only left her closet full, and a few odds and ends in the attic. Clothes she would be donating, childhood drawings she would be throwing away. The photo album was the only thing she was surprised to find. She’d forgotten about it. Maybe simply because she’d wanted to forget about it. It was the only thing she hadn’t managed to fit in the three cardboard boxes which now sat in the corner of the otherwise empty room. All she had left to do was load everything in her car and drive to Lorelai and Luke’s for dinner. And she would never see the little blue house again. No matter how much she’d disliked living there, she couldn’t shake the small part of her which wasn’t ready to lose it, let it go. Even if she’d known for a while the house would soon be gone.

Before she could think better of it, she grabbed the photo album from where it sat next to the boxes. She could have squeezed it in if she tried, but she didn’t want to risk breaking it. It was of her, her life. Her family. Her mother had made one for each of her children, adding to them all the time. A project left unfinished after her death. They’d gone away with the rest of her belongings. Had she not gone up into the attic, Ella probably would have assumed it had been thrown out years earlier. But there it was.

She ran the pad of her finger over the words on the front cover gingerly. Eleanor Mary Stevens. Heaving a deep sigh, she opened it and flicked through her early years. Her mother on the day Ella was born, long blonde hair and hazel eyes, a tiny baby in her arms. Another one, with her grandmother holding her as a baby. Ella felt for a chain around her neck without noticing. She flipped through a few more pages, and had to stop when she came across the photo of the whole family on her thirteenth birthday. The second to last before her mother’s death. They were all crowded around the small kitchen, the walls behind them painted a distinctive shade of peach. Ella’s smile was wide and naive, a big cake with candles about to be blown out sitting before her on the round table. The table where she and her father had sat for weeks, drinking, after her mother was gone. Her mother had blown up balloons, decorated a birthday banner, invited Julie and her family down for a small little surprise party. Thirteen was an important one, her mother had said. A whole new phase. It was Julie who had taken the picture, urging the five of them to squish together and fit in the frame. Ella’s mother looked arguably happier than Ella did. She’d always gone all out for birthdays.

But Ella’s mind didn’t take long to wander to the hours following the picture being taken. The dinner when her father had raised his voice over something she didn’t even remember. Ella had been feeling brave and confident, newly a teenager and high off the fanfare. She’d tried to interject, calm her father down, restore the light mood. She should have known better. He didn’t hit her, didn’t lay a hand on her. He’d yelled instead. Ella could tell, though, that he’d wanted to smack her. She could recognize how red his face got, and the particular way he spit out his words through gritted teeth. He was just so angry, for no reason at all. She hadn’t let him see her cry, of course. Later, after they’d all slunk to their rooms for the night in awkward, pained silence, she’d wept into her pillow. She never knew whether her mother had heard her, or whether she’d just sensed something was wrong. Ella could still hear the soft knock on her door, her mother’s gentle voice as she walked in.

. . .

“Hey, apple pie,” Sophia began, shuffling into Ella’s room and closing the door silently, carefully.

Turning on her side, facing away from her mother, Ella rolled her eyes at the nickname. She’d been stuck with it for years, since she was a little girl and was obsessed with helping her mother make holiday pies. She couldn’t help but be embarrassed by it, even when it was just the two of them. It made her feel like a kid in overalls, not a girl who was just about to start eighth grade. She was practically in high school, after all.

Frowning at her daughter’s silence, Sophia came over and sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked Ella’s messy hair. Ella tried to hide her sniffling, but was unsuccessful. Her mother was the only person she ever really openly cried in front of.

“Will you look at me?” Sophia asked, feigning a happy smile. They both knew the day hadn’t been exactly what either of them wanted.

Though she huffed in frustration, Ella sat up against the wall behind her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and wiping at her cheeks and nose. Sophia’s face softened at the sight of Ella, and she gave Ella’s knee a squeeze. Despite Sophia’s valiant attempts to get her to talk, Ella didn’t meet her eyes and remained quiet. She was struggling to stop her watery hiccups.

“You know he doesn’t mean it,” Sophia said.

Ella shook her head. Her voice was raw and unstable when she spoke. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sophia agreed.

“And it’s my birthday,” Ella continued, new tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“I know,” Sophia sighed, willing herself to remain positive. It wasn’t the first time she and Ella had had this talk. “Look, Ella, he’s had a hard life. Sometimes...he just doesn’t know how to handle it when he feels angry. He loves you so, so much.”

Scoffing harshly, Ella finally turned to face her mother. “Sometimes it’s kinda hard to tell.”

Looking down, Sophia nodded. “He’s working on it. Baby steps, okay? I’m sorry about today. Tomorrow, I know he’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay,” Ella said tiredly. Weeping had made her feel exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep.

“Hey, I’m serious. Perk up,” Sophia said sternly, though Ella knew she was just teasing.

Ella gave a weak smile. “Okay. I’m just tired. You’re right. Today wasn’t so bad, anyway.”

Sophia’s smile grew. “Yeah. It was nice to see Aunt Julie, right?”

Tugging anxiously at the ends of her hair, Ella nodded. “Yeah. Good surprise. Thanks for the party, mom.”

“Sure thing, apple pie,” Sophia said. She kissed Ella good night and rose from the bed. Before she left, she gave Ella’s shoulder one last squeeze. She pointed to the candles alight on Ella’s desk. “Tomorrow will be better. I know it will.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella let her smile become just a bit more genuine. She repeated the saying she had heard her mother utter about a thousand times as they gardened together. “Mmhm. Lavender is for luck.”

“That’s right,” Sophia said with a chuckle, shooting Ella an affectionate wink. Then, she padded back out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

. . .

Startling at the sharp ringing of her cell phone breaking her from her reverie, Ella gasped slightly. She snapped back to the present, shutting the photo album and placing it back atop the nearest box. She leaned back against the wall, frazzled, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering. Breathing out slowly, she blinked back the shine from her eyes.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ella,” Mabel greeted her through the line.

“Oh, hi,” Ella said dumbly, not expecting her call. Not that they didn’t talk on the phone regularly, because they did, but they also usually saw each other frequently. A cold call was a bit out of the ordinary.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mabel asked, and Ella could hear her take a quick inhale. She was probably smoking. Usually, Ella would accompany Mabel on her smoke breaks when they were hanging out, so she wouldn’t have to stand out in the cold all alone, even if Ella had been resisting the habit with relative success since the night after her father died. “I just wanted to check in. Jess said you were still too sick to come to dinner tonight.”

She cleared her throat. Apparently Jess hadn’t let them in on whatever was going on. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’m okay. Just still on the mend, I guess. How are things over there?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she listened as Mabel told her about the fight Chris and Matthew had gotten into over where to order takeout from. Leo had also gotten involved, apparently. Mabel laughed as she spoke, and Ella missed the sound. It was not the first time she had considered what she would be giving up if she and Jess broke up. Chris and Matthew were his business partners. She would be the one who was iced out. And she couldn’t blame any of them for it. But she was suddenly homesick not for Stars Hollow, but for Philadelphia. She missed hours spent discussing Tennesee Williams on Mabel’s couch, or playing Leo’s keyboard while he messed around with some new song and asked for her help with an accompaniment, or mocking Chris about his sweater vest obsession and receiving some witty jab in return, or debating with Matthew about the best way to achieve world peace when drunk and hopeful. Another wave of regret and sadness washed over her. She had found a new family, despite her best efforts not to.

“Alright, I’m gonna head back inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here. Do you want me to bring you up and put you on speaker so you can say hi to the guys?” Mabel asked.

“Um, no, that’s okay. I’m probably just gonna head to bed. Will you…” she began, hesitating before she continued. “Will you tell Jess I said good night? I’ll probably be asleep when he gets back.”

She couldn’t remember the last time they had spent a night apart. And she couldn’t shake her worries about him, if he had a nightmare, if he had a panic attack. Would he call her? She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back in time to help him. Concern bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down. At least he was with everyone at Truncheon, having takeout. Friday nights were takeout nights, after all.

“Will do. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” Mabel said.

Ella sighed out through her nose. “Yeah.”

“Okay, love you. Get better, please.”

Biting harder on her cheek, Ella tried to ignore the smile she could hear in Mabel’s voice. She could see exactly the expression Mabel had at that moment.

“I’ll try,” Ella said.

. . .

Sipping her water while Lorelai drank her red wine, Ella felt her skin buzzing with nerves. Since the remodel, the Gilmore house looked completely different to Ella. The changes hadn’t been especially big, just some new wallpaper here, a fresh decoration there. But she missed the little things only she and the other people who had been in the right place at the right time could remember. There were no longer pencil marks in the guest room’s closet wall from when Rory and Ella were practicing their signatures. Dreaming of the days when they would be signing autographs, Rory a famous journalist and Ella a famous artist. She missed the reddish stain on the kitchen ceiling from when Lorelai had dropped a bottle of ketchup at just the right angle and the condiment had spewed up in a stream. They were there in her memory, but gone in her reality. Everything had changed, and she had hardly noticed until it was all different. It was too late.

“So, Michel finally made the exterminator sign this contract he drew up, promising no mouse would ever be found on the premises again,” Lorelai said, finishing her saga of a mouse recently wreaking havoc at the Dragonfly.

Ella snorted halfheartedly. “Well, I hope for the exterminator’s sake it’s not legally binding.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already mysteriously lost it,” Lorelai said with a conspiratorial wink.

Laughing along with her, Ella let her eyes linger on the red wine as Lorelai brought it to her lips. She didn’t want it, not really. But she knew how much better she would feel if she drank it, if she could get her thoughts to quiet down for just a little while. The thought made her grip the edge of the table momentarily, before it passed. She missed the feeling of Jess’s hand in hers, squeezing it, reassuring her. And then anger rose up inside her for missing him. Lorelai cleared her throat, breaking Ella from her daze.

“Oh, sorry,” Ella said, flushing with embarrassment.

Lorelai’s brows furrowed in concern and she sighed, preparing to finally address the elephant in the room. They hadn’t really discussed anything serious over dinner, keeping the conversation light while they ate some chicken made by Luke. He’d gone to bed a few minutes earlier, the night darkening past nine. The next day saw early morning deliveries and he had no intention of being sleep-deprived for a Saturday shift. Besides, Lorelai had formed the game plan before Ella even came over, after Luke told her why Ella was in Stars Hollow in the first place. She’d known the girl long enough, and through enough, to have an inkling of how she dealt with things.

“Sweetie?” Lorelai said.

Ella hummed, tilting her head at Lorelai in askance.

“What’s been going on with you?” Lorelai asked earnestly, a sympathetic glint in her sparkling blue eyes.

Chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, Ella looked down into her water. Then, she looked back up with tears stinging her eyes. And her words came out in a husky, rough whisper. “I don’t know.”

Lorelai nodded. “That’s okay, Ella. But you can’t ignore this. I know you want to, but I just don’t think it’s gonna work this time.”

“Why not? It’s worked so well in the past,” Ella said with a sardonic laugh, sniffing and trying to blink back her tears. She willed herself not to cry in front of Lorelai. She would not be a woman in her mid-twenties crying over a boy with her friend’s mother. Not even if the boy was the love of her life.

“But has it?” Lorelai asked doubtfully.

Taking in a deep breath, Ella swallowed thickly. “I just...I don’t want to lose him.”

“If you break up with him, I’m pretty sure you’ll lose him, sweetie,” Lorelai said, her tone hushed with gravity.

“Well, obviously, I know, but…if I have to lose him, then at least it’ll be on my own terms,” Ella continued, feeling squirmy and embarrassed speaking to Lorelai so openly. She had confided in Lorelai in her teen years, but for so long Jess had been the only one to hear about the inner workings of her mind.

Lorelai nodded, thinking.

“I’m just...I’m so fucking mad,” Ella admitted, shaking her head. She scoffed at herself, at how childish her own words sounded.

“Why?” Lorelai asked simply.

“Because when my mom died, it just ruined...it ruined everything. It killed my dad, it killed my brothers. She...it ruined everything,” Ella said.

Frustration brewed in her gut as she spoke. She didn’t want to be mad at her mother. It wasn’t her fault she had a heart condition. It wasn’t her fault she died. But, for whatever reason, Ella couldn’t help the sick rage in her stomach. If her mother hadn’t died, her father wouldn’t have started drinking again, maybe. And then he wouldn’t have crashed his car. And she wouldn’t have felt so terrified about Jess. She wouldn’t be so utterly exhausted, so drained from the grief. And it was easier to be mad at her mother than at the whole world.

“But it didn’t kill them,” Lorelai insisted. “And it didn’t kill you. You’re allowed to be happy, Ella. You are.”

Bottom lip trembling, Ella looked away from Lorelai. “No.”

Lorelai sighed heavily, hoping to make her see. “Not everything in your life is going to be a beginning and an end. You deserve a middle. Let yourself have a middle.”

Ella blew out a shaky breath, but didn’t speak.

“You told me at Thanksgiving that you had everything you wanted. And I saw it. I saw you there with Jess, with your art. You can have that. Don’t stop yourself from having it because you’re scared and you don’t think you deserve it.”

Ella’s stomach did a flip and she fiddled with her hair to keep herself from crying. Somehow, Lorelai had always been able to get to the root of her problems, to see things as they were. Maybe it was because both of them had grown up earlier than other people. Biting at her cheek, Ella let her mind drift back to Jess, to the way he made her feel. She had been in love with him for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like not to be. To not instantly feel at home when she heard his voice, to not relax at his touch, to not feel her heart fluttering each time he smiled at her, like she was still sixteen.

Sixteen. She’d been mixed up then as she was now. And she had gotten herself through it on her own, but she would have been lying if she said Jess didn’t help. Jess showed her what it was to live with intensity again, with passion. To let herself feel the deepest things and not be afraid. Her mind wandered back to her walk over to the Gilmore house a few hours earlier, as the January sun was setting. The air was freezing, but it felt only right to walk, since she’d just been inside the little blue house for probably the last time. For old time’s sake. She’d left her key on the kitchen counter. She didn’t know the next time she would be back in Stars Hollow. She wanted to say goodbye to the town, in case she didn’t get to later. Passing over the bridge, she’d spotted two red cardinals flying around in the dusky light of the evening. One was chasing the other, and then they would switch. A lively dance. They were so vivid against the dull blanket of winter. They reminded her of the way she was with Jess, the way they were together.

Sniffing again, Ella nodded. She locked eyes with Lorelai, sincere. “Okay.”

Lorelai let a soft smile across her lips, and pressed a kiss to the top of Ella’s head as they said goodnight.

. . .

Driving so early in the morning, with Stevie Nicks on the radio, made her feel like she should be smoking a cigarette. Usually, it would take Ella less than four hours to make it back to Philly from Stars Hollow. But the frigid ice made the roads slick, and she was forced to go much slower than normal. Her lips were bluish with cold as she bit at her nails, the cloudy sky lightening to a murky pink. It was half past five and her eyes were heavy, but her body was wired with energy. After her chat with Lorelai, Ella had made a decent effort to actually get a good night’s sleep. She just couldn’t get Lorelai’s words out of her head, and her thoughts of Jess. She’d started up her Station Wagon just a little after midnight.

A middle was something she hadn’t considered. Truly, she hadn’t. She felt so silly. But it hadn’t occurred to her that she and Jess were just beginning. Their middle was coming. Maybe sooner than she had realized. For so long, she had been expecting the worst, even when she wasn’t. It was always there, in the back of her mind, whispering at her not to let her guard down, not to get comfortable. Not to feel love. Ella knew she couldn’t change overnight, and she felt like she was going to throw up just thinking about facing her fears. But Jess was right, as much as she hated to admit it. If she worked hard enough, she could feel better. She knew she could.

So, there was a scribbled note left on Lorelai and Luke’s fridge and she sat bleary-eyed in her driver’s seat. As she pulled up in front of the apartment building, small flurries began to fly down on her windshield, glistening in the muddled sunlight. She trudged up the stairs, trying to stay quiet in her dirty snow boots. But her feet seemed leaden in her exhaustion and she felt bad for her neighbors. She bit at the insides of her cheeks as she ascended the stairs with her suitcase in hand. Tears were welling in her eyes, and for once, she couldn’t bring herself to hold them back. She let them drip down her cheeks, which had just begun to pink up in the warmth of the building.

When she got to the door, she fumbled with her keys, her hands shaky. At first, she had the instinct to knock, before she remembered it was her own house. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. So much, she thought, and then let a bitter laugh slip from her lips. She really was exhausted. Just before she could stick her key in the lock, the door opened for her. Jess stood on the threshold, disheveled. His hair was mussed up and she could tell he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Soon, he’d have a full beard. His eyes were reddish and she could tell he had just woken up.

She swallowed dryly, dazed. She was aware she was still crying, but hardly knew why. She dropped her suitcase next to her, and her keys jangled to the ground as well. She raked both hands through her hair and sniffled.

“Hi,” she began, her voice weak and watery. “How’d you know I was here? Am I the star of the Truman Show or something?”

He shrugged, letting a sad smirk cross his face and then fade immediately. “I heard you.”

She furrowed her brows. “Well, you should’ve brought a bat or something. What if I was a murderer?”

Again, the joyless smirk. “I was in the kitchen making coffee and you laughed. I could tell...it was your laugh.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding. She scoffed self-consciously. “Yeah. I didn’t really sleep and I guess I’m kinda punch drunk. But I um...I just...had to come home.”

“You did?” he asked, keeping his voice even. If he sounded too hopeful, then he might be hopeful. And he couldn’t have that. But she’d said she would be back on Sunday, and it was only Saturday morning. Surely, that had to be a good sign.

“I did,” she said, then her face crumpled and she uttered a little whimper. She looked down at her shoes, stomach swirling with embarrassment. Then, she looked back up to face him and sniffled again. “I was just really fucking scared. I’m sorry, Jess.”

His face softened and he nodded, watching as she put her head in her hands to hide her face. Silent sobs overtook her.

“I know. I know,” he said gently, then wrapped her up in his arms.

She cried into his chest.

“It’s nothing for you to be sorry over, alright?” he said, leaning back slightly and taking her face in his hands. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay!” she exclaimed, pulling away from him, speaking earnestly through her tears. “I can’t believe I said I wanted to leave! I’m such a fucking coward. We said we would always try, and I wasn’t fucking trying! And I’m just-”

“Eleanor, honey, just take a deep breath,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to relax her. “We can figure this out. You and me.”

“But you don’t have to-”

“Hey, Daria,” he began calmly, taking her suitcase and her keys from the floor beside her, “just come in and get some sleep. We’ll talk about it when you wake up, okay?”

She eyed him for a moment through a blurry, watery haze. “Do you promise?”

For the first time all morning, his tiny smile held the hint of something pleasant. “I promise.”

#jess x oc #jessocfanfiction #jess mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #oc fanfiction #gilmore girls oc #jess mariano au #gilmore girls au #luke danes #lorelai gilmore

26 notes · View notes

weeniewrites · 4 years

Text

Lost Connections

Zombie Kenma x g/n reader part 1

3k Words

tw: zombies, mentions of death, reader kills a few zombies, descriptions of rot and gore, mentions of past limb loss (Kenma’s in bad shape), the plots pretty peaceful all things considered i just go in depth when describing gross things

-a lot more’s changed since high school than you could’ve imagined

_________________________________________________________

It’s been said that traveling in groups is the safest idea. There are more hands for tasks, people to lean back on in the case of an injury or for comfort. But considering the state of things, the messy wasteland you assume the rest of the world has become, the stress that’s put on you and everyone around you, you know too well the strain that would put on any relationship. So you travel alone, to avoid the pain of loss and strain. Arguing that even if you can’t carry as many resources with you, you need much less food as a party of one.

You’ve made a home base of sorts. A basement near but not next to a general store, making it easy to move the supplies from there to your place without drawing attention to your home of operations. When you moved in the basement was empty save for a couple shelves and the walls unfinished to the point where the insulation’s still exposed. You’ve contemplated ripping a panel down to put under your blanket as a makeshift bed but it’s too itchy. What's insulation even made of? Maybe you shouldn’t touch it. So no bed. This isn’t your home anyway. It’s not your home. It would be more convenient to stay in the general store, yes. Not have to move your food, an overall nicer looking place. But too many windows, too many risks coming from staying in a building that so clearly carried food at one point. You haven’t encountered them yourself but you’ve heard of raiders from your time traveling with others.

Thankfully this town is small, away from others. The wildlife in the woods can be dangerous but it's far enough away from civilization that zombies are few and far between, easily taken care of or ignored until they stumble away. You’ve hit the jackpot essentially. Food. A stream of hopefully? Clean water that you boil still just in case. And no one around to bother you. Just you, an assortment of plastic containers, and your slowly decaying mental state.

‘Til the day you hear a rumble. Curiosity outweighs your concerns to make you peek out the basement window that’s usually covered. There’s a truck! What kind of idiots running and screeching around in a truck that makes so much noise! But you can’t help the excitement at seeing something you used to see so often. And then it's gone out of your vision with a shout, a hoot and a thump.

A thump? Did they hit something? Gaining your better sense back you cover up the window again and retreat to your cave of poorly circulated but still drafty air. There’s more than enough supplies in here. No reason to venture out. You shouldn’t go. With that high and mighty attitude you heard, those must’ve been raiders, or at the very least not the kind of people you’d want to stay around. Too risky. Too risky to even talk to...

When did you get to the door?

“Snap out of it me, you’re only alive because you’ve been cautious. You’re safer alone.” You croak out. When’s the last time you spoke? With there being little reason to? Just another noise to keep track of and minimize. You take one more look around at your supplies and curse. You need to get water today. It’s possible to wait a day, but between not wanting to wait on something so integral and the curiosity of what you’ll find outside. You remove the barricade, twist the rusty hatch lock, and go out, bat at the ready.

It’s fairly quiet, a few zombies dredged up from the earlier noise needing to be dispatched but it's easy to crush their heads with a well-placed swing, decay making them fragile. Seems like the rowdy bunch left town as soon as they came, perhaps outrunning a hoard? God, you’re an idiot for coming out here but at least it worked out with little affair. Though your one pair of pants is dirty now. It’d be nice to have a different pair, your backup being worn to threads. It’s possible to raid zombies for supplies but you DEFINITELY don’t want to strip them. Considering the amount of undead you’ve seen today (several compared to the usual none) it’s not worth it to make this foolish trip longer by washing up. Maybe the stench will hide you, can these things even smell? A trip to the stream to fill up your jug, a trek back through the road you know best and one last zombie stumbling around to take care of and your work's done for the day! It’s almost a nice routine at this point even if it feels like murder. Gross stinky murder.

It hasn’t seen you yet. One side of its body is visibly damaged, perhaps dragged? Ah well. Not your problem. Despite the sorry state of its body, it has an unusual amount of hair left. Man those roots are overgrown. The thing’s stumbling so you have no worries about being able to outrun it. Overall it’s no match for you with only one arm left, shambling with most of its weight on one leg, the other on its bad side visibly torn. Curious. A couple more steps and you’ll be done for the day and-

It sees you. One wide unblinking yellow eye meeting yours. You hop back, circling around to keep your distance and get a better idea of how to respond. Intense scrutiny makes you catch more details, the lack of blood on the seemingly recent injuries, the face you refuse to look at (it's always the most unsettling) and the... Is that a Nekoma jacket? Shit. Shit shit shit shit you went there! That was your high school you can’t- you back up further and the thing shambles with you. Its too dangerous to get sentimental now just, don't look, don’t look and bash the poor things head in. It’s too late. Whoever it is is long dead just-

The blond zombie trips and falls to the ground, wiggling around to look back up at you and you can’t avoid its face any longer, his face. Kenma’s face.

God, you wanna cry, tears already threatening to cloud your vision. It was always a possibility to see someone you knew personally but what’s he even doing out here? You’re so far away from home, or at least it feels like it just. Shit! He’s wiggling you need to get this over with. Can’t avoid hesitating and compromising your safety further. A step back, readjusting your grip on your bat and... he's not. Moving? Did he run out of energy? Can zombies even do that? Why’s he-it. Why is it staring? His big yellow eyes looking almost curiously up at you.

“Kenma?”

His head tilts.

“What the fuck.”

The rustle of leaves and the trash picked up by the wind are the only sounds. It’s just you and this old dead classmate. At least that gives a chance to react to whatever this is. There’s not exactly a protocol! You didn’t plan for this! Shit just, um-

One eye attempts to blink, faltering halfway down- God that's gross

“Kenma?”

His head tilts again

“Okay shit that's, god that's definitely you- Can you understand me?”

No response

Maybe that was a fluke the first time, you would try and project human behavior on a shambling corpse in your lonely state. Fucking idiot... He’s still not moving.

“Kenma, why aren’t you attacking me?”

His head twitches and you flinch, steadying your grip on your bat.

“Do you want to eat me?”

No response. Okay thats... weird. Wait let's try-

“Kenma, do you want to attack me?”

You can almost physically feel his focus shift, your breathing picking up as his eyes seem to focus on you rather than through.

He shakes his head.

“What the Fuck.”

You keep him tied up across the room at first. It’s idiotic. It’s not like you had a space set up specifically to keep an undead. Why would you? But he’s been surprisingly docile. Complying with any question or demand as long as you clearly address it to him. Knotting the rope around him was nerve-wracking. His jaw dropping open and hanging slack on request to place a gag inside “To stop you from biting me.” His spit leaves mismatched spots on the fabric. Being mindful to stay on his weaker side, you bind his neck and torso as his eyes keep a careful, blank eyed watch. Should his arm be tied up too? There’d been rumours that only bites turned people but risking a scratch just because you didn’t know for sure felt unwise. Finishing the knot on the first short piece of rope you take a step back to access his state. And another as he tenses. And another as he wrenches his head around, tearing through the fabric though pieces catch in his teeth.

“Kenma, stay still.”

He wiggles in complaint, face as taut as the rotting skin will allow.

“Kenma, do you want to hurt me?”

He shakes his head

“Kenma I need to do this... We need to do this. To be sure, to be safe.”

No response.

“Kenma I don’t want to hurt you either, but I need to be sure you can’t hurt me okay? Just in case”

....

“Please?”

His glare is focused on the floor beside him. Any attempts to get closer are met with a huff. Maybe... It’d be best to try again later.

Staying with Kenma is... scary at first and probably will be for a while but there are parts of it you don’t mind. That are nice even. The touch of familiarity, of home. It’s nice to talk to someone even if the most he can do is nod. Something feels wrong about tying up an old friend. He’d say he didn’t want to hurt you anytime you asked but, you can’t be sure. Zombies must have like, instincts or something. Why else would they become the aggressive shambling corpses you’ve come to know.?

You don’t know if he can fully understand you but he’s less restless when you speak, sitting calmly rather than scratching the wall and floor where he can reach. The occasional shuffle of movement makes things slightly less monotonous though it's hard not to tense up at the noise. Movement usually means danger. While you’re cracking open a can and deciding if the risk of smoke was worth a warm meal, he’s jostling around in his bonds enough to knock a jar off the shelf he’s tied to. The shattering glass loud enough to echo in the small space.

“Shhhhh!!!”

His stare’s more intense than in life, that cat-like part of him where you could feel his stare across the room, now with unblinking cloudy eyes. They’ve kept their yellow shine despite his pallor skin. But his movement’s stopped at least.

“Kenma I need you to be quiet okay? It’s dangerous to make noise. Can you be quiet for me?��

He nods.

You set your can down for now, standing and listening intently. No movement on the loud floorboards above you. No noise outside save for the rain and the occasional caw from a bird. Safe.

“Okay lemme clean this up”

Pickles are easy to pick up at least, though the whole room stinks of vinegar now. Hopefully it’s not enough to draw anything to you. Wouldn’t like, blood or something draw them? Yeah, this must be safe okay just, grab a plastic bag from the convenience store, shove the pickles and glass in and toss it out at some point later. You already have a rotting corpse for a friend you don’t need rotting food down here too. Curiosity makes you wonder though as you touch the wet food, the vinegar unpleasant on your dry fingers.

“Kenma can you smell this, or is it just blood you can smell?”

He stares blankly

“Shoot sorry okay uh, Kenma can you smell vinegar? What you just spilled?”

A pause, and then a small nod.

“Kenma, can you smell blood better?”

Awkward timing to ask that as in your distraction, your finger catches on the shards, cutting shallowly but more than enough for it to burn. Flinching at the pain you shuffle away as you hear more than see him tense in his bounds. One of his pupils swells to an unnatural level of dilation, intently watching the red dripping down your finger.

He nods.

After cleaning up the rest, much slower this time to avoid another mess up, and to keep a very very close eye on Kenma considering his reaction. You finally pick up the rest and stow it away in the corner. Wiping your hands on your old pants.

That general store's first aid kit better have disinfecting wipes left. And it does! “My lucky day! Ah, haha..... Yeah, sarcasm isn’t very funny without an audience.” Or in general. A wipe, a bandaid, and boom! Good as new.... Geez he’s still staring.

“Kenma I’m fine, chill. You look like you want to eat me.”

He glances away though his attention, like always, inevitably comes back to you.

“It’ll heal. I know you can survive a lot of things I can’t. But I can heal and you...”

You trail off, thinking about the injuries that plague the better half of one side of his body. Questioning how one even loses an arm but not wanting to know how.

“Shit Kenma, can you feel pain?”

Kenma blinks. Shit an actual successful one! Who knew he had it in him.

“Okay how about this, instead of using an entire wipe on just one little cut. Can I clean you off a little Kenma? It might feel better.”

A nod.

“Okay, I’m gonna come closer now. Kenma don’t move too much or you’ll scare me.”

You must actually be losing it if you’re willing to get this close, but... If it could make him more comfortable it feels worth it. Keeping your movement slow in case fast ones set off hidden hunter instincts or something, you settle at his side, reaching out for his hand and trying to hide your wince at how cold it is. Decays made his already small frame even daintier, his wrist feeling almost fragile in your hand. Don’t focus on that just, clean him up. His nails are bloodied and you wonder how one hasn’t popped off yet. Ew. But rubbing around the nail beds (there’s no chance in hell you’re risking getting underneath his nails) his palm, between his fingers, his wrist, sliding the wipe a little further up his arm to get what’s not covered by his sleeve and. “There we go! Much better.”

He blinks at you again. Man this is, really close. There are so many details to his face you couldn’t see prior. His eyes are slightly shriveled up, the skin pulling at the corners. Despite his mouth being closed you can see a hint of teeth with his lips no longer being able to fully close. His nose has caved slightly in on itself making you uncomfortably aware of where his nasal bone is. You look away with a shiver and he shimmies in front of you, his hand twitching and faltering but succeeding in holding him up. You turn again and he moves, struggling to stay within your line of sight.

“Do you... want me to look at you?”

A nod

“Kenma I can’t. I-I need a minute”

His arm violently twitches. You can’t help the way your body lurches away from him, a well trained and well needed fear response.

“Please just! I’ll do it just give me a minute I-”

You blink.

Panic blinds you as a cold hand covers your mouth, shocking your eyes back open to meet his. It stinks it stinks it stinks! Your hands squeezing against his one frail wrist to force it away, the skin leathery and wet. You feel something pop. The force of your shove makes him lose his balance, slamming the air out of his chest like a second death rattle as he meets the wall. His wide eyes look up at you, neither of you moving as the dust that was shocked up in his fall settles. And then, he looks away.

It should’ve been nice to lose the intense pressure of his stare, but it’s not. Any new unpredictable behavior is frightening. As you move to stand, he starts kicking away from you. His trajectory slightly curved as his good leg does most of the work and his arm it... it falters with each push. His wrist moved more than it should, more than it could even a minute ago.

“Wait Kenma!”

His head jerks back, silencing you. Afterwards, he continues his trek further away from you, as much as the ropes allow, audibly dragging across the floor.

“....Kozume?”

No response

He’s still not looking at you.

Unsure of what to say, you stand in silent watch as he struggles to maneuver himself into a seated position, hand slipping across the floor with each attempt to push up.

“Did I hurt you Kenma?”

He ignores you in favor of trying to scratch the floor with his limp hand, your previous work on cleaning him up already being undone.

You sigh as you open your pack. Only once your attention is away from him does he look up, looking away each time you lift your head. Satisfied once you find what you wanted, you start closing the distance between the two of you, pausing as he straight up glares at you. Face tense.

“Kenma?”

And in the most surprising gesture so far, he lifts his hand to place a finger over his lips. The gesture is clumsy, his fingers are unable to fully close and his hand’s dangling limply but the intention is clear.

He’s shushing you.

You roll your eyes.

“Kenma I didn’t raise my voice because I was looking at you. This is just.. It’s a lot. You’re a lot.”

He looks like he’d be blinking if his lids decided to move this time.

“Kenma, it’s okay. We’re okay. Or we will be once we get you patched up. That-” You point at his limp hand. “Doesn’t look comfortable. Is it okay if I come closer?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Kenma is it okay if I come closer? I promise I’ll be quiet.”

A pause and then he nods, his head turned just enough to see you as you finish the trip back to him. “Now I don’t know a lot about medical care but I think? Your wrist might be dislocated. So here’s what I need you to do.” You guide him through the motions, taking your time to make sure everything's lined up like the diagrams in the first aid booklet. It’s not possible to position yourself right and keep your distance but if this is how you die, trying to help an old friend feel more comfortable then fuck it. You’ll go out a proud idiot. Pushing his hand down it snaps back into place with a crack. He hisses in discomfort.

“It’s all better now. You’re all fixed up okay? But just to be safe, can I have your hand Kenma?” His hand appears in yours near immediately. “I want to wrap this as if it were sprained, since you can’t heal? I’m worried we tore some of your muscle or something and I don’t want the damage to spread. Hold still okay?” The bandage wraps up and around, carefully around his palm. It’s almost like taping up his fingers before a game. “Is that okay Kenma?” He nods, gaze not rising from the floor and the rest of the day is spent in silence, Kenma occasionally testing his hand’s movement throughout the night.

#kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma kozume #haikyuu #tw zombies

30 notes · View notes

shaekingshitup · 4 years

Text

unintended part two

A/N: ALRIGHTY FOLKS! WE ARE BACK WITH SOME MORE ACTION FOR MR. JACKSON! As of now, the face claim for the reader is going to be Keke Palmer

But, if you’re anything like me. All I did was just post a picture of someone who wishes they were you and in this fic with you and Trevor Jackson haha. Whatever floats your boats friends. Please note that echoic memory is a real thing. It just doesn’t work how I described it haha. More like echoic and As always thanks to @glittermakesmesmile for giving me the first feedback and confidence to even post these things. Also big shout out to @twistedcharismaaa who helped me challenge myself to write more even if I don’t feel like it. So, this series will hopefully get some more chapters coming soon!

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

Pairing: Trevor Jackson x Black OC

Warnings: NONE

Word Count: approx 2500

HERE WE GO!

^ Jayden’s Song Association Fit

-----------------------------------------------

“Let me take my Black ass to the restroom while we got ourselfs a break. ROCKSY, what’s that cam’ra lookin’ like? We need another battery?”

“We’re good. Jayden, you want a snack?” Roxy redirected at their latest arrival. Jayden tried to sneak a look at the biggest one in the room and failed. He smiled at her. Her glance had caught both of them off guard and it made him feel giddy. It was the most beautiful and natural response she'd received from him-or anyone for that matter- in a while.

“I’m good.” she said hiding her own bashfulness behind her steely exterior. She maintained eye contact with Trevor. Roxy opened up a cabinet to pull out an assortment of Lays and refill the chip bowls that Trevor had demolished when he’d shown up

“ Imma keep tryin. Venmo? Paypal? Zelle? CashApp? Damn, I can get it to you in Bitcoin if that’s what you prefer.”

“How have you done on the game so far?” Jayden again completely ignored his attempts to repay her. She wasn’t concerned about a few extra dollars.

“I’m doin alright so far." He also refused to break contact first "So far Song Association has been the easiest game for me to navigate today.” Jayden blinked and conceded for now. Motivated by his win Trevor strolled over to the living room where she was admiring some of Terrell’s music selection.

“Clever.” she tossed over her shoulder as she reached for a vinyl. In one swift motion, Trevor had taken it from her mid-review.

“Al Green?” He smirked. “ You’ve got taste J. Let me guess.. uh, track 5?”

“What?”

“That’s your single. I see it. No worries though. We can work on that.” he said just as he caught a glimpse of Terrell returning back into the room. Trevor placed the album back in her hands and returned to his stool, readjusting his mic.

“Alright, Mr. Jackson. YA READY?! No more stoppin’ this midnight train to Georgia.” Terrell hollered. Jayden giggled at his silliness as she glanced at the tracklist for Al Green’s Greatest Hits.

Track 5: Tired of Being Alone

Damn he cocky. Jayden thought. At least it wasn’t in an overbearing manner. It was a little endearing. He seems a little goofy. That smile was very telling. But she wouldn’t show that just yet. Sitting back in her audience of one, Jayden watched them continue to play.

“If I gave you the word “Never” what hits your mind?” Terrell asked the singer. Trevor starts going into a Jackson 5 single that Jayden honestly didn’t know. But, she knows that he is DOING IT. Her eyes go wide as his Michael impression is spot on and before she can even register her own body's movements, she's vibing with it. Music always had a way of helping her with her emotions and channeling a less.. “feisty”,as it had been put earlier, connection with herself and the rest of the world. She was moving around in her seat and doing her best not to spill her coffee over herself or her new friend’s floor.

"Oh shit!" she said clamping her hand over her mouth immediately. That was louder than she expected. Especially since it hadn't meant to leave her head at all. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"AHA HA" Roxy guffawed. "I tried to warn you. Don't worry Jayden. We'll fix it in post anyways"

"Jayden you good girl. I had the same reACTion the first time I laid my eyes- I meant my ears on Trevor" Terrell stated taking a very pointed sip from his mug. Everyone knew he'd meant what he'd said the first time and it was causing them all to try not to break into laughter so they could push forward.

"Yeah. Very natural response J. Hakuna matata" Trevor confirmed. Jayden playfully rolled her eyes.

"What's the next word? He's a lil too comfortable" she spoke up.

Terrell nodded at Jayden and refocused on Trevor. "WAY. w-a-y"

Without hesitation, he bursted into song. It was another that Jayden was sadly unfamiliar with.

What is in this man's repertoire?

Soon enough Terrell explained that it was an original off of a project called Rough Drafts 2. At once Jayden grabbed her phone and opened her Spotify app. Creating a new playlist, she glanced up at the boys and locking in on Trevor she came up with an idea. "Thotful n Tired 💭" she titled it. She was adding damn near his whole discography when her ears perked up at the fact that he had an additional 200 unreleased singles on his computer at home. The more time spent in his presence the more the question of "Who the hell is this nigga?" rose in Jayden's mind.

Trevor responded to Terrell all the while staring at Jayden and answering her unspoken question as well.

"So any fans that live in L.A. and you wanna just come and listen to new music not recorded.." he trailed off leaving an open invitation for Jayden and the rest of LA.

He really just said: Come find out

------------------

Jayden was both relieved and saddened when Trevor was finished with his Song Association. In a very short time, she'd learned a lot about this person she'd never even heard of until that afternoon. As his song had promised, he truly had her beggin for more. The way they interacted and the feelings she felt towards him had grown quickly but it was familiar. It seemed as if they'd already done this dance before. Jayden was trying to figure out how to rationalize this to herself but she couldn't. It was the way that she and Trevor had silently held private conversations in a room with others. Even as they were learning one another, a lot of the pieces already seemed to be connected.

Trevor was filming his spot for Terrell’s outro. It took every ounce of restraint in Jayden not to cackle out loud when he said “I think we’re gonna queue the rain right now. Mm hmm. You feel that? This is not a joke. It’s a motion in your ocean.”

Trevor had made her feel a range of emotions in their time together. Jayden had laughed, she’d pondered a topic or two she’d never fully considered, she’d felt sexy and above all else- she felt noticed. Truly seen. It was a lot. But, the girl was a hustler by nature. So, she was keeping up with each curveball that day had thrown at her.

“Imma run to the restroom” Jayden announced. She wasn’t certain why she felt the need to do so. But it seemed far more courteous than roaming through Terrell’s halls.

“Alright we gotta get ready for you when ya done Miss Jayden!” Terrell called out.

When she returned, there was no Trevor in sight. Just Roxy and Terrell. Jayden wasn’t disappointed for them being there. Although she was a little put off that Trevor had exited so quickly and without saying goodbye? She wasn’t about to let that show though. Sure, she really thought she’d felt a connection with him. But, she wasn’t going to let it get in the way of the single calendar event of her year- outside of her birthweek of course.

“My turn?” Jayden asked as she returned back into the kitchen where the green screen was.

“Mmmhhmm” Terrell affirmed “I just gotta follow you to this res’room. I dun broke my damn seal. Plus, we waitin on Trevuh to finish his call.” As if he heard his queue, the front door opened and Trevor came back in.

“Oh.” Jayden let out. Trevor studied her as Terrell turned towards his restroom. Roxy was on the balcony getting some air and making a call of her own.

She was feening her cool, unbothered mask. But that one syllable had given her away. “What? You thought I left?” he asked.

“I mean you were gone. So, yeah.” Jayden said shrugging her shoulders and throwing her wrist back dismissively.

“Huh.” Trevor stared back quizzically. “I can’t do that just yet. One: I don’t think it’s fair that you got to see mine and I don’t get to see yours and two: I still need to figure out a way to make sure we’re even.”

“Ahh. So you’re stayin?”

“I got a little extra time. Plus, this is definitely worth it. But look, promise me something real quick.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Since you’re so gung-ho on not taking back the money which is owed to you. Let me pay my debt another way.”

“What if I like the notion of Trevor Jackson being forever indebted to me?” The smolder he returned to her made her feel that someone had pressed play on Puddles again. But she simply crossed her arms and cocked her head at him. They were in yet another staring contest.

Trevor let a beat pass as he wound up his pitch in his mind. “Aight, how about-

“Okay. I hope ya’ll enjoyed.. Ya break,” Terrell trailed off as he walked in on the tension that occupied the room. Jayden took a small step back from Trevor. She hadn’t realized that they were all in each other's personal space.

“Yup. I’m ready.” Roxy re-entered from the balcony and grabbed the mic Trevor had used earlier that day to affix to Jayden. “Feel okay?”

“It does.” Jayden said. All of a sudden all of that calm she’d felt left her. She was getting the nerves again. She wasn’t certain if it was because of the game she was going to play or the one she’d been entangled in since she’d laid eyes on Trevor. He himself was still trying to figure out this woman. She had a hard exterior and a beguiling sexual energy that he couldn’t detach himself from. When she sat on that stool allowing Terrell to compliment her outfit and introduce herself a little bit, she radiated. She also had a pretty good voice too for a Shits and Giggles winner.

“I’m mad at you” Terrell said.

“Why?” Jayden

“I hear it. I hear that there in ya throat box. You got them vocals.” Terrell said. “Why you hidin?”

“Ohmygod. Hush. I can hold a tune here and there. But I don’t know about them vocals. I don’t know how to control it.”

Terrell squinted his eyes. “I don’t believe it. Sing that song again. Because you got the emotion. I can tell you feel these songs here. You haf’way there but you too worried about sounded perfect. Let that go.”

Jayden was quick to adapt. She took that advice from Terrell and moments later you could hear the difference. Closing her eyes she tried again

Have you ever found the one

You've dreamed of all of your life

Do just about anything to look into their eyes

Have you finally found the one you've given your heart to

Jayden tried her best not to get into her head about fucking up and pushed the nervousness down within her. Because when she became tense it would lock up her voice and she would miss her mark altogether

Only to find that one won't give their heart to you

She exhaled from her nose and smiled because she’d clearly sounded better than the first time

Have you ever closed your eyes and

Dreamed that they were there

Jayden opened her eyes and stopped. She may not have control; but, she knew her limit

“Now I know you didn’t stop.” Jayden picked up some of the liquid courage Terrell had fixed her. Her coffee was long gone by this point. She couldn’t keep the fear at bay. She didn’t want to make that big of a fool of herself today and have her voice crack like a pre-pubescent teen.

Trevor was taking it all in. She was a whole party when put on the spot and she easily gave off a coolness that made you certain to never cross her. She was not one to be played with. But it was obvious that music opened up another avenue to Jayden. Trevor had seen it when their roles were reversed. She was empathetic to the emotions of whichever song he sang.

Her music taste was eclectic as well. She’d come through with country, gospel, r&b, showtunes and she seemed to have every Chicago rapper’s discography down pat. Trevor was genuinely impressed by her ability to copy and paste an artist’s essence into her own. She was fucking up the game and had songs for every word Terrell threw her way.

“RIGHT R-I-G-H-T” Terrell announced. Jayden glanced a look at Trevor and then she gave her undivided attention to Terrell.

Just stand right here

Let me show you what I'm about

To do to that body

And come down here

Let me show you where to touch my body

Let the foreplay begiiiin

Bet you never had this before

Cause once I go iiiiiiin

I'm gone have you begging for more

Boy, I'm talking right now, right now, right now, yeah

Right now, oh

Can we make some love right now?

Jayden laughed and when she’d finished, there was silence. It was like someone had pressed the mute button in real life. Then the room erupted with noise at once

“UH UH”

“hOw?”

“Whoa whoa whoa” all crashed on top of each other.

“What?” Jayden asked.

“WHAT?! This heffa really just said WHAT? TUH!” Terrell hollered.

“Wait. You said you’d never heard of Trevor before,” said a very baffled Roxy.

“Before a few hours ago, no. I hadn’t.” Roxy said. Jayden gave a shrug in Trevor’s direction.

“But you just sang his song?” Roxy asked

“Yeah. Because I heard him sing it earlier.

“You mean to tell me, that you heard this negro sang that song one time half an hour ago and you committed it to your memory?”

“Yes. I have perfect echoic memory. Obviously I don’t always process this in a way where I can duplicate it perfectly. But, I can mimic it pretty close.”

Trevor finally spoke up. “So when you hear something you can pull up that audio in your mind and not only play it back for yourself but you’ve trained yourself to be able to mimic it almost dead ass spot on?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much it.” Jayden said as if she’d just read rattled off the day’s weather report. “You’re pretty sharp.” The compliment rolled off of Trevor in his astonished state of mind. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Damn” he muttered looking at the screen. “Aite y’all, that’s my cue.” I gotta head out. Just as his mother had done, Trevor said goodbye to everyone individually. He saved Jayden for last. “Good luck Jayden. It was nice meeting you. Matter of fact, let me get your info so I can follow up with you to see if you really get that perfect score” He offered his phone out to her with the keypad pulled up.

“Oh, you already know that I came to win today.” she tapped some buttons and gave him back his phone. Looking down, Trevor realized that she’d followed herself on his Instagram account. She smiled but her eyes only said one word:

Checkmate.

---

TAG LIST: @twistedcharismaaa @mygirlrenee @glittermakesmesmile @sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy @shewrites02 @ghostfacekill-monger @raysunshine78 @shewritestheblues @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @fd-writes @eyeknowmywrites @thadelightfulone @yoyolovesbucky

Imma update my tag list and this fic soon y’all. Hold me to it.

#shaekingspeaks #trevor jackson #black oc #trevor jackson x oc #fics n shit #Terrell Grice #song association

31 notes · View notes

thathopelessromantic · 4 years

Text

Crossing Lines

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Mature (implied sexual content + mild language) Pairing: Lance/Keith Note: The comeback no one expected with a series I thought was finished in 2018 and a fic I started in 2019 finally finished lol

There’s a nagging worry in the back of his head that this is not normal friends-with-benefits behavior, but it is easily drowned out by Lance’s sleepy smile when he shifts again to face Keith. He hides another wide yawn in his shoulder.

“Those kids wore you out, clearly.” Keith observes, trying to fight back his own yawn.

Lance smiles fondly. “It was fun to see them, to go back and be with everyone for a while. But I’m really glad you were here when I got home.”

AO3: (X) Part 1 of the series: (X)

Keith looks away from his computer as his phone buzzes against his leg. Pidge sits across the room at her desk, muttering to herself as she readjusts the device’s calibration – again. Their project was supposed to be at least 80 percent theoretical, but Keith knew the moment he was paired with Pidge that option was thrown out the window.

He flips his phone over just as it vibrates again. There’s a text from Shiro, asking him for the third time about a shirt Shiro insists Keith stole and Keith insists Shiro just lost, and a snapchat from Lance. Dismissing the text notification, he opens snapchat.

Most of the picture is just of a bright blue sky above him, but Lance’s face peeks out from the bottom, at an extremely unflattering angle. The selfie is taken at chest level while Lance looks down at the camera. His hair is pushed under a backwards baseball cap with frayed stitching along the edge and there is, what appears to be, a sparkly butterfly sticker on his cheek. Above his head it reads:

don’t blow up my apartment while im gone, mullet. i live there.

Shaking his head, he taps away the message. Pidge still appears absorbed in her tinkering and doesn’t notice as he takes a blurry picture of her.

we’re not that irresponsible

It only takes a few seconds for Lance to reply, no longer bothering with pictures and just texting back.

HA! but seriously, hunk’s been sending me worried messages all weekend

…Hunk had seemed particularly anxious the last time Keith emerged from Pidge’s room for a drink.

hm…like an hour ago pidge thought she had gotten the laser to work for real and did seem a little maniacal…

Lance replies with a supremely unimpressed expression, made, of course, all the more effective by the butterfly sticker. Keith snorts, but also half-heartedly wonders how easily he could get away with saving a screenshot of the selfie. He just saved one last night, of Lance cuddling with his parent’s dog ruined only slightly by the caption insinuating the dog had better breath than Keith, but he brushed it off with a lie about trying to lock his phone and taking the screenshot accidentally. He’s not sure if Lance believed him then, but he definitely wouldn’t believe it two times in a row.

Pidge loudly clears her throat across the room. Startled, Keith dismisses the message, and nearly drops his phone in the process. When he looks up, Pidge is looking at him over the rim of her glasses, with one brow raised.

“…Yes?”

“How’s that report coming, Keith?”

He glances back at his computer, at the three and a half pages he had finished of their ten-page report. “Fine.”

“Hm.” Pidge looks away, jotting down some other measurements on a pad besides her. “And how’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my-” Keith starts before he gives up with a heavy sigh. It’s a waste of breath with her. “Lance thinks we’re going to blow up the apartment. Well I guess actually Hunk does, and he turned to Lance for help.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath about worry-warts and ridiculous roommates. Keith smiles at the, somehow, simultaneously exasperated but fond tone she uses and turns back to his computer, tucking his phone under his leg again. But it takes a while to focus on anything other than blue eyes and familiar, silly banter.

It’s nearly three and a half hours later, though it hardly feels like it, when Hunk knocks at the door, tempting them out of the room and their work-stupors with the promise of pizza, the heady aroma already spilling out from the kitchen. They settle in the living room, Pidge and Hunk on the couch with Keith on the floor in front of them, legs stretched out under the coffee table. Pidge is still complaining around mouthfuls of burning cheese that they were almost done, if Hunk had just waited a little while longer, but Hunk turns on the sci-fi series they’ve been watching together and within ten minutes into the episode her complaints have turned into an analysis of how the character’s spacesuits work.

Keith relaxes against the couch as their familiar chatter falls around him. He’s a little lost in what is happening in the show, they’re further than he’s been able to get on his own, but it’s nice to share it with them anyways, especially with the way Hunk laughs triumphantly when he guesses the ridiculous plot twist twenty minutes early and Pidge keeps comparing the characters to people they know with frightening accuracy.

It only takes them an episode and a half to completely demolish the pizza, but when the third one starts up in the queue, no one bothers to reach for the remote. Full of good food and only half-paying attention to the show, Keith can feel himself being lulled to sleep right there on the living room floor. He fights against the urge as much as he can, but the last thing he remembers is the upbeat opening starting for the next episode, and then suddenly the episode is ending as he jerks awake, knocking his knee on the underside of the table, hard.

After his unfortunate waking, he extracts himself from under the table, gathering up dirty plates, despite Hunk’s protest, and taking them into the kitchen – the moving helps wake him up, even if his knee still hurts like a bitch. The stove clock reads 7:03. He slips through the living room as another episode is starting and goes to their bathroom.

As he’s washing his hands, his phone buzzes with another text. He opens the text as he exits the room. It’s a picture from Adam, Shiro’s fiancé, of Shiro sitting on the floor of what Keith is pretty sure is their laundry room, head buried in his hands. There’s a very dusty pile of something next to him.

The text says: we found his shirt.

Keith leaves the text conversation, trying not to laugh. Considering all the trouble Shiro gave him, Keith feels like he should be at least mildly annoyed by this instead of amused.

He turns the doorknob to the room in front of him and swings it open before he even realizes what he’s doing. He freezes, looking in at Lance’s dark, empty room. Distracted, he had apparently been moving through the apartment on autopilot – straight to Lance’s room. Feeling like he’s breaking some kind of unspoken rule, he takes a few steps in. Lance’s bed is still a mess of blankets and pillows, and there’s piles of books and discarded shoes covering his floor. He’s only been gone a few days, but his absence feels so prominent, especially like this, Keith can’t help but feel like something is wrong.

He’s texting Lance before he can think better of it.

when are you coming back again?

Lance’s response is almost instantaneous.

why? missing me that much already, mullet?

Yes, Keith’s head or heart, or maybe both, shout.

no just wondering how much longer we get to enjoy this peace and quiet he says instead.

whatever, asshole …….tomorrow night

Keith silently but firmly tells himself to stop being so damn happy about this news as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He takes one last look at Lance’s room before stepping back out into the hall and pulling the door closed behind him.

He just barely manages to fight the telling smile off his face before he gets back to the living room.

Keith crashes at their apartment for the night, on the couch. Hunk and Pidge both try to convince him that he could take Lance’s bed and Lance wouldn’t care, but Keith is fairly certain he wouldn’t get much sleep if he was in Lance’s room – even if he would be alone – and insists the couch is fine. He wakes up once around 5 or 6 in the morning as Hunk is getting ready for his opening shift at a local diner but otherwise sleeps well until about 10:30. He wanders into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before going to roust Pidge. He doesn’t mind mornings much, but he learned very soon into their friendship that Pidge is very firmly a “night owl,” and has no interest in trying to deny her nature. She’s lying upside down on her bed when he gets to her room, and somehow managed to kick all of her blankets off of the bed, except one, which looks dangerously close to suffocating her.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, just staring at her. “How do you even manage this?”

“Mmphf.” Sleeping Pidge replies, very firmly.

“Right.” Keith pauses. “I’ll come back when the coffee’s done, actually.”

With a little extra time, Keith hops in the shower. As soon as he opens the bottle of shampoo, he recognizes the familiar, fresh scent as Lance’s soap. He’s a little surprised Lance left his favorite soap behind, even if he was just going to his family home for a few days. He also isn’t sure what to do, looking around the shower space for other soap. There’s plenty, and surely none of them would care either way if he used a little soap but…

Is he totally over thinking this? Absolutely.

Does that realization help him make a decision about which soap to use? Absolutely not.

What feels like ages, but is hopefully only a few minutes, passes before he finally convinces himself to stop being ridiculous and just use the damn shampoo. He just grabbed Lance’s first, it was a coincidence and if Pidge noticed later…well, she would just have to accept that.

…Right.

He washes up quickly after wasting who knows how long second-guessing his soap choices and leaves the bathroom to the smell of coffee slowly starting to fill the apartment.

He has to break the nonexistent, unspoken rule his brain has built up in his mind a second time, and trespasses across Lance’s room to find some spare clothes he’s left behind for overnight stays. He pulls on some clean boxers and his jeans from yesterday, but after he’s pulled the worn Altea University shirt over his head, he realizes its Lance shirt, not his. There’s a small hole starting in the bottom hem and the white letters are fading and cracked from excessive wear. It was folded in his drawers, so Keith is like…ninety percent certain it’s clean, but it still smells like Lance’s cologne. Or maybe it’s his lotion or laundry soap or bodywash, but between whatever lingering scent Lance has left on his clothes and the smell of his shampoo still obvious in Keith’s damp hair, he suddenly feels overwhelmed.

He hates how much he hates that Lance is gone.

It’s just a couple of days. Why is he such a disaster? They’re friends. When was the last time he missed Hunk or Pidge this much when they were gone? Even with their friends with benefits arrangement, what made Lance that special to him?

Actually, that was a can of worms he wasn’t really prepared to open just yet.

Keith makes a hasty retreat – a calm, completely normal walk out of one room to another if anyone asks – back to the kitchen for coffee. He pours a generous amount for both Pidge and himself, before he returns to Pidge’s room to finally wake her. He’s not exactly eager to spend another full day working on this project, but he wants to get it done, and he officially really needs the distraction.

It takes another hour, even with the promise of coffee, to pull Pidge out of bed, and she insists on showering “to feel like a real person” before they can get back to work on their project.

Keith has gotten as far as turning his laptop back on and opening their report, rereading the last few paragraphs to remember where he left off, when Pidge returns to her room in some leggings and a baggy t-shirt Keith is pretty sure belongs to either Lance or Matt.

“How about food first?” she suggests.

It’s not exactly the distraction he was looking for, but he shuts his laptop anyways, pushing it off his lap before she even finishes her sentence.

Sal’s is a small 24-hour diner just outside of Altea's central campus that makes it a popular place for both students and professors. Sunday morning, it is practically bursting at the seams, but it’s got good food for reasonable prices and Hunk, Lance, and Pidge had become regulars even before Hunk got a job in the kitchen. Within a few months of becoming friends, Keith had been invited along enough times that the waitstaff began to recognize him too.

Their wait for a table is reasonable, all things considered, and then Keith and Pidge have only been at the table for maybe three minutes before their waitress, Flora, drops drinks off at the table with a promise to be back for their orders in just a minute. Her long, red pony tail swings wildly behind her as she flits around the small space.

They hadn’t ordered anything, but Flora had been there for a long time and was used to their group stopping in, especially on weekend mornings when Hunk was working. But sitting on the table in front of them is two coffee mugs, and a tall glass of apple juice.

Keith and Pidge both stare at it for a moment, before looking to each other. Keith has a feeling the juice is making him feel a whole lot more…things than it is Pidge.

“I guess she just assumed?” Pidge finally says after a moment and goes back to the menu, as if she hadn’t memorized it within the first three months of their visits.

Keith pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the juice, sending it to Lance with a text:

from flora

Lance’s response comes in a few minutes later, interspersed with at least a dozen crying emojis.

i cant believe u traitors went to sal’s w/o me. tell flora i love her and one of u better drink that. we don’t let apple juice go to waste in this house

i am not telling her that. but i will drink the juice for u

Flora comes back to the table before Lance’s next reply comes in. “Just your usual’s today?”

Pidge hums and haws over the decision a few times, like she does every time they come, before agreeing to her usual order. Though she asks for fresh fruit as well today, just to mix it up.

He can feel his phone buzz against his leg almost the entire time Pidge is ordering. And again a few more times as he confirms that he would like his usual order as well. “But, Lance isn’t with us today so…nothing for him.” Keith adds awkwardly at the end.

Flora blinks at him a few times, surprised, before she snaps her fingers as if suddenly remembering something. “Right. I remember Hunk mentioning one of his roommates was out of town for a few days. Sorry guys, I’m just so used to your trio, or just you and him,” she says to Keith, thankfully not seeing the way Pidge wiggles her eyebrows and makes kissy-faces at him for the aside. “I’ll take that juice back for you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine.” Keith says, moving the glass closer to him. “It’s already poured, we’ll drink it.”

Flora arches a brow, but doesn’t argue with him. She promises their food will be out shortly and leaves the table.

“I can’t believe Lance didn’t request you deliver any messages to her for him, or insist we eat his chocolate chip pancakes in his honor too.” Pidge says once she’s gone.

Keith pulls out his phone, flipping it around to show Pidge the twelve messages he got while they were ordering. “Oh, I’m sure he did somewhere in there.”

It’s hard to get back to work on a full stomach, but they power through it. Their shared determination to not have to worry about the project after today deters the usual urge to distract each other. Still, progress is slow, and they’re still working when Hunk comes home from work and peeks in to check on them. They pass on lunch when Hunk asks after his shower, and give non-committal answers to his questions about dinner plans.

Keith is entirely unaware of time and date and hell maybe even location by the time he drags himself through the conclusion but he is bordering on ecstatic when he finally saves the document for the last time and looks up from the computer only for Pidge to look up from her own work and meet his eye a few seconds later.

“Done?”

He nods, and she gives an excited “whoop!” stumbling off her desk chair to throw herself on the bed besides him. “So I just need to add in my input and double-check the details match up, right?”

He nods again, and she immediately scrolls to the top of the document to start reading. “Oh!” she jumps up again, grabbing her laptop from the desk and the notebook she was working in besides it. “Do you want to double check the equations and make sure the experiment outline matches the order you have everything in the paper?”

He is relatively confident in Pidge’s work, but he agrees, nonetheless, and the two settle against each other in the twin bed to finish their work.

Keith isn’t sure when he dozes off, he doesn’t even really remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up, it’s dark in Pidge’s room. Both of their computers are on her desk and he’s alone in her bed. He sits up, half-heartedly feeling around the blankets for his phone to check the time.

“C’mon Mullet, you really had to move right then?”

Keith about jumps out of his skin at the unexpected voice, though he’d vehemently deny it if asked. Lance is sitting backwards in Pidge’s desk chair, pushed close to the door. He lowers his phone, smirking at Keith’s startled expression.

“I guess the deer-in-the-headlights look is fun too, but I was really going to enjoy lording the drooling-all-over-Pidge’s-sheets picture over you.” Lance teases.

Keith’s heart brain is doing some kind of stupid, fluttery thing over the boy across the room that he is pointedly ignoring.

“Shut up.” Keith mutters, even as he hastily wipes at his mouth. There’s nothing there. Asshole. He pushes himself off the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Lance presses a hand to his chest in fake offense. “Really? You sleep through my grand return and when you finally bother to wake up, that’s how you greet me?”

Keith crosses the room, folding his arms over his chest and summoning the most unimpressed expression he can muster. “You know what I meant.”

Lance doesn’t seem deterred by the new height difference between them, or Keith’s attitude, crossing his arms over the back of the chair and batting his eyelashes up at him cheekily. He’s wearing the same baseball hat from the picture he sent Keith yesterday, but he’s got it on in the right direction this time, making him look minorly less like a douchebag. The baggy zip-up, which may very well be Hunk’s, over a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and sweatpants isn’t really helping though.

“When did you get back?” Keith askes instead of commenting on his poor outfit choices.

Lance shrugs. “A little after five. Pidge said you started to doze off around four.” He adds before Keith can ask. “Hunk made stir fry for dinner.”

Taking that to mean Lance was actually sent here to wake him up for dinner, rather than simply coming to terrorize him because he was bored, Keith steps around him to leave. A moment later Lance stumbles off the chair after him, complaining all the way.

“Hey,” Lance calls after him.

Keith is already rolling his eyes as he turns around, assuming Lance has a few more jabs he wants to get out before they get to the kitchen, so he is wholly unprepared for Lance to hook a finger in the collar of his shirt and pull him close.

“Is this my shirt?”

It takes all of his self-control not to fly away from Lance’s hold, though the heat rising rapidly to his cheeks is probably giving away his embarrassment all the same. “Maybe? I just grabbed something from your drawers after my shower this morning.”

Lance has a look in his eyes that Keith recognizes as usually meaning something dangerous is in store for him. He leans in closer, stopping just before the bill of his hat brushes the top of Keith’s head. “Did you use my shampoo too?”

“I think you’re a little too obsessed with your things for someone wearing someone else’s hoodie.”

“Well I think you missed me while I was gone.”

Keith isn’t entirely sure who moves first, but one second they’re staring each other down daring the other to give in and the next he’s shoved Lance’s baseball cap off his head, burying his fingers in Lance’s messy hair while Lance’s hands have dropped to his waist, pulling him close with a bruising grip. Their kiss is uncoordinated and messy. Keith is ninety percent certain he was not the only one missing someone a stupid amount this weekend. His back hits the wall, and he faintly registers Pidge yelling something about her room from the other side of the apartment.

Lance rucks up his shirt, warm hands brushing over his sides, and Keith is dangerously close to wrapping his legs around his hips and saying fuck dinner.

They finally break apart for air and Lance laughs against his throat, the sensation sending shivers down his back. “I knew you missed me.”

“And what?” Keith asks breathlessly. “You were ambivalent about it all? I don’t think so. Not kissing like that.”

Lance pulls back to look at him with a surprisingly soft look. “I just wanted to hear you admit it,” he teases.

Normally, Keith would have a comeback for that, probably, but now he’s distracted as he runs his fingers through Lance’s bangs. “You have blue hair.”

Just the tips of his hair that are dyed, actually, not his whole head, he’s still surprised by the change. It seems a little silly, but it still looks good on him.

Lance, not one to be deterred by much, winks at him, striking a pose. “Hot, right? Rachel did it.”

“Yeah, it looks good.”

That does give Lance pause and he blinks at Keith and his easy admission a few times. “Er, well…we should probably go eat now. If just to reassure Pidge we aren’t defiling her room.”

Dinner is great, as usual when Hunk cooks, and they sit in the living room with another show on in the background, but they fill most of the time talking about Lance’s trip and gossip in their department that Keith is somehow always unaware of.

It is well after eleven before conversation begins to fade and they start to disperse around the apartment. Keith is, maybe a little, embarrassed about it, but he doesn’t bother to hide his intentions to stay with Lance rather than going back to his own apartment now that the project is done. For once, Pidge and Hunk leave them be with minimal suggestive looks.

Considering the brief tryst in the hallway earlier, Keith isn’t entirely sure what to expect when they finally retire to Lance’s room, but Lance doesn’t seem to be in a particular rush to do anything. Keith shimmies out of his jeans and drops into bed while Lance puts on some kind of moisturizer. He strips down to his boxers after and Keith can see new, blue markings up and down his arms before Lance turns the light off. Predictably, a moment later there’s a crash and Lance swears. Keith leans over to turn on the lamp next to the bed. Lance is leaning against the footboard, rubbing his shin.

“What did you knock over this time?”

Lance sticks out his tongue. “Don’t worry about it. Move over.” He says. He doesn’t wait before he climbs over the end of the bed and flops down, half on top of Keith.

“I would have moved if you let me,” Keith says into his shoulder.

Lance hums in consideration before he shifts on the mattress. Keith lets him maneuver him around the bed, mostly curious as to what he’s doing, until they end up on their sides, legs tangled together and arms around each other. Lance’s head is pressed against his chest, and his hands are, conveniently, on his ass.

“Lance-”

“Shh,” Lance interrupts immediately. “I had to go a whole weekend without even being able to see this ass, give me a moment to enjoy it.”

Keith laughs despite himself, rolling his eyes. “You are ridiculous.”

Lance wiggles against him, sighing contently. “You like it.”

“Whatever.”

Absentmindedly, Keith runs a hand against Lance’s back, trailing nonsense patterns against his warm skin. Eventually, he looks down, just to make sure Lance hasn’t actually fallen asleep like that, and sees the blue drawings on his arm again.

“What is all over you?”

Lance lets go of him to roll onto his back and show off his arms. “After Rachel dyed my hair, Nadia and Sylvio wanted to match, but Lisa, their mom, wasn’t really thrilled with the idea, so we found these tattoo markers at the dollar store and they were washable, so we went kind of crazy.” Lance shifts so his side is up where the black outline of a shark tattooed into his waist is now black and blue. “They also colored in my tattoo.”

“Did you draw these?”

“Haha,” Lance elbows him in the side half-heartedly. “I drew the rocket ship on my wrist, and the constellations on my shoulder, if they’re still there, are from Veronica, but everything else is from Nadia and Sylvio. Oh, and Luis,” Lance points to a…something near his elbow.

“A flower?” Keith guesses.

Lance snorts. “A lion, according to him.”

“Not the most artistically inclined I’m assuming?”

Lance shakes his head. “Not at all. Nadia’s pretty good though,” he turns over his arm to show off a dog on his forearm. “That’s pretty damn good for a seven-year-old drawing on a moving canvas with dollar-store markers.”

They just spent the last few hours talking about this weekend with Hunk and Pidge in the living room, but Keith can’t help but ask more questions about his family and what they did over the weekend. He brushes Lance’s hair out of his face, and Lance settles deeper into his arms, waving his hands in the air as he talks about the piñata he had to fill for the party by himself, that was bigger than the birthday boy, and the balloon mishaps that had his mother ready to call the whole thing off more than once.

There’s a nagging worry in the back of his head that this is not normal friends-with-benefits behavior, but it is easily drowned out by Lance’s sleepy smile when he shifts again to face Keith.

“Did you guys have fun this weekend?”

Keith shrugs one shoulder. “As much fun as you can have the weekend before a Kolivan deadline.”

Lance grimaces sympathetically. “You finished everything though, right?”

“I think so. We were just checking each other’s work before I fell asleep. If there was more to do, I doubt Pidge would have let me sleep for long.”

Lance hides a wide yawn in his shoulder. “That’s good,” he tries to say, only to break off half-way through into another yawn.

“Those kids wore you out, clearly.” Keith observes, trying to fight back his own yawn.

Lance smiles fondly. “It was fun to see them, to go back and be with everyone for a while. But I’m really glad you were here when I got home.”

The admittance is so quiet in the still room, and almost immediately drowned out by the way Keith’s pulse races, blood roaring in his ears.

Lance had closed his eyes, but he opens them again and looks up at him curiously. Keith knows he has to be able to hear the erratic beating of his heart. He wonders if Lance is even remotely aware of how many lines they’ve crossed in the period of their relationship, if he thinks at all about how little like fuck-buddies they behave when they spend nights wrapped in each other’s arms saying soft things and doing nothing else and if it affects him at all or if this is just how he is casually intimate with everyone. And he wonders why he hates that idea so much.

“Can I kiss you?” Keith asks. It’s usually Lance’s question, but for once, Keith can’t help but ask, ignoring, for now, how overwhelmed he is.

Surprisingly, Lance is quiet, and just nods his agreement, watching Keith with wide eyes.

The kiss now is nothing like the ones they shared before dinner, slow and gentle where the others were rushed and near-frantic. Keith wraps both arms around Lance’s waist, and Lance cradles his face with one hand, threading his other hand through Keith’s hair.

“Good night,” Keith whispers against his lips as they break apart feeling like he’s doing something unbelievably stupid even as the words come.

Lance presses one more quick, closed-mouth kiss against his lips. “Good night.”

Keith flips off the bedside table lamp, dousing them in darkness.

He isn’t sure how long they lay in the dark before Lance finally relaxes and falls asleep, but it feels like at least another hour before Keith admits to himself, he can’t sleep yet and carefully extracts himself from the bed. Lance makes a quiet noise of displeasure in his sleep, but easily stretches out, taking up the empty space and doesn’t wake up.

Keith goes out into the hallway, thinking he’ll just go to the living room and calm down but a light shines through the crack of Pidge’s closed door and he finds himself drawn there instead. He knocks once and Pidge opens the door immediately, looking around the hall almost alarmed.

“Keith? What’s wrong? It’s almost four in the morn-”

“Pidge, I think I love him.” Keith interrupts. “I think I’m in love.”

#vld #voltron #klance #fic #au #fwb #vld lance #vld keith #rita writes #fic: get some #lance mcclain #keith kogane #6.13.20

13 notes · View notes

crqstalite · 4 years

Text

lacuna.

(n.) a blank space, a missing part.

for MER 2020. day 7, celebration. set in 2185 [ME2].

She's still groggy as hell when the comm to effectively her new boss shuts off, readjusting her eyes to the dark comm room and rubbing the nonexistent sleep out of her eyes. Sore in a few places (all of them, there wasn't a single place that didn't strain when she moved -- bitterly she wonders who in hell woke her up apparently six months too early, and if they were still alive she was going to smack them to hell and back), and she can't help but gingerly touch the scars on her jaw. It was surreal to both be here, with Cerberus of all people, and to even be alive at all. To have to credit them with bringing her back to life, functional as far as she was concerned, was a little disquieting.

It's her, as much as she knows. Her thoughts still feel like her own. Her memories are all still there, fresh in her mind.

Two years, and twelve days. She can't believe it'd been that long, it felt like a very painful nap from when she'd suffocated in the wreckage of the Normandy, to when she woke up in the lab. Only a few moments before she was thrusted back into the waiting hands of the devil who couldn't let her die. Her first thought had been Joker as she raced around the station avoiding mechs left and right, she knew that the rest of the crew had gotten off the ship before she even reached the cockpit, but she'd been terrified she'd sacrificed her own life only to have one of her friends die on her. Then it'd been the rest of the crew, Liara, Garrus, Wrex, Tali.

Kaidan. To hear the Illusive Man confirm he was still alive gave her some peace of mind among all the unknowns. What he'd say to her new allegiances, she didn't know. But if he was still Alliance, and Anderson was still alive, she could find him. Explain what was going on, bring him back onto the crew. Then do the same with the rest of them, though finding them sounded significantly more difficult than finding a fellow officer.

Two years and twelve days she'd spent on that operating table on the Lazarus Project station, having Cerberus do God knew what to her to bring her back to life. There had to be some serious tech involved, because while Miranda had confirmed that no, she wasn't a cyborg and would still pass as organic, there was no way someone spent four billion credits to bring back a simple soldier who'd probably burned up past recognition on reentry.

742 days of being technically dead, dead as a doorknob really.

Miranda said they'd restored her as is. But something about this body just felt off. Maybe because she'd lost the muscle she once had, making the armor set much heavier than she remembered on her now lithe body. The textures felt weird pressing against her skin, the curls on her head completely gone in favor of her natural hair, short and fluffy and in a style she hadn't worn since basic training all those years ago. Other than the scars on her face, every other one was just...gone. Even the one on the back of her neck from the fight with Saren's corpse was missing, smooth, untouched skin there instead.

Skin grafts, if she had to make a guess. Though, it was so seamless when she'd been able to remove her armor before the mission to Freedom's Progress that she wasn't entirely sure what to believe. Was she still her? That was the real question. Looking into a mirror in the bathroom, the scars glowed red omniously. Organic was what she hoped she was, but that was beginning to look like too much to wish for.

Freedom's Progress was just a big disassociation fest, getting used to the off center weight of the N7 armor (it wasn't like any model she'd seen before, which was to be expected two years after the last time she'd been in armor), the use of apparently thermal clips (the hell were those?) and the fact she didn't have a supply of omni-gel at her disposal anymore (which she relied on when she didn't have Kaidan, Garrus or Tali in her immediate squad). It didn't feel like her body that was taking every shot with wavering accuracy. It didn't feel like her who'd reunited with Tali and helped her with Veetor.

She didn't like 2185 to begin with, and it only kept getting worse. Human colonies, abductions, Cerberus, Collectors. None of it seemed real. Sarcastically she wonders how the galaxy went to shit as soon as she died.

It still felt so weird saying that.

She'd died.

And now the Illusive Man was giving her a ship, which she's assuming is fully kitted, paid for by who knew what funds, and either a very cocky pilot or a very capable one.

The hopeful thought flits across her mind before she even hears his voice from behind her, "Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

She can't stop the smile that spreads across her expression, feeling relief wash over her body as she turns from the comm station.

Joker.

Of course, it'd be Joker. She doesn't know how it could've been anyone else, and damn well she wouldn't accept anyone else. Except she's not entirely sure how to react, instead walking over to him on unfamiliar legs, "I can't believe it's you, Joker." She says, just a little incredulous as he turns up the stairs, and she follows without another word, taking in the sight. How he's up and walking -- albeit more limping than anything else, but still worlds better than the first time she'd met him, is a question for later. One of the thousands that she figures he can answer better than the Illusive Man, Miranda or Jacob combined.

Shit, she's never been so happy to see her pilot before.

"Look who's talking, I saw you get spaced." He answers sarcastically, though she can hear a smile in his voice, maybe just as happy to see her as she is to see him. It's unsettling to see him in Cerberus colors, yet she's sure he has some funky reason for it. Yet his response is the most familiar thing she's had since she woke up.

Her throat tightens up just thinking about the moments before she'd lost consciousness, choking on the lack of air as the vacuum of the galaxy spun around her in a dizzily pretty array.

She wills the memory away.

"I got very lucky, with a lot of strings attached, unfortunately," She deadpans, feeling one of her knees crack again, the shift of armor scratching through her undersuit. Another Cerberus sigil on the wall sends shivers down her back, "How'd you get here?"

"It all fell apart without you, Commander. Everything you stirred up, the Council wanted gone," He sounds disappointed, and she grits her teeth. Of course they did, they didn't believe her about Saren until it was too late, she wouldn't put it past them to forgo believing her about the Reapers either. To keep their idea of peace instead of acting on the writing on the wall, deciding to paint over it entirely. It was going to get them killed and doom the galaxy, "Team was broken up, records were sealed, and I was grounded. The Alliance took away the only thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

It was an injustice enough to keep Joker anywhere but on the Normandy. Considering his words, they turn a corner. There's someone else standing at a large bay window as her next question dies in her throat, taking in their appearance. A woman with tanned brown skin, she thinks, staring out into what she thinks is a hangar, dark hair in a ponytail pulled through the back of her hat. She's dressed identically to Joker, and when she hears them talking, she turns her head towards them, arms crossed over her chest.

"Commander," She nods, smiling, "Good to see they finally got you out of that bed, hermana."

It takes her just a second to recognize the slight accent, the way she holds herself. Her green blue eyes boring into her soul from underneath the SR-2 hat. The tiny frame that could still throw a Mako over her head with her biotics if she wanted to. The grin that has a mischief undertone to it.

The other woman barrels into her while Kodelyn holds her arms out for her. Her sister's arms hold her tightly, and she embraces her just as tight back. Afraid to let go, almost. As terrifying as it was to think Cerberus had gotten their grubby hands on her younger sister, she's just glad to see her alive and well. Tears are pooling in her eyes as Citlali mumbles something into her shoulder, before pulling back with a grin, "It's...it's great to see you. Thought Miranda was crazy at first with this whole Lazarus Project thing. Didn't think a word of what she said was possible, still I went anyway because it was you. Damn glad I was wrong."

"I-yeah. Yeah, Lali, I've never been so glad to see you somewhere you don't belong." She says sarcastically, though unable to keep from a small chuckle.

"Hey, I belong just as much as Joker here does," She laughs herself, gently pulling her by the hand over to the hand over to the window, which she assumes is a dark hangar that houses the new ship they'd be using. She has a million questions about how she ended up here, where her parents were, where her brother was, yet she bites her bottom lip to keep from going on a tangent, "Whether I belong here or not is beyond the point, sis. We've got a mission to do, and I'm sure as hell not going to let you do it alone."

"Excuse you, she wasn't going to do it alone whether you were here or not," Joker reminds the sisters of his presence, her sister giving her a look that was half offended, half amused. If she had to take a guess, they'd been here together a while. More questions cropped up, now how Joker was brought on, and then how Miranda managed to convince her sister to come onto what she believes is her new crew. Hopefully because she's not in armor, she won't be on the squad.

"You trust the Illusive Man?" She asks skeptically, turning back to the pilot and raising an eyebrow. Kodelyn didn't trust him as far as she could probably throw him, which probably was rather far. Her sister shrugs.

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do," Joker deadpans, and Citlali snickers here, classic Joker, "But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly--"

Citlali moves to flicker a light on nearby, "Let us fly."

At the most, that answers her earlier question. If anything, now her sister was living the dream she'd had for years. Just for a mix of all the wrong and right reasons.

"And, there's this." He says, gesturing out to the dark hangar, lights flashing on. They glint off a ship she can't make out just yet, but her eyes widen as she puts the pieces together. The familiar design and hull of the ship, the pattern that jumps out at her once enough lights are on, "They only told us last night."

SR-2 is painted near the cockpit, Cerberus' logo following after it. She's stunned, and for good reason. They built the new Normandy while she was sleeping, and she has more concerns the Alliance might have moles in their company if they got plans for the new version. But her heart still swells seeing it, her smile only growing. Having both one of her friends and her sister by her side, and the Illusive Man's ominous answer to her questions on her squadmates...well she has some hope she'll see them all again.

"It's good to be home, huh Commander?" Joker asks, turning his attention back to her.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name." Kodelyn concludes.

"She's got a name, just a different designation is all," Citlali answers, breaking her immersion in awe by bumping her shoulder, "C'mon. The crew's already on board, plus Miranda will have our heads if we don't leave on time."

This is all crazy, she thinks as they meet Miranda and Jacob at the door, Joker and Citlali going ahead without her. She's given her own Cerberus issue clothes, different than her pilots' and what she assumes is the Captain's version of it. Someone else takes her armor plates from her, and she finds it rather easy to slide the clothes on over her undersuit and change out of it. The new ship is bright, larger than before once she lays eyes on it. Huge even. The cockpit alone has it's upgrades, but the CIC is massive compared to the SR-1's.

It isn't exactly home, she finds. So many different faces wandering around the ship, so many new features that definitely weren't in the plans for the SR-1. Yeoman -- Kelly Chambers is friendly enough, though she's never had her own assistant to file things. Miranda is just as cold as she was when they first met and is apparently her XO now (not her first choice, but at the moment she doesn't have any other choices), Jacob doesn't say much she doesn't already know. Joker is just happy to be back in a Normandy, forget who built it, Citlali more than excited to finally put her schooling to use, hands flying over the controls at a speed that only her senior pilot can match. EDI is a new variable, one Joker doesn't like, one Citlali is wary of. Dr. Chakwas is a happy addition, the older woman was just as glad to see Kodelyn as she was to see her. Pressly was apparently dead, but they hadn't replaced him. Miranda got the XO position Pressly had, Citlali got the navigator duties.

Her cabin is on it's own floor, dubbed the loft by Chambers. There's a fish tank bubbling on one side of the wall, though devoid of any life so far. Fitted with a bed meant more for two, and enough work space for four.

It feels empty. Lonely even as she takes in all her new things scattered across the room.

They've got a mission to Omega, to find a Salarian doctor by the name of Solus. Dossiers for Archangel, who's also on Omega, a Krogan scientist on Korlus, and a criminal on Purgatory. None would be her first choice, but her first request was to get to the Citadel. She needed Alliance and Council allies, and she knew she could rely on Councilor Anderson. En route, they've got about a day until they dock.

While she has some worries about how it was acquired, she's more than happy when she finds nestled among her Cerberus issued belongings is a photo of Kaidan propped up on her desk. She places it back down, grinning like an idiot. He was still alive, not one of her dossiers but that was the only thing not making her want to defect entirely.

It'd be just like old times when she found everyone else. They'd take down the Collectors just as they did Saren, Cerberus or otherwise.

and with that i lead into the main part of eye of the storm, the mostly janky planned shenko fanfiction i was already thinking of two months ago. now given, this story takes place in ME2 (or at least ‘all the stars’ will, thats what this chapter leads into) so it won’t be as much shenko as it will be a retelling of ME2 with a few ocs. citlali is one of them, but johansson and petrakis will be part of it. some side...sort of shakarian? i only say that because brione (petrakis) is shepard in her own universe, but for now i’ll refer to that ship as petrakarian in the eye of the storm universe

now im rambling. im just happy i finished MER week is all. loosely followed the prompts lmao. >:3

#mass effect #mass effect oc #original character #mass effect fanfiction #merweek2020 #mass effect relationship week #eye of the storm #female shepard #original female character #citlali velasquez #joker #jeff moreau #kodee shepard #kodelyn velasquez #oc

12 notes · View notes