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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

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AWF Outtakes: A Night With the Skelebros

I asked if anyone would be interested in reading some of the scenes I wrote for A Warm Feeling that didn't make the cut, and I got a pretty positive response! So, here's something I wrote out, decided didn't fit, and then decided I wouldn't be able to reuse later.

This takes place in the middle of chapter four! I'm a little impatient, so I ended up skipping a lot of Grillby actually staying with the brothers. This is the missing segment describing the first night! (Note that because this is an outtake, it picks up very abruptly. The paragraph that smoothly transitioned it into the fic no longer exists.)

Of course, just as Sans promised, Papyrus was just as insistent as his brother that Grillby stay the night. "Eating three meals a day is an important part of every monster's routine!" Papyrus declared. "Neglecting that need is unacceptable! You need not worry, however, my dear friend of Sans! I, the Great Papyrus, shall cook you all the spaghetti you can eat! Nyeh heh heh!" He dashed off to the kitchen to do just that, excited. They had a house guest! And it was one of Sans's friends!

Honestly, Papyrus had been worried about his brother lately. He never seemed to really talk to anyone, other than when he was hanging around that greasy bar. Papyrus had heard from others that even there, Sans was unusually quiet these days. The fact that Sans had brought home a friend that he seemed very close to was a good thing! Papyrus was just glad that his brother had someone to talk to. Sans… didn't really talk to him as much as he used to, these days. He needed a friend.

While Papyrus cooked, Grillby was still sitting on the couch (by order of Sans). Sans had turned on the TV and was spread out on the other end, watching some weird one-man play Mettaton was doing. The story was really hard to follow, but part of that could've been that Sans's attention kept drifting from the screen to the fire monster relaxing nearby.

Grillby looked more relaxed than Sans had seen him in ages. He was reading quietly, some sort of historical fiction book in his lap. The skeleton noticed that Grillby would occasionally tilt his head and adjust his glasses when he came across something that intrigued him. It was… cute.

When Sans saw the bartender adjust his glasses for the third time, he chuckled, accidentally giving himself away. Grillby looked up at him over the rim of his glasses, a small smile forming when Sans quickly redirected his gaze to the TV. Not quickly enough. "What's so funny?" the bartender asked, amused.

Sans shrugged. "I dunno. You, I guess. I mean, well um, it's that thing you do when you read."

Grillby looked confused. "What thing?"

"When you're reading, you tilt your head," Sans explained shyly, "And then you push your glasses up. Which is good, because they keep slipping down, heheh." Sans rubbed his neck again, looking up at Grillby with a nervous laugh. Grillby tilted his head and pushed up his glasses, making Sans snort. "You just did it again!"

Grillby blushed a bit. "What? Oh, I… I guess I did. I never noticed." He couldn't help chuckling to himself. He was surprised that Sans noticed that little habit. "I suppose it may be a little funny. Well, it's not like you don't have any quirks of your own."

"Like what?" Sans asked.

"Well," Grillby began to explain, "You rub the back of your neck when you feel awkward or shy. You do it every time I catch you staring."

If Sans had a stomach, it would have done a flip. "Staring? I wasn't staring. We just, uh, happened to look up at the same time. Yeah."

Grillby chuckled, then pointed to Sans's arm. "Told you so," he said mischievously.

Sure enough, Sans had moved to rub the back of his neck. "Heh, alright," the skeleton chuckled, "But that doesn't prove I was staring. And you have anxious ticks, too."

Grillby set his book aside and sat up, sitting cross-legged as he turned to face Sans. "Oh? Well, do go on."

For some reason, having Grillby's full attention made Sans feel almost flustered. The fire monster's expression had settled into a soft, amused smile, and his eyes were alight with more than the usual fire. They shone when genuine interest and amusement, his expression and body language gentle and at ease. It occurred to Sans that he'd never really seen Grillby in a casual setting. It was nice.

"Sans?"

Grillby broke the skeleton's train of thought, sounding slightly concerned. Oh yeah! He was still waiting for a response! Sans came back to the present and chucked. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what to call you out on first," he bluffed lightly. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling before beginning. "So, Grillby's nervous ticks. Where should I start? When you've had a lot of rude customers, you tend to flick your wrist a bit sharper when you mix drinks. When it starts getting really crowded sometimes you tap your pen against your notepad when you're taking a large order. You tap your foot when you're impatient and you kinda bounce on your heels a bit before you run off when you're in a rush…" Sans trailed off, looking at Grillby again to gauge his reaction to all that.

He'd expected Grillby to be amused, or maybe surprised. That wasn't quite the case, though. Grillby was blushing madly, covering a shy smile with one hand. "Well," the bartender mumbled slyly, "I didn't know you watched me so closely. Maybe you stare more often than I thought."

If Sans could blush, he would've been as red as Papyrus's spaghetti sauce. He pulled his hood up and pulled on the strings, tightening it to hide his face in embarrassment. "Grillby-!"

"I don't hear you denying it anymore." The bartender chuckled softly, leaning forward a bit. "Aww, Sans, don't be so embarrassed. I… I really don't mind."

Sans peeked out from his hoodie, cautious and shy. What the hell did Grillby mean by that? He liked the attention? Or… was it possible that he liked the attention specifically from Sans? "Heh, Grillbz… I–"

And then suddenly, the Great Papyrus appeared! "DINNER IS SERVED!" he declared loudly, balancing three plates of spaghetti in his arms. The monsters on the couch startled and jumped away from each other, back on their respective ends of the couch. Papyrus didn't seem to notice, passing out plates and sitting between Sans and Grillby. He turned to Grillby with a wide smile and an expectant look in his eyes, apparently eager for the bartender to try his pasta. "Now I know you prefer greasy foods," the skeleton said, "But trust me when I say that you will undoubtedly be won over when you try spaghetti made by none other than master chef Papyrus!"

Grillby picked up his fork as he considered the pile of noodles on his plate. He looked up to see that both of the skeletons were watching him then. "You're making me nervous," he chuckled.

Sans rolled his eyes. "Just try it already!"

"Alright, alright." The bartender lifted the fork to his mouth, feeling awkward under the attention. Finally, he took a bite of Papyrus's spaghetti.

It was… interesting…

Papyrus looked happy, though! "What a passionate expression! You must love it!"

Sans expected Grillby to make a comment that it wasn't good, or he wasn't hungry, or something else awful. He braced himself for the awkward conversation, but it never came. He was surprised to see Grillby pull a smile back on his face, despite the strong aftertaste that Sans was sure had to be lingering in the back of the fire monster's throat. "It has a very unique flavor," the bartender commented lightly. "I really appreciate you sharing your cooking with me."

Papyrus straightened up with pride. "Of course! I'm happy that you like it. There's plenty left, so don't be afraid to ask for seconds!" He picked up the remote and turned the volume of the TV up a bit, gleefully watching Mettaton do whatever it was that Mettaton was doing.

Once he was sure that Papyrus was focused on the television, Sans leaned forward and mouthed a quick 'thank you' to Grillby. Grillby responded with a small smile and a nod that made something warm spread through his chest. It was one thing to be kind to Sans… but it was a whole new level to be that kind to Papyrus.

After dinner, Papyrus took all the plates to the kitchen with him and started on washing dishes. Sans took the opportunity to move a bit closer to Grillby, hunched over a bit as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Hey… thanks for that."

Grillby looked away from the TV, confused. "For what?"

"For being nice to Papyrus," Sans said quietly, not wanting his brother to overhear. "I mean, people are polite enough talking to him, I guess, but he can be a little much for some monsters. I also know that his spaghetti is a little bit of an acquired taste, heh. I'm surprised you ate everything on your plate."

Grillby smiled a bit. "It wasn't that bad after you got used to the aftertaste, actually. Your brother is very… enthusiastic. I don't see anything wrong with that. So, you're welcome, I guess. I'm glad I made him happy tonight."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, a warm feeling settling over them both as they went back to watching TV. They were totally unaware of the tall skeleton spying on them from the kitchen, thankfully out of earshot. Papyrus wasn't sure what the two had been talking about, but Sans had looked very happy.

He'd missed seeing Sans happy.

Later that evening, Papyrus managed to find a shirt and some sweatpants for Grillby to sleep in. They were both too large, seeing as they belonged to Papyrus, but it was better than sleeping in the formal clothing that the bartender wore to work. The drawstring on the pants was pulled almost as tight as it would go, and the shirt hung off of him also like a nightgown. He looked small, under all that fabric.

Question was, where would Grillby sleep?

"He can have my bed," Sans immediately volunteered. There was no way he was going to make Grillby sleep on the couch when he wasn't feeling well. He'd been the one to bring Grillby home, so it made sense that he'd be the one to make room for him, right?

Papyrus frowned at that. "Sans, your 'bed' is just a mattress on the floor. You don't even have a sheet on it. He needs a proper place to sleep! He should take my bed!"

"Boys," Grillby interrupted with a nervous chuckle, "Thank you, but I really don't mind sleeping on the couch. I'm already feeling much better than I did this morning…" He trailed off into a yawn, blinking tiredly. Yeah, perfectly fine. Sure.

Sans huffed, a little irritated. He was getting tired of Grillby saying he was fine when he was obviously not fine. Was this how Papyrus felt when Sans dodged questions about why he was having so many nightmares? Sans made a mental note to be more honest with his brother as he took a deep breath. "Look, Grillbz, we both know that's bullshit. As much as I hate to admit it, Papyrus has a point. My mattress is barely better than this couch, anyway."

"Exactly!" Papyrus one hand on his hip, using the other to gesture at his door as he spoke. "I am more than happy to open my room to a friend of Sans, and a future friend of mine! And as poorly as Sans may speak of this couch, it can actually be quite comfortable when you find the right position."

Sans rolled his eyes, chuckling. "And sleeping on the couch means Papyrus has an excuse to stay up and watch Mettaton's late shows."

Papyrus huffed. "That is absolute slander!" he cried. "I just so happened to have already decided I wanted to watch the late show tonight! And I do not need any excuse to do so!"

"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Paps."

"You are incorrigible!"

Sans glanced towards the couch and stopped. "Paps, shush."

Papyrus scoffed. "Do not shush me! The Great Papyrus will not be–"

"No, really," Sans cut him off. "Look." He nodded to the couch pointedly. When Papyrus looked, the reason for Sans's sudden concern about volume quickly made itself clear.

At some point during their bickering, Grillby had fallen asleep on the couch, breathing gentle and even. Sans chuckled. "Heh, I knew it. He can't fool me when he's tired." After a moment of consideration, the skeleton shrugged and turned Grillby blue, levitating him gently so he wouldn't be disturbed. Once he was sure the bartender wasn't about to wake up, he turned to Papyrus. "Why don't you go get ready for bed while I tuck this guy in?" Sans asked in a whisper.

Papyrus nodded, chuckling as he lowered the volume of his voice. "Agreed."

There's a LOT more deleted scenes where that came from. Like, over thirty pages of deleted scenes, and there's sure to be more as I go. Let me know if you want to see more! Thanks for reading!

#dustyfic #dusty writes #dusty a warm feeling #undertale #undertale fic #sans #grillby #undertale sans #undertale grillby #sans x grillby #sansby #dusty outtakes

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Apple Of My Pie (5) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story Chapter 5.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.8k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers; angst, very little fluff

Rating: suggested 18+

Trigger Warnings: swearing, slight anxiety, verbal fight, generic allusions to sex.

A/N: Hello my cupcakes! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: As Jin and Grace grow more intimate, Buttercup realises she needs a way out of her situation, and Namjoon and Jeongguk offer her just that. However, as the events develop, she understands that her decision needs to be even more drastic. Jeongguk teaches Seokjin a very tough lesson — maybe the toughest of them all.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing. Allusions to sex; accidental overhearing. Seokjin is kind of a jerk, Jeongguk is very angry at him. Verbal fight. Buttercup feels slightly anxious/panics at the thought of going back to the apartment.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

If you’d like some company, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

There were things you never thought you would have to do, things that made you realise the absurdity of your position, the complete stupidity of the circumstances.

Real people don’t need to handle this. Real people live banal lives, date, fall in love, break up. Or get married, have kids, grow up and grow old together.

Real people aren’t awake at four am because their crush’s date is mewling from the opposite side of the apartment.

You didn’t want to ask yourself questions.

You wanted to sleep and possibly wake up cold. That is, dead.

She mewled. Of course, not actually cat sounds but rather that kind of small, shy squeals that usually mean “I’m shy but I love whatever this person is doing”.

You didn’t allow yourself to dig into that.

You just turned to the other side and pressed the spare pillow against your head, trying to mute the sounds — and maybe mute your thoughts in the process.

Maybe accidentally suffocate yourself.

It was ridiculous.

This had happened about a month ago, with reversed roles — you being the squealer and Seokjin being the unfortunate listener.

You wondered whether he had felt just like you were feeling at that moment.

You thought about wearing your headphones and blasting some music. You thought about rushing out of the apartment and smashing the door on your way out.

You knew you had no one to call, no one who could rescue you at four am on a winter night, sheltering you from the shards of your heart precipitating and stabbing your guts.

Maybe you were allucinating. Maybe it was the sound of your pulse getting too loud because you didn’t trust yourself breathing without emitting a sob.

No, it was the headboard. There was no other way to explain the thumping.

You turned and grabbed your phone, sending a hopeless shout in the void. Just a text to the one most likely to answer, even though the chances were pretty thin.

Are you awake? Perhaps?

The thumping subdued.

Your vision blurred as you stared and stared, occasionally tapping the screen and praying for a miracle.

You thought you had fallen asleep, trapped in a nightmare, when a small bubble appeared.

On the hunt. We’re just back from Mulbreigh field. I guess you’re home?”

You shook yourself up and got moving, not even caring to keep quiet. The thumping had resumed, and so had the mewling.

At Ginger’s in five.

Gotcha.

You did exit the apartment in a few minutes, grabbing just the bare necessities, and closing the door quietly.

By now you were familiar with nightly runaways.

And you were also familiar with the trio headed toward you.

“Buttercup, is that you?” A calm, familiar voice asked.

“Joon?”

“Yeah, it’s us. We have just one field left.” He said. “We’re hoping to get the last one in time for the meteor shower.”

You raised your eyebrows. “There’s a meteor shower tonight?”

The other man at Namjoon’s side was a vet from a city nearby, who occasionally helped him track new wild animals that inhabited the area. “Yes. At around five am. It will be barely visible, but it will be there. Nice to see you, Buttercup.”

“Hello Marcus, always a pleasure.” You said kindly, still shaking your head at the nickname. Shortly after, you noticed the third man greeting you. “Hi Buttercup!”

“Hello Guk!” You said. “How many did you find?”

“We found three owls and got them chipped and registered. And we found a new fox, just out of Mulbreigh. We’re going to track him or her soon, hopefully. No wolves, fortunately.”

You smiled. “That’s good news!” You said enthusiastically, thinking about how the farmer would have menaced those. The four of you walked toward the last location, taking a long path stretching north.

“We’re hoping to find deers, honestly. Remember when we found that doe, last year? Apparently she found a way to remove her tracker and we’re hoping we can keep her monitored, just in case she has more fawns this year.” Marcus explained, at which you nodded in interest.

Staying focused allowed you to remove some thoughts from your mind, but at the same time you kept yourself out of their way, letting the experts work, following them from a distance as they combed the field and placed pheromones signals around the area, hoping to attract the doe to the trees near the field, where it was easier to find her traces and where it was potentially easier to catch her.

“There’s no point going on here,” commented Marcus. “We can only wait. It might take weeks.”

Namjoon huffed and nodded. “Oh, there!” He said, pointing up. A white sign resembling a scratch slashed the horizon in the west, Jeongguk whipping his head in the direction, his pretty eyes widening in wonder as he saw one more shooting star zoom through the sky lighting up at dawn in such delicate shades, from rose to periwinkle to deep royal blue.

For a moment you stared at the sky, feeling its immensity, peace and beauty heal you slowly and steadily. How could such tiny human matters affect its infinity? You let your eyes drown in the greatness of everything, with the snowcaps rimmed in gold in the distance, and the meteors becoming invisible as the sky finally became too bright.

“Guk, Buttercup, why don’t you head home while me and Marcus drive back at the cabin and finish up the paperwork?” Namjoon suggested, by now extremely used to his routine.

Jeongguk looked intermittently at you and Namjoon, adorably confused before he nodded.

“Okay.” He agreed.

You smiled timidly before thanking him, the two of you starting your walk back to town. It was a thirty minute trek, at worst, but you were both fast walkers and in twenty-five you reached his small house. Bibby, his large, scary dog — who of course is a sweetheart, just like his owner — welcomed both of you, the oversized puppy throwing himself at you and barking just once before Jeongguk shushed him.

“How come you joined us?” Jeongguk asked, uncapping his orange juice bottle and pouring a glass, offering you some while you shook your head and declined politely.

You crossed your arms, your stance becoming defensive. You fidgeted and tried to speak, starting a couple times before stopping and starting again, trying to build an actual sentence.

Jeongguk looked at you and waited patiently. He was familiar with the blabbering, stuttering and reformulating.

“Okay. Don’t say this to Yoongi, but… Yeah, he took Grace home last night— That is, he brought her to the apartment and they… Slept together?” You said, your voice so squeaky by the time you said the final word.

“And by ‘sleeping’ you mean everything but, right?” Jeongguk asked tactfully.

You nodded and looked at the floor, busying yourself petting Bibby.

“I’m so sorry, Buttercup.” He said, coming close to you and caressing your back soothingly.

You didn’t have the energies to cry. You probably would, in a while, after waking up.

“You need some sleep, don’t you, Buttercup?” Jeongguk asked, patting your head.

Again you replied wordlessly, moving your head in approval.

“Bibby is a great nap buddy, and I can get the futon ready and let you sleep there.” He reassured you, already fluffing up the pillows and grabbing an extra blanket.

“I’d like to sleep on the sofa, please?” You said, sitting down and removing your shoes, Bibby immediately getting interested in your wiggling toes.

“Oh, you’d like that?” He asked in surprise, “try it first, I can still get the futon ready if you don’t like this old guy.” He joked about the piece of furniture.

You laid on your side, wiggling a little as you found the right position. “Can do.” You said with a barely-there smile. “Thank you, Guk.”

“It’s okay.” He said, throwing the blanket on top of you. “This one is just for guests. I washed it last weekend, don’t worry.” He reassured you.

Knowing Jeongguk, you didn’t even mind. He is a neat freak and a tattoo artist: cleanliness means everything to him. “Can I seriously keep Bibby?” You asked, soft eyed.

He beamed and nodded. “He only sleeps on the sofa.” He said proudly and, as if following his owner’s praise, Bibby climbed on the cushions, curling up in the space before you and laying his head on your arm, using it as a pillow.

You giggled and scratched the spot behind his ear.

“Ask me if you need anything.” Jeongguk murmured. “I’ll leave my door open, just in case you need help or something.” He commented sweetly, closing the blinds to the several windows before walking to the kitchen and coming back to you, placing a bottle of water close to you.

He noticed Bibby was already asleep and he caressed the dog’s head before whispering “sleep tight”.

You heard him leave the room. You closed your eyes, feeling Bibby’s lungs inflate and deflate regularly, his heartbeat strong, his short fur velvety and relaxing under your fingertips.

You fell asleep like a baby.

Waking up meant a lot of things happening altogether.

Realising Bibby was in your arms.

Realising you were on Jeongguk’s sofa.

Realising you were heartbroken and that the idea of going back home nauseated you so deeply you couldn’t even remotely consider it.

Jeongguk greeted you from the kitchen. “You’re up, Buttercup!” He cheered, while Bibby turned around and placed his big head under your chin, shading his eyes. He always marvelled you with his curious manners. “It’s midday, would you like brunch?”

You sniffed the air. Bacon and eggs.

“Yes, please.”

Bibby seemed to follow your lead, sniffing the air and running to his owner, acting way faster than you.

“Okay, what do we wanna do?” Jeongguk asked once you were both seated at the kitchen table.

You ate some food, chewing quietly as you thought. You took your time.

“Honestly, I don't feel like going home, I guess.” You said, staring at your dish. You felt a bit lost.

“We can hang out. Watch TV, meet the guys, do anything you want.” Jeongguk said.

“I was thinking of… No, it's okay, I should go home.”

“But you don't want to.” Jeongguk opposed.

“No, but I don't want to go back later tonight and find myself dreading sleeping in my room.” You said. You couldn't explain the emptiness in your stomach as you thought of the room.

“You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? I have a spare room. We can put the futon there.” He said touching your hand.

That small sentence felt like the water threatening to drown you was slowly lowering.

“I don't want to abuse your kindness.” You admitted shyly, softly.

“I am your friend. It is my duty to help you” He reassured you.

You mulled over your various possibilities. “Okay. But I'd like to go home and grab some stuff. Maybe they're not around.” You considered, looking at Jeongguk doubtfully.

“It's okay. We can go together.”

You exhaled in relief.

Standing in front of the apartment door, you took a deep breath, Jeongguk rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades, over your jacket.

You could already hear them laughing and chatting.

You slipped the keys into the lock and opened the door.

“I'll wait here, yes?” Jeongguk reassured you.

You nodded and went in, walking to your room hesitantly, only to be completely overwhelmed by the sight in the kitchen.

Jin was standing behind Grace, helping her prepare his special avocado sandwich, an elaborate mug topped with whipped cream and crushed almonds waiting beside her while the breakfast table was filled with any kind of breakfast and brunch food one could only dream of.

However, what truly unsettled you was Grace, wearing an oversized shirt — Jin's — bare-legged, with Granny's thick handmade socks covering her feet and calves.

Seokjin said something in her ear and she giggled cutely, throwing her head back and leaning into his shoulder.

They ignored you completely, caught in their happy bubble, while you hid slightly.

You refused to hold on, rushing back to the front door.

Jeongguk spoke softly. “Where's your stuff?”

You shook your head.

“I'm coming with you.” He said, placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you inside, closing the door noisily.

“Hello, we're here.” He called loudly, bringing the two of you to the kitchen.

Seokjin's eyes zeroed in to the place the man's voice had come from, spotting you instead.

So this is it, he thought.

He. Grace.

You. Jeongguk.

Jeongguk?

His jaw contracted.

“Buttercup came by to grab some things. It won't take long, will it, sweets?”

You widened your eyes at him and shook your head. “Yes, sure.”

You almost ran to your bedroom, picking up the most basic stuff to spend a night out and to head off to lessons the following morning.

In the bathroom, you collected your toothbrush and beauty products before returning to the kitchen, your bag ready.

“Good to go, sweets?” He questioned, looking at you with his expressive, gleeful eyes.

You nodded and gave him the tiniest of smiles. “Let's go.”

Jeongguk turned towards Jin and Grace. “Have a nice afternoon, goodbye!” He greeted, letting you wave at the two before dragging you out, not before offering Seokjin a smug grin and winking.

Wearing that mask took a toll on him. He hated what Seokjin had done to you through the years, acting like a protective older brother without being one. He hated that the man kept you emotionally busy and never let you out of his influence. Most of your past relationships had dramatically been brought to an end by Seokjin's asphyxiating presence, by the incapability of your partners to rival with your best friend.

He had ruined you for everyone else, and Jeongguk couldn't find any words to define how cruel that was.

“Are you doing okay, Buttercup?” He asked.

You smiled a bit coldly.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” He opened the door and let you in, Bibby welcoming the both of you.

“It's okay. They've been dating for more than a month now. He's been by himself for a long time–”

“But he had you!” Jeongguk objected as he took off his jacket.

Your mouth stretched sadly. “Not like that.”

Jeongguk scrunched his nose in disappointment. “Okay. You know I’ve had the biggest crush over you. And we know that by now it’s just water under the bridge. And maybe I never told you but it was so easy to get over you — no offence — since to me, actually to all of us, you and Jin have always belonged to each other. It’s canon. Anyone else would be wrong for the two of you. Obviously.”

You completely ignored Jeongguk’s mention of those old feelings. You already knew; it was all water under the bridge — just like he said — and the two had discussed it years ago. Instead, you focused on the belonging part. “He has Grace now. They’ve been dating for what? Six weeks?”

“He’s been in love with you for four years!” Jeongguk said, slightly upset.

“Well, apparently he didn’t do a great job of showing that! And it doesn’t matter now. He has Grace.” You repeated.

“The two of you are so stupidly dumb, I need to call Yoongi.” Jeongguk said, absolutely frustrated.

Silence lingered heavy in the room, like a thick fog. “Don’t call Yoongi, please.” You said, sitting on the sofa and curling up in a ball. “He’ll scold me and then snap at Jin and then Spice will kill all of us for stressing him and interrupting their kinky Sunday afternoon.”

Jeongguk startled and put down the phone. “Kinky Sunday afternoon? Is that a thing?”

“With Spice, anything is a thing, especially if it means alone time with Yoongi.” You explained, scratching your nose and hugging Bibby as he got on the sofa.

“Okay. Let’s think about happier, less traumatising things. Do you wanna watch some TV? I have some Disney DVDs from when Namjoon comes over. No Bambi and Dumbo because those make him cry.” Jeongguk said, exposing his friend shamelessly. “And I don’t want to pay for Disney plus, Yoongi would disown me and I would never tattoo him anymore and I don’t want that.”

You giggled, completely endeared. “Do you think you have Tangled?”

“Oh, yes!” Jeongguk checked the case and placed the CD in his PlayStation. “Namjoon loves Pascal. The chameleon.” Jeongguk gushed, sitting on the sofa, switching on a small lamp. “Oh, would you like some popcorn?” He asked, ever friendly and welcoming.

You smirked before nodding.

Pausing the film, he dashed to the kitchen, getting a bag into the microwave and coming back five minutes later with a large bowl, the whole room smelling of salted butter.

You hummed in approval and settled down, Bibby miraculously uninterested in the snack. He restarted the film and your mind got completely absorbed by that.

Seokjin was confused.

He had accompanied Grace home, and now he sat in an empty room — an empty house —, looking at the opposite end of the table, where you weren’t sitting.

Did you sleep with Jeongguk for revenge?

Did you maybe talk to him and he made his move and you said ‘why not’, just like you had with that dude almost a month ago?

Maybe you liked him. Maybe you had always liked him and the two of you had confessed — he had a different gleam in his eyes and he had called you ‘sweetie’ or some other dumb nickname like that.

He should have confessed. He should have stopped hiding his head in his ass and should have grown a pair and told you, Buttercup, I’m so far gone that I’d be ready to serve you for the rest of my life, hell, I’d even donate you my sperm if your husband was infertile and you wanted kids. I’d even give up a kidney, fuck, I’d give up my heart too for you.

He was a dumb, stupid fucker.

He wrote you a text.

I’m sorry about fucking Grace, please come home.

Erased

Please come home. We need to talk. I’m in love with you.

Erased

Don’t fuck Jeongguk, you can fuck me instead, please.

Erased

He realised he always wrote ‘please’, and the more he went on, the more he needed to add.

He tried to stop overthinking everything and focused on the actual reality of it all.

He stared at your empty seat again.

Are you coming home for dinner?

Sent

The silence felt eternal.

That must be how space rovers feel, he thought, thinking about that tiny robot that wandered over the surface of Mars all alone.

He felt like the whole apartment couldn’t possibly be home anymore.

He shook his head, telling himself he was being melodramatic. After five minutes, he decided to call you. You always answered texts about food! You knew how much it meant to him eating together!

With renewed tenacity, he found your contact at the very top of the list, three A’s added before your name to make sure it always stayed on top of the list.

And he called you.

The beeping sound of the call ringing went on for ages. He swore he could feel his hair grow and his skin wither.

He waited maybe for a bit less than a minute, his mind already knowing that you were upset with him, that you were making him wait and grovel. You were trying to get on his nerves. Most definitely.

The ringing stopped.

“What is it?”

It was Jeongguk.

“Is she with you?” Seokjin asked, cold as ice.

“Yes. Of course.”

“When is she coming home?” Jin asked dryly. He felt ready for a fight.

“When she wants to.” Jeongguk replied equally dryly.

“Give her the phone.”

Jeongguk breathed heavily. He didn’t want to pass the phone to you. Seokjin had no right claiming you like that, using that voice, acting so mean when he was the one at fault. “She’s sleeping.” It was true. You were really sleeping; you had completely crashed at the end of the cartoon, with Bibby keeping you warm and covering you in affection, never leaving your side. After all, some dogs have a sense of smell so fine that they can sniff at their owner’s skin and perceive the hormones making their human happy or sad.

Seokjin waited, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t work. “I bet you’re gloating. You finally have her, don’t you? You must be feeling so smug.”

Jeongguk stretched his neck, keeping his composure. “I don’t have her, okay? She came to me and I gave her space. I gave her somewhere safe—”

“Our home is safe.” Jin growled. “Here is safe.”

“With you breaking her heart by banging that girl you don’t love?”

“She also banged a man she didn’t give a shit about.”

Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “Did you bang Grace for revenge, then?”

“No. God, I’ve been alone for years, can’t I have one good thing?” Seokjin almost screamed, his frustration spilling over.

“Maybe she banged him to get over you. Maybe she did that because she’s tired of being alone, too.” Jeongguk explained, his tone glacial. His anger was scary — it didn’t explode or break. It froze everything it touched. “You hurt her. The moment you chose Grace, and with every date you went on. When you went to her on Valentine’s, when you banged her the other night. And there’s a difference. The dude she banged? That was just sex. But you and Grace? There are feelings there. That’s the part she can’t stand. This morning, when she saw the two of you in the kitchen? You broke her heart, Jin. She was broken—”

“But you fixed that, didn’t you, sweetie?” He teased, sarcastic and poisonous.

“Stop talking about my feelings for her.” Jeongguk chastised him. “Unlike you, I told her. I told her I had had a crush for her. I told her three years ago and I also told her that my feelings died down once I realised how she looked at you and how you looked at her. And we’re friends, we’re cool. I would never be able to look at her like anything more than a sister.”

Seokjin shut his mouth. He felt horrible. Maybe because he was horrible. He needed your sparkly laugh and your soothing touch. To talk things out about last night. Make everything right again. “Please, convince her to come home.”

Jeongguk tutted. “I won’t. She’ll come if she wants to. At her own time.”

“Jeongguk...” Seokjin begged.

“You both need to move on from this toxic bond. And there’s no way other than separating. Physically first, and emotionally second.” Jeongguk reasoned, repeating something he and Yoongi had discussed a thousand times.

“She is my friend.”

“You’re not hers, though. You are the person she loves, and the person hurting her. She deserves a real chance, away from you.” Jeongguk rubbed the crown of his head. “I have to go. Goodnight.”

He hung up.

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

#kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bangtan hq #thetruthuntoldnet #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #Baker!seokjin #bts fanfiction #bts blog #Seokjin flatmates!Au #seokjin friends to lovers

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galvanizedfriend · 4 years

Text

Fic: Speed Dating

KC Bingo 2020 by @klaroline-events

The prompt is: Losing a Bet

This is fluff inspired by an episode of House. I have no idea how successful this first endeavor into unknown territory was, but @itsnotacrimetoloveyou assured me it’s good and also confirmed that it is, indeed, fluff! Also, thank you for beta’ing this and for laughing at all the jokes! lol

I hope you guys enjoy it! :) Reblogs and comments are very much welcome!

______________________

There is something fundamentally wrong, Caroline thinks, in pitying the white, rich, genetically blessed art gallery owner she lives with. It feels like a waste of empathy. Klaus has the whole world at his feet. Wherever he goes, doors open, red carpets roll out, champagne bottles pop left and right. Which makes his brooding and scowling and antisocial behavior all the more inexplicable.

He isn't always like that, truth be told. When Caroline first moved in, Klaus was out and about all the time. Opening nights, exhibitions, soirées, premieres, parties - you name it. There were weeks when Caroline would barely see him. If he wasn’t at some event, then he was at the gallery, if not at the gallery, then locked up in his studio. As far as she knew, he was pretty much living the dream.

"He's never there," Rebekah said when she pitched the idea of rooming with her brother to Caroline. She used to share an apartment with Elena, but her friend had decided to take the next step with her dumbass of a boyfriend and since it was her name on the lease, Caroline was the one having to find a new place. Her money was short and so were her options. "Nik has this huge apartment all to himself and no one to really watch over it. All the plants I give him die within a week. He could use a roommate, honestly, and you'd be perfect."

"Is he looking for a roommate, though?"

"Not yet. He will be, when I tell him to."

"Rebekah -"

"Just come and see the place, ok? It's worth it."

It made no sense that a guy with his lifestyle and bank account would want to share an apartment with a complete stranger, and Caroline had the very strong feeling the idea never even so much as crossed his mind. Judging by the spirited spat she overheard between the two siblings while she waited outside, it was exactly the case. On her request, Rebekah went in first to talk to him; Caroline would only follow if he agreed to it. She didn't want to see the apartment of someone who wasn't looking for a roommate. She was about to sneak out through the stairs and pretend she'd never been there when Rebekah wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her into the apartment. Before she could even manifest her exasperation, her snake of a friend walked out and locked the door behind her, leaving the two of them there to stare at one another in complete astonishment.

"I think we've been set up," she said, affecting an awkward smile.

"Rebekah has never learned the meaning boundaries, I'm afraid," he said, not nearly as fiery as he'd sounded a moment before while arguing with his sister.

"Look, this was not my idea, ok? I was just looking for a place, and Rebekah said — You know what, doesn't matter. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

Klaus looked at her — really looked at her — assessing her with such sharpness it stole the wind off her chest. Mikaelsons... they're an intense bunch.

"Since you're here," he said after a moment. "Can I offer you a drink for your trouble?"

He opened a bottle of wine that cost more than Caroline's previous rent and gestured for her to make herself comfortable on the giant leather couch in his living room. He wanted to know what she did for a living, how she knew his sister, why she was on the market for an apartment, what kind of place she had in mind, what her routine was like. It was all obvious questions you'd expect from a prospective roommate, but it never felt as though she was being interviewed. Conversation simply flowed, such an easy back-and-forth she didn't realize what was happening until it was hours later and Rebekah was back with a few shopping bags in her hands and a triumphant smile on her face.

"So, when do you move in?" she asked.

"Whenever she sees fit," Klaus replied, albeit glaring at his sister.

"Wait– what?" Caroline blinked, eyes cutting from one sibling to the other. "What do you mean?"

"A spoiled brat though my sister may be, she does have a point. This apartment could use another soul. If you feel so inclined, you can bring your things whenever it is convenient. The guest bedroom is furnished, but I can put it all in storage if you'd rather have your own set. There's also plenty of room for your personal things in the common areas, you can make it more to your liking. All I ask is that you don't replace the art on the walls. I rather fancy them."

Caroline's mouth moved wordlessly for a long time. "You... I thought you didn't want a roommate."

He shrugged nonchalantly, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I'm known to be rather volatile."

"But I can't — I mean, we didn't even discuss rent and expenses. I'm a med student, I can't afford this place."

"Nonsense. It's mine." Caroline drew the breath in for a righteous protest, and he added, "We can share the bills, if you insist."

And, well. It's not how Caroline likes to do business, way too sudden, with none of the meticulous in-depth analysis she usually applies to absolutely everything, from buying dish sets to choosing a new hairstyle. Moving in with someone she didn’t know at all seemed like way too big a deal for her to simply skip those vital steps. She didn't even compile her pros and cons list. But…

The neighborhood was fantastic, the type where she'd never afford to live in as a student, it was so conveniently close to school, and Elena was pestering the hell out of her to move out so Damon could move in. She'd been to four apartments already: two were incredibly dirty — which told her everything she needed to know about the people living there; another had a single bathroom shared between four people, and the last had a creepy guy across the hall. The floor to ceiling windows alone in Klaus' living room would've sold her the place, and paying next to nothing? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The conversation with him had been rather nice, if she was honest, and he was Rebekah's brother, so if anything went crazy, she knew exactly who to call.

For the first so many months, the Klaus-is-never-home story was very true. After a while he started inviting her to tag along to some of his events, which she did in a few occasions, especially after he learned she could not say no to puppy eyes. "These people will bore me to death, love, please, save me." Klaus can be such a dramatic baby. The parties were great and the vernissages fancy as hell, but she didn't complain. Going out with him was fun. They got along well, the booze was always A level and Klaus enjoyed taking his time to explain stuff to her. Living with him, she got to learn more about artistic movements than in all her life before. It's more interesting than she ever gave it credit. Or Klaus made it seem so, anyway. The accent kind of goes a long way.

What Caroline came to learn about him after a few months, however, was that not everything was rainbows and unicorns for Klaus as it seemed at first glance. Nothing threw him off quite like his family. He only ever spoke about Rebekah, the only sibling who lived closed by and stopped for visits, even more so than usual after Caroline moved in. She did overhear him on the phone with Elijah a few times, too. The other three, though, Freya, Finn and Kol, Caroline only knew about through Rebekah.

"Nik doesn't get along with our siblings," Rebekah told her when she asked why he never spoke of the rest of the family. "I don't blame him. I don't know what mother nature was thinking when it gathered us all under the same genetic code, we're far too screwed up to be all in the same Thanksgiving dinner."

That was an understatement, in Caroline's opinion. Whenever Klaus went back to England to visit his parents and the rest of his siblings —- something he avoided like the plague but was apparently forced to do — he came back sullen and with a temper from hell. His sour moods could last for weeks. He'd stay locked up in his bedroom or at the studio for days on end, making Caroline slightly guilty for thinking she was the thing keeping him from circulating around his own place.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped at her once when she suggested she could move out if he'd changed his mind. "If you move out, I will hunt you down and drag you back here."

It was perhaps slightly too aggressive an answer to be sweet, but Caroline gathers that was Klaus' way of saying he didn't want her to go.

She stayed and learned how to navigate the storms caused by his occasional family reunions. Let him do his thing, don't ask about his parents, offer him food from time to time. They make do. But it still bothers her to no end. Like right now.

It's been a month since he came back from London, more upset than necessarily angry, and he has barely set foot out of the apartment. He stays in his sweatpants and ink-stained Marc Jacobs shirts all day, wavering between having too much coffee and too much whiskey. He hasn't even been painting, which points to an all-time low.

When she walks out of her room all dressed up, putting on her earrings, he's sitting in front of the television, flipping through channels nonstop. His eyes are so unfocused she doubts he even knows what he's doing, his finger just pressing the button mindlessly.

Caroline checks her wristwatch and sighs. Bonnie is gonna be furious if she's late, but Klaus sitting on his ass like that is a waste of a perfectly fine eligible bachelor.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asks.

"Watching a movie," he says flatly after a moment, the information that he'd been spoken to taking a second to register in his brain.

"You mean porn."

He turns his face to her, eyebrows lazily arched. "If you want specifics. I'd ask you to join me, but people are already talking."

She gives him a look and then bends forward, fixing the straps of her high-heeled sandals. "Don't you get tired?"

"Who gets tired of porn?"

"Of watching porn?" He just shrugs. "Men," she puffs out with an eye roll. "Come out with me tonight. I'm going speed dating."

"That's so very boomer of you. It reeks of despair."

"It's old school, so what?" she counters, checking herself out on the antique floor length mirror. She turns to one side, then the other, tosses her hair back. "Is this cleavage too slutty? I don't want to look too slutty."

"What are you aiming for? Moderately promiscuous?"

She turns to him. "I want to say hot but with class, not I have nicknames for my boobs."

He snorts. "You look stunning, sweetheart," he says, his eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on her décolletage.

"Thanks," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest, suddenly self-conscious. "Back to the subject."

He sighs, turning back to the television. "Haven't they invented an app for that?"

"I'm tired of apps. It's cold, photos are almost never consistent with the truth and when you ask for a real-time one, all you get is dick pics."

"I hate to disappoint, but you're fooling yourself if you think men won't lie to your face, too."

"You can't blame me for wanting to stay hopeful that men aren't all as cynical as you. I'd have to give up sex forever if I thought that."

Klaus' lips quirk into a lopsided grin. "Well, I wish you good luck on your endeavor."

"I think you need to meet somebody, too," she insists. "You're turning into a couch potato, Klaus."

"I refute that."

"When was the last time you had a date?"

"I don't do dates."

Caroline rolls her eyes again. She has never seen him with the same girl twice, and very few have actually made it to his apartment. Mostly, he's the one who spends the night, not the other way around. He laughed at her face when she tried to tell him he didn't have to worry about bringing friends over on her account. "That's sweet, love, but I don't bring people over unless I have no other option."

"Why not?"

"Because when they know where I live it's harder to get rid of them. Besides, it's such a bore when they decide not to leave in the morning. Women can be rather spiteful."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are so full of crap. Typical. Sweet-talk women into sleeping with you and then call them crazy when they expect a minimum of respect in return."

"I respect them fine; I just don't want to have breakfast."

"Because that is such a commitment."

"It's far more than I'm willing to commit, yes."

"We have breakfast all the time. What, am I special?"

He simply smiled, the annoying dimples he uses to lure women into bed cutting into his cheeks.

"Fine," she says, stomping her foot. "Your last one-night stand?"

"Should I be flattered you're keeping such close tabs on my life?"

"See? You're becoming this insufferable creature that I can barely tolerate that answers everything with sarcasm. Soon enough, I'm gonna have to move out and I don't want to because I like this apartment."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come out with me. This way you get to meet twenty somebodies at once."

"Is that why you're going?"

"Last two dates I had were exclusive two hours of complete disaster I will never get back. At least this way I speed up the process of elimination."

"Over five-minute conversations," he derides.

"Five minutes is more than enough time. If they can't impress me or at the very least make me intrigued, then they're definitely not worth a second date."

"You make it sound oh-so-alluring. Like a meat market."

"Klaus," she says, slowly, planting herself between him and the random Discovery Channel show on the TV. "It's dozens of women literally just waiting to be hit on. Your odds at a happy ending are much better than if stay home and watch porn."

He regards for a beat and then sighs in defeat. "How can I say no when you make me out to be a wanker if I refute your argument?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You brought a date?!" Bonnie cries out with indignation when Caroline arrives at the bar with Klaus on tow.

She considered giving her friend a heads up that he'd be tagging along, but she knows what Bonnie would say. She has been saying it for a while, any opportunity she gets. Just make a move already, Caroline! Fuck the guy's brains out and get over it or stop talking about Klaus all the goddamn time.

The fact she's brought him out to meet other people should probably tell Bonnie that she does not want to bang her roommate. Not that she wouldn't, because Klaus is obviously, you know... Alluring. Annoying, sure, prone to mood swings, but also witty and smart and refined and incredibly attentive when it comes to her, not to mention the whole exterior package thing. But they live together, she's friends with his sister, and it would be a totally stupid idea to ruin it with casual sex. Caroline sweeps the whole tension under the rug and keeps Klaus firmly on the realm of healthy, platonic friendship. But Bonnie would've found a way to claim otherwise if she'd said he was coming.

"He's not a date," she counters. "He's a dater."

Bonnie gives Klaus a pointed look. "Blink once if you were coerced into being here."

Klaus makes an effort of blinking, and Caroline gapes in protest. "I did not coerce you. Our couch has a permanent imprint of Klaus' ass. He needed to dive back into the pool. I'm just being helpful."

"I'm here for the drinks, mostly," he offers.

"Well, you just ruined these poor men's lives," Bonnie says, bobbing her head towards the line of guys standing around them, waiting for the thing to start.

She hadn't really noticed, but they're all staring at them. Not at her, or at Bonnie, but at Klaus, with looks that go from mildly concerned to openly hostile.

"Tough luck," she says with a light shrug. "Look on the bright side. They're gonna be forced to bring out their A game."

"Ahh," Bonnie says, smiling at last. "I see your plan now. That’s actually smart."

"What the bloody hell are you two babbling about?" Klaus asks.

Caroline cocks him a disbelieved eyebrow. "Seriously? You can't tell?"

"Look around, Klaus," Bonnie says. "All the girls are checking you out."

"Not uncommon," he replies matter-of-factly.

"And the guys are shooting daggers at you," Caroline adds.

He purses his lips. "Also not uncommon."

"Exactly. This is competition."

"It's not a beauty pageant, love."

"Life is a beauty pageant," she retorts solemnly.

"Let's put it this way," Bonnie cuts in. "Little girls who kiss frogs expect them to turn into you."

Klaus puffs out a laugh. "Why, thank you, Bonnie, for the rather flattering image. But I don't think I'm that good looking."

"Now you're just playing dumb, which is not sexy, by the way."

He turns to Caroline, cocking his eyebrows in doubt. "Yes, you are, Klaus." A sly smirk breaks onto his lips, and she realizes he'd just set her up into singing his praise. Before he can follow up with a snarky and probably inappropriate remark, she slaps his arm lightly. "Oh, shut up."

"I bet you'll walk out of here with everyone's phone numbers," Bonnie says.

"Except for ours, of course," Caroline adds.

"Why not yours?" he asks, somewhat offended.

"You already have my number."

"Not in this context."

"Yes, because I already know you and all the nasty little bits of your personality. These women, on the other hand, don't."

"So you're attributing every relationship I've ever had to my looks?"

"I thought you didn't do relationships."

"Not normally."

"Well, not the whole relationship," she muses. "Just the beginning."

"The rest are the dimples," Bonnie remarks with a serious nod.

Klaus shakes his head despondently. "And here I was thinking women aren't as vain as men."

Caroline turns to him, putting her hand out. "Wanna bet? You can't tell anyone you're a trust fund kid who runs an art gallery. You're unemployed. Don't pay attention to everything they say, pretend to be distracted. And lose the accent. One hundred bucks says you walk out of here with at least… Twenty names. And I'm being conservative."

Klaus narrows his eyes at her. "You brought me out here to get laid and now you want me to jeopardize my chances?"

"On the contraire. I'm saying you can make yourself out to be as interested as you really are, and still get laid."

He finally takes her hand on a firm shake. "You're on."

A gong rings and they all turn to see a woman with a bright smile beckoning them all to approach. "Ladies and gentlemen," she starts. "The fun is about to start. Ladies, please, take your seats. There's a table for each of you. When I strike this gong, each man should sit at the first table they've been assigned to. When I strike it again, date's over, move on to the next."

"Wish me good luck, then," Klaus tells her as they turn around to order a drink from the bar before moving to their respective spots.

"You won't need it, buddy."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hello, sweetheart," Klaus says pleasantly as he slides into the seat across from her.

Caroline lets out a weary exhale. "Hi, number..." she reads the tag on his chest. "26. What do you prefer, a weekend on the mountains or long walks on the beach?"

"Mountain, easy. Too much sand on the beach, it gets in all sorts of awkward places."

Caroline snorts into her martini. "That's actually the best answer I've had to this question so far. Or to any question, really." She raises her glass on a toast. "How's it going?"

He purses his lips. "I've had to answer that question unironically more than once, so I'd say not stellar."

"I'm sorry," she says around a chuckle.

"You don't look sorry."

"Because I'm not, really. It would be unfair for me to suffer alone. Seen anyone you like, at least?"

The smile on his face turns mysterious. "There's one so far."

"Just one?"

"It's hard to speed date when you're pretending to be slow, uninteresting and American, to be honest."

"You could just tell them the truth. That you were dragged here by a friend who took pity on you sitting around, watching porn all day. That would sure scare some of them away. Although some would probably ask what kind of porn."

"What about you?"

"I don't want to know what kind of porn you watch."

He rolls her eyes at her. "I mean, how's your night going?"

"Oh, you know," she shrugs with a lot less enthusiasm than she'd expected to have by this point in the evening. "A couple of contenders, I guess."

"Oh?"

"Still early."

"Forgive me for pointing it out, but you don't seem particularly excited."

She puffs out in frustration. "Every time I tell them I'm a Med student, they ask what kind of doctor I want to be, and when I say oncologist, they start listing every member of their family who's ever died of cancer. What am I supposed to say after a guy tells me his mother died of breast cancer? I'm sorry, would you like to talk about it?" Caroline glares when he erupts into laughter. "Not funny."

"I'm sorry, it's just that sounds like an awfully interesting conversation."

"Why is dating so hard? Am I too picky? Is it wanting a meet-cute too much? To wake up one day and ta-dam, the guy is there, right in front of me."

Something about Klaus' eyes soften just then. "If only it were that easy," he says, an almost wistful tone to his voice that gives Caroline pause.

Before she can dwell on it further, however, the gong sounds and it's time to move on.

"Here I go, then," he says in his American accent.

When her next prospect sits down, she's laughing at Klaus greeting the woman on the next table with a Hey, babe.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Here's to making the 1% 100 dollars poorer," Caroline says, raising her shot in the air before knocking it back.

"Cheers, I suppose," Klaus says dully, sipping from his bourbon.

"Oh, come on!" She bumps her shoulder against his as they sit side by side by the bar. "Don't look so gloomy. That's literally a pile of women in front of you," she says, nodding her head towards the cards sitting on the counter. "How many again?"

"Twenty nine," he grumbles.

"Twenty nine out of 40! That's more phone numbers than most guys will get in a year. Be proud."

"Of my deep cobalt eyes or my sultry lips? Yes, I heard both tonight."

Now it's Caroline's turn to explode into laughter while he just shakes his head helplessly.

"You don't have to be ashamed of your genetics, Klaus," she says. "It's not your fault some women are awkward flirters."

"Tell that to my stepfather." His tone visibly changes as he mentions Mikael, the dark clouds coming back to hover above his head.

Before it can get any worse, Caroline prods on. "So. How many of them are you going to call?"

"None."

"None?!" she gapes. "That's at least a month of guaranteed sex. A month where you won't have to watch porn, you can actually perform porn."

"Alright, you're making me sound like a deranged pervert," he objects. "I do not watch that much porn. That was one time and it is not my fault you lack proper etiquette when walking into someone else's bedroom."

Caroline chuckles. She did walk in without knocking, but, in her defense, it was 3 o'clock. What kind of person watches porn in the middle of the afternoon? She was blushing furiously for weeks before she decided to start teasing him instead as a way to diffuse the guilt. Luckily, he hadn't actually been doing... Anything. Although she did notice the suspicious volume in his pants. It was... Interesting.

"It's nice to make fun of you, though," she says. "That was the closest to a blush I've ever seen on your face."

"Whatever makes you happy, love."

"Seriously, though. Why are you not calling any of them?"

"These women think I'm one step away from being a caveman. It says more about them than it says about me that they're willing to give me their phone numbers."

She scoffs. "Don't be such a snob. They came here to get laid, too. You can't tell me you didn't like any of them."

"Well, there was one. But she didn't slip me her phone number."

Caroline' eyebrows crinkle together. "Really? That's kinda hard to believe."

"I guess your theory was flawed, after all."

"But it has been proved nonetheless. Which reminds me..." She lifts a hand, asking for another round. "I'm gonna drink all your money."

"My whole life has been a lie," Klaus says contemplatively. "I thought I had an enthralling personality, an interesting aura, that my wittiness made me charming, and now I find out I'm nothing but a pretty face."

"To be honest, you're also an endless pit of money." Klaus gives her a side eye, knocking back his drink. Caroline scrunches up her face in mock-pity. "Oh, boo-hoo. It's so hard to be handsome. Why are you so upset about that?"

"It's different when that is all you are. I've been deluding myself."

"Who said that's all you are?" Klaus turns to her with a pointed look. "No, that's not what I said. I said women would want to date you after five minutes because you're pretty, not that pretty is all you are." When he sighs, asking for another drink, still obviously unconvinced, she continues. "Look. My first real boyfriend was a total douchebag. He came across as funny and charming and thoughtful, but it was an act. He saw something he wanted and he knew he had to act a certain way to get it, because even at 17, I liked to think I had standards, even though I clearly didn't."

"Are you saying I'm also manipulative?"

"I'm saying, figuring out who people really are takes time. It takes twice as long if they're trying to impress you. You can take from this that all your relationships have been superficial and physical only, or you can believe that people came for the appeal and stayed for the content."

"Except no one has stayed. My temper seems to have a rather short expiration date, it drives people away. Just ask my brother." He punctuates his sentence with a wan smile, and Caroline understands, at last, that this is all somehow related to his family again.

She suddenly finds herself desperately at loss for what to say. Rebekah would offer something outrageous and mildly offensive that would still hit the nail on the head. Caroline just wanted him to have some fun, but instead she ended up pushing him right back to his bad place.

She considers apologizing, saying it was just teasing and she never really meant it, but what she winds up saying, however, is, "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Klaus looks up at her, a mix of surprise and something else she can't identify flickering through his eyes.

"Is that how you rationalize your relationships?" he asks.

She huffs out a little laugh. "I don't think that highly of myself. I'm a tall, long-legged blonde. That ticks some boxes, but it hardly makes me irresistible."

"I beg to differ, love. You're an exquisite beauty."

Caroline laughs a little, thinking he's obviously saying that just to be nice, but then she catches the look in his eyes, that intensity that always seems to rattle something deep inside of her. There's not a hint of condescension about him.

"I... Well..." she stammers, her cheeks burning hot. "Thank you."

"But that's not all you are. You're also strong, fierce, full of light. Anyone who fails to see what's underneath your stunning exterior is a fool." Caroline freezes under his stare, something almost reverent in the way he says it, a spark lighting up his face for maybe the first time in a month. It sends Caroline's pulse racing. She's suddenly very much aware of how close they are, the air around them simmering with energy, releasing a fresh batch of butterflies in her stomach. The room is a dozen degrees hotter than a second before, and Caroline doesn't know what to do, what not to do, thinks maybe she's had enough to drink already because her sense of reason is getting all fuzzy.

And then Klaus says, "I heard that on PornTube," and the tension eases off of her as the two of them crack up laughing together.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fic #kcbingo2020 #kc fic #kcfic #klarolinefic #kc fandom #klaus x caroline #yokan writes #fluff apparently

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aertifas · 4 years

Text

Broken Mirror - Chapter 3

iii. a lot of catching up to do

Stargazer Heights is a tiny block of apartments on the east side of Sector 7 that Tifa calls home. For a while after she first arrived in Midgar, Tifa lived exclusively on the streets, huddled near train stations at night to keep safe, taking every possible odd job she could find to scrounge up enough money to afford a real place. Zangan had helped her as much as he could--her medical bills had put her in debt, not that she could remember much from her hospital visit--but eventually she had to fend for herself. And at fifteen, fending for herself was a daunting task.

But Tifa held on to something. She had to hold on. She was the only one left who remembered them--the village, her friends, her neighbors, her father. If she didn’t survive, who would tell the story? Who would ever know what happened?

Certainly not the public--Shinra was quick to deal with that. Tifa starved in those early days, but she always managed to buy the paper. She’d sit and read it at the station, cover to cover, just to find one single word about Nibelheim. About her home. About Sephiroth. Sephiroth appeared on the front page for weeks: “War Hero dies in freak accident”. No location, no date, no details. But Nibelheim only got a footnote; something about a reactor malfunction that Shinra had under control, nothing that the public should worry about.

Tifa’s entire life was erased from history.

And so, Tifa didn’t allow herself to get low. She doesn’t allow herself to get low. She survived before, and she survives now. Not long after she’d arrived in Midgar and she met Barret, a new resident himself, and his little baby Marlene. He’d bought the abandoned warehouse on the west side of Sector 7 and needed help moving construction supplies. Tifa was no stranger to heavy lifting, and the two began to develop a friendship. Eventually, Tifa suggested opening a bar--and the rest of the story wrote itself.

Shortly after, Tifa rented a room at Stargazer heights, owned by Marle. Marle and Tifa have grown close over the years; whenever she gets exhausted at work, or tired of Avalanche’s antics, she goes to Marle for advice. Marle’s older and she’s lived in Sector 7 for a long time, and she knows everything about living in the slums. She never turns Tifa away from her door, even in the dead of night.

Tifa feels a little guilty that she hasn’t told Marle about her overnight guest--but now’s not the time. There’s a lot that Tifa needs to figure out first.

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

Tifa doesn’t tell Cloud her story--at least, not yet. She wants to hear his. She wants to know what he’s been through, what he was doing all these long years. Where he’d gone.

Why he doesn’t seem like himself.

Tifa and Cloud sit across from each other in the dimly-lit Stargazer Heights laundry room. Marle keeps three washing machines and three dryers in two neat lines in the basement of the apartment building. Cloud sits on a chair that’s up against the wall--now clad in a white t-shirt that’s much too big for him and even baggier pants--while Tifa sits atop a washing machine. They talk over the hum of the machines whirring around them.

“So did you end up fighting in the war?” asks Tifa. When Cloud looks down at his hands, she quickly adds, “Uh, don’t worry if it’s a sore subject--forget I asked--”

“No, it’s fine,” says Cloud, looking back up at her. “I… did go to Wutai. Just once.”

“That all?”

Cloud nods. “By the time I made it into SOLDIER, the war was almost over.”

“So what’d ya’ do after that?” asks Tifa, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangle from the ledge.

Cloud sighs. “Boring shit, really. They didn’t have enough for us to do as SOLDIERs, so we went around silencing Shinra defectors, mostly.”

Tifa purses her lips. “That’s really all you did?”

“If I had more to tell you, I would,” says Cloud.

“Why’d you quit?” Tifa leans on her elbows, eyes looking intently into Cloud’s. Initially, he looks away from her, unable or unwilling to hold her gaze. “Sounds like an easy gig--right?”

“Yeah, that was the problem,” says Cloud. “No risk, no reward. Couldn’t be a hero that way.”

Tifa thinks back on that night under the stars. Cloud’s words echo in her head. I’m gonna be a SOLDIER. The best of the best--like Sephiroth. It seemed like such an impossible dream back then, but Tifa always thought that, if anyone could do it, it would be Cloud. The boy that held the world in his sea-blue eyes.

Tifa thinks to herself, Maybe it’s better he didn’t end up like Sephiroth. Even before the fire, I never even liked the guy.

But saying this to Cloud would only add insult to injury. Instead, she says, “I’m sure you were someone’s hero.”

When she says this, Cloud finally looks up from his clasped hands and looks directly into Tifa’s eyes. He has the power to hold her gaze, to freeze her in her place, though he seems to not even realize it. Tifa finally has a chance to study his eyes--intensely blue, with a faint green glow from beneath. Even in this dimly lit space, his eyes seem to light up like blue flame. There’s something endlessly captivating about them--haunting, even--and they trap Tifa into their grip, shackling her to him.

Tifa hates to say it, but she misses his old blue eyes.

But this held gaze doesn’t last nearly as long as it feels. Cloud’s eyes eventually drop back down to his hands--now, clenched into two separate fists on his lap. “Yeah. Maybe.” After a long pause, he looks back up at Tifa, though not with that same wistful look as before, and says, “I’ve said enough about me. What about you?”

“Me?” Tifa asks.

“Yeah. You. Who else?”

Tifa taps her fingers against the metal washing machine beneath her. “After I left Nibelheim, I came to Sector 7. I eventually got a job bartending from my friend Barret.”

“Barret, huh?” asks Cloud. “Do I get to meet this Barret?”

“Someday soon,” Tifa says. “He’s a really nice guy.” She takes a deep breath, purses her lips, and says, “You ever heard about Avalanche?”

“Avalanche?” Cloud rests one hand on his pensive face. “Can’t say I have.”

Tifa furrows her brows, but just for a second. A thought pops into her head. Funny that he went to Wutai but doesn’t know about Avalanche. Barret talked enough about it for Tifa to know; Shinra had tried to snuff Avalanche out in Wutai, at the tail end of the war. That’s where Avalanche had set up their base of operations. In fact, Avalanche didn’t start gaining traction in Midgar until after the war was over.

But she doesn’t want to question Cloud. Maybe that just isn’t his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s a group,” Tifa says, shaking her head. “How should I put this?... Avalanche doesn’t like Shinra very much.”

“Who does?” Cloud responds, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to protect the Planet,” Tifa explains, “and to do that, they have to take down Shinra. Shinra’s been labeling them as eco-terrorists in the news...”

Cloud squints his eyes at Tifa, perhaps unable to discern her expression. She hides her face a little from him. “What about Avalanche? You involved?”

“Sort of,” Tifa responds. “More like… I help them out from time to time.”

“Help how?” asks Cloud. Now he’s sitting upright in his seat, listening attentively. A look of displeasure washes across his face.

“Barret--he owns the bar,” explains Tifa, flustered. “Or, his name’s on the paperwork. He’s a part of them. Of Avalanche. And so every now and then, I overhear things. And I guess sometimes I cover for them.”

Cloud looks Tifa up and down, that intense gaze returning, trapping Tifa yet again. He scowls. “You shouldn’t be involved in a group like that. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

Cloud leans on his elbows, moving his eyes to the floor. “Guess I can’t blame you, though. Shinra… well, fuck Shinra. They don’t give a damn about anything. I’d probably have joined Avalanche, too, if I lived in the slums.”

Tifa nods. Her hands tightly grip the edge of the machine, turning her knuckles white beneath her gloves. “Yeah. I… Shinra just makes me so mad...” Tifa catches herself getting overwhelmed with this. This anger. It washes over Tifa in waves, pulling her under, drowning her. But she always catches herself before that fire in her heart brings tears to her eyes. She composes herself and continues. “Avalanche does good for the Planet, too. I’m… I’m glad I met them.”

Cloud’s eyes are trained on her hands, which have relaxed their grip. When he looks up at Tifa, she swears that he appears gentler, for just a moment in time. That harsh, constricting gaze he holds her in, replaced with softness that is uncharacteristic of him. That permanent scowl gone, tight jaw loosened, eyebrows turned downward. He says, “Tifa...” and Tifa looks at him, catching this expression only briefly. But once she does, he turns away and reverts to his normal self. The scowl returns, and the eyes glow severely, more now than before. “I trust you to handle yourself out there. You’re pretty strong.”

Tifa smiles. “Thanks.”

The rest of the time spent in that basement room is punctuated by small conversations, cheeky comments (all from Cloud), and the occasional lull back into silence. But even in these silent moments, Tifa looks at Cloud and feels a fullness in her chest. She worries for him--God, does she worry for him--but there’s something else in her heart. Something warm. Something familiar. She never admitted it before, but now she can’t deny it: she missed Cloud Strife. That starving girl who read the paper wouldn’t just look for Nibelheim--she’d look for Cloud Strife, hoping to catch even a glimpse of his name somewhere. She remembers even a few times where, with a heaviness in her chest that weighed her down like bricks tied to her ankle, she looked to the obituaries, and prayed softly not to find him there.

But now, he’s back. And she missed him while he was gone.

She’s happy to have him back.

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

“I promise you, we’ll find you something better in the morning.”

Tifa pulls out a sleeping bag from her small closet and rolls it out on the floor, a few feet away from her bed. She insisted to Cloud when they returned to the apartment that she be the one sleeping on the floor--but Cloud wouldn’t have it. “You’re the one doing me the favor, here,” he reminded her sternly. “What kind of guest would I be making you sleep on the floor?” Tifa pleaded with him once more, but that seemed to be the end of the discussion.

Now, setting up Cloud’s accommodations, she feels a tinge of guilt. He’s gone through a lot--though Tifa can’t know exactly--and she wants him to sleep in a real bed. But the sleeping bag will have to do for the night. In the morning, she can find him something better.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Cloud says, slipping into the sleeping bag.

“Me, too.” Tifa found her way to her bed and covered herself with her thick sheets. Tifa turns so her back faces Cloud and keeps her eyes trained on the wall. She doesn’t want Cloud to notice her sheepishness--Tifa’s always been a private person, and normally she would never share her room like this. But this is different--this is Cloud. So she fights her shyness and her nerves. Even though thinking about how close he’s sleeping paints her face in a rosy hue.

“Hey, Tifa?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again,” Cloud says, quietly. “For everything.”

Tifa laughs lightly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Tifa doesn’t hear if Cloud responds to her. She’s already drifted off into a deep sleep.

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

Summers in Nibelheim were particularly hot and brutal--especially after Shinra built the reactor at the top of Mt. Nibel. The Mako hung over the town in a thin blanket, trapping in heat, making the air sweltering and unbearable. But Tifa didn’t care. Not when she was a kid, and she had the whole summer to play, to run barefoot through the fields just beyond the town gate, to climb the water tower and watch those red and orange summer sunsets.

Next door lived Cloud Strife. This was before he’d grown his hair out long--actually, it looked a lot like it does now. Cut to just above the shoulders, styled in spikes. Tifa and Cloud were friends. She considered him to be her friend, at least. His bedroom window looked into hers, and they’d often talk across the gap. It would always be short, superficial conversations, “How are you?” or “What did you do today?” But Tifa looked forward to them. She liked talking to Cloud, even if just for a few minutes before she’d fall asleep.

But even though Cloud would talk with Tifa each night, Cloud never played with Tifa and her friends--even when they’d chase each other around in the town plaza, making enough noise for the old shopkeeper to yell at them, Cloud never asked to join. Tifa always figured he had better things to do.

She always wished he would ask, though.

One day--particularly brutally hot, even for summer--the boys suggested playing a game they called “Save the Princess”. One team, dubbed “Wutai”, would “capture” Tifa; the other team, the SOLDIERs, would have to defeat Wutai in order to rescue her. Tifa always thought this was a silly game--and boring. She always got stuck waiting for the boys to finish fighting; and, even when they finished, all she’d get to do was crown the winners as her “heroes”. Whenever the boys suggested this game, Tifa protested. But her alternatives were always vetoed.

This time, the boys had a problem: they didn’t have a third SOLDIER, giving Wutai an unfair advantage.

As they argued about what to do, Tifa peered across the square. Her eyes landed on Cloud, who sat by himself on a bench, eyes to the ground, his own wooden sword resting against the wrought iron armrest. He didn’t notice her looking at him, but watching him there, always a loner, Tifa came up with an idea.

“Let’s ask Cloud to play,” Tifa told the group of boys.

“No way!” one boy exclaimed. “Not Strife. He’s a jerk.”

“You wanna play Save the Princess--don’t you?” Tifa responded. And without hearing the other boys’ answers, she skipped off to the other side of the square.

When Cloud heard footsteps approaching him, he looked up and met eyes with Tifa. In the summer sun, his eyes appeared even deeper. When she looked at them, Tifa couldn’t help but smile.

“Tifa,” Cloud said, as if he were in awe that she’d approach him out of the blue. “What’s up?”

“Do you wanna play a game with us?” asked Tifa. “We need one more person.”

“How do you play?” Cloud asked her in reply, tapping his foot on the pavement rapidly.

Tifa grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. He barely had enough time to grab his wooden sword and sling it on his back. “It’s easy!” she shouted to him. “I’m the princess. You’re a SOLDIER. All you gotta do is beat Wutai and rescue me--got it? Then you’ll be my hero.”

“How do I rescue you?” he replied, eyes wide and starry.

This time, one of the boys chimed in--with an annoyed tone. “You gotta bring Tifa to the old mansion.”

Cloud nodded. Tifa took her place by the base of the water tower. She caught Cloud’s eyes with her own and waved to him, shouting, “You got this, Cloud!” and eliciting a rare, shy smile from the little blond-haired boy next door.

One of the Wutai boys yelled, and they all started fighting. Wooden swords clashing against wooden swords. Shouting over each other, yelling at each other, saying words that Tifa’s dad told her were “unladylike”. Tifa fell to a seated position and watched from the sidelines, arms crossed on her knees. Eventually her eyes travelled upward, bored of the fight, to watch the blue sky, and to follow the fluffy white clouds as they drifted aimlessly above her.

But she didn’t have time to daydream. She felt a tap on her arm, bringing her back to reality. Standing above her was Cloud, hand outstretched to meet hers, all while the other boys were fighting just a few feet from them.

“Cloud?” Tifa asked. “What are you doing?”

Cloud cocked his head, before simply answering, “Rescuing you, of course.”

Tifa gave him her hand and he pulled her to her feet. Hand in hand, Cloud pulled Tifa along behind him, making his way quickly to the mansion at the edge of town. It was only then that the other boys noticed them running, one calling out, “Hey, what the hell, Strife?” and another complaining, “That’s against the rules!”

Tifa barely had a chance to catch her breath. She shouted to Cloud, “What about the fight?”

“Heroes always rescue the princess first,” Cloud said to her. “Then they can deal with the bad guys.”

A red flush washed over Tifa’s face. She looked back to see the other boys right behind them in an angry mob. But she and Cloud were faster, and they reached the mansion first. It’s only after they arrived there that Cloud finally lets go of Tifa’s hand.

The biggest of the group of boys pushed his way to the front. He yelled in Cloud’s face, “Why’d you have to go ruin our game, Strife?” while Cloud stood his ground, scowling back at the boy with an unwavering glare.

Tifa stepped between them. “What are you talking about? Cloud didn’t break any rules!”

“Yeah, he did!” another boy shouted from behind. “He cheated!”

“You guys are being mean!” Tifa said. “Cloud won fair and square!”

“Come on, Tifa, don’t defend him!”

“That’s why we don’t invite him to play with us!”

The boys’ shouts grew louder and more aggressive with each taunt. Tifa was unable to yell over them, drowned out by their petty arguing. She turned to Cloud and watched his face. At first, he appeared angry. But Tifa saw his expression morph, for the tiniest fraction of a moment, into one that hurt her heart. In that second, he looked sad. He looked as if he could break down. He looked shattered.

But he didn’t ever express it, if he was sad. Because the moment Cloud began to feel sad, he replaced it with anger. He pushed the taller boy out of his face, deepening his scowl, and shouted through gritted teeth, “Fine by me. This game is stupid anyway.”

Cloud stormed past the group of boys, stomping off to the other side of the square. Tifa ran toward him, shouting after him, “Cloud, wait!”, but didn’t follow him. She stopped at the fence that lined the perimeter of the old mansion and just watched him walk away, shoulders tense with anger, hands balled into fists. Behind her, the other boys were coming up with a new plan, a new way to play the game. But Tifa barely listened to them. She just kept her eyes on Cloud until the boy disappeared in the distance, most likely finding refuge somewhere in the fields just outside of town.

That was the first time any boy thought to save Tifa first. It was the only time any boy thought to save Tifa first. And eventually, Tifa refused to play that game ever again.

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

Tifa lifts her heavy eyelids and finds herself transported back to her tiny apartment, staring at the piano concerto poster hung on her concrete walls by tape. In a state of stupor, of half-sleep, Tifa groggily rolled to the other side and looked across the room with bleary eyes.

The clock on her bedside table reads 3:35 a.m. She sighs deeply. I really must have needed some sleep.

Tifa thinks it’s a little odd, her dreaming of such a memory. Most of her Nibelheim dreams are tinged in bright red; some are dusted in blue and green. But this one was colored golden--the color of the many summers she spent under that beautiful mountain sky.

And Cloud? Tifa must have had Cloud on her mind when she fell asleep. That’s not such a surprise, though. Usually, Cloud is absent from her Nibelheim dreams, only appearing when she sees that gorgeous star-studded sky above her head. He’s sitting next to her on the edge of the water tower, as he should be. But this was a different memory; it must be because they’ve reunited after so many years.

She turns her gaze to the floor, where Cloud should be, to find an empty sleeping bag.

Wait… empty?

Where’s Cloud?

Tifa jumps from her bed and knocks frantically on the bathroom door, only to get no response. When she throws the door open, the room is empty. The sound of wind whirring against the walls draws her attention to the front door, which is slightly ajar, and every so often moves with the breeze and knocks against the doorframe with a metal bang.

Cloud’s sword, too, is missing from its place on the wall.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Tifa doesn’t have time to think. She doesn’t even bother changing out of her pajamas. She throws on a coat and runs outside--not even bothering to lock the door behind her.

Blog Introduction/Chapter Selection | Next Chapter

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Nine

(AO3 counterpart here.)

As Littlepaw was having her history lesson, the edge of the stone settlement an hour away saw Darkpelt grooming herself in the sun.

It was a little useless, she was free to admit. No matter how much she cleaned her already spotless pelt, she always carried the dusty scent of the Versant family. She thought it was a nice smell – had a faint adventurousness to it that stirred curiosity in the heart – but it wasn’t helpful for her job. Having absolutely no scent at all was infinitely better; the difficult part was that the plants that could smother that smell generally did not smell themselves, meaning that even she had a hard time finding them. So she had to resort to continuous grooming and occasionally jumping into a nearby stream.

That all said, it was a good way to spend time while she considered her next move, so on she went, tongue rasping over her shoulder fur as she plotted.

The boys were a great deal more useful than she had expected, and together they had collected some useful information about Redheart and her goals… but it didn’t feel like it was enough. They knew she didn’t like StarClan and that she wanted to leave the Territory. That was good and all, but they didn’t have any thorough details on what her exact plans were and how long they had before they needed to intercept.

Besides, there was more to this situation than had been discovered – things that no one was aware of except Redheart. There wasn’t much basis or proof for that thought. There didn’t need to be. Darkpelt’s intuition had not led her wrong before.

What they really needed to do, she thought, was get more information on Greyleaf’s involvement. Even Mistface had barely had a chance to talk to him after all this time. Perhaps that was deliberate on his brother’s part. But, then again, Darkpelt was aware of how close the two had been all of their lives leading up to this point. It didn’t make much sense for Greyleaf to be actively avoiding Mistface. Perhaps he knew something too, and-

“Oh, there you are.”

Darkpelt paused, tongue sticking out, and looked around uselessly, as if she couldn’t smell and hear the cat to her right and a bit behind her. She made a show of sniffing the air, then rotated her position until she was facing the cat.

“Here I am,” she said, as friendly as was appropriate. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Darkpelt,” the cat said. “I heard about how you handled Starkfeather being a prick to Littlepaw.”

“Ohhh, that.” Darkpelt lifted a paw and waved it dismissively. “Yes, that was me. Is she doing alright?”

She kept her tone casual and her face smiley, but mentally she winced. Coming to the apprentice’s defense and catching the attention of an entire crowd had not been wise. She had risked blowing her cover in the long run – now everyone there knew that there was a blind cat around who was ready to talk smack to a seer, of all people. She was a thought, however small, in many minds. If she wanted to sneak around, she had to contest with that.

It had been fun, of course, but still.

“She actually left a while ago with some of your friends to visit the Vultures,” said this cat that Darkpelt now figured was Littlepaw’s friend, Flyfang. “So, yeah! She’s doing fine.” There was a sneaky amusement in the molly’s voice. “She told me you offered to teach her to swear.”

“Lies!” Darkpelt dropped her jaw and moved her paw to rest over her chest. “I would never teach a kid to swear. I just extended an invitation to help her learn to stand up for herself, that’s all.” She winked. “Of course, whatever she overhears me say when I’m not talking to her, that’s her business to take or dismiss.”

Flyfang laughed. “I can’t say I’d be any better about that. What she must have heard me say the entire time we’ve been here…”

She paused, and her fur shifted rapidly, like she had shaken herself. “Well, to my point – I just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for what you did.”

Darkpelt blinked, surprised.

“Littlepaw’s a good kid,” Flyfang went on. “She can be sensitive, though, especially on her own. If I’m not there to stand by her, she’s as meek as she was before we met. She’s great, but… she wouldn’t stand up for herself if she’d been alone.” Flyfang cleared her throat. “Yeah, basically, thank you. It meant a lot to her – your offer and you speaking up. So it means a lot to me, too.”

Darkpelt had no idea how to respond. She was generally considered unpleasant company; as a result, she did not recollect a time where someone was genuinely thankful and appreciative of her actions beyond her services in spy work. Usually she just antagonized others and laughed about it.

Well. First time for everything.

She felt her smile level out into something more real (and self-conscious) than her usual mocking grin. “She is a good kid. I haven’t talked with her much, of course, but I can hear her playing with those two other apprentices sometimes. I can’t imagine some punk thinking it would be a good idea to pick on her.” She fumbled a little in her mind, trying to think of what else to say, and she came up with, “I appreciate the thanks.”

Flyfang shifted, and in her own uncertainty Darkpelt couldn’t tell if she too was feeling awkward or not. “I was going to ask, actually – what are you doing here to begin with? You can’t really get into fights… well, not physical ones.”

“You underestimate my power,” Darkpelt said. Her grin returned. “Though I just came here to witness the chaos Redheart’s about to cause. It’s too good to miss out on.”

“It does get pretty chaotic here already.” Flyfang laughed again. “You’ve heard all the crazy things that happen. Fights, arguments, everything.”

Darkpelt waved her tail with a practiced merriment, seizing the opportunity to change the course of the conversation. “And from what I’ve heard myself, you’re the resident champion in those fights.”

She could feel Flyfang puffing out her chest. “I win a fight or two, sure.” There was a loaded pause, and then Flyfang continued, “Redheart told me I’m the perfect warrior to help protect whatever cats come with her.”

“Oh!” Darkpelt tilted her head, ears perked. “Then you’re leaving too?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Flyfang suddenly sounded quieter, and not because of some sweet gossip she wanted to share. “I have a couple cats I’d like to take with me, if I do. They’re not ready to go yet. Apprentices, you know.”

Darkpelt hummed sympathetically. “As far as I can tell with Redheart, I think she’d be willing to wait for them. She seems nice enough.” A thought came to her mind, and she took a gamble on it. “I’m surprised she doesn’t just become a leader and do whatever she wants once she’s there.”

“That’s true,” Flyfang said thoughtfully. “And she’d have nine lives to get it all done, right?”

“I don’t want nine lives.”

Darkpelt jumped and looked around wildly before settling on the source of Redheart’s voice. Somehow, they had let her sneak up on them.

“Why not?” Flyfang asked, completely oblivious to Darkpelt’s surprise, thank the stars.

Redheart didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was low and dark. “I’m not interested in the price for them.”

“Alright, I guess.” Flyfang sounded a bit bemused. “You sure do like to talk cryptically.”

“Things will be cleared up once we’re out of the Territory,” Redheart said simply. Before Flyfang could respond, she turned to Darkpelt. “I just came by to make sure you two are doing alright. I heard about Starkfeather’s behavior, and the argument.”

Great. Now Redheart was properly aware of her.

Darkpelt just nodded. “I’m sure he’ll back off from here. I gave him quite the lashing!”

“So I was told.” Redheart sounded like she was hiding some amusement herself. “But you are well? Nothing to see a healer over, no problems in camp?”

“Nope,” said Flyfang. “We’re all good. Or I am, at least.”

“I’m fine too,” Darkpelt said pleasantly. “I appreciate you checking in, at least, ma’am.”

Redheart didn’t respond. Presumably, she had nodded. Darkpelt heard her take a breath, but that faint shaky voice of Greyleaf’s called for her, cutting her off.

Paws carried the speaker closer. “Sorry, we’ve just got an argument. Snowshine wants you to come help resolve it.”

“Speartalon again?” Redheart said.

“No, Vireoberry and Peregrinefang.” Greyleaf sighed. “They’re not happy with the newcomers, as usual.”

Redheart made a noise with a mood that Darkpelt couldn’t quite decipher. “Show me the way.” To Darkpelt and Flyfang, she added, “Let me know if anything troubles you two.”

“Will do."

“Yeah, same.”

With that, pawsteps, and they faded away. In the distance, Darkpelt could faintly hear angry voices.

“It’s really been getting more contentious around here since Redheart’s been gathering cats,” Flyfang remarked. “I mean, there’s always some conflict going on, but I’m sure it’s not usually this bad.”

“Has anyone been annoyed with you and Littlepaw?” Darkpelt asked, more for information than curiosity. This could be useful to establish a timeline, if she needed it.

“No, we got here just before the masses.” Flyfang sounded a little irritated herself. “I get where they’re coming from, at least. The whole purpose of this place is to be rough-and-tumble and get into fights. Half of the cats that arrived are totally disinterested. And honestly? Kind of punks about it.”

Darkpelt nodded, letting Flyfang continue. She started going on about some specific cats that had been poor guests in the settlement, but Darkpelt only half paid attention. The rest of her was focused on this note of conflict between the potential deserters and the natives.

The main thing that this implied was that Redheart didn’t have a lot of time before tensions rose too high and cats were forced to leave. If Darkpelt was right, then the natural conclusion was this:

She and the boys needed to gather more information fast. They had a brief period left to discover everything they could before Redheart walked away from the Territory. And they were missing something, Darkpelt could feel it.

What did that mean, she wondered, "the price”?

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter nine #darkpelt #redheart #flyfang #greyleaf

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faejilly · 4 years

Text

our souls inhabit

so this was originally supposed to be a small Snow White ficlet, (from the POV of the Prince), and it sort of... grew? It is now more of a general Malec Fairy Tale AU, with a sprinkling of my favorite dream tropes. Many thanks to @rutherinahobbit for making sure it’s vaguely coherent for the rest of you <3 The title’s from e.e. cummings’ if being mortised with a dream... as were the last five attempts at a title, because the whole poem’s kind of perfect, but I suppose now that I’m publishing we’re all stuck with this one.

His mother tries to kill him when she realizes what he is.

He runs.

Deep into the woods, where no one ever goes. Deeper still, lost and alone.

Until he finds a house, and in the house is a man, a man with green skin and horns, a man who doesn't flinch at the sight of Magnus' eyes. The man's name is Ragnor and he invites Magnus in, feeds him and tucks him into a bed in the attic, and for the first time in a long time Magnus sleeps without nightmares.

He dreams though. Meets a boy while he's sleeping, an absurdly pretty boy with pale skin and messy black hair, a boy who seems about the same age as him, whose eyes are like the shadows in the woods, brown and green and glinting with warmth like sunlight. He's sitting stiffly on a stump that looks exactly like the one Magnus was on when Ragnor found him.

Are you lost? Magnus asks, and the boy frowns.

I think that might be better than what I am.

Magnus can understand that. He's apparently half-monster, horrifying enough even his mother can't bear the sight of him.

I'm sorry, the boy offers, his eyes damp as if he's trying not to cry. My mother had to run away without me, to save my sister and the baby on the way, but at least I know she didn't want to leave me behind.

The boy's mouth doesn't move, and Magnus realizes neither of them are talking out loud, but they seem to know what they each mean despite that.

I'm sorry, too. Magnus sits on the stump next to the boy, and the boy leans in, just a little, 'til their shoulders press together. They neither of them 'say' anything else, just sit there as the sun shifts and the winds blow through the dream-forest around them.

Magnus wakes, and feels better than he has since he saw his eyes flicker into sight in the bucket of water he'd pulled up from the well the morning his world fell apart.

He grows there, in the house hiding in the woods, taught by Ragnor about what he is, and what he can do. He tries to stay alert, to watch out for that inevitable moment when the man grows tired of him, grows impatient, when the man finally says he's had enough.

It never happens. Ragnor makes him breakfast every morning, helps him brush the mud out of his clothes when he gets caught out in the rain, lingers with him in the garden after lunch, smiles at him over the edges of his books, and always answers every single question Magnus can come up with in the same steady tone of voice.

Ragnor seems to like him, and the night Magnus hugs him before he goes to bed, Ragnor just hugs him back, and pats him on the shoulder when he lets go.

"Sweet dreams," Ragnor says, and Magnus doesn't even try to hide the smile as he wraps himself up in his blankets that night.

Sometimes his dreams are still dark, memories and worries spiralling around each other. Sometimes they're sweet, newly discovered flowers or treats, impossible spells and improbable views, warm and comforting. Sometimes they're of the boy from the very first night, the prettiest boy Magnus has ever seen, much prettier than Magnus feels he could have imagined on his own. Not all the time, not any sort of consistent or expected schedule, but sometimes Magnus goes to sleep, and there he is.

Those are the best nights.

They don't talk much, not even the silent sort of words that form in dreams, but they find comfort in each other as they explore the dream-forest, finding a rabbit warren or a new fairy ring, a cold-sweet spring or a wide-open clearing, a mirror of the world Magnus is getting to know when he's awake. They always end the night at that same familiar stump where they first met, sharing shy smiles or small waves before the dream fades away.

It's nice to have a friend, even one that probably doesn't really exist.

He learns to hide his eyes, settles into the glamour Ragnor taught him, and his dream friend frowns, and asks why he changed them.

I like your eyes, they're pretty.

Magnus tries not to blush, manages a shrug. Most people think they're scary.

People are stupid.

Magnus laughs. Except for you?

The boy blushes, and shakes his head. Except for you.

They boy's barely a boy anymore, taller and ganglier, long arms and legs, hands hanging from his wrists like he's not sure what to do with them. Sometimes he looks at Magnus through half-closed eyes, his lashes thick and dark, and Magnus forgets how to breathe.

Magnus thinks he's the prettiest boy he's ever seen.

Then again, he hasn't spent much time around anyone besides Ragnor and his dream-friend in something like ten years. Ragnor gets visitors sometimes, old Warlocks or Fae stopping by for tea, but they don't usually have much to say to Magnus. They go to some of the towns near-by occasionally, shopping for supplies or seeing a show, but it's still usually just them, lingering in the cool green shadows of the woods.

Magnus wonders what he's missing, somewhere out there.

Tries not to wonder if maybe he could find the pretty boy, somewhere in the real world.

He talks to Ragnor about leaving, a little, about what he should do with his life, with his time.

He's got too much of it just to stay here, lingering and waiting for something to happen.

Magnus mentions that he's thinking of going on a trip to his dream-friend, finally, and the boy's eyes grow wide, and he shuffles his feet, and his mouth tightens just a little.

Magnus waits.

My name's Alexander.

Magnus blinks. That wasn't any of what he thought his friend was worried about. I'm Magnus, he answers, and the boy, Alexander, smiles at him, wide and delighted.

Maybe you'll find me out there somewhere, Magnus.

Magnus swallows, and shrugs, and lets himself hope. Maybe.

He doesn't.

He meets Werewolves and Vampires and Fae. He learns of the world beyond the woods, human kingdoms and cities, people and monsters and heroes. He goes looking for more people like him, like Alexander, like Ragnor, children lost and alone who don't have anyone else waiting for them, who don't yet know how to hide what they are, how to find people with whom they don't have to hide.

Sometimes he helps them settle where they are, with a friend or a partner, makes sure they know how to call him if ever they need his help.

Sometimes he brings them back to Ragnor, to warm tea and cool green shadows, lets them learn, just as he did, how to set their worries down, how to breathe. The house shifts, and every time he's there his room is the same, but there's another guest-room in the attic now, sometimes two, a place for someone else to rest and recover and learn.

Every time he's there he dreams, at least once, of his boy who isn't remotely just a boy anymore. Alexander's a young man now, tall and broad-shouldered, taller than Magnus, with a strong jaw and heavy eyebrows, but still there's that same soft light in his eyes every time he welcomes Magnus back home.

Magnus leaves again, and again.

Magnus meets Camille, who is beautiful and sharp and brilliant and forever. He loves her, and she loves him, and they dance and fight and fuck, they fall together and break apart over and over again.

He returns to the house in the woods regularly, even when he's not carting someone who needs sanctuary in tow. He spends a year or five discussing books and plants and Ragnor's terrible taste in tea. He dreams of Alexander, with his sweet smile and the shadows in his beautiful eyes. He cannot help but be glad that, for as long as the two of them wander their woods, the tension he glimpses in Alexander's posture eases, and his eyes look a little lighter by the end of their visits than they do at the beginning. They smile at each other, here, no matter how tired they might be when they're awake.

Magnus talks about collecting ingredients for potions, about the house's garden and the way it's grown over the years. Alexander talks about archery, and the sound of rain against library windows, and training his new horse.

Magnus talks about traveling, about new sights with every dawn, new people over every drink at night. Alexander's smile seems sad, but he asks more questions, always more, and Magnus wonders where he's trapped, wonders at how carefully he never mentions the names of the people he knows, as if he's afraid, even here, that someone might overhear.

Magnus tries not to think too much about how many years have passed, how many times he's looked for Alexander out there in the world, how he's never found the slightest hint of him.

He meets Imasu, who is sweet but fleeting. George who dies too young. He meets more souls who might love him, but leave him for something more steady, more human. He goes back to the woods to nurse his heavy heart when it gets too much to bear, and Ragnor makes him tea, and his Alexander meets Magnus in the shadows of his dreams and smiles.

Magnus smiles back.

But the dreams aren't every night, and sometimes Magnus wonders what they mean to Alexander, how they fit into the life he lives in his own waking world.

I miss you, Magnus says, and Alexander only shrugs, half-agreement and half something else that Magnus doesn't understand. It's not regret, or hope, but it's not not either of those things either.

They wander their woods, which look much the same as they ever do, eternal and barely changing, just like them.

You always come back, Alexander says instead of good-bye, when the dream starts to fade around them.

I'll always be waiting, Magnus thinks he hears as he blinks awake, but he's not sure if it's real, or only wishful thinking.

Magnus' heart heals, and news from the world trickles even into these woods, and eventually Magnus leaves again. But he always comes back, to Ragnor's warm silences and Alexander's warmer eyes.

Sometimes Magnus asks Alexander if he'd like Magnus to stay, here in the woods where their dreams intersect, but Alexander always says no, shakes his head with a smile. You're never gone that long, and I like to hear about the world you see.

So different than the one he lives in, clearly.

How long since the last time you saw me? Magnus asks. Because he wandered almost twenty years this time, and he may be immortal but that's not nothing, even for him.

Maybe a week? Alexander answers. Why? How long was it for you?

Magnus shakes his head a little. A thousand times as long, perhaps.

Alexander goes still, so still it seems that even the trees could move faster than him, if they so decided, and he sighs out one long heavy breath. Oh. That explains a lot.

It does?

But Alexander doesn't explain. He just smiles again, something sad and sweet both at once, and leans in close enough to brush a kiss against Magnus' cheek.

Magnus blinks in surprise, but before he can even lift his hand to his cheek to feel the phantom warmth from Alexander's lips against his skin, he wakes up.

He gets a message from Catarina only a few days later, asking for his help with a squabble between some Vampires and Werewolves that could too easily escalate into a full-blown conflict, and he leaves the woods without getting to see Alexander again. Not that he's ever been able to control the dreams, or ever known when they're to be separated, but it aches more than usual this time, not getting to say good-bye.

He meets Camille again. She's still beautiful and brilliant but something in her eyes has gone brittle. He tries to be soft enough to soothe, but she just gets sharper, and when they drift apart again this time it's almost with relief.

Back and forth for years, for decades, the house, the world, Ragnor and Catarina and then Dot and Elias, Tessa and Zoe and on and on... Alexander in his dreams, now and then, though it's less often than it used to be, even when he lingers in the woods for years.

One night he finds Alexander at a make-shift archery range, pulling his bow back so far his arms tremble, blood on his hands from where he's let the string snap, let the fletching catch as his arrows fly free.

Alexander. Magnus lingers, a few steps back, magic sparking between his fingers, desperate to reach out and offer comfort.

Alexander chokes, the sound rough and sudden enough to make Magnus' throat ache in sympathy, to make his eye burn with the echoes of grief.

Magnus steps closer.

Alexander, he thinks.

Alexander drops his bow, turns, and Magnus wraps him in his arms.

Alexander's trembling, his breath hot and shivering against Magnus' neck, his fingers digging into Magnus' shoulder as he grips him tight.

My father's dead.

Oh, darling. Magnus hugs him tighter. Alexander has occasionally talked about his mother before, his sister, the baby he never got to meet. He wonders about them, hopes they're all right, somewhere out there. Alexander barely mentions his father, his jaw always tight and his eyes too bright, as if he doesn't know what to feel, what to say, and it's clear his father's death hasn't made that conflict any easier.

Magnus holds him, lets his magic free to heal the physical damage, at least, and Alexander doesn't cry.

Magnus feels hungover when he wakes up, but there's nothing he can do for either of them.

When he dreams again, Alexander acts like none of it ever happened, but there's a shadow in his eyes that no longer fades, even when he smiles his usual soft greeting at Magnus. He's hiding, Magnus knows, but he doesn't know how to help lift Alexander's burden. (Alexander clearly knows that Magnus knows, offering an embarrassed smile and a small shrug. Alexander doesn't know what to do, either.) Magnus does his best to provide a sanctuary, at least, and hopes it's enough, even when they're apart.

Magnus finds his father, entirely by accident. And then he flees him, this terrible Prince of Hell, this darkness that twists and turns and laughs, even as blood spills, even as magic burns innocent lives to ash.

His father follows.

Magnus banishes him. He's not sure if it worked, or if Asmodeus is humoring him, biding his time until he can try again. He considers isolating himself, exiling himself somewhere far away from anyone he needs to protect from the shadows of his father's gaze. But he can't quite make himself do it.

He can't bear to be so alone.

Magnus runs back to hide in his woods, to shelter in Ragnor's care and Alexander's comfort until he no longer wakes up screaming at the memories of hell in eyes that looked just like his own.

Alexander asks him about his magic, asks how old he is, asks how often he comes back to the woods.

Magnus tells him, and thinks they both feel better for it.

Alexander asks him about curses, and hexes, asks about the Fae and Vampires and Demons.

Finally figured me out, did you?

Magnus tries to make a joke of it, but Alexander won't let him flinch.

No, of course not.

Alexander pulls him close, his gaze steady and sincere in a way Magnus has never seen anyone else manage.

I've met evil, and you're the furthest thing from it.

Magnus swallows. He remembers when they met, how Alexander's family had to run away from something, how he couldn't go too. He remembers the grief and guilt in Alexander's eyes ever since his father's death. He thinks of the weight Alexander always seems to carry, even here, in the realm they share that doesn't quite exist.

You're in danger, aren't you? Magnus asks.

Alexander's eyes are sad as he shrugs. Isn't everyone?

Not like that, Magnus wants to lean in even closer, wants to let his fingertips touch Alexander's lips, wants to rest his palm against his cheek. No one should be in danger like that.

But shoulds don't change the world they live in, either of them, so Magnus tells him about blood-magic and hexes, curses and counter-curses, how to spot a Vampire, contain a Werewolf, how to tell when a Fae is dodging the truth even harder than usual, how to hide from a demon.

When he wakes he thinks about Alexander's questions, about curses and wards and the intent behind most magic spells, and he goes digging through Ragnor's library, adds to his list of things to look for the next time he goes out into the world.

Most wards are specific, this counter to that magic, and Alexander isn't a Warlock, he can't tell Magnus enough about whatever it is that he's afraid of for Magnus to know what sort of spell might be cast, which sort of shield might work.

He needs something else, something different. Something that can react to that intent rather than the spell itself?

Something that can dodge it, or move it to the side, or... reflect it?

Seelies are fond of mirror magic. Maybe he'll visit them and see what he can learn.

He wanders, and studies, and life goes on, as it always does.

He has a family now, one he chose rather than the one he'd been born of, and the world keeps growing, and changing, and shifting. Except for the house and Ragnor, who stay the same, cool and green and quiet. Except for Alexander, who welcomes Magnus back to his dreams every time he returns.

It takes a few decades, but he manages to figure out a spell, a protective ward linked to a necklace, a flat piece of silver, slightly curved, polished 'til it gleams like a mirror. He looks at it when he's done, and sighs. It's not as if he can take it into his dreams with him.

He finds the old stump, petrified almost as hard as stone now, the one where he'd met Ragnor, the mirror of the one where he met Alexander. He puts the necklace there, in the hollow between the roots, and hopes intent matters enough that it will help, wherever Alexander really is now.

(It doesn't seem to. He takes Alexander back to the stump in their next shared dream, and there's nothing there. He sighs, but then Alexander smiles at him, and he cannot help but smile back as they wander their way to a different clearing, close enough their hands almost touch with each step as they talk.)

He leaves again, feeling more aimless than usual without his research project, and loses track of time for a while. But only for a little while. He'll always come back home again, after all.

Until he tries to go back home, and Ragnor meets him at the edge of the woods, and says No.

Something about a prophecy, and Camille, and some poor young mortal and it's important that Magnus not interfere, and Magnus leaves and gets very drunk and refuses to cry into his beer.

For about a decade.

Maybe two?

He misses Ragnor, and his home, and most of all he misses his dreams, and Alexander, and now that it's too late it's painfully apparent that somewhere along the way he fell in love with a person who probably doesn't exist, and he doesn't know what to do about any of it.

Even in the state he's in, he hears about Camille, about how she made herself Queen of a human kingdom, about a Mirror she stole from the Seelie Queen, about vassals and servants, Vampires, Ghouls, Subjugates, and poor besieged Humans, all under her power.

About the rumors of a lost heir, still alive somewhere in the woods, and Magnus knows that's the one that Ragnor's protecting, and he still doesn't understand why he's here and not there, why Ragnor wouldn't let him help.

Until he feels a tug on his magic, and goes outside the Inn he's currently wallowing in to see Camille herself, looking half-dead rather than undead, her arm hanging like it's broken, her hair streaked with grey, her lips dark with old blood, her clothes torn and ragged and dirt-stained. She's trembling, her skin paper-thin and sallow, her knuckles too big for her fingers as they twist and grip in front of her. The taste of blood-magic and curses linger in the air around her, twisted into something sharp and bright and painful, and the distinctive shape of a scrying mirror is strapped to her back.

Help me, she begs, eyes dark and vicious, and he nods, and opens a portal, and sends her to the Seelie Queen.

He'll remember that last scream of rage and terror in his dreams for the rest of his life, as the Seelies claim her with their vines, powerful enough to bind even Camille at her strongest, never mind what she's become now. But she had murdered innocents, and there had been fear in her eyes but not regret, and he knows sometimes you can't escape the consequences of your actions.

He goes back inside and doesn't even pretend to sleep.

He considers going back to the woods, what used to be his woods, but there's a shiver in his chest where his heart used to be, and he knows if Ragnor sends him away again he won't survive, so he doesn't.

If no one tells him no again, he can still hold onto the hope that he'll see Alexander again some day. He has time, after all.

He just hopes Alexander does too.

He waits, hoping to hear what the rumors say, to see if this time he hears a whisper of what Ragnor was trying to protect, of the prophecy or the heir or the huntsman.

There's nothing.

Instead Catarina walks into his room entirely unannounced early one foggy morning, takes one look at him as he sits up in bed, clutching his blankets to his chest, and starts swearing, sharp and vicious under her breath.

Magnus blinks at her in surprise. She lifts one finger, wait, and turns around and leaves again.

Magnus considers the possibility he's started hallucinating from spending too much time by himself.

He gets himself up and shaved and dressed and goes down to the common room for breakfast.

Might as well be presentable if the hallucinations decide to talk to him next time.

Ragnor shows up while he's still lingering over his tea. His shoulders are hunched and his hair is a mess, and his glamour is thick enough Magnus can't see his horns, but his skin looks slightly green-tinged anyways.

There's an ache in Magnus' chest at the suggestion that Catarina ripped Ragnor a new one on Magnus' behalf, but he tries not to linger on it too much as he gets up and goes back to his room, listening for Ragnor's familiar steps following him up the stairs.

Of course he doesn't know what to say, even once they're back in his room with the door shut and a privacy ward raised, so he lets his hand rest on the back of his favorite armchair by the hearth, tries not to make the desperate grip he needs to keep himself steady too obvious, and waits.

Ragnor's mouth twists, and his hands spread wide, and Magnus realizes he's never once in all his centuries see the man look so hopeless. "Why didn't you, why did you disappear for so long?"

There's a spark of something that might be anger, somewhere beneath all the heart-break and loss and fear. "You told me to leave," Magnus makes himself say.

"Not like—" Ragnor starts, and he lifts his gaze from the toes of his boots and meets Magnus' eyes and his voice breaks off in his throat. "Oh."

Magnus waits again, but it's different now, a trembling sort of anticipation as he watches the expression on Ragnor's face shift, frustration to understanding to guilt.

"I didn't mean it like that." He swallows so hard that Magnus can see the shift down his throat, so hard his glamour flickers, green flashing across his skin, the shadow his horns cast visible against the wall. "I'm sorry."

Magnus closes his eyes, and feels himself sway, relief so heavy he can't hold himself upright. He barely hears the heavy tread of Ragnor's step forward before he feels Ragnor's arms around him, gripping him tight. "I'm sorry, please come home."

Magnus clings, and ignores the burning in his eyes, and nods.

When he finally lets go of Ragnor's shoulders, Ragnor won't meet his eyes, shifts sideways just a little, guilt heavy in the clenching of his jaw, in the thin tone of his voice when he starts talking. "I have to tell you something else."

Magnus snorts out something that might be a laugh, ignoring how damp it sounds from the tears still caught in his throat. "Cat came looking because you need my help with something, don't you?"

Ragnor's whole body sags with relief, and he nods.

Magnus gestures at the chairs, and collapses with a sigh into his favorite. "Start from the beginning, mon ami."

Ragnor snorts, and sighs, and leans forward, his elbows resting heavily on his thighs.

"You remember Idris?"

Magnus tilts his head, wondering how that's the beginning, but nods. "That's the country Camille took over. Are they recovering all right?"

Ragnor lifts his head, eyes wide and startled. "How did you know she was gone?"

Magnus feels his mouth twist, even as he flicks his fingers to the side to attempt to send the bitterness away. "She thought I'd help her get away."

"You didn—"

"Of course not." Magnus swallows, makes himself meet Ragnor's eyes. "I returned her and her stolen property to the Seelie Queen."

Ragnor shudders, but it looks more like relief than horror. "Hopefully we don't need to find her then."

Magnus swallows, something like dread crawling up his spine. "Why would anyone need to find Camille?"

Ragnor huffs out a breath, and Magnus realizes he still looks hopeless, helpless, lost in a way Magnus has never seen before. "Because I don't know how to break the curse she cast."

Magnus thinks of that taste in the air around Camille, blood and desperation, the weight of the mirror on her back, the rumors of the Seelie Queen's increasingly desperate attempts to get it back. "She used a Seelie artifact to cast a blood-curse?"

Ragnor shrugs. "We think so, but it's all tangled up in an old prophecy, and Raphael can't—"

Magnus holds up a hand. "Wait, stop. We're in the middle again."

Ragnor snorts. "And whose fault is that?"

"You're the one who's supposed to be explaining yourself."

Ragnor glares over his glasses, and Magnus feels his face ease into a smile more honest than any he's attempted in years.

It's good to have his best friend back.

Ragnor's attempted frown softens, as if he feels the same way, and he leans back in his chair and clears his throat. "Camille managed to weasel her way into Idris as some sort of royal advisor, used the mirror to fool some King into thinking she was Fae instead of Vampire, and set herself up as the power in the shadows for a generation or three."

Magnus grunts. That's longer than she usually sticks—longer than she used to stick to one game. "What was she trying to accomplish?"

"There's an old prophecy attached to Idris, the original's been lost for centuries, but it was something about a King under unnatural influence, and a gift of magic the likes of which the world had never seen before, would never see again, and..."

"She thought she could be the unnatural influence and snag the gift for herself?"

Ragnor shrugs.

"And even if nothing fancy happened, she'd become the sort of person who'd enjoy playing with mortals for a few hundred years." Magnus closes his eyes, remembers the first time he saw Camille, remembers dancing the night away, the bright sound of her laugh, the touch of her fingers against his skin. He makes himself open them again before he thinks too much about that final scream before he'd closed the portal between him and the Seelie Realm. "I wonder sometimes if the woman I fell in love with ever really existed, or if it was all one of her games..."

"Immortality wears on everyone, in different ways."

"I suppose," Magnus frowns, and tries not to swear. "Is that the prophecy that convinced you to banish me?"

"I didn't—" Ragnor stopped as Magnus lifted his eyebrows. "I just meant for you to contact me from a safer distance. There's a line in it that's generally thought to be about a Prince of Hell being forsworn, and the curse coming full circle, and..."

Magnus' mouth opens, then closes again. He is the only Warlock he knows whose father tried to claim him as an heir to hell itself. "You didn't want my magic close enough to screw up an already weird prophecy."

Ragnor grunts. "I apparently should have phrased it better."

Magnus rolls his eyes. "Clearly."

"You could have asked!" Ragnor snarls back.

Magnus grunts this time. "But that's not really part of your story, either?"

Ragnor looks like he's considering some sort of hex before he sighs and shrugs and starts talking again. "Robert Lightwood, King of Idris, had an affair. When he got caught out, he managed, presumably thanks to Camille's influence for the idea and some judicious encantos for the execution, to convince the Kingdom of Idris it was his wife's fault, and she fled the country ahead of treason charges."

Magnus stills, and remembers Alexander's mother.

Ragnor keeps talking, and it takes more effort than Magnus will ever admit to follow what he's saying.

"The Queen was pregnant with their third child, took their daughter with her when she ran, but Robert had already formally recognized their eldest as his heir, and she knew if she tried to take him too they'd never be able to get away..."

Magnus can't breathe, barely notices when Ragnor's voice cracks with what sounds like genuine grief, as if he knows them personally, as if it's not just a story, as if this is the important part, not just the background to whatever happens next.

"When." Magnus' voice sounds like he's dying, more of a croak of pain than words, and he makes himself swallow, makes himself try again. "When did she run."

"Twenty years ago." Ragnor stops, but Magnus is too deep in his own head to notice, not really, certainly can't tell what Ragnor is thinking, what he's feeling, what his voice or his face might be doing. There's a lengthy pause, and Magnus tries to think, because it can't be Alexander, that first dream was hundreds of years ago, not twenty, but their time never matched, and he'd tried not to think about it too much before, tried not to wonder if his dreams were with a mortal and someday he'd see Alexander aging, or if it was all some prolonged figment of his imagination and someday the illusion would grow too shallow, he'd be forced to realize they weren't true, but their times never matched, and if a week was twenty years than why couldn't twenty years be...

"Now that I know Camille's gone, though, I can send for them, she gave me her mother's necklace before she left so I could track them, no matter where they w—"

"Name." Magnus snaps, not even sure what Ragnor had been saying anymore. "I need a name."

"Whose?" Ragnor sounds honestly bewildered now, which in other circumstances might be interesting, Magnus isn't sure he's ever managed to bewilder Ragnor before, but at the moment he just needs to know his damn name. "Robert and Maryse? Isabelle? I don't know what she named her youngest, they were gone before the birth."

"The heir." Magnus is standing, he doesn't remember standing up, but he's glaring down at Ragnor, fists clenched at his sides. "He's the one you were protecting when you sent me away, wasn't he, what's his name?"

"Alec?"

Oh hells, damnation and gods and demons and... "Short for Alexander?"

"Well, yes, but." Ragnor starts to stand, hands outreached as if to touch, clearly able to tell that something is happening even if he doesn't know what. He's moving too slowly though, and Magnus grabs the lapels of his coat, pulls 'til Ragnor's on his feet, 'til they're face to face.

"Take me to him, now."

"But I haven't even told you the—"

"Now."

Ragnor nods.

He waits a beat, then gently lifts his hands, wraps them around Magnus' wrists. "I need room if I'm to make the portal, Magnus."

Magnus lets go, steps back, exhales something that feels like his soul itself might be trying to flee. He shakes his arms out, clenches and releases his hands. "Please," he whispers.

Ragnor makes the portal, and reaches back, and Magnus grabs his hand much too hard.

He stumbles into a familiar attic, ignores Catarina's startled hello, because there's Alexander, tucked into the same bed Magnus always used when he stayed here, eyelashes resting heavy against his cheeks, chest lifting ever so slowly beneath a quilt Magnus doesn't recognize.

I suppose Ragnor finally got new blankets in the last twenty years, he thinks rather helplessly, even as he steps forward and falls to his knees beside the bed. His hand reaches out, hovering over Alec's cheek, then his chest, but he's afraid this is real, afraid it isn't, and he doesn't know what he's seeing or why, or what to do.

"Alexander." Magnus shakes his head, ignores the ache in his chest and his throat and his head. His hand is trembling, he can't quite seem to keep it steady, and it bumps against the collar of Alec's shirt, opens it enough he sees the glint of a silver chain.

His breath hitches, and he can feel the tears overflowing his eyes and falling down his cheeks. He makes his hand move, just enough to open the collar a little further, to see the familiar curve of silver glinting where it's settled in the hollow of Alexander's throat. "You're real and you found it."

He starts to reach for the necklace itself, to touch the magic, to touch Alexander, when a familiar voice interrupts him. "What the fuck, Magnus."

Magnus turns, and can't help the grin he can feel beneath his tears. "He's real, Cat!"

"Most people are?"

"He found it!" Magnus turns back, and Catarina slaps his shoulder hard enough he almost falls over onto the bed.

"Stop that!" She tugs on the back of his shirt, trying to pull him away from the bed. "We haven't figured out how he's not dead, if you must know the truth, and I don't want you screwing up whatever..."

"It's the necklace." Magnus points. "I made it for him."

"You what?" Ragnor speaks up this time. "I never told you anything about him, and I certainly had no clue that Camille knew how to make a kairothanasia."

Magnus chokes on his next breath. "She did a what?"

Cat makes an almost identical choking sound. "You gave him something that stopped a curse without knowing what curse to stop?"

"I didn't even know it was Camille he was afraid of!"

"What." Ragnor's voice drops almost an octave, and he lifts both hands, palms out, in a very clear stop gesture. "Alec is stable, even if we're not entirely sure why, so I suggest we sit and try to start this conversation over again. From something resembling a beginning."

"Because that worked so well last time?" Magnus huffs out a breath as Ragnor and Catarina both glare at him. "It's not my fault, I didn't know he was real!"

"But you made him a real necklace that does impossible magic!" Catarina's voice rises higher than Magnus thinks he's ever heard it go before, and eyes and hands are both spread wider than looks comfortable. "What did you do?"

Ragnor grunts, and claps his hands, and the bench at the foot of the bed scrapes across the floor as it moves to settle beside the chair angled between the window for light and the chimney for warmth. "Sit."

They sit.

Ragnor summons the small table from his study, and Catarina summons some tea, and they both stare at Magnus.

"Every time I'm here," Magnus gestures broadly around them, both at the house and the woods outside, "I have these dreams where I'm wandering these woods, with..." Magnus trails off, and turns his head to look at the bed. "With him."

"He's not even thirty years old."

Magnus laughs, a hollow sort of helplessness as he shrugs. "Our times never did seem to match. I'd be gone for twenty years, and he'd say his last dream was less than a week before."

"That's impossible."

"The first one was the very first night I was here." Catarina's face turns into a pained sort of grimace; they all know what first nights are like, when a young Warlock realizes what they might be, and Magnus barely stops himself from shrugging again. "You remember that stump you found me sitting on, Ragnor?"

"Only because you'd go back to visit it." Ragnor frowns. "Now that you mention it, it's where I met Maryse and her children when she was fleeing Idris, too, and it's where Raphael brought Alec when Camille ordered him killed after his father died, before he could be coronated properly himself."

Catarina puts her tea down with a quiet clink of porcelain. "Poor Raphael, he looked so disgusted watching me bespell that pig's heart to smell like human blood for him to take back to Camille as proof."

Magnus shudders in sympathy. That spell was messy, and would have required some of Alexander's blood put into the pig's heart to convince the rest of it to change to match. "It must have worked for awhile, Robert—" Magnus stops, swallows, remembers Alexander trembling as he clung to Magnus in a clearing in the middle of the woods. Remembers the news, much more recently, of the death of the King of Idris, of the Regent taking over, of Camille becoming Queen. "His father died a few years ago, didn't he?"

"He and his second wife, the poor woman. Carriage 'accident', or so the stories went." Ragnor clicks his tongue, echoing the porcelain as he puts his cup down next to Catarina's. "She had no idea what she was getting into, falling for a Lightwood."

Neither did I, apparently. Magnus swallows, and tries to figure out what to say next. "That stump was where I met Alexander, in that first dream. It's where I put the necklace, after I made it. I'm not sure why I did it, couldn't have told you while it was happening, I knew I couldn't take it into a dream, but I just... I wanted to help."

"What, exactly, was this help then?" Catarina leans forward.

"It's just a basic ward twisted into a bit of silver." Magnus had repeated and twisted it nine times to make it as powerful as the silver could bear, but that wasn't difficult, it just required patience and brute force. Rather a lot of it, perhaps, but he'd had the time and power to spare. Would have spared anything, he realizes, for Alexander. "I based the shape of the spell on a Seelie mirror though, so it would reflect any magic that carried an intent to harm, rather than trying to set up counters for specific spells."

Just, Catarina mouths at him, and shakes her head.

Ragnor whistles softly. "It wouldn't work on raw magic or accidental damage like a personal ward, but it's perfect for someone being targeted who can't work magic directly."

"Thank you." Magnus twists in his chair to look at Alexander again. "Was it though?"

"He's still alive," Catarina answers, her voice almost unbearably soft. "That's a miracle, considering."

"Are you sure about that?" Magnus can't stop himself, he stands, starts to move closer to the bed, to Alexander. "How did she even manage to make a kairothanasia?"

"Enough blood and intent, focused through that mirror?" Magnus hears Catarina stand up behind him. "Camille has more than enough of both."

"Had," Magnus corrects, and he walks the rest of the way toward the bed. He vaguely hears Ragnor telling Catarina about Camille as he kneels again, but he isn't really paying attention. If his necklace had worked, it should have reflected the curse back on Camille. But she hadn't been cursed to have never existed, hadn't had her blood erased all the way back before she'd been born, like she'd tried to do to Alexander. Magnus remembers every time they'd met, every rumour he'd heard of what she'd done when they were apart. She hadn't even been killed by it, not quite, no matter how damaged she'd been when she'd tried to ask Magnus for help.

But if her curse had worked, if the necklace had failed, Alexander would have never existed, and here he is, alive and breathing and one of the few constants of Magnus' life.

So it's something in-between. The kairothanasia's the strongest curse Magnus knows, and if Camille had powered it with enough blood, enough intent, if that mirror was as dangerous as it seemed, it would have been too much even for the necklace's protection to reflect in its entirety. But some of it...

Some of it had rebounded back on Camille, some of it was keeping Alexander asleep, but that couldn't be all of it, not a curse like that, not one that killed someone's past as well as their future.

Magnus reaches a hand out again, holds it above the necklace, and stretches, oh so gently, magic twisting from his fingers to brush against the wards he'd set. He hisses in pain as they spark back at him, and pulls his hand away, cradles it against his chest.

Well.

Fuck.

The curse is still there, tangled up in the necklace, resting so close to Alexander's heart that Magnus has to bite his lip and focus on the sting to make himself think rather than reach down and try and yank the necklace off Alexander's body. The wards are clearly strong enough to block the intent, but the spell still wants to complete itself. He narrows his eyes, thinks about the feel of those sparks, warm and lively, and wonders. It's powerful, potentially deadly, but it doesn't feel like blood-magic anymore, tastes like regular magic rather than a curse, as if the wards managed to twist it inside out, just like Magnus had wanted, but it was too big.

By the time it had finished twisting the curse, the blood magic and wards were knotted too tightly together to push it back out again?

"Time," Magnus whispers. The kairothanasia erases someone from time, and all the results from the deflection have only happened now. He has to let the spell do something to the rest of Alexander's lifetime or it'll just sit there, twisted around backwards and eating Alexander's future instead of his past.

Alexander's past.

Alexander's impossible past, full of dreams with Magnus from before he was born.

Maybe he needs to let the spell do something that has already happened, maybe he has to let it make Alec alive before he was born, even if only in dreams.

For that to work, he has to let this inside-out curse tie his and Alexander's lives together.

He's... not at all sure what that will do. Two souls, one life, half immortal, half mortal?

"Oh." Ragnor's voice is right there, and Magnus lifts his head to see Ragnor and Catarina standing just beyond his reach, holding hands and eyes bright with magic; they'd clearly been following along with his diagnostic. "If the kairothanasia makes it so someone was never alive, the counter means they're extra alive, doesn't it?"

"I think that to dispel it properly the spell will have to be set on both of them. Your life will be his, and his death will be yours." Catarina's voice is soft as she smiles at Magnus, her eyes sad as every year of her life lingers in them. "Your wards are powerful, but not enough to dispel that curse, not entirely."

"A gift of magic that has never been seen before, nor will again." Ragnor whispers. "Your wards combined with Camille's curse, Vampire blood and Warlock magic, both shaped by Seelie mirrors. It's the prophecy, Magnus."

"If it does what we think... He'll lose his family again." Magnus wants this, wants to save Alexander, wants to see a future that's not just in their dreams, but he doesn't know if Alexander does, and he can't ask.

Immortality wears on everyone, in different ways.

They may not become completely immortal, but they won't quite be mortal anymore, either.

"I've never seen him take that necklace off," Catarina counters. "I think you're his family, too."

Magnus can't speak, can't think, doesn't move.

"He'd want to live." Ragnor's voice is rough, and his free hand reaches out to grip Magnus' shoulder. "Even with your wards, the hit from that curse would have hurt, would have told him to give up, to let go, and he's still here, still breathing. At some level he had to have fought for that."

Magnus closes his eyes, swallows. Thinks of Alexander's smile, the steady weight of his gaze. Alexander never gives up, Magnus can't either. He reaches, twists his hands in the air before him, pulling his magic from the necklace, back into himself, making the inside-out curse come with.

He screams as the spell explodes, sunlight in his veins, burning beneath his skin, and he can feel the weight of it, the twenty-eight years of Alec's life over and throughout the centuries of his own, stretched thin and fragile but undeniably there, tangled together too tightly to ever be pulled apart again.

He blinks himself back to awareness. The room's dimmer than it was, his bones ache and his magic's almost entirely depleted; he feels raw and scraped out, and it's only when he tries to shift to ease the soreness in his muscles that he realizes he's lying down, that same new quilt he'd noticed earlier draped over him.

He turns his head, and forgets every bit of pain because there's Alexander, close enough to touch at last, lying on his side, his arm tucked under his head, his eyes just barely open, a glint of light catching beneath the dark shadow of his lashes.

"Magnus." Alexander's mouth curves into the barest hint of a smile, his voice low and mumbling, barely more force behind the words than an exhale of a breath. "Hoping I'd dream of you."

Magnus sighs, feels the tremble of his breath, hope bright and shivering in his chest, and turns himself slowly onto his side to mirror Alexander.

There's a hint of a frown between Alexander's brows as he watches, but he holds it in until Magnus settles to a stop.

"You look tired."

Magnus almost laughs, but he's afraid it'll hurt. "That's because we're both awake, darling."

Alexander's eyes widen, and his breath stutters, as if he's only now managed to pay enough attention to realize where they are. "You're rea—" His voice cracks as he tries to lift himself onto his elbow, and he slides back down onto the bed with a groan, making it clear he's at least as sore as Magnus is. "You're here. Now."

"Same place, same time." Magnus finally lets himself reach out, though his fingertips rest against the silver charm that he only notices now is solid black with tarnish, thick and set enough it doesn't even smudge at his touch, rather than touching Alexander himself. "You found it."

"When I was eight." Alexander's shoulders shift, and there's worry in his eyes. "The day I first dreamt of you."

Magnus' eyes slide close, open again as he shakes his head, fabric wrinkling beneath his temple with the movement.

"I think I made it almost forty years ago now, when I'd already known you for centuries." Magnus hums, thinks about the feel of the spell as it had tied them together. He can still feel it, a tug between his ribs that he knows will never go away again, that he knows is Alexander. "Our times match now."

Alexander's frown deepens, but he clearly isn't surprised, had already figured out how far off their histories were. "How?"

"Camille." Magnus swallows, tries again. "She tried to curse you so that, rather than just dying, you'd never existed at all."

"Magnus," Alexander breathes out, eyes wide with horror. "I'm so sorry."

Magnus has to turn his head into his pillow, not sure if he's blocking a laugh or tears. Alexander is clearly more concerned about what that would have meant to Magnus than what it meant about his own life. "It's too powerful a curse to be easily dispelled or reflected..."

"Magnus," Alexander repeats, but this time his voice is steady. He's waiting for Magnus to look at him, to finish saying it. "Please."

Magnus makes himself return that steady gaze. "The spell still had to affect time, not just the present, so it..." He chokes, gestures between them.

Magnus wonders when Alexander first suspected the nature of their impossible connection, wonders what it must have been like for Alexander to hear Magnus mention Camille, the Lightwood's personal devil, back when she'd just been a person, a lover, someone who danced through life, who knew how to laugh, who wasn't always cruel.

I'm sorry, he thinks, but he knows it wasn't his fault, that now isn't the time to try and unpick the tangled weave of their timelines.

"That's how the dreams." Alexander blinks, hums softly. "Never thought I'd be glad for something Camille started."

Magnus huffs out a startled laugh, then presses his hand to his chest with a groan. It hurts as much as he'd been afraid it would. "Our lives are tangled together for the future, too."

"But you're immortal."

"I was."

Alexander makes a soft pained noise, as if he'd been wounded.

"Just like you were mortal."

Alexander's eyes close, slowly this time, and stay that way as he exhales, long and shaky. Magnus waits, for what he's not entirely sure, fear or anger or regret. "Thank the gods," Alexander whispers.

"What?" Magnus' voice cracks up, louder than he'd intended.

Alexander smiles, and his eyes are damp when he opens them, but they're alight, joy and relief and something that Magnus suspects might be love. Magnus forgets how to think. "I thought you meant you were going to die because of me, not that I'd get to live with you."

"Oh." That's all Magnus can manage. They stare at each other, until Magnus realizes it's still getting darker, and it's difficult to see anything beyond the shape of Alexander's cheekbone, the faint glint of his eyes in what little light is left. He realizes he is sure of Alexander, of how he feels, of what he wants. Of everything Alexander never said, but showed him nonetheless, night after night of conversations and silences, shoulders pressed together as they perched on that same damnable, wonderful stump. "I love you, too."

Alexander smiles, wider and brighter than Magnus has ever seen before, and he has no idea what to do now that this is real. He reaches, and Alexander's lips are warm against the very tips of his fingers, and he feels that amazing smile soften beneath his touch.

"You're real," Magnus whispers, "and you're here, with me."

"You're real," Alexander agrees, "and you saved me."

"You first," Magnus says, and he's smiling like a loon, he's sure, as Alexander's hand wraps around his, fingers long and the skin just rough enough to catch, as he tugs Magnus' hand down out of the way and leans in even closer. Magnus closes his eyes, and Alexander's lips meet his at last, as gentle as a spring wind, soft and warm and sweet.

Magnus sighs as their mouths part, as every last bit of worry and stress seems to leave him, and no matter how much he wants to savor every moment of this, he's not sure he can stay awake for much longer.

"Sweet dreams," Alexander breathes against Magnus' mouth, and Magnus laughs again, blinks his eyes half open long enough to see Alexander, to answer with what they both know is true.

"How can they not be, with you in them?"

Alexander scoffs out a breath, amused and fond. "Our times match now, there may not be any more dreams."

"You've always been my favorite dream, Alexander."

Alexander kisses Magnus' forehead, the warm press of his lips lingering as he exhales. Magnus lets his eyes close, and his body settle.

I love you, he hears, and it doesn't matter if Alexander says it out loud, if he's imagining it, or dreaming it. He knows it's true.

#shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #ragnor fell #camille belcourt #my sh fic #jilly writes #snow white #fairy tales

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quixotic-writer · 4 years

Text

Hang in There!

Request by: @birdgirl1772

Summary: Waking up in your neighbor, Sal’s, yard: weird. But what’s even weirder is waking up as a cat in your neighbor’s yard. Out of panic he decides to call the one person he knows can take care of a little feline: Q. He takes you home and you spend the day with him and his other cats.

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I awoke to a large clap of thunder, my eyes snap open and i’m in a place that isn’t too familiar. Trapped in by a white fence and surrounded by a grassy area, there’s a house so I assume i’m in a backyard somewhere. I look up to the sky and feel as rain drops splat onto my face, it’s storming pretty hard. When I get up, a strange sense of dysphoria hits me, why am I still so close to the ground? I look at my body: covered in white fur, a tail, paws with claws.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I scream out, taken aback by my new physical form. What is happening? Why me? What is going on? I look around for someone, anyone. “Help! Someone please! Help!” I run about the yard looking for any escape or just for someone to save me. I feel as though my head is spinning and my eyes feel strained because of the sudden stress. The moment I look up, someone had come out the door to the backyard. He wore black frame glasses, a black t-shirt with a blue jacket to cover him, and cargo shorts. He looks around then notices me and jolts a bit.

“What the fuck. No, no, nonono. Please not a cat.” As I look closer at him, he looks like my neighbor, Sal. He backs himself up into the door and he screws his eyes shut. I can practically smell the fear radiating off of him, I sit down in the grass and just marvel at the grown man mentally crapping himself in front of me. “Okay. No I can’t just leave you out here. You must be lost. I can’t do this. Okay, listen... fella... i’ll call someone who can help you, you can’t stay here.” He shuffles back into his house in a frenzy. I walk over to the door and overhear the conversation he’s having inside on the phone.

“Brian, you NEED to get here ASAP. There’s a lost cat outside. I don’t know what to do, I can’t do it but I know you know how to handle this stuff... Just. Just get your ass here and help me out, okay?” I shake off the rain water that coated my fur and sit next to the door with my tail swishing back and forth. I hear footsteps coming closer and closer to the door, it swings open and he looks down to see me and yelps. “Okay, you cannot just do that.” This guy must be on something, what grown man is this scared of a cat.

For the next couple minutes, we stand silently on the porch and stare at each other. He stood there with his fist against his mouth staring attentively at me. It was awkward, mildly terrifying, as well as incredibly disturbing. He looked as though he was staring death in the eyes, death being the tiny little white cat that I was. Any movement I made, his eyes grew wider and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

When we heard a knock at the front door, I could see a sense of relief wash over him.

“Stay right there, I got someone to help.” He paused for a moment and narrowed his eyes at me. “Why am I explaining myself to a cat? I’ve been hanging with Q too much.” He disappears into the house yet again, leaving me outside alone. When he comes back out, he’s with another guy adorning a superman T-shirt also wrapped up in a jacket and wearing dark blue jeans.

“So this must be the little friend.” He smiles and makes kissy noises kneeling down to get closer to my level. I cautiously step towards him until I was within arms distance of him. He gently scratches my head and strokes my fur, it felt heavenly to say the least. He takes me into his arms and cuddles me close to his incredibly warm body, I involuntarily begin to purr. “Aww what a little cutie. I can take things from here Sal. I don’t want to drive much in the rain, so i’ll take care of her for tonight and bring her to the vet tomorrow.” I cuddle up against him and I can hear his heart beat, it felt like being a baby again.

“As long as she’s safe and well and also not on my porch anymore.” He sighs out relieved that my departure is near and he won’t have to be so on guard anymore. Q walks along with me in tow hidden away in the warmth of his jacket to avoid anymore rain falling on me. He opens up the passenger side door and places me down where a warm blanket was carefully arranged for me.

“There you go buddy, i’m gonna be taking care of you for a bit. Let’s hit the road, shall we?” He talks quietly and with a slight baby tone that you get when you talk to your pet.

As we go along the road, every opportunity he gets he takes a quick glance over to me and will give me an occasional pat on my head or scratches behind my ears. Halfway there, my eyes got a little heavy and I decided to take a quick nap. Off I dozed into peaceful oblivion in the warm comforts of the passenger seat.

When I awoke, Q had me up in his arms again. I had no clue where we were, but it for some unknown reason didn’t bother me in the slightest, I felt so safe and secure that nothing could bother me. We stepped through the front door of what I assumed to be his home, and at his feet and below me were three full grown adult cats circling him like sharks.

“Hey guys, don’t be rude and be nice, we have a guest today.” He steps around them and gently sets me down. The other cats surround me and I start backing up out of fear.

“Guest, huh?” The black cat spoke in a gravelly voice. He circled around me and I feared that he would pounce at any moment. I realized quickly though: I could understand him, I could fully understand what an animal is telling me. This for sure had to be some dream at this point, a lucid dream worst case scenario.

“Benjamin, be kind you old man.” Q kneels and I spring into his lap, fearing the other cats would be equally as displeased to see me or even be around me. “That old black cat is Benjamin cat, the white one with grey patches is Chessie cat, and this lovely lady here with the black patches is Brooklyn cat.” He points each of the cats out. “You guys behave, I have to clean myself up, it was POURING out there and i’m freezing!” Q stood back up and disappears to somewhere else in the house, leaving me and the three cats alone. Benjamin doesn’t even give me so much as another look and he too disappears elsewhere.

“So where are you from? Are you a stray? Are you lost? Why are you here? How’d dad find you?” Brooklyn speaks in a trill voice and circles around me asking question after question.

“Easy on the house guest Brooklyn. Not everyone is used to your jabber-jaw.” Chessie hops up onto the couch and finds his comfort zone on the arm of the chair. “Forgive Benjamin as well, he’s older and only has an affinity for dad and maybe a handful of other people. He’s not very warm and welcoming.” It’s so weird hearing a bunch of animals refer to my neighbor’s friend as ‘dad.’ Then again, that is what he is to the animals, so I can’t say much else.

“It’s, uh, it’s fine. I guess he’s territorial is all. I’ll be out of your guy’s hair.. er, fur, soon enough.” I finally speak. Brooklyn rubs up against me and purrs out.

“You talk funny for a cat, maybe you’re not from the area. Ooh! Are you a distant adventurer?”

“Well, funny story, i’m not even a cat.” The two cats in the room stop immediately and just stare at me. I feel nerves rising and if this body could sweat, I probably would be swimming in it. Why would I say that? Would these animals even understand the weird abstract situation i’ve found myself in? Suddenly Brooklyn bursts into a fit of laughter. “I thought I was crazy! You sure are funny!”

“I don’t understand it either but i’m supposed to be human!” I hear footsteps coming back down the stairs and we all redirect our attention to a fully cleaned up Q standing there with a big smile on his face. Guess that weird conversation is over, thank goodness.

“Okay guys, din din time!” Everyone jumps and starts walking to Q, watching with careful intent as he scoops food into bowls for them. Is it already that late in the evening? Where had my day gone? I still haven’t moved from my spot in the corner since I arrived at the house, it’s just a weird sensation because I don’t know how to go about acting natural as a cat in some stranger’s house. He places each of their food bowls down and they all start consuming their food. With one bowl left, he looks over to me. “Come on little one, dinner!” He shakes the food bowl and the rattling of kibble echoes in the room.

In my head I was telling myself that I will not be eating cat food, that would be a whole new low to this whole dilemma. My stomach grumbled in protest to my thoughts. “I can’t believe i’m gonna do this.” I say to myself and I slowly walk over to Q, his smile gets bigger the closer I get to him and he sets the bowl down in front of me. I take a couple sniffs of the food and my mouth waters, either i’m terribly hungry and desperate or this food just smells that good to me right now. I start eating away and Q strokes along my back.

“There you go! Enjoy your food.” He gets up and disappears into the kitchen, presumably to make himself dinner now.

The evening goes on and I feel myself growing more comfortable with Brooklyn, Chessie, as well as Q. He plays with all of us and gives us all love and attention and I had never felt so loved. I wish I could say the same for Benjamin enjoying my presence, he didn’t say much to me, only speaking in one word answers and avoiding sitting near me.

We had eventually reached a point in the night where we all gathered around the couch awaiting Q to pick a movie to watch. I was curled up against him watching as he flipped through movie after movie.

“How’s inside out sound guys? Haven’t watched it yet and I want something a little light hearted for the little one.” He gently pets me and I swear I can’t get enough of it, I finally understood why animals loved being pet so much. Maybe being a cat wouldn’t be such a bad thing especially with someone who obviously cares, if this was permanent I wasn’t gonna complain. He presses play and I feel eyes on me again, and when I look over I see Benjamin staring. I was tired of the unease.

“So what’s your deal?” I finally spoke out. “It’s not like i’m here forever, though i’d like to be!” Benjamin rolls his eyes.

“Why does it matter?” His ears flick about in annoyance and I feel my claws dig into the couch. How does he not realize how rude he’s being?

“Because you’ve been making everything so uncomfortable, is it so hard to treat others kindly for one day?” Chessie and Brooklyn’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us watching as our argument become more and more heated very quickly.

“Trust isn’t given out like candy on Halloween, little one.”

“And what have I done exactly that makes me so undeserving of respect?” I come back quickly with a rebuttal that leaves him stunned and at a loss. I knew he couldn’t come up with an answer. There’s a moment of silence with the white noise of the movie playing in the back that no one but Q was paying attention to at this point.

“Benji has a hard time trusting people if he hasn’t already made it clear.” Chessie finally spoke out. Benjamin looks to him almost as if to get him to be quiet, but Chessie ignored him. “You know that you acting like this isn’t appropriate, she’s clearly a young kitten.” Chessie says clearly over Benjamin and his hard front he’s been putting up this whole time. It must be making the others uncomfortable too.

“If I may ask: why is he so closed off?” I asked as though Benjamin wasn’t in the room, but I knew he wasn’t going to give me an answer.

“Well dad wasn’t his dad at first. He was abandoned by his mom, she left somewhere and never came back. He was left with dad and lived here ever since in his care. He was the only one that showed him love after his mom left so he grew protective of dad. He wasn’t too happy when I came home at first.” Brooklyn chimes in to the conversation. But everything had made sense after learning the origins of the old cat. Over protective of the person who rescued him, not warm and welcoming, fearing that I could take the one good thing he had. I could never understand what that could ever feel like, but I could imagine that it must hurt beyond recognition.

“Benjamin..” I say quietly, unsure really of what else to say. Suddenly I feel water hit the top of my head, I look up and see Q quietly crying. When I look to the TV screen, I had no clue what was going on in the movie but sad music was playing softly. Benjamin hopped off the chair he was on, hopped onto the one where Q and I were sat and curled up on his lap.

“Hey Benjamin, i’m okay, just a sad movie that’s all. I’m fine bud.” Q chuckles and rests his hand on Benjamin using his other hand to wipe away whatever tears were left tracing down his cheek.

“Hey, listen kid, i’m sorry. Maybe I was too harsh on you.” Benjamin looked disappointed in himself, I knew he was genuine. It’s hard to get ‘sorry’ out of an old human, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to get one out of an old cat. He starts licking my fur, and while weird, it felt endearing.

“Look at you two getting along chatting it up and being nice. Benjamin i’m proud of you, you grumpy bastard.” Q laughs at the sight of us.

“Yeah you guys are just shaping up to be BEST FRIENDS.” Chessie speaks out mocking the tone Q spoke in and mocking our tender moment.

“Now let’s not push our luck here.” Benjamin spoke with and equally sarcastic tone.

The night went along and I finally felt welcomed by everyone into the home I was brought in. Things were winding down for the evening and I started to grow tired. It seemed as though everyone was on the same page as I was, yawning and eyes growing heavy on each of us. Once the movie had ended, Q began cleaning things up for the night and shutting everything down.

“Come on, kid. Let’s head up to bed, i’ll show you where we sleep.” Benjamin nods his head for me to follow him and I do as such with Chessie and Brooklyn close behind. Things here must work like clockwork because not much needed to be said, they just knew it was time for sleep. Up the stairs we went and stepped our way into Q’s bedroom and up onto his bed. Everyone found their spots and curled up into a ball to rest. I found my own spot as well and curled up in my own warmth. Benjamin had found his way next to me and decided that it was his new resting spot.

“Feeling affectionate to this stranger tonight?” I tease.

“It’s new, but maybe I can learn to be kinder.” I purr against him and he purrs back in response. A sense of solidarity with no words needing to be spoken, it was heartwarming. Eventually we all had cuddled up together and fell comfortably asleep.

When Q saw all the felines together, he couldn’t help but smile.

“What makes this little one so different that she has you so soft Benjamin.” He says quietly into the dark and silent room. He climbs into bed and drifts off to sleep.

———————————————————

When I had awoken, I looked around and saw that I was in my own bedroom, incased in the four walls I had grown terribly familiar too. Had everything been a freak dream? Was any of that real?

I slip out of bed and look out the window to see a cloudy day, it seems as though the storm had passed, the streets were still covered in wet spots that were waiting for the sun to dry up and the sweet scent of morning dew seeped through the open window.

There’s only one person I know that could give me answers.

I had gotten myself cleaned up and immediately walked to the next house over. I rang the doorbell and patiently waited, I heard footsteps creeping closer and closer to the door and my heart began to pound out of my chest. The door swung open and there stood Sal.

“Hey neighbor! What brings you here, is everything okay?” He says delighted to see me and brings me in for a hug.

“Everything’s fine, just a random question: have you seen a white cat wandering about the area?” He raises an eyebrow at my inquiry.

“Yesterday there was a little white cat in my backyard, my friend took care of it though... Wait, how did you know about the cat?” My palms are soaked in sweat and I put on my best poker face.

“I just know you don’t enjoy the company of a cat. Also, that was my cat...” I say sheepishly. It felt bad having to lie through my teeth, but I NEEDED to see this cat to know I wasn’t entirely bonkers.

“That was YOUR cat?! What was it doing out in the rain??” I chew on my bottom lip trying to think of a lie.

“The storm made her act up and I guess she found a way to get out! I’m really sorry about it I should have been watching her more carefully but she’s a little escape artist.” He sighs and grabs a piece of paper and a pen and starts scribbling something down on it.

“This is the address to my buddies place. He has the cat, and if you get there hopefully he didn’t bring it to a shelter yet, i’ll give him a call and let him know you’re on your way.” He rips the paper out of the notepad and hands it over to me. I really do feel as though i’m going crazy going on a wild goose chase for a cat. I thank Sal for his time and waste no time getting into my car to get to Q’s place.

When I get there, it felt like a rinse and repeat of what went down at Sal’s place: Knock furiously and wait for a guy to answer the door and look at you confused. There stood Q with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Hi, you must be Sal’s neighbor. Name’s Brian but call me Q.” He shakes my hand and I smile. Little does he know that I have already met him on weird circumstances, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “I’m guessing you’re here for the little one. Please, come in!” He steps aside to allow me to walk in and cats start swarming my feet. “Hey guys, easy on our guest here, be nice please.” I maneuver my feet carefully to make sure i’m not trampling any of the little felines. I sit down on the couch and all the cats are all over me snuggling, cuddling, rubbing their heads against me. Do they know that it’s me?

“I went to grab the little one, she was sleeping and — wow, the cats just love you. Even Benjamin is all over you, that’s incredible.” In Q’s hand was the little white cat that I was yesterday. She was real, so was I, how was this possible? I stood up and held the little kitten close and I felt an unknown spiritual connection to her, it felt as though our paths were meant to cross like this and it felt right to finally have her in my embrace.

“Thank you so much for taking care of her, I really do appreciate it.” I look down and see Benjamin circling around me and grabbing at my jeans like he was begging me not to go anywhere.

“Benjamin, leave her alone. Sorry, he’s grown oddly attached to your little friend. Haven’t seen him this friendly with a new cat ever.” Q gestures to the kitten who mewls in response. I look down to Benjamin and see his eyes saying something else. His eyes looked into mine like you do when you KNOW someone. I kneel down and give him pets and scratches behind his ears, he begins purring.

“What a sweet guy.” I smile back to the little black cat. I finally get up and realize I should probably get going, i’m being weird and over staying my welcome when all I came to do was pick up this cat. “Thank you again, Q.”

“If you’d like to, I think Benjamin cat would enjoy your company again along with your little kitten... what’s her name?” Panic. Think of a name, just nothing stupid.

“Her name is Opal.” I sound as confident as I can. I look into the cat’s multi-chrome colored eyes and realize that it suits her perfectly. And now that I named her I have to keep her, it’d be messed up if I did otherwise.

“Opal, it’s fitting and cute like you.” He gives a wink and I was taken aback by the sudden compliment. I giggle a little and feel a few butterflies hatch in my stomach.

“I’ll be going now, thanks for taking care of her. See you around?” He gladly nods and we step out the door and I find myself back in the car now with the addition of little Opal in the passenger seat. I take a glance at her and she looks at me with vacant eyes having no clue what’s going on. “What kind of glorious mess have you gotten me into?” I say pulling out of the driveway and back home. I still have no explanation as to what happened to me, but it guided me where I am now, and somethings telling me that I met Q for a reason.

#brian quinn #impractical jokers #sal vulcano #brian q quinn #brian quinn imagine #request #suki writes #fluff

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norafike · 3 years

Text

Despite all this, I still love you 16

“It's a pleasure to see you here!” Dutch cheered as he quickened in his steps to greet the female. Nora kicked herself from the saddle and closed the distance between them, taking his hand for a handshake before following him over towards the porch where Arthur stood, watching with an eyebrow raised. “I had Trelawny and Miss Gaskill travel into Saint Denis to buy you a dress for a such a formal occasion, they're all waiting upstairs in my room with.. Molly.” The way he said her name was forced and bitter and he grimaced at the mention.

Nora bit her tongue to not snap at him, give him a scolding for his treatment of the woman who grew up an aristocrat and instead forced herself to silently follow behind him up the stairs of the house and quickly he had pushed her behind the doors and closed them. “Dutch placed the dress here.” Molly said as she reached beneath the bed to pull open a white box, it wearing into nothing and covered in dust from the time spent away. Nora took it from her hands and placed it on the old mattress before pulling the garment out. “It looks beautiful.” She mumbled and the corner of Molly's mouth had twitched into a small smirk.

“Actually, Mary-Beth came and asked me what would be a good picking for a formal event and I said that my Ma would've said somethin' beautiful but not too flashy. They returned with this old thing and I had fixed it up a little for you.”

Nora nodded as she held it against herself, her hand running over the gold embroidery. She admired the small patterns before laying it out on the bed to admire it at a greater distance, a feeling that this had been one long dream she had yet to wake from. “I ain't never had somethin' like this to wear… it's strange.”

“You'll get to admire it plenty, for now it's best we get you ready before Dutch gets annoyed at the time we're wasting.”

...

The mansion was extravagant and lit so beautifully in the night that she found herself staring in awe at its exterior, mesmerized by the small details and the aura of superiority it held.

Arthur had an arm held out towards her that she took gratuitously and together the pair had followed behind the other men as they entered the party together. She behaved accordingly and spoke only when addressed and eventually Dutch had turned on his heel to face her with a gentle smile, at the same time addressing Bill and Hosea. “Why don't you go and join the party while Arthur and I talk with Bronte.”

She agreed with the idea and walked with the men outside, stopping short outside of the door so Hosea could turn to them. “Bill, listen out and gather what information could be useful. Nora for now blend in, I've told Arthur to come your way if he finds anything interesting.”

“So wait for Arthur.” She sighed and Hosea only could give her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, you couldn't do more.”

“It's fine, just glad you boys were polite enough to invite me along.” She gave Hosea a toothy grin before finally leaving their sides to stand near a group of women who held their chins high and eyes pointed down in looks of disgust. They scoffed when Nora stood near them and would occasionally spare a giggle amongst themselves, trying to disguise it by drinking from their champagne glass but Nora was far more observant than she had let on and noticed straight away their snobby attitude.

Usually she would punch an individual if they had acted like this and in any other circumstances she probably would have done so anyway, but she chose to dig her nails into the palm of her hand and pretend to not notice.

As the party went on she had taken to drinking more champagne than cared to admit and slowly her head began to grow heavy, but she persisted on with the mission and engaged in simple pleasantries with the occasional guest who passed by and eventually she felt a cold hand squeeze her shoulder, a chill running through her flesh at the contact. “Come with me.” He whispered, gently taking her hand and pulling her from the main ring of people and towards a secluded path where she realised that he was following one of the mayor's servants.

“Arthur?” She whispered and he only shushed her as they snuck into the house. They both took extra care in their steps and at one point the servant turned briskly on his heel and had almost caught the pair of them had it not been for Arthur's quick thinking.

He stepped forward and looked left and right before continuing on their pursuit, waving over his shoulder at her. “Come on.” She listened to instruction and broke into a gentle jog to catch up with him, the echo of her movement was loud and Nora exhaled a sharp breath through gritted teeth as she worried somebody would march over and question them about their antics.

When they were confident that the coast was clear, they both ascended a staircase and stopped short just at the top to see the servant enter a room. Arthur turned back towards Nora and extended a finger to point at the door and quietly spoke to her. “While we were bein' escorted up here our guide had shut the door before we could even get a look at it.”

“So it could be somethin' important?” Arthur nodded slowly. “It could very well be, yes.”

After a couple minutes of waiting and nobody leaving the room they had been watching, Arthur had decided that they should sneak over and hope that somehow there was another exit so the room was empty. In a big house like this neither doubted the possibility of another entrance and so quietly they tiptoed over and pushed the door open, holding their breaths in case someone was waiting on the other side.

Collectively they let out an exhale of air when they were met with an empty room and both relaxed as the door closed behind them. Nora would keep an ear open in case somebody decided to approach the room they weren't supposed to be in but fortunately for them the house was eerily quiet.

“C'mon, we need to get out of here before someone catches us.” Arthur slipped some documents behind his coat before taking Nora's hand and walking her out of the mansion and back to join the party. This time they didn't bother going quietly and rather chose quickness to exit the building. Eventually, they reunited with the other men and subtly, Arthur would pat his chest where the papers were hidden to inform Dutch that he in fact stole something of value to them.

“We should go quick.” Hosea informed as he slowly pushed the group outside. “Lenny should be around with the wagon but the longer we hang around the more likely we'll be caught for stealin', at least that is, if someone saw you.”

...

“Arthur, why don't you an' I talk about what you found and Nora-” Dutch turned and faced her with a false smile. “I assume you'll be headin' back home now?”

“Might stay a small while, but I do need to return before my brother's end up killin' Lem.” She shared a chuckle with the leader and just as she said that the man she mentioned had emerged from inside the old plantation house to lean against one of the pillars. She gasped when she saw him but shook her head and smiled. “But I guess I'll be stayin' longer since he's here.”

Sharply Dutch turned on his heel and scowled when he saw Lem standing there. Maintaining this ‘great leader’ persona, Dutch only shook Lem's hand in greeting before ignoring any further social interactions and entering the house. Unfazed by this, Lem only managed a small chuckle before he walked over to join Nora's side. “What are you doin' here?”

“Nice seein' you too.”

“I didn't mean it like that, just surprised was all.”

“I w-was just playin'.”

Nora took his hand and walked with him over to the round table where Mary-Beth had been sitting with a bowl of stew in hand. She mainly prodded at the chunks in the bowl and found it hard to really sit down and eat, the worry of what could have potentially happened to Kieran becoming far more concerning. “Hey, Mary-Beth.”

She only managed a lazy wave, putting on a brave face now since she had become accompanied by two new people. “How are ya feelin'?” Nora asked.

“Oh I'm fine, thank you for askin'.” She answered. “ I guess I'm still worryin' about Kieran. What if somethin'… what if somethin' bad happened.” Nora reached forward and placed a hand on top of hers, breaking out into a small whisper. “I'm sure he'll be okay, nothin' to worry about.”

Mary-Beth looked back and forth before leaning closer to speak with her, worried of being thought of as strange if someone were to overhear. “I can't shake this feelin' that he's not okay.” She told and Nora's eyebrows furrowed when she heard this.

“You really are worried, ain't ya?”

“Oh more than anythin'.”

Nora nodded. “I ain't seen or heard anythin', but I am lookin'. Eat up for now okay, Mary-Beth.”

“I'm not really that hungry.” She explained before taking the still-full bowl and walking away from the two.

“Poor girl.”

Lem folded his arms and leaned against them on the table. He gave her a subtle smile that she picked up immediately and for a short while all the two of them had been doing was staring at each other in silence. “How long had you been here anyway?”

“F-Few hours maybe.”

“Ah, they let you in?”

“No. Bill Williamson was on guard duty but eventually he let me enter the camp- was hesitant because nobody was here. Leader wise.”

“Big bad Bill.” She shook her head and smiled coyly at Bill when he looked back at the mention of his name. He only stared down at her before turning back around to face the fire, noticing the dancing flames.

Nora opened her mouth to speak more before a blood-curdling scream ripped through the quiet camp and Mary-Beth frantically pointing towards the entrance. When Nora turned to look that way her eyes began to widen and her mouth hung open in shock at the headless rider coming in.

#rdr2 #lem fike x original character #lem fike #nora morgan #Bill Williamson #lemuel fike #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #mary beth gaskill #hosea matthews #molly o'shea

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grinwolfe · 5 years

Text

Ok ok ok

I've had this fanfic in my head for a while and I'm not sure if I'll ever write it because I've never been much of a writer but I want to share my idea anyways.

It's a Lucifer/Supernatural crossover.

Let's say it starts in the supernatural universe when the boys are on a hunt, probably something like a werewolf or vampire, a cliche monster. I think it could be in any season since this would be an identical setup to the French mistake, unless we use Jack who is notoriously bad at controlling his powers.

I originally went with the idea that only Sam and Dean get sucked into Lucifer's universe, but I think Castiel getting dragged along too makes a better juxtaposition to the angels in the foreign universe. Trouble is, the monster gets sucked through too, and they land in a wide alley.

In the confusion, the monster succeeds in overpowering the boys and tearing off. They give chase, guns/machete/angel blade out until they reach the street, which is packed full of people and a few beat cops hanging around too, so they act natural and hide their weapons.

They figure out they're in Los Angeles, Sam tries to call Jack to let him know what's happened but the number is disconnected. Castiel tries to sense Jack but he can't, which naturally makes them all concerned. The brothers have contacts all over, LA is no different so one of them starts calling to find backup, since they don't have the impala with all the hunter gear and FBI disguises. Every single call is a wrong number. Up a creek without a paddle they decide to find a place where they can use a computer- internet cafe, library, wherever.

About 6 hours later, Detective Decker is called to a crime scene, Ella examining a recently savaged body and Lucifer consulting. Ella remarks on the uber weirdness, how it seems almost animalistic, the strength that would be needed to rip the poor soul apart. Lucifer cracks jokes, like he does, but not much else can be made of it until the coroner can examine further.

About 20 min previous, the boys were sitting in a cheap hotel room. While very similar to their own universe there have been enough differences for them to cotton on that they're not in Kansas anymore which they all find very distressing. Castiel is mollified to find he is still an angel and still has all his abilities. Dean bought a radio and some other supplies and has built a police scanner. As per previous supernatural episodes, they know that they will need the grace of an archangel to get back to their own universe, but they absolutely must kill the monster before they go. Sam has searched and found no mention of Hunters, Men of Letters, or monsters at all, besides the normal mythos that always exists. They pick up the call for the recently mentioned deceased, and decide to go see what's up.

They find themselves standing in the crowd of looky loos, and standing out as well since they're the tallest and wearing plaid in LA. Dean wants to pretend to be agent with the fake badge in his wallet but Sam stops him, reminding him it's a different universe and their badges might look very different from what they look like here. While they're arguing in undertones, Castiel slips under the police tape to get a closer look. He makes it about halfway there before Ella or Decker stops him, tells him off for interfering in a crime scene and to get back past the line. Cass got close enough to see that it was a monster victim and returns to the brothers, which Decker notices and makes a mental note to remember them because they were suspicious. Then the regular canvassing of the victim's friends family and coworkers starts. Ella notices a street cam aimed at the crime scene. Lucifer does... Lucifer stuff. Drama, impetuous attitudes, good ol' Luci.

The boys are feeling particularly fucked back at the hotel. No weapons, no car, no disguises, and how do you track a wandering monster in LA besides following the bodies? Castiel tries to contact Heaven on angel radio, if there is one in this universe, but he gets mixed results. There was definitely a divine influence in the world, most likely a heaven but Castiel can't be heard and what he does hear is unintelligible, possibly a difference frequency and/or code.

I'm not entirely sure on this part, but I expect Dean is drinking at a bar, alone or with any of the others. Either someone overhears that they're in trouble or they look upset enough to prompt a conversation. When they explain vaguely that what they need is nearly impossible to get and that they haven't got any friends to back them up, they are told about a nightclub owner who grants favors, occasionally the impossible one. The boys aren't sure about mingling in a foreign universe but if this man called Mr. Morningstar can get the other ingredients needed for the spell, then it can't hurt to try, can it?

Ella and Decker and Dan are reviewing the CTV footage and even though it's barely been caught in the upper left corner, its obvious this perp is acting inhuman, which they believe is a mental illness or a weird drug interaction. Once they go back to their desks Lucifer returns and Ella describes the attack as if the person was a movie monster, to which Lucifer replied that it might look that way but not to worry, his father destroyed all the monsters centuries ago.

The boys go to Lux, which is mostly empty since it's so early. A few girls are dancing, sam and cass are doubtful about getting legit help here but Dean enjoys the atmosphere. They ask the bartender for Mr. Morningstar. The bartender tells them he's not seeing anyone right now. Sam says that they need a favour. The man says they'll have better luck getting his boss's attention later tonight when all the guests come. Cass says it's urgent, a matter of life and death. The bartender reluctantly picks up the phone and calls upstairs to Lucifer's suite, who agrees to come down to deal with them.

The first thing Lucifer does when he sees them is comment on the plaid, asking if they just came from a hunting trip and asking Castiel if he is an accountant. He was going to turn them away but once seeing them in person, they were the perfect combination of weird and sexy to keep his interest. They say they hear he's the man to come to for favors and that they need supplies. Lucifer prompts them to get to the point. Sam tries to prepare him, that it sounds ridiculous but it's really important that it's all authentic. They list off the ingredients needed to send them back, sans archangel grace. Lucifer asks 'what on earth do you need all that for?' And points out that everything they've asked for is priceless if not impossible to find. He asks again what they want it for, and for that matter who are they, and the boys give up, getting up to leave because explaining that they're from another universe will just get them laughed out anyways.

Before they take a step Decker comes in and calls out 'Lucifer!' The boys freeze and Decker comes down, apologising for interrupting and Lucifer waves her apology aside. As she comes up to him to talk the boys all turn back to him, and cass pulls out his angel blade. Lucifer wonders what they are really up to, they seems to have extensive divine knowledge. They ask him if he's lucifer to which he confirms. They continue checking and confirming that he is indeed the fallen angel. Decker realizes these men were at the crime scene and sees the angel blade sticking out of the end of castiel's sleeve. Before she can say anything Dean draws his gun on Lucifer. It's all a kerfuffle, decker is trying to talk the boys down and then Maze walks in, and Castiel can see her true face so he let's everyone know, which surprises Lucifer and he asks how does cass know? Cass replies that he's an angel. Lucifer asks which one? Cass gives his name and Lucifer disagrees since knows his brother castiel and this man was not it. Maze says that cass doesnt look like an angel but he also doesn't look right as a human. Angel possession is talked about, which is in the SpN universe but not Luci's. Probably play around with the idea that Angel's in this universe can have their own bodies because they are a product of two very different beings, light and dark, while castiel is just made from light and frequency. Maze says he looks like something huge and alive got shoved up inside a human shaped jar. Sam reminds Dean that they will need Lucifer's grace to get home and they lower their weapons reluctantly.

Lucifer at some point shows off by showing his wings which astounds the boys. Castiel is urged to try it and for the first time the brothers see cass's black wings. The brothers admit that they're both working the same case, that its a monster they brought over from another universe and what its specs are- decker is getting fatigued by two revelations in one day.

Regular shenanigans continue. The boys are determined to hate Lucifer but the more time they spend with him the more they bond: dean with good food, alcohol and women, sam with insider history lore and bad jokes, castiel with Lucifer's clear affection for decker and his desire to protect humans. There will be karaoke at some point. The boys help with the case, meet Ella and hit it off. They meet Dan and really don't. There are clashes in methodology, decker sees the fake badge and the brothers explain that they dont get paid to save the world.

And I dont really know after that point. Obviously they kill the monster and get home, and that they wish they could have this Lucifer instead of theirs. Anyone is welcome to this story, if you want to do something with it. I'm great at starting but I lose interest once there's work to be done.

#fanfic #fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #supernatural #crossover

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ficsbydob · 6 years

Text

Interactions in a Coffee House

Fandom: Disney Descendants

Ship: Bal

Word Count: 2350

Summary: The coffee shop AU no one asked for.

also found on AO3

Every day for the last three months, a dark purple hair petite girl would sit in the same table in the dark secluded corner of the café, drawing and ordering the same “blackest coffee you have” – her exact words. At first she was like every other customer to Ben, except most days she’d pay for her drink with chump change and never get a refill even though she was there twice as long as everyone else. After the first month passed, he started to take more of an interest – out of complete curiosity of course. He noticed that occasionally she would have other people with her, either separately or as a small group. A smaller boy with white hair who always had a dog with him (the owner wanted to do something about it but it seemed that it was a service dog of some sort) who would be doing homework – or at least that’s what Ben guessed – well she drew. Another guy, this one taller with long black hair, who spent most of his time flirting with anyone that looked his way. And the last person was another girl, she sketched almost as much as the purple hair girl did but she also would occasionally have a collection of chemistry books with her.

For two months straight, Ben had to endure constant teasing from Lonnie, the one person who made working at the café bearable, because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the mystery girl. He’d even give her a free refill every once and awhile, saying it’s on the house (which really was just deducted from his paycheck). Lonnie just couldn’t figure out why Ben didn’t just try to strike up a conversation with the girl, ask her on a date or anything for that matter.

Ben wasn’t really sure why either.

But when he came into work after school one afternoon and didn’t see the girl in her spot, he was taken aback. His whole shift he continued to look for her, but she never came. The next day, the same thing. She wasn’t there and she didn’t show up. By the end of the week, though it could be stupid, he was honestly starting to worry for her.

He was behind the counter, staring at her table – occupied by someone else – when Lonnie came up to him. “Missing your favorite customer huh?” She rested her elbow on his shoulder, looking in the same direction he was.

“It’s just weird,” came his reply.

“She’s probably sick or something. Or they moved. Or she died.” Ben looked over at his friend, eyebrows raised with a small, bemused smile. “Not everything is a happy ending King Ben.” She tapped his head and walked away to do her rounds.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “King Ben?” The voice startled him, making him turn slightly to see who had spoken. It was the girl. She was staring at him with a raised

He let out an airy laugh. “I was Homecoming king two years in a row, she won’t let me live it down.” She gave a nod, seeming unimpressed. He licked his lips, “Right. So the usual?�� As he spoke, he started reaching for a cup, getting ready to fill up a glass with the blackest black coffee they got.

“Yeah.” She leaned forward, “But can you make it to go.” His hand stopped before moving toward their to-go cups, giving a nod.

“One blackest black coffee to go.” He set it down on the counter in front of her, “That’ll be four fifty-three.” She gave him a five and they exchanged change and that was that. It was probably their longest conversation they’ve had since she started coming to his place of work.

Lonnie came back, a smirk on her face, “Did you get her number yet?” He rolled his eyes, ignoring her and heading to the back.

“Chad, let it go,” Ben was walking out of the away locker rooms from Isle High, they had just won their lacrosse game but Chad, a curly haired blonde kid who’s been Ben’s friend since basically their birth, wouldn’t shut up about Isle’s number 8 and the “cheap shot” he took. “Even with that cheap shot,” though truthfully, Ben didn’t think it was, “we won.”

Chad didn’t want to let it go however, and continued to go off about. Ben rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing about or getting his friend to move on, and moved ahead of his friend. He was turning a corner when he walked into someone. “Oh, sorry!” He moved back and looked down to see a full head of purple hair. “Oh! It’s you. Hi.” A smile appeared on his face as he saw coffee shop girl. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her head tilting to the side. Smile faltering a bit, he opened his mouth again, “I work at –“

“At the Coffee House. King Ben.” His smile grew again.

“Yup. That’s me.” A small pause, “So you go to Isle High?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

She let out a huff, “Yeah, the gang activity really gives it that cozy safe feeling everyone wants for their children.”

He let out a laugh, “That’s fair. I’m sure it can get pretty interesting though.”

She shrugs, “It does keep you on your toes.” He glanced down at his sweatshirt, sporting the Auradon Prep school logo, before looking back up at him, a smirk on her lips. Just than the rest of his team started piling out of the guest locker rooms. “I’ll see you around King Ben.” She tapped his chest before moving along.

And see him around she did, of course, every day as she sat back in her usual spot, either by herself or with her friends. She didn’t talk to him much, outside of maybe thanking him for a refill and calling him King Ben.

He’s starting to regret her overhearing Lonnie.

On one of his days off, he came into his work place with a couple of his friends from school. Lonnie still had to work and after her shift ended the whole group planned to go to some party Aubrey, Ben’s ex, heard about. Lonnie constantly gives Ben crap for still being friends with Aubrey, she was never a huge fan on his ex.

Aubrey had gone up to order everyone’s drink, the money in hand, when she called out “Benny Boo,” across the café. He looked up, eyebrows raised, “What did you want again?”

“White Mocha Latte,” came his reply, not even bothered by the nickname Aubrey won’t stop using on him. It’s not like it bothered him or anything so he didn’t really see a reason to make her stop.

That was another thing Lonnie gave him crap about.

“Hey Benny Boo,” a mocking tone came from behind him. He turned around to see the mystery girl standing behind him, smirk in place.

“Hey,” he gave her a smile in return.

“Who comes to their place of work on the day off?” He gave a shrug.

“We have the best coffee in the city.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Pretty sure you’re biased.”

“And yet, I see you here every day,” he countered.

This time it was her turn to shrug. She gave a once over all his friends before deciding they weren’t worth her time before eyes where back on Ben. He probably shouldn’t be assuming but he felt like it was a safe bet from the look of uninterest resting on her face.

“Guess this means I won’t be getting my free refill.” She crinkled her nose, flashed him a small smile and continued on her way out the café.

From that point on, their interactions almost always happened that way. Some sort of small banter. He even finally learned her name, Mal. He maybe, sort of, really enjoyed how it sounded. Mal.

And he didn’t miss the looks her friend, the other drawer, would give him as he give Mal her free refill. Or when he’d stop by to ask what she was drawing – not that Mal would ever let him see. Apparently he hasn’t earned enough cred with her to get the privilege of seeing her works. He would just shake his head every time she pulled her sketch book to her chest, hiding the sketch from his eyes. But when he would go to clean her table after she left, there would be rare moments that she’d leave one her sketches behind. He might have started to collect them.

A couple more months went by and eventually Ben got familiar with Mal her whole group. He learned the other artist was named Evie, the boy with the white hair was Carlos, and the taller one was Jay. Jay actually ended up being the guy that Chad wouldn’t shut about when Auradon Prep went up against Isle. When Ben found that out he gave Jay a compliment, telling him he was impressed by the hit.

Out of all four of them, he noticed that Evie always had the most money. Whenever they four were together, she’d pay for everyone’s drinks and treat them to a snack of some sort as well.

They were all pretty great, in Ben’s opinion, and he enjoyed when they came in because it was four more people who made working at a café filled with mostly pretentious high school and college kids that much more bearable.

He was bringing them their drinks when Evie looked at him, “Ben.” From the tone of her voice alone, he knew that he wanted out. He was too nice to say that however.

Whatever it was that she was going to say, Mal didn’t seem particularly happy about it. “E.” Her tone holding a sort of warning.

It did nothing.

“Don’t you think Mal would look beautiful in this?” She held up a sketch of a dress. Ben didn’t really know much about fashion and he didn’t have the type of imagination to think of what that dress would look made up, but he could tell that it was a very good drawing of a dress.

He glanced over at Mal, placing down her drink in front of her, “Um.” He looked back at Evie, “I think she’d look beautiful in anything.”

“Awe,” she smiled brightly at him, placing her notebook down. “Not sure how that helps me convince her to go to the dance though.” She shook her head, looking over at her friend.

He looked over at Mal, “What dance?”

Evie answer. “Our Winter Formal. M thinks they’re a waste of time.”

“Because they are,” Mal replied back.

Ben shrugged, looking to Evie than Mal. “Dances can be fun. If you go with the right people. Anyone ask you?”

Mal just rolled her eyes, Evie speaking up again. “A couple of people. But M said no to all of them.”

Ben opened his mouth to ask why but Mal was already answering his question, “Because, E, it’s a waste of time.”

“M, it’s not! It’ll be fun!”

Mal, however, seem very certain in her revolution that it’d be a waste of her time. Ben left them to it, knowing that if he stuck around their table much longer and his manager saw he would get yelled at. Again. He’d look over at them, of course, through the rest of the night but it was busier than usually so he didn’t really get a chance to stop by again.

He also couldn’t get the fact the Isle was having a Winter Formal out of his mind. Honestly, it’d be pretty cool to go to a dance with Mal, he might have even thought about asking her to prom but if she thought dances where pointless it might not even be worth bringing it up.

He was making a to-go drink for some business major who almost always wore some hard rock metal band whenever he came in when Evie walked up to the counter. She didn’t even greet him properly when she opened her mouth to say, “Would you go with Mal to the Winter Formal?”

He glanced up at her, eyebrows coming together, “I thought she didn’t want to go. Y’know, they were pointless and stuff.” He placed the cup on the counter and reached for a lid.

“That’s all true. But!” He looked up at her again, shaking his head and handing the drink over to college kid, “She needs to go! This is our senior year and she’s never once gone to a dance.”

“What makes you think she’d go with me?” He moved back to the machines to clean up his mess.

“She likes you.” He nodded, knowing that was a given. Evie leaned over the counter, “Ben, she really likes you.”

His cleaning slowed down. Looking up at Evie, he licked his lips, “That doesn’t mean she’d want to go with me though.”

“Will you at least ask her?”

He paused, looking over at her usual table where she was watching them with curiosity. “Yeah, of course.”

He did ask her too, he waited until she came up to his counter for a free refill – though he has an inkling that she knows for a fact that they weren’t actually free – and just popped the question. It was no real surprise to Ben that she said no – that didn’t stop the disappointment however. She told him the same thing he heard her tell Evie, that it was a waste of time. But what surprised him is she suggest that instead they do something together. “Go to a movie or something.”

He smiled, nodding his head, “Yeah. Okay.”

She took her refill from him, “Okay. You’re paying.” She winked at him, holding up her cup as if to imply he does with her refills and moved back to her table with Evie.

Maybe down the road he’ll ask her to go to prom with him but for right now, he’ll take what he could get.

#bal #ben x mal #disney descendants #userana #au

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moonlightfanfics · 7 years

Text

Shot, Neck, Lime

A/N: This came to me whilst watching The Big Bang Theory, and I felt that Kai would do this idea some justice.

Pairing: Kai Parker X Reader

Summary: Kai and reader are best friends, it’s only when they get drunk that things get a little messy.

Warnings: Cute friendly fluff, smut

Word count: 5.1K

“Caroline, promise me you won’t go overboard with the guests?” You pleaded.

“I can, but I’ll by lying. You’re only 18 once Y/N, you should be glad that you’re not stuck in a filler year like 17, like me.” She argued.

You sighed, defeated, she wasn’t going to let you get out of this one. She had been planning this for way too long and there is no such thing as ‘lowkey’ when it came to Caroline.

“Fine, what time should I be ready for?” You asked, folding your arms.

“Well, what time do your parents leave?”

“They left this morning, and they said when they come back they want everything to be exactly the same as they left it.” You replied.

“Don’t worry it will be. I’ll come by at about half five and help you set everything up.” She offered.

“Great, thanks Care.” You smiled.

“No problem, I’ll see ya later Y/N.” She said getting up and leaving your booth at the grill, she passed by Kai on her way out and they exchanged glances.

Kai turned back around and continued to walk towards you. He had a grin plastered on his face and you could tell he was up to something.

“Something on your mind Parker?” You called.

“Just you darling,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and he sat down across from you. “So, what are the birthday plans then?”

“Let’s not pretend like you weren’t listening to the whole conversation that Caroline and I just had.” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed.

“You know me too well, do you need help with anything?” He offered.

“Yeah, make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. I don’t want a big fuss, I actually wanted it to be about four people but Caroline persuaded me.” You sighed.

Kai nodded and sat back. “Sure, but I doubt that’s going to be easy, this is Caroline Forbes we’re talking about.” He added.

“Tell me about it.” You grumbled.

“It will be great Y/N, I promise, it’ll be a birthday you’ll never forget.” Kai replied.

“Yeah whatever, I just can’t wait until it’s over and done with.” You folded your arms.

“You’re such a buzzkill, why am I even friends with you again?” He jokingly wondered out loud.

“Because your ass is whipped.” You smirked, Kai scowled but then he grinned at you. “I have to get back to get ready and all before Caroline comes.” You sighed standing up.

“Okay, sure, I’ll see ya later birthday girl.” He shouted after you.

“Not too loud Kai.” You hissed but he only chuckled, causing you to promptly give him the middle finger.

It was exactly half five and your doorbell rang, Caroline was here. You ran to your door and opened it, there before you was Caroline, Elena and Bonnie - your best friends aside from Kai.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Bonnie sang, you hugged her tightly and thanked her.

“Come on in guys.” You grinned, opening the door wider for them to enter.

“This place is perfect, your house is a great party venue.” Caroline looked around as if she hadn’t been here about a thousand times beforehand.

“Care you’ve been here loads.” You rolled your eyes, taking all three coats and locking them in the coat closet.

“I know but I’m looking at it from a different perspective now.” She explained.

“Where’s your dress?” Elena frowned.

“I couldn’t be bothered to change yet, plus I don’t know what to wear and I thought you guys could help me.” You suggested, Elena grinned widely and nodded.

“Okay, Elena and Bonnie you go and help Y/N get dressed I’ll set up down here first and then sort out upstairs once you’re done.” Caroline rambled.

“Are you sure Caroline, you don’t have to organise this by yourself.” You told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Y/N, you should know by now that I live for these sorts of things.”

“Okay sure, thanks so much Care, I love you.” You smiled.

“Happy birthday Y/N, I love you too.” She grinned devilishly and you frowned at her just as Elena dragged you upstairs.

After about half an hour of picking and choosing you had finally decided which dress to wear: it was a dusty pink mini dress which complimented your skin colour perfectly. Bonnie let you borrow her grey heels and she did your hair, leaving it down with some subtle curls.

“You look great Y/N, is there anyone in particular you have your eyes on tonight?” Elena asked, you didn’t see this but Bonnie and her smirked at each other.

“Nope, not really, I didn’t even want this stupid party.” You muttered.

“I heard that!” Caroline shouted from the next room, she was organising upstairs so that nothing valuable would break or get stolen.

“Good!” You shouted back.

More hours passed and it was almost time for the guests to start arriving and you were panicking. You were pacing up and down your hallway, your heels clacking loudly.

“Y/N, will you stop that, you’re making me nervous.” Bonnie demanded.

“Oh, right, sorry.” You said sitting down on a chair, you soon started bouncing your leg up and down and Bonnie groaned. You had no idea why you were so nervous, it’s not like you wanted it to be the party of the year or anything.

Then the doorbell rang and you ran over to answer it, you swung the door open and plastered on a huge smile to some of your high school friends who all chorused “happy birthday”, you thanked them and let them come inside. Once they came, a flurry of guests came all at once and the party was well on its way in the next half hour.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Tyler Lockwood boomed, he was already drunk. Caroline was by his side and she smiled apologetically.

“Shut up Ty.” You punched his arm.

“What? At least you’re not stuck at 17 like Caroline.” He reasoned, he then quickly realised his mistake when Caroline glared at him.

“You are so dead.” You spluttered, struggling to keep your laugh in. You quickly left them, overhearing the beginnings of the lecture Caroline had started to give him.

You looked around and you didn’t see Kai, you briefly wondered where he was but then your door opened and he walked in, immediately a smile took over your face as you started to walk over to him only to be halted in your steps when a girl followed him in.

Who the fuck is she? And why would he bring her here to your house?

You growled under your breath and spun back around trying to ignore the pang of sadness that you felt in your stomach. No way was this happening, you didn’t know where these feelings were coming from but you didn’t like them at all.

You passed all your friends and went to the pantry where you emerged with more alcohol. Almost immediately people started to surround you and you got out some shot glasses. You lined up six glasses and poured vodka in to all of them.

“You won’t be able to down all of them Y/N.” Caroline dared.

“I really wish you hadn’t said that Care.” You warned, she grinned and raised her eyebrows challengingly.

You exhaled and prepared yourself, everyone was right, you are only 18 once. Everyone was jeering around you by this point so you couldn’t back out now. Then you spotted that girl that Kai was with and something sparked inside you. You picked up one glass and chugged it down, ignoring the burning sensation that travelled down your throat and you did it again and again till only one was left.

“Only one left now Y/N, you can do it.” Tyler encouraged you.

You groaned and picked up the last one and downed it, everyone around you started to cheer as you slammed down the empty glass. You left everyone in the kitchen, you started to feel the effects straight away as your legs felt numb. You weren’t much of a drinker at all so you were going to be way more influenced than your average person.

You picked up a bottle of something just to hold and occasionally take a swig of. You bumped into someone and you looked up to see none other than the guy you didn’t want to see. Kai.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, where the hell have you be- wait are you drunk?” Kai observed, looking you up and down.

“Nope, I’m just fine Parker.” You managed to get out with difficulty. “Where’s your girl?” You asked, even though you had no idea why you asked that; you really didn’t want to know.

“My girl? Oh, you mean Sophie?” Kai confirmed.

“So you’re not denying it then, she’s your girl?” You continued, you seriously needed to stop.

“She’s not ‘my girl’ Y/N, anyway why do you want to know?” Kai questioned suspiciously. Shit. Time to abort mission.

“Fine do what you want Kai, I don’t care.” You said nonchalantly.

“Don’t be like that Y/N, there’s nothing between us unless I completely misread something.” Kai responded, scratching the back of his head.

“I know that. Sorry for asking about your life Kai, I won’t next time, it’s not like you’re my best friend or anything.” You seethed, starting to walk away when he grabbed your arm.

“Why are you getting mad?” Just as you were about to answer, 'Sophie’ came over smiling at you and you had to smile back, you weren’t that type of girl to be bitchy to someone you didn’t even know but your blood was boiling on the inside.

“Hey, there you are,” she said to Kai who smiled anxiously at her, she then turned to you, “happy birthday Y/N, great party.”

“Thank you,” you answered. “I’m gonna go.” You nodded walking away.

“Y/N, wait.” Kai called after you but you ignored him, you really didn’t want to hear his explanations and you didn’t want to face him again, he had already gotten under your skin and you hated it.

You went into the dining room and took another drink from your bottle, you hated being drunk so you had no idea why you suddenly got a taste for it. You looked around, there were two couples making out and it made you feel sick, mainly because the person you wanted to do that with was with another girl.

Wait. Did you just admit you wanted to kiss Kai Parker?

“Holy shit.” You said to yourself. To get rid of the feeling you started to down your bottle, hopefully the numbness will wash away any feelings you had for Kai. You were stopped when you were tapped on the shoulder and you spun around to see Matt Donavon.

“Easy there Y/N, I’ve only just got here but I heard you already downed about five shots.” Matt laughed.

“Matty! I’m so glad you made it, and it was six.” You beamed, throwing yourself eagerly on him and he returned the hug with equal force.

“Me too, so why have you suddenly turned into every normal teenage girl?”

“You trying to say I’m not normal?” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed. “I don’t know Matt, I just feel like if there’s any time to let go now is the time.” You lied.

“Makes sense I guess. Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” You smiled. He nodded and disappeared into the crowd, he returned seconds later with a bottle and you thanked him.

“Um, you wanna dance?” You asked, he shrugged and you took it as a yes. Just as you started to dance with Matt, Kai walked in but you didn’t see as your back was to him. He saw what was unfolding and promptly turned back around to find a drink. He couldn’t do this sober.

“Is there anything to drink around here besides a carotid artery?” Kai snapped at Elena.

“Woah. What’s got your panties in a twist?” She asked, handing him a bottle.

Kai broke the top with his hand and took a long swig. “Nothing.” He answered, finishing the bottle and taking another one. Elena raised her eyebrows and looked over his shoulder to see you and Matt dancing innocently together. She put two and two together and smirked.

“Sure.” She grinned, he grunted at her and walked away.

You and Matt were jumping to the music but you couldn’t deny the aching feeling in your lower stomach any longer. “I have to pee!” You shouted over the music.

“What?”

“I said, I have to pee, I’ll be back in a minute.” You reassured, he nodded and continued dancing with the crowd.

You stumbled up the stairs, Kai saw you but he decided not to follow. The bathroom was in use so you leant against the wall, waiting patiently.

“What the hell are you doing?” Elena appeared out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“With Kai, what the hell are you two doing?” She repeated.

“Elena, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You spluttered. You hadn’t told no one about your 'feelings’ for Kai because you weren’t even aware you had any until tonight.

“Come on Y/N, this isn’t the part where we act like you don’t like him and he doesn’t like you.” She folded her arms.

“Shh Elena, you can’t say that.” You gripped her arm.

“Whatever Y/N, Caroline might not be able to see it although it surprises me that she hasn’t but Bonnie and I have known for months.” Elena protested.

“Known what?”

“That you like him, it’s okay, we won’t be mad. Kai’s changed, he’s not that guy anymore.” Elena added. You must admit, Kai had gotten better and you now trusted him with your life. But that doesn’t mean you liked him.

“I don’t.” You argued.

“Sure you don’t.” Elena screwed her eyes in suspicion. “Just please sort it out before you both drink out the alcohol supply.” She ordered, leaving you alone. You had no idea what that meant but what she said a minute ago got you thinking.

“No.” You said out loud. You couldn’t like Kai, you refused to let yourself. Your bladder had become more persistent and you realised that you have a bathroom in your own room. You cursed yourself for not thinking of this and you ascended up the stairs to your room as it was converted in the attic. It was the only one that was locked and you took the key from your bra to unlock it.

You let yourself in and locked it behind you. You ran to your bathroom and relieved yourself. You then sorted yourself out in the mirror, quickly retouching your makeup and hair, deciding to tie it up because it was making you hot being down.

You opened your door and you screamed when you saw Kai standing in the middle of your room. He was clearly drunk, but then again, so were you.

“What are you doing here Kai? How did you get in?” You shouted.

“I’m part witch Y/N.” He rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah witch or not you need to get the hell out.” You demanded.

“No, not until you tell me.” Kai said, your heart thumped in your chest.

“Tell you what, Kai?” You asked.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He questioned.

“I haven’t.”

“That is not an answer.” He growled.

“I don’t know what to tell you Kai, you came all the way up here for no reason.” You continued.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” Kai persisted.

“Why do you want to know?” You folded your arms. He stopped in his tracks and he didn’t have an answer. That’ll keep him quiet for a while.

You were mistaken. “So there is a reason. Did I do something wrong? Tell me and I’ll fix it, I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.” Kai pleaded.

Your eyes softened. “No, of course not Kai. Look I’m sorry that I’ve been acting… weird, let’s go downstairs and dance okay?” You suggested.

Kai’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “I’d rather stay up here with you.” He confessed.

“What can we do up here? It’s kinda boring.” You sat down on your mini sofa. Kai smirked down at you, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll be right back.” And with that he disappeared before your eyes and you blinked in shock. You were never going to get used to that. Seconds later he reappeared with some items in his hand.

“What you got?” You grinned.

“We’re gonna play a game.” He turned to grin mischievously at you, his eyes twinkling and you rolled your eyes. He set down the stuff he had: a bottle of vodka, two shot glasses, a salt shaker and a lime cut in half.

“What are the rules?”

“First, take a long drink of this.” He handed you the bottle of vodka and you took it from him straight away, you didn’t need to be told twice. You began to drink the clear liquid but you didn’t feel the contents going down.

“What the hell?” You looked at the bottle which looked the same as when you started to drink it. You then looked at Kai who was grinning.

“I spelled the bottle so it never runs out.” He revealed. You shook your head and took another long drink before giving it back to Kai. He took one drink and set the bottle down. “You have to take a shot, then bite the lime.”

“What’s the salt for?”

“You’ll see.” He smirked. “I’ll start.” He poured a shot glass and quickly drank it then he grabbed the lime and it into it. His face contorted and he shuddered before setting it down. “Now you.”

Any other time or day, you would have asked Kai what the hell was going on with him but right now, you didn’t care. You just wanted to be in his company.

Kai watched you intensely as you picked up the bottle and shakily poured a glass, you drank the contents and bit into the lime straight after. It was so sour it made your eyes water.

“Ugh, god that tastes like shit.” You decided.

“That’s the whole point.” He laughed.

You did this a few more times until you started to become impatient. “When are you gonna tell me what the salt is for?”

“Okay fine, you can say no if you want.” Kai warned you. “You take a drink, then you stick salt on your neck, then the other person has to lick it off and then they take a bite of the lime.” Your eyes widened, this would definitely make things awkward afterwards, it’s a good job you were too drunk to care.

“Let’s do it, I’ll go first.” Your eyes were sparkling and you were getting way too excited. Kai chuckled and poured you a glass of the never-ending vodka.

You took a drink and hissed at the burn of it, then Kai licked his hand and wiped his neck, shook the salt on it and tilted his head slightly so you could get access, he watched you quietly as you hesitated for a second but you decided it was now or never.

You leaned in and licked up his neck, so slowly you could feel his pulse against your tongue. The action sent shivers up your spine so you quickly pulled away, grabbed the lime and bit into it.

“That was fun.” You slurred.

“Good, I knew you’d like it. My turn.” He rubbed his hands together and laughed.

He poured a glass, and downed it whilst your shook salt to your neck. He put the glass down and smirked before leaning in and licking up your neck, you stifled a gasp as the feeling of Kai’s tongue on your neck was better than you imagined. He pulled away and took a bite of the lime, screwing a face and shuddering slightly.

“That tastes horrible.” He pulled a face of disgust.

“You wanna stop?” You teased.

“Fuck no, go again.” He gestured, you happily complied, going faster this time, Kai hadn’t even put any salt on his neck when you were ready and he hurriedly did so once he saw that you were waiting. You eagerly leaned in and licked twice up his neck, you felt Kai’s body language change as he held on to the back of your head. You pulled away and bit into the lime.

“Now you.” You commanded handing him the bottle.

He poured a drink and you shook salt on to your neck, he quickly leaned in and licked up your neck. Then you felt his lips on your neck as well as his tongue and it took all the energy inside you not to moan. Kai carried on licking, sucking, and kissing your neck and you felt your stomach do several flips.

“The lime Kai.” You interrupted chuckling and he pulled back.

“Yeah, right, the lime.” He laughed. You popped the lime into your mouth as he looked for it.

“Where is it?” He asked you, you smiled revealing the lime in your mouth and he laughed. You shrugged your shoulders and you were about to take it out of your mouth when Kai crushed his lips against yours. He used his tongue to take the lime from your mouth and into his.

You could have pulled away but you didn’t, instead you carried on kissing Kai. He spat out the lime and at first you were afraid it was over but he immediately went back to kissing you.

It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of vodka being exchanged in the intermingling of your billowing breaths. Your arms reached up and tangled around his thick, strong neck.

You could nearly feel the slight burn of the vodka as it rolled off your tongue and seeped down your throat with every push of his tongue against yours. Kai’s hands were everywhere but nowhere at the same time and you wanted more. You wanted to go further. It was in that moment that you realised that you had been wanting this for a long time.

“Wait, what about Sophie?” You asked, suddenly remembering she existed.

Kai pulled away. “What about her?” He went back to kissing you.

“You came here with her right? Shouldn’t you be with her right now?” You asked pulling back with Kai chasing your lips.

“No, I want to be with you. I never wanted to be with her, I just brought her because I didn’t want to come alone.” He explained.

“Oh.” You said in between kisses.

“Yeah.” Kai replied breathlessly. “Enough talking.” He ordered and you nodded obediently. His hands squeezed your waist hard and you groaned in his mouth. Abruptly he lifted you on his lap and he cupped your face before smashing his lips on to yours. Your dress rose up to your waist and Kai’s hands flew down to your ass.

“You sure you want to do this?” Kai asked breathlessly.

“Enough talking.” You repeated his words and you felt him smirking. Kai reached behind you and pulled your hair tie out letting your hair fall down your back.

You feel the air whip by you as you are moved with his vamp speed then he tossed you on to your bed and follows you down. He brackets your legs to your knees and leans over you.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to do this but I didn’t know if you felt the same.” Kai confessed.

“I feel the same Kai.” You said into his eyes, reaching round his neck and softly stroking the back of his hair.

“Won’t this be awkward in the morning?” Kai wondered.

“Only if we let it. If we do this we won’t be the same again, are you prepared for that?”

“I’m more than prepared baby girl.” Kai smirked. “Now, I think you’re wearing too much.”

You chuckled as Kai pulled you up and pulled your body so you were straddling him, he grabbed your dress and pulled it over your head, it was a backless dress so you had no bra on. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol but you didn’t feel shy around him.

Kai bit his lip and looked you up and down before pulling off his own shirt. You could feel his erection straining against his jeans under you and you grinned. Kai started to kiss your neck as he wrapped his arms around your body, you both fell backwards as he peppered kisses along your shoulder and collarbone.

You moaned and gripped Kai’s face upwards to your lips. He kissed you hungrily, you kissed him back, sucking on his tongue and biting at his lips, hands scratching down his back and tangling in his hair.

“I want you to fuck me Kai, please.” You begged between breaths.

Kai groaned in your mouth and left your lips to kiss down your body. You gasped as his mouth finds your breast and he hums, the vibration making you tremble. He made quick work of your panties and he spread your legs open. You didn’t even feel exposed, probably the alcohol.

“I gotta taste you baby,” he murmured just before he pulled you down, his tongue entering you. His tongue was buried deep inside you, along with one finger, his thumb pressed to your clit circling it repeatedly. Filthy moans were coming from him as he devoured you.

Kai sucked your clit into his mouth before he moved down to your labia, suckling them. Your hands were now firm on his head and he licked relentlessly at your cunt, tasting you and eating you out thoroughly.

His hands moved to your hips, their broad expanse of fingers almost entirely covering your stomach. “I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy,” he told you, licking a stripe from your core to your clit, “get you nice and wet. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk afterwards.”

He was so turned on he thought he might just come in his boxers. You taste so hot and sweet and slippery and he can’t get enough of it. He puts two fingers inside of you and he begins to pump them at a brisk pace, giving you the finger fucking he knows you need to push you over the edge.

Kai’s thumb finds your clit and after a few flicks, you come on his fingers, digging your nails into his arm and back before kissing him until you settle down. He pulls his fingers out and you watch as he casually sucks them clean like it isn’t the hottest thing in the world.

He smirked at your no doubt lust-filled face and leaned down, thrusting his tongue in your mouth. You could taste yourself on him and if at all possible, you became even wetter. He flipped you over and you straddled him.

You placed two hands on his muscular chest as you lowered yourself into his cock. He was so big you were worried that he wouldn’t fit, and then he bottomed out deep inside of you, he actually shouted as your wet heat surrounded him.

He brought both hands up and knotted them in your hair, his mouth falling open against yours as you start riding him with slow, rolling motions of your hips. This is torture for Kai and you know it.

“Faster, baby,” he moaned, nipping harshly at the hardened nub of your nipple. “Fuck me. I wanna feel you ride me hard.” You sped up, lifting your ass up and slamming down as hard as you could.

One of his hands reached up and grabbed your throat, pulling you down to him. You were no longer in control as he began to quickly thrust upwards. “Kai,” you softly whined, “I-I’m going to come again.”

“Yes baby, come again.” He slapped your ass and you groaned loudly. So he did it again and again until you were seeing stars, your legs were beginning to feel tingly and you were finding it hard to breathe.

Then he was fucking you again, so hard that you couldn’t stay upright, so you fell against him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him. He started thrusting his hips upwards, burying himself deeper into you. He leaned forward and captured one of your nipples in his mouth.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and his thrusts became deeper and rougher, erratic. You ground down harder onto his cock, and his thumb rubbed your clit roughly from side to side.

“Shit, Kai, I’m coming.” You whined, your legs began to shake. He kept eye contact as you clenched and let go, your orgasm crashing over you. Kai cursed and thrusted roughly upwards until he emptied his load into you.

“Holy fuck, that was so hot.” He panted, you mumbled something quietly as you didn’t have the energy to even speak. Kai could sense you were exhausted so he lifted you up gently and laid you down.

He padded to your bathroom to get a wash cloth and he came back to wipe you up. You thanked him under your breath and you could feel your eyes fluttering shut. You were so fucking tired, you needed sleep. You trusted Caroline to get everyone out a decent time so you felt okay napping for a bit.

You got in bed and your head sank into the pillows, Kai got in next to you and he rested his head on your chest. You sighed and stroked the top of his hair.

“I really hope I remember this in the morning.” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“I really hope you do too.” Kai replied, his eyes were starting to close as well. “Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have brought Sophie, I don’t even know her last name let alone like her.”

“I forgot about it a long time ago.” You reassured.

“It’s you I love, not her, not anyone else.” Kai revealed, you gasped and your eyes snapped open. He was your best friend but you returned his feelings.

“God this is such a cliché,” you groaned, face-palming yourself. “I love you too Kai.”

“Thank fuck.” He laughed. “Thought you were gonna leave me hanging there.”

You laughed and closed your eyes, continuing to stroke Kai’s hair, which ended up soothing you more than him and within seconds you were fast asleep.

Kai looked up and grinned, he couldn’t believe that he actually got the girl of his dreams.

#kai parker #kai parker smut #kai parker fanfiction #the vampire diaries #kai parker imagine #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries masterlist #kai parker one shot #Chris Wood

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gwyvian · 7 years

Text

Resistances and Dalliances

Chapter 17: Cyclone

I love you. The thought was caught in a loop inside Ryder’s head while her eyes kept straying to Evfra’s office; she and Peebee had been making rounds at Resistance headquarters and the nearer they drew to that door, the more distracted she had become, until finally she simply drew to a halt in the middle of the corridor just outside his door, lost in the memory of her last exchange with the Resistance leader.

“Here?” Peebee asked in a low voice, frowning around; her eye caught on someone and she sighed. “Yeah. Alright. Act casual and I’ll keep talking at you.” In a louder tone of voice the asari launched into a very technical explanation of her theory on how to interface with RemTech, knowing what she did now from watching her and SAM do it and Ryder just nodded occasionally, giving the outward appearance that she was both paying attention and following along. Anyone who knew Peebee would have seen through it, of course, especially considering the odd object she clutched in her hands, ever so casually pointing at the fighter leaning against the wall across from them.

Ryder wasn’t listening to the thousandth narration on the subject, though. She was too stunned… and conflicted. Again, her eyes seemed to dwell on Evfra’s door and she bit her lip before she caught herself and wiped her face of all traces of the anxiety she felt. How could she reciprocate the man’s confession when she knew what kind of pressure it put on him? By the same token, how could she not when she desired nothing else now? He had lashed out so much already just being around her; it was clear that she shouldn’t let this happen, not if she truly cared about the man himself and the angara in general, yet the moment those words fell from his lips she was spellbound and unable to feel anything except joy.

When Ryder finally tore her eyes away from the Resistance leader’s door to keep up the appearance of listening to her companion, her eyes fell on the fighter Peebee was scanning; he was an exceptionally tall angara with a vibrant, almost turquoise blue complexion that was quite soothing. His expression was much less welcoming, though, and Ryder hastily tore her eyes away so as to not arouse the man’s suspicions. She opened her mouth to say that he didn’t fit their profile, but didn’t get a chance to before her companion abruptly shifted in direction.

“So, what do you think of that?” Peebee asked and promptly fell silent.

Ryder blinked at her. “Uh, I…” she cast about her mind to summon the last thing that Peebee had said, but she drew a complete blank. “Have you ever thought of writing all this down?” she asked finally. She was rather proud of herself for thinking of that question; it neither required her to know what the archeologist had said, nor did it break their cover.

Peebee’s expression said she was less impressed with it. She glanced down as she was opening her mouth to reply when the device gave a subtle flash to indicate a scan completed. “I have written it all down…” she said simply, but she sounded as distracted as Ryder felt. Her eyes were still on the device and stayed there for a time; finally she raised her head and stepped up to the angara she had just been scanning.

Just at that moment Evfra’s door opened and Ryder’s eyes – and whole attention – immediately latched onto him as he stepped out with one of his lieutenants, panicked at facing him again without having come to a decision about what to say to him, which was immediately followed by relief as she realized that they were in public. He was hardly about to talk about their relationship where anyone at all could overhear. As she calmed, she became aware of the satisfying feeling of a thirst quenched that spread in her at the sight of him; she hadn’t even realized how much she wanted to be close to him again until the desire had suddenly been fulfilled. Perhaps that was because of her yearning to tell him that she felt the same as he did; if only she knew for sure that what they would have beyond that wouldn’t be more damaging to him than their relationship already had been.

“Ugh. Just answer the question, why do you have to make this difficult? Do you remember being in a kett labor camp or not?” Peebee demanded from the angaran fighter.

“I’ve never been to one!” the fighter replied. “I told you already!”

“I know you haven’t – that wasn’t the question!”

Suddenly Ryder’s mind caught up to the conversation she had been half-listening to between Peebee and the fighter and a different kind of panic jellied her insides. She turned away from Evfra and, trying to be as casual as possible, took Peebee by the arm and steered her away from the glowering angara.

“Peebee what are you doing?” Ryder asked, trying to make her voice a little less strangled.

“He’s the most fascinating match I’ve ever seen, Ryder!” Peebee said in a low voice, but her grin was so pleased that it practically shouted.

“That’s no reason to start interrogating him like that! We’re guests here – non-interfering guests,” Ryder emphasized, casting a paranoid eye around her and noting with displeasure the fighter still frowning at them. Her eyes snapped to Evfra almost inevitably and she winced at the reflex, tearing her eyes away. “Let’s talk about this later.”

“Ryder,” Peebee caught her shoulder before she could turn away, speaking urgently in an almost whisper. “I think Nip can actually see how an angara reincarnates.”

Ryder stared at her. “Impossible,” she said in a louder voice than she had intended.

“Or whatever passes for it,” Peebee amended impatiently, “that sulking tower over there is a match but his DNA isn’t in there, Ryder!”

“Alright, just… don’t talk to anyone else before checking with me,” Ryder massaged the bridge of her nose; her mind felt like an attic with loose floor beams about to snap under the weight of every new astonishing revelation the universe threw at her.

“You got it,” Peebee said, smiling with a conspiratorial wink before casually sauntering in Evfra’s direction.

Ryder followed with a sigh. Conspiratorial was the last thing she wanted to be associated with while they were here; but it was too much to hope that Peebee would stop getting a kick out of the entire experience and showing it. As their steps neared the Resistance leader she noted that the lieutenant he had been speaking to was Saar; one of her least favorite angarans in general. The feeling was mutual, judging by the suspicious stare he leveled at Ryder, but then she already knew that. She gave him a frosty smile before turning a polite gaze to Evfra. She wanted to bury herself in his arms and run away to never see him again all at the same time.

“Pathfinder,” Evfra said formally, “Before we begin discussions on reopening diplomatic relations, I want to show you something that may interest you.”

“Hey there!” Peebee said to Saar with a cheerful smile. “Do you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?” she asked in a very innocent voice.

Ryder smiled slightly. Saar wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Go on, then,” Evfra said impatiently, cutting the lieutenant off before he could protest.

“But Evfra, the plans…” he said a little weakly, but he wilted under the Resistance leader’s no-nonsense glower. “Very well,” he said irritably, glaring at Peebee.

“Excellent!” Peebee exclaimed, dragging him back into Evfra’s office by the arm.

“What did you want to show me?” Ryder asked Evfra, forcing professionalism on herself like a second skin.

“This way,” Evfra gestured and led her down the corridor that by now she knew would take them to the training grounds of all places.

Ryder frowned, but followed without protest; though, she felt queasy from the mix of apprehension and giddiness in her stomach the longer she was this close to the Resistance leader, the feeling twisting around even harder as she wondered where he was taking her. She studied her surroundings curiously, trying to distract herself; they passed a group of sullen fighters just returned from practice, judging by the relaxed tiredness of their movements, but other than that the only remarkable thing was Aya’s serenity seeping through the walls, the sounds of rushing water complementing each breath of the humid air. They descended to the lowest level before finally she followed Evfra through the only door remaining ahead of them.

As they entered the small antechamber on the other side of the door Ryder very much wanted to ask Evfra what they were doing there; surely he didn’t intend to spar with her? The chamber was small, with just enough room for the teams to prepare themselves before entering the training grounds proper through the opposite entrance; already here the ground was dirt, not tiles, and instead of the smooth white walls of the rest of the Resistance headquarters, here the walls were rough stone, as though hewn from the bedrock of Aya itself. It was quiet with a cool, musty scent that she associated with caves. It was actually quite relaxing, she realized, as though they had entered a void where the outside world just ceased. They were also alone.

Without preamble or a single word, Evfra stopped, turned and gathered her into his arms with a kiss. Ryder just melted there for a moment, overwhelmed with the suddenness of the gesture while brimming with a joy almost painful in intensity. She let herself indulge in the comfort of his warmth and that moonkissed scent of his, but as the moment stretched anguish wormed its way through her. Thoughts of pushing this away and denying their intertwined feelings because it was the right thing to do raced across her mind, while at the same time she tried to savor the feeling of being so close to him while she still could. All too soon he pulled back slowly, studying her face as though memorizing it; maybe he sensed a finality to the kiss, too, knew what she was going to say. His eyes were thawing ice, intense and serious with winter’s heart raging but bathed in soft warmth for her that made her heart twist.

“Evfra, I… what you said yesterday,” she began awkwardly. She could do this. She would somehow grit her teeth and survive it, too; but even before saying anything her heart already bled until she felt like ripping it out of her chest to be done with it. He was patiently waiting for her to continue, not a single line in his face betraying that he knew what was coming; she tried to remind herself that she would be saving him from a greater pain in the long run, but the trouble was that she didn’t really believe it, whatever Jaal said and whatever her mind understood about the precariousness of their situation. He’s already in love… both of us are! How can you step back from that without breaking? she thought. “We had to go before I could…” she tried to continue, but her voice failed her.

Evfra snorted, not waiting for her to gather herself. “You don’t have to say anything. How I feel is not going to change. You infuriate me, but you are a part of me in a way I did not think was possible any longer, and I need you… but I can restrain myself, if that is what you…”

“I love you,” Ryder cut in, nearly swallowing her tongue as she realized what she had said and she dropped her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m worried, too,” she added, unable to stop herself, “that I am your weakness now, I refuse to be that – but I cannot stop thinking about how all of this could go so wrong, so much depends on us… I’m looking over my shoulders all the time, wondering if Firaan is going to strike out of nowhere and steal this,” she placed a hand gently on his chest, trying to blink away the tears burning her eyes. “I just don’t know how to…” she looked up again and her words dwindled to nothing when she took it in that Evfra was smiling.

Smiling. Ryder was so startled that her anxiety abruptly parted as if she had emerged from a thick fog into sunlight; it was as disorienting as it was magnificent and so very right. Seeing that smile she felt warmth spread through her and she realized that she had made the right choice, if only because just for that moment she had given Evfra something wonderful. She couldn’t go back now, she could never bring herself take that smile away when it was everything she had wanted to give him, but suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could get through this without breaking. Having this, and having it taken away…

“You must remain a secret still,” Evfra said, smile fading to seriousness as he caressed one of her cheeks, “but I will take all the moments I can.”

“I…” Ryder gave in. She giggled before she could stop herself. It was all just so incredible that she was half convinced a good pinch would finally wake her up from this peculiar mix of fantasy and nightmare that their whole story was, but right then she decided that she just wasn’t willing to fight this any longer; particularly considering how very much she wanted it. She let out a breath, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted from her. “How long do you think we can stay here before someone notices?” she asked with a smile. Her heart was already drowning in emotion, but the strongest thing she felt was an intense desire to just lose herself in their feelings for one another.

Evfra grimaced. “Not long enough,” he said.

“Oh, well. I suppose we can always arrange a… diplomatic visit to the Tempest?” she suggested innocently.

“You might as well paint it on a sign and march through Aya with it,” Evfra said sardonically.

“Maybe someone will shoot me again,” she said. It would be worth the pain to get him alone for a little longer in his room.

“If you make your excuses any more obvious, I really will have to step down before you get us both killed trying,” he grunted.

Ryder sighed. “This is going to be difficult, isn’t it?”

Evfra shrugged. “Has it ever been simple? Come. I am sure your asari friend has reduced Saar to either pleading or shooting by now and I haven’t shown you yet what we came here to see.”

Ryder grinned at him. So there was a legitimate reason for them being here. “Oh, yes. Best not leave those two alone for long.”

Before he pulled the door leading onto the training grounds open however, she quickly stole another kiss that he willingly obliged her with, arms tightening around her as though he intended more, but disappointingly he stopped after a long moment and let her go. After they parted she had to fight hard to suppress her glowing smile and they emerged with a firm two paces between them. Glancing up to the upper level overlooking the field, she noticed one or two angara hanging about engaged in conversation, but no one seemed to be paying them any mind. She also recognized the quartermaster as she passed out of sight without looking down, but going by her disapproving frown she had at least glimpsed Ryder emerge from the antechamber; there was no love lost there.

Her exchange with Evfra was like a shining talisman in Ryder’s chest that buoyed her from the burdens they faced, but enough of it crashed back home that she didn’t have to fake her worried frown as Evfra lead her to a more secluded spot where someone could ostensibly find excellent cover. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing at first; a small disk was half buried there, but she gasped when the realization hit her: it was a bomb.

“We disabled it,” Evfra assured her, “I gave the order to hide its existence, but you needed to see it.”

Ryder knelt down to inspect it closer. “It doesn’t look Initiative… is he slipping up? Or does he just not care about the setup anymore?”

“Something definitely changed,” Evfra agreed. “This was taken directly from our supplies. It went missing some time ago, but there is no way to tell how long it’s been sitting here. It was found this morning. Thank the Stars that Istaal didn’t tell anyone that one was missing before she told me.” So that was why the quartermaster had been frowning like that; maybe she hadn’t seen Ryder at all.

Ryder shivered as she studied it. “This could have ended very badly… who found it?”

“Ira, one of my fighters. He almost set it off,” Evfra frowned in disapproval.

“I have to ask… why did you leave it here for anyone to find?”

Evfra grimaced. “To be safe.”

“I’m… not sure I follow that logic,” Ryder said, not sure whether she should laugh or not. Sometimes she was convinced that Evfra was secretly a mastermind of sarcasm, but his insults were so cunningly disguised that most people didn’t realize they were being mocked. At other times, though, he didn’t seem to have a sense of humor. It was difficult to tell the difference sometimes.

He gestured around. “This place is a deathtrap. Anyone who has ever trained here learns that very quickly when practicing. It’s inviting, because it’s good cover, so fresh recruits often make that mistake.”

“Ira is a new recruit?”

“No,” Evfra said with a hint of disapproving resignation in his voice. “He just doesn’t learn.”

“So… I still don’t follow how this makes this safer than just getting rid of it.”

“It would take time to safely extract it, and since the only fighter of mine who would go there is the only one who currently knows it’s there – I think it’s a great deal safer and quieter to just leave it until nightfall.”

Ryder stared at him, then softly said, “Evfra, I love you, but sometimes you make absolutely no sense.”

Evfra let out a soft laugh that made Ryder almost gape at him in wonder; instead, she buried a smile behind a hand and struggled to suppress it. Her good humor didn’t last very long, though; there was something about this entire situation that was just bizarre. So far Firaan had been excessively clever with his designs, every step was calculated to produce maximum damage without ever expending too much energy that might allow him to be discovered. This, however… she would have expected an Initiative explosive at the very least, and she definitely expected it somewhere else.

“If I were Firaan,” she said aloud, staring at the bomb. “I would have put it where I knew for sure someone would step on it… maybe I would implicate myself somehow, but a bomb like this doesn’t leave a lot of room for finesse in that regard. Not to mention that killing angara with an angaran weapon only points a finger at a traitor in their midst, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Pathfinder, SAM’s voice made her pause, it is logical to assume that whoever placed this bomb tried to execute the plan while sacrificing as few members of the Resistance as possible. This avoidance of significant collateral damage indicates that he is concerned about their well-being and would only sacrifice as few of them if it was necessary.

“So he’s definitely Resistance… and ironically loyal to it.”

“All villains eventually break their pattern,” Evfra said. “He could be running out of ideas – we managed to beat him back so far.”

Ryder nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. Something about that explanation still seemed slightly off, but she didn’t have a better one. “SAM, do you see anything useful here?”

I do not detect anything of relevance that would help us identify Firaan, Pathfinder, SAM informed her and she sighed, disappointed.

“There’s not a lot here to go on,” she looked up at Evfra.

Evfra grunted in frustration. “Even when he makes mistakes it seems we are always a few steps behind everything he does. How he could plant this without anyone noticing is something I look forward to learning,” he added darkly.

“We do have a loose timeframe for that at least,” Ryder speculated. “Anyone who was on Aya and went in or out of the training grounds up until this morning is a suspect, but it’s still a much shorter list of suspects than every member of the Resistance.”

Pathfinder, by my previous analysis it is unlikely that someone of a lower rank would have access to the necessary systems, SAM noted.

“Yes, I remember,” Ryder nodded. “We’re looking for Resistance members of higher rank; that narrows the list even more – can we track who was in here since Istaal noticed the bomb was gone?”

Evfra grimaced. “Not reliably. We have no reason to monitor something like that. Sooner or later all my lieutenants and commanders come here while they are on Aya. Come, let us return to my office.”

Ryder stood and followed him back; their hands met briefly in the antechamber, but they had no chance for anything more as the door off the hallway suddenly opened, revealing a group of angara dressed for battle. Some pulled up short, surprised to find them there, while others merely nodded or murmured in respect and passed the Resistance leader. Ryder was actually a little taken aback that more of them didn’t seem surprised to see her there. Again, the thought seemed to tickle something in the back of her mind, but she wasn’t sure what it was exactly.

As they walked back to Evfra’s office, Ryder focused on the people they passed, thoughts of Firaan and the conspiracy prominent in Ryder’s mind. Earlier in the day when she and Peebee had made their casual rounds, she had pointed out the commanders and lieutenants she recognized to the asari archeologist, but she had to wonder how many had slipped through their fingers because she didn’t know all their faces, especially the ones of lower rank. She knew a lot of the lieutenants much more intimately than she cared to.

Peebee, of course, had not discriminated when it came to who she scanned; it was part conspiracy, part experiment to her and Ryder hadn’t seen a reason to stop her, really. At least that way there was a chance that they scanned someone she wouldn’t have recognized on her own. If only SAM could somehow reconstruct who had been where the way he did on Eos, she could have just figured it out on the training grounds… but of course, these weren’t Initiative headquarters or Initiative people and that limited SAM’s capabilities. Conventional ‘follow the paper trail’ detective work was also out; unfortunately for their investigation, the Resistance did not have a fixed hierarchy that spread to all their worlds and Evfra didn’t track every movement of each of his people, nor could he if he tried in all likelihood. It all made her sigh in frustration, but inspiration seized her when she glimpsed the doors to Evfra’s office.

She caught up to the Resistance leader; those formal two steps between them had widened while she mused. “Evfra,” she called to him and he slowed, waiting a moment for her to catch up. When she reached him, in a low voice she added, “I think we can use the bomb.”

“I fail to see where I like this plan,” Evfra said flatly, giving her a look. He slowed, however, delaying the time it took to reach his office.

“I mean we should call your commanders and lieutenants together and directly confront them with the knowledge.” Ryder matched his pace, but they reached the doors quickly enough anyway, so she drew to a halt.

“What would that accomplish?” Evfra stopped with her. “It would give away our only advantage over Firaan,” he added disapprovingly.

“We can use his apparent love for the Resistance against him, force him out by confirming everyone else’s innocence. SAM can monitor everyone and tell me the moment someone looks too nervous.”

“If he’s not on Aya, that will only warn him that we know his game,” Evfra argued.

“It’s worth the risk! If he’s not here, we can at least know for sure that everyone who is on Aya we can trust. This bomb was a huge slip up – it’s one of yours in your headquarters and it almost killed one of your fighters. Maybe he’s not here and we drive him into hiding, but then at least we have that much more time to recover what shreds remain of diplomacy between our people, we could unravel some of the damage he’s done.”

Evfra was silent for a long moment, considering her with his arms crossed, silver eyes shifting in the light. She could have happily drowned in them any other time, but at the moment she was too intent on convincing him that her plan would work.

“Please,” she said, “this is the first time we’ve been so close, because whatever his plan was, he failed this time – it’s worth the risk!”

“Alright,” Evfra said gruffly, irritated but at least he was willing to indulge her. He strode into his office, making Saar inside jump. Peebee, Ryder noted behind Evfra with annoyance, was nowhere to be found. “Saar! I want everyone out of here who isn’t a commander or a lieutenant, then I want you fetch every one of them in here. Now!”

“Yes, Evfra!” Saar said, clearly startled by the instructions, but not hesitating. A muscle in his face twitched when his eyes landed on Ryder, but he did not linger on her long before he dashed out.

It only took a handful of minutes for Saar to gather everyone requested; the headquarters weren’t all that large, after all. Peebee trailed behind the first group of ranking officers, looking put out at first as her quarry – whoever it was among the group – clearly ignored her, but she brightened as she took in the room and realized what must be happening. By the time the room was almost half full, Ryder was having serious doubts about her plan, but she kept going over her reasoning and she still agreed with all its points. It was only nerves.

“Ryder!” Peebee exclaimed, sidling up to her the moment she spotted her while the doorway was still filled with angara filing in. “This device can definitely draw lines between souls! It might turn out to be superstition of course, but it seems to think that it makes sense, each time the scans come out matching the same DNA code, which means that…”

“Peebee,” Ryder cut in, “keep it short, we’re doing something here.” The instant Ashae stepped across the threshold their eyes met and bile rose in Ryder’s throat. By the woman’s expression, she still wanted to shoot her and that did nothing to make her like the woman.

“Right! Okay,” Peebee said, following Ryder’s gaze. “That one and this Saar fellow,” she nodded at Ashae, then at Saar, “both are in the database, but all the other lieutenants are clear.”

“Commanders?” Ryder asked, trying to suppress her excitement to learn that Ashae was definitely a suspect.

“Too many, not enough time,” Peebee said hastily as Evfra opened his mouth and silence swept over the room.

“Someone in this room has betrayed us,” the Resistance leader said coldly; gasps and exclamations of outrage suffused the crowd and Ryder’s eyes darted between them.

Monitoring heart rates and blood pressure, SAM said. The tension level in the room is high. Filtering.

“This morning a bomb was found on the training grounds. One of our own almost tripped over it – I want to know which of you it was and why he or she decided to kill their own.”

Three lieutenants and two commanders are reacting the strongest. Ryder, I believe Saar is the culprit.

“You?” Ryder exclaimed, staring at Saar in shock.

The lieutenant jumped. “What…?”

“Why would you do this?” Ryder demanded, still not quite able to grasp that Saar was a serious suspect. She cut him off before he could get a protest out. “Don’t bother denying it, your pulse is racing,” she accused.

The lieutenant sputtered for a moment, looking outraged, but his eyes caught on Evfra’s face; not a shred of doubt was there. Moreover, the Resistance leader looked about ready to murder him. Ryder sincerely hoped that he had learned from the last time and wouldn’t leap at the lieutenant before they could definitely prove that he was Firaan, but it seemed like so far she needn’t worry about that.

Sighing, Saar looked directly in her eyes. “Because I heard a rumor that you would be in there… and everyone falls for that trap their first time.”

Dead silence fell over the room.

#mass effect andromeda #evfra de tershaav #fanfic #angst #writers #evfra x ryder

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leaveharmony · 7 years

Photo

I told ya the shot with Shinsuke was high-water for pictures of me! XD

*giggling* In my defense I wasn’t expecting to take one.

So my day! Was pretty amazing! I’ve gotta cut this cos it’s gonna be long :D

I knew Mick (+Noelle) and Bret were gonna be at comic-con this weekend, but as it was so close to the house show we went to last weekend and I had a sore back all week, plus mum's knee was acting up, we weren't sure we'd be able to go. But last night we concluded that it was a chance we likely wouldn't ever get again, and what the hell. I pulled my hardcover 1st edition of his first book off the shelf where it's been kept with the others for what...18 years? and packed it up for the trip. Probably due to all the other distractions it didn't seem as heavy as a 500+ page monster ought to have lol

We actually had a train adventure beforehand, b/c GO transit has expanded service a bit to Barrie, so, there was an 11:02 (or something) train down. It was literally cheaper for both of us to go down AND BACK on the train than it was for a one way bus trip, just had to get to Barrie first. Plus, c'mon, it was a train. Lol. I haven't been on a train since kindergarten. Mum kept giggling her head off every time the whistle blew at a crossing. We sat facing the wrong way on the trip down, which really made me dizzy so we switched it up for the way home...

Honestly the only minor hiccup in the journey was when we got to Union station, with all the construction, it was a touch confusing finding which way to head to the PATH over to the convention centre. As always, a lovely TTC employee guided our way. Contrary to experiences w/ Fan Expo in the past, the entrance off the PATH walkway into the convention centre proper were actually open today, so we didn't have to go outside in the wind & snow at all. Usually it's a long wind down a big ramp and then down some stairs, across a little...sort of green sidewalky area and then down more stairs, then walking a few blocks to the spiral parking garage, but this was like...a less than five minute walk. Aces.

We actually got a little more lost on the convention floor than we had at Union station lol...I ah, temporarily misinterpreted the floor plan map, so we took a slight detour on the way to the signing area. Mum made me take a picture of a guy dressed like Alf, tacky tourist shirt and all. I saw a few genderbent Road Hoggs, at least one Lara Croft, three separate and distinct Negans, a few dozen Harleys, a couple in really well-done Skyrim armour...some people went full-steampunk, bustle skirts and all, there was somebody with a baby dressed like pikachu lol. Many cosplayers. Bless their hearts, I wouldn’t have the energy.

The only other time we've been to the winter comic-con as opposed to Fan Expo was in like 2003, when we went to go see RVD - it was a much smaller area in a different location and pretty sparsely attended by comparison, though this one on its busiest day was still prolly only half as crowded as FE would be on that saturday. We went by a few ppl with wheelchairs and mobility scooters who were probably finding it much less of a chore than usual to navigate because there was actually space to...well, give them space. Anyway my point being, I got a bit confused because the signing area tends to change from year to year and sometimes even day to day. This time though it was over by the food court area (I went in the exact opposite direction at first lol)

So we got in Mick's line :) He and Noelle were sharing a table, next to Bret Hart and uh...somebody I had no idea who the hell he was. Looked like a default video game character though. Brunette, white, a little stubble. Name entirely escapes me.

A con-worker asked if we were doing a selfie or an autograph, reason being, for autographs you wrote your name on a sticky so you wouldn't have to spell it out to him when you got up there, just show him the sticky - this has gotta be the most genius idea I've ever heard lol B/c when I say ‘spontaneous’ I mean ‘prepared for at least three days in advance,’ on the off chance we made it down to see him, I made a little santa-hat ornament for him on Thursday night. Bret was away on a break when we got in our line, which moved very slowly because, well. You'll see. Another con worker was keeping the line to the left, occasionally walking up and down singing, wearing elf-ear cuffs lol. I think her name was Bernadette but I'm not 100% certain, it definitely started with a B. She was, appropriately enough for the ear jewelry, sort of the selfie-elf, someone to take the pictures w/ guest cameras.

As we got closer up it became more apparent why we were moving a little slower than I've previously experienced in such lines - b/c Mick Foley is like...the undisputed champion of making ppl feel like he's known you all your life, and did a lot of chatting w/ everybody who went up.

When it came to our turn, for instance, he was glancing at his phone - he immediately explained at some length that “mom” (I'm assuming he here meant Collette, b/c my father also refers to mum as “mom” when I'm included in the conversation, and Noelle kinda was - but I suppose it may have been his own mother, or mother in law) was having some heavy-drama travel fun of her own lol. I guess she told him “I had to take a TRAIN!” making it sound, as Mick put it, “Like she was on a frontier trek or a world-tour on the orient express,” but what she actually meant was she had to catch the same shuttle he'd ridden “like 400 times” in the past lol. He said there would be a lengthy “you wouldn't BELIEVE...” story about it later. “One for the next book!” I said, laughing. He segued easily into a hello and a what can I do for you? So I handed over the book, which was still full of place-markers and dog-ears from the last time I read it.

He took care of the signing business, and then told me he liked all of my jewelry and stuff (I actually went light on it today). Noelle chimed in that she did too (she is such a sweetheart). He summoned over Bernadette to make sure I saw her elf-ear cuffs and light-up necklace lol.

Then he pulled out a little yellow coin purse from his fanny pack (his fanny pack!) asking if I wanted to see his ring. I sort of assumed it would be like, the HOF ring, and said it was probably fancier than mine. “I doubt it, it's in here with two of my teeth!” he said cheerfully, and produced instead a ‘horseshoe ring’ made at Santa's Village lol. He was certain to note that this was not the Santa's Village here in Ontario, but one in the 'states (I found this deeply endearing b/c who the hell knows about our rinky dink little santa's village who didn't grow up here? As a child on their kid-sized motorized tricycles, I once mistook the handlebar reverse lever for the gas and promptly drove backwards, up over a curb. I lost that race. I should have told him that one lol). Noelle was laughing the whole time b/c she didn't realize he kept the ring with his dental plate. His ring story was, that I guess when Christy Hemme was getting married she wanted, coincidentally, to give horseshoe rings away as favors to the guests but didn't know where to find them - he happened to overhear, “Did you say you were looking for horseshoe rings?” “You've come to the right guy!” I volunteered. So he got in touch w/ his peeps at Santa's village and they sent a whole box of the things. lol. “It's getting a little rusty now,” he lamented fondly, spinning it on his finger. “Yeah, cos you keep it in with your teeth!” said Noelle, still laughing. “That was actually the perfect segueway though,” I said, “Cos I made you something silly.” I handed over the ornament in its little santa-decorated bag (I had one left over that I'd made last christmas, somehow it never got put away, funny how things work out). He immediately said he loved the bag & asked where I'd found it, I told him I made that too. He actually asked me if he could open it lol. I said, of course!

I believe he was quite pleased with the santa-hat ornament lol. He said, “This is going right in the Christmas Room when we get home tomorrow.” “Ooh, you made the Christmas Room!” said Noelle. He tucked it back in the bag and couldn't remember how the tie had gone, so I was trying to sort of explain...lol...we were all watching raptly as he tried to re-tie the little bow. Noelle teasingly offered to help. “He'll get it,” I said, “I believe in him.” He did get it, or near enough <3 and put it in his fanny pack - tbh I'm as proud of making the fanny pack as I am of making the Christmas Room XD

He asked if there was anything else he could do for me and I thought, “Welp!” I explained that I had a friend in the states, who wanted to be a wrestler, and who struggled with depression, like I do, and I thought that maybe he could sign something for her and it might cheer her up a little. He asked how long I'd/we'd had trouble & I told him...he talked a little about how after so many concussions he'd had some difficulties that way too, but, it can get better. So hang in there - both of us, hang in there. “That's not really medical advice, but,” he grinned. “I'll take it anyway,” I said. He had a few pictures there for signing - he immediately pulled a Dude Love. “It's gotta be Dude Love,” he explained. “Nothing says ‘cheer up’ like Dude Love.” So @yungcrybby-anonymousbosch, I ah, I have a signed Dude Love to send you. lol. <3

(I blurred the name on the scan ‘cos you may not want it Generally Known - actually since I didn’t have a sticky I think he just took his best guess and made it a bit deliberately shaky so, if you squint hard enough it could say anything you wanted it to lol)

(Noelle pointed out how cool the coke bottle shades w/ the RAW logo were. I believe he said they were ‘groovy’)

He asked if we were there for a selfie too - I had trouble stammering an answer b/c of course per the vulture policy that the con operates under, y'have to pay for a selfie separately and b/c we'd gone down last-minute there was no time to grab any more cash than what we had on hand (nor would I have, as I always say, no picture with me in it is worth paying for lol). He took my meaning though, and made a Nick Fury executive decision about the separate fee, summoning Bernadette again lol. As I say he’s quite chatty, and at this point got distracted w/ a quick update from another con-worker RE: something he’d sent him to find out, I think. In the interim we chatted w/ Noelle a little, she asked us if we lived in Toronto. “We’re up north, actually,” I said, “We actually did take the train!” Anyway, HENCE, why I now have two goofy selfies w/ my mum and Mick Foley, hardcore legend and lord of the sweethearts. I just realized that it immortalizes my pink kinesio tape lol. And sensei kinda made the picture too, via my Takeover TO shirt. Joe is hidden by purse straps though. No wonder he’s always so angry.

As mum was checking out the selfie w/ Bernadette and stowing her camera, he quietly asked if he could ask about my hand. “Oh, it's congenital,” I explained. He pointed out one of the people in the line who I'd actually noticed before, cos he'd gone up to talk to Bernadette at one point, in a wheelchair and missing part of one arm as well - Mick must have talked to him a few times already cos he explained it'd had been a bout of childhood meningitis, resulting in multiple amputations. I'd actually assumed that when I saw the guy go by, having seen the signs before. He said, he'd been a little uncertain personally when he decided to cut his hair, 'cos it was the first time his ear had been really exposed/on display in a decade or so. But, he figured, that differences are important. “That's not professional advice either,” he said. I hugged him a little lol. He said he appreciated us coming all the way down on the train just to see him (I didn’t think he’d even heard that bit) Just as he was turning back to his table and we were saying goodbye, I had to do it - I said “Hey - do me a solid: don't let Smackdown have Nakamura!” He started laughing and noted that might be beyond his pay grade XD So we said our goodbyes to him and Noelle and ...just yay. :)

Primary mission completed, we went to find something to drink, 'cos we were both pretty parched by that point. Ended up at one of the quieter food booths, a sorta coffee/sandwich kinda deal. I had a turkey/tomato/spinach sandwich that I would like to pay special tribute to because it was so fucking good. lol. I will love you forever, sandwich, couldn't have made it without ya.

There was a train home at 4:28 but we weren't entirely sure if we'd be able to make it, the alternative being a bus at 7:15. So we wandered around looking at various booths and things for a while. Wasn't much there I needed, though it's always interesting to look at stuff. My nerd ass ended up buying a Sailor Moon pill case, at least 50% because the packaging was in japanese lol. I bought a cameo sugar skull pendant, too. Idk where the mental disconnect happened cos I intended to grab a red one to match my Nakamura stuff and ended up like, lizard-braining and taking purple instead. I guess my heart wanted purple today & overruled the hand. IT'S STILL NEAT. We also went looking for a sorta...it's like a sized-up card protector, for 9x11's or whatever the size of the Dude Love picture is lol. I didn't want to put it in my backpack unprotected cos it 100% would have gotten beaten to hell in there, especially w/ like 5lbs of Foley antecdotes to contend with. It’s win-win cos I can mail it that way, too. We tried one place first & they didn’t have one, but drew us a map on the con floor plan to someone who did hahaha. So we had a side-quest, to follow, too.

We did, actually, end up making the early train home...I can't tell you what luxury it was to be home by the time the bus would have been -leaving-

But yeah...yeah. That was a hell of a nice day.

#Foley is Good #my ugly mug #my RAPTUROUSLY ugly mug #my glorious mum

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