#until this woman came along with her terribly designed assignments

[rouiyan]

𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘊𝘖𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌 𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘒 [ 𝘩.𝘳𝘫 ]

synopsis: in a town where the seasons always seem to come a little early and the stars seem to shine a little brighter, two introverted idiots, only extroverted for each other, fall in love.

✧ huang renjun x (fem.) reader (mentioned jaemin x reader) ✧ childhood best friends to loverz

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slow burn ✧ word count : 8.4k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, as in h-e-double-hockey-sticks and probably a darn and a damn

✧ author’s note : another one of my fics that’s based off of an obscure item that i somehow managed to romanticize heavily. anyways, this one was written for the lovely hannah (@moonbeamsung​) who said (in some network bio) that she wanted to live in a childhood friends to lovers au so here we are. (please also ignore how this is ever so slightly reminiscent of ‘this shirt of his’) enjoy!

huang renjun. he's tiny, impudent, childish, and not to mention, he's two months younger than you! huang renjun, the boy whose legs are currently kicking at your own from the side. huang renjun who, when you look to your right, has a lopsided smile on his face while he pretends to listen to your teacher drone on about the days of the week. 

you lean in his direction, "would you quit it?" the boy looks over at you, nods, stops for a few minutes, then returns his incessant kicking. anger is lashing across your four-year-old countenance as the teacher calls out that recess is about to begin. you're the first out the door.

to say that you had no friends was an understatement. you had no friends and the other children liked to gang up on you. so when you take the opportunity, as the first one out the door, to run to the slides, the most vied for playspot on the whole playground, you're not surprised when renjun sneaks up behind you. well, you aren't surprised but rather unaware of his presence, until he pushes you, shoves you, absolutely rams you off the top. in the span of four seconds, you've pummeled down the slope at lightning speeds and instead of just hitting the ground, the sheer amount of force that was exerted from one four-year-old to another is astoundingly clear as you fly up and off the bottom ledge of the slide, soaring across the air before landing in a heap on your elbow. the wood chips of the playground floor that you've landed on dig harshly into your calves and one side of your face. 

you don't let on nearly as much as it hurts when the teacher rushes over and asks if you're okay, if you needed to go to the nurses' office. you nod at her while biting back tears of stabbing pain and embarrassment and, to even more of your horror, she assigns renjun to accompany you to the nurses' office claiming that, "the two of you need to work it out anyways."

face pulled into a scowl and lips twisted into a frown, you limp next to the boy who, even now, finds it his job to ridicule you by purposefully walking fast, he knows you can't keep up. "y/n, you idiot," your mouth drops open at the i-word, "we're never going to make it in time at that pace!"

in reality, you're two steps ahead of him, "huang renjun, i am so going to tell on you."

as it so happens, the bell that rings at the end of the school day not only signals your leave, elbow patched up and held in a sling, but also the arrival of parents, specifically mrs. huang. your teacher beats you to it, guiding the woman by the elbow to the side, a small conversation of nods and creased brows. renjun is next to you, watching as well, but his fingers are fiddling with his sweater sleeves and his nose is scrunched in anticipation—no, dread.

"i didn't mean to," his voice is a bare pipsqueak, the two of you all know he tells tales far from the truth. rolling your eyes, you doubt refuting his claims will ever be as easy as now with his mom sneaking worried glances in your direction, scalding ones in his, "yeah sure, huang. tell that to my broken elbow."

"it's not broken, you're just exaggerating-"

his mom turns in his direction, walks, low heels thudding softly with each step. she's quite the nice woman, you were somewhat sure about that though her face was drawn stern at her young son. she crouches by his side and though you feel a slight outburst oncoming, she turns to you instead, smile taut but polite. "y/n, is it?"

you nod.

"i apologize, first on behalf of my son, and second for my own incompetence in raising him," she gives him an eyeful, turning back to you again, "how is your arm, sweetie?"

you smile up at her because, unlike the boy beside you, she is nice. you forgive her, sweetly, telling her your arm would heal soon and well. she leaves with a gentle pat on your head and a strong arm on her son's own elbow. 

it's the next day when renjun is still sitting beside you, the usual scowl on his face replaced with a sheepish grin, snaggletooth and all, as he slides a carton of chocolate milk your way. "this is the one you like right? the brown one?"

you take it from the table and fold back the top, as you had learned, folding forward once again so an opening would slit. taking a sip, you give a hesitant nod somewhat in his direction. truth be told, chocolate milk was not your favorite, certainly the pretty pink strawberry one was, but a part of you didn't have the guts to stand up for yourself and say no, he was apologizing after all, not outright bullying you.

renjun doesn't kick your shins during class, he doesn't so much as utter a word to you, but when recess is called, and yet again you're out the door first, straight to the slides, the boy makes sure he's right behind you, and not for the purposes of shoving you off this time. he sticks around, and it stays that way.

you get your first pair of glasses at the ripe age of seven, only after you'd exclaimed to the class, rather sheepishly, that you couldn't answer the question because the board was too blurry for reasons you'd yet to comprehend. only at the optometrists office did you start to understand the purpose of glasses in the first place.

the next day in class, renjun, who was still your seatmate, pointed and poked fun. you laughed along with him because, well, because it was renjun that was making fun of you. the same reasoning could be applied when later in the day, when a terribly hubristic boy in your class, several inches taller than both you and renjun, had dared to punch you in the face for having such odd, turquoise frames, a pattern you never purchased again. to much of your surprise and even his own, renjun had punched the seven-year-old duche right back in the face. it was actually the chin from his angle, but hey, it's the thought that counts.

you let renjun choose the next pair of glasses you got, and though his preference was much differing to your own, you wore it for the next year and a half until your eyesight worsened once again. 

renjun steals at your food, and gets his hand smacked by the teacher, so you pass him the carrots, which you abhor and he passes you the chocolate milk, which you adore. it's as simple as that, and it stays that way.

fingers wiping at your glasses with the bottom hem of your shirt. you're sprawled back onto renjun's bed, hiking your feet onto the footboard. "what happens when we die, jun?"

the boy swivels in his chair to face you, feet planting at the exact moment. twirling the pen in hand, he places the tip of it at his chin and glances up towards the ceiling in what you think to be rumination. turns out, he's mocking you as always, "hmm, i don't know, why don't you test it out?" you play along gladly, "it'll take a zombie apocalypse to wipe me out, i'm telling you. and when and if that happens i'm bringing you down with me."

your best friend discards his pen back into the abyss of textbooks and notes on his table. he stands and walks and plops himself down on the bed next to you. the two of you are the same height, especially seen when laying down. he's yet to grow past you and you've yet to stop teasing him of it. in fact, you're just about to do so when he beats you to the chase, eyes on the ceiling once again but actually deep in rumination this time, "i hope we get matching tombstones, sorta like best friend necklaces but like- much more cool."

it's the first time you notice the brisk palpitations of your heart when in the aftermath of renjun's words. his words that were also so carefully thought out, witty but not insensitive. eleven-year-old you couldn't bring yourself to accept the fact that renjun was proving to be much more than just your designated bff. cheeks aflame, you turn your head to the left to catch his eyes already on yours. a gulp, a blink, a shift of your sights later and you finally have the words to respond. "that's only if we're not eaten alive first."

you can't help but imagine if the person you were buried by wasn't renjun, and just some man that you'd get to know in college and marry because you're too old to particularly care about notions of love. you can't help but imagine growing up with someone other than renjun by your side. you can't help it but you also struggle to, the reason behind that being you simply can't imagine. (how confusing!) renjun's all you've ever known and you doubt he could ever be replaced in your records. but as much as you wish it to stay that way, it's only a matter of time until things happen, until high school happens, until puberty happens.

it all starts when renjun bounds into your room on the first day of school, seven thirty on the dot and more than ready to take on the day after the absolute feast your mom had cooked up for the two of you. he's about to rattle on about girls and how they always take so damn long to get ready when his mouth is clamped shut at the sight he's met with. the sight he's met with being your reflection in the mirror. 

you forgot to mention to him that you'd gone to the optometrist a few days back, not for a new pair of glasses but to get your first pair of contacts instead. a great struggle came with getting them in and out but with practice, you'd managed to avoid outright stabbing yourself in the eye, hence the perfectly fitting lens right this moment as you blink out the excess solution. in the mirror, you glance in the reflection at the door of which renjun is standing in front of. you fail to notice the dumbstruck look on his face and rather, exclaim in glee at how for once, you could see him in full clarity without anything sitting atop your nose and getting caught in your hair.

renjun only nods along and stares for a lot longer as you collect your backpack lain across your bed and sling it across one shoulder, beckoning the bewildered boy to follow as you led the way to the garage where your mom was waiting in the car. and even in the car, he fails to conceal his gaze that seems to never leave the glistening of your eyes. in his third period, the only class that you sadly do not share with him, his mind is still playing over and over the look of glee that graced your features in a way he's never seen before. or maybe he has seen it before, and this sudden surge of newfound feelings is just an indication of him going crazy. yeah, he decides as he sets his tray down at the table you'd agreed to meet him at for lunch, he's definitely just going crazy, nothing new.

well apparently, you'd experienced something in the new because you're currently across the cafeteria, waving frantically at him for you to join the table you were sat at. renjun narrows his eyes though it's plainly obvious that you had made friends with people other than him. not that he minds, he's actually glad that you've ventured out of your social anxiety enough to get along with others. it's something that he's always been worried about ever since he stopped bullying you himself. he finds that he's still worrying, for other reasons, especially when he walks over to find you next to a girl and two boys, all of which looked to either be of a year older or just a thousand times 'cooler' than him. he looks over at you, who though is seated at the end of the table, fits in perfectly. with a tight-lipped smile, renjun slides in to your right and almost quivers under the gaze of your new friends as they introduce themselves.

he comes to know them as this: jaemin, the one that overtly flirts with you, donghyuck, the one that never stops talking, and jennie, the one that you seem to closest to, although only knowing each other for just a few periods at most. lunch ends in a blur of conversation, none of them seem all that interested in renjun himself, moving on rather quickly after your introduction of him, but they sure are interested in you. that's what it seems like to him, when in reality, you notice that most the times you've look over at him, he's as quiet as never before. you wonder what's gotten into him.

you trail renjun to his locker during passing period and with a hand holding it open for him and another leaning your weight on the locker beside him, you speak over the hustle and bustle of the hallways, "sorry about that." he gives a light glance your way before shoving a biology textbook into the back slot of his backpack, and eyebrow crooked, "sorry for what?"

"i mean, i did say we'd eat lunch together, i just didn't think that…"

"that you'd make some friends?"

"yeah-"

"it's fine, y/n," he gives you a fond smile, "i'm actually glad that you made some friends."

you scrunch your nose at his response and the solemnity that lined your voice is gone, replaced with your usual, playful and upbeat tone, "geez, i didn't think you'd want to get rid of me already, the first day isn't even over!" he slams the locker door shut, almost chopping off your fingers in the process. you draw them back insticutally with an, "oop!" and renjun gives a chuckle and a ruffle to your hair, "come on, let's get to class before we're late."

he takes the seat next to you in biology, and also in ceramics the period afterwards, and really, you hope it stays that way.

the cafeteria is particularly empty today, most the kids have gone to the school assembly that wasn't actually mandatory but had to be advertised as so in order to get people to go. you pride yourself for being one of the few people in your school who knew that fact and as your eyes rove the span of the room, they stop at a familiar silhouette of a boy that you could never mistake. something about how you didn't know he was going to be here and that he was sitting alone made your heart uneasy. 

you set your tray in front of him before he could comprehend who you even are, "renjun, hey, can i sit here?" it's unfathomable, the way you have to ask him but there's the inkling in the back of your mind that tells you it'd be more awkward if you didn't. you wonder how the hell the two of you have reached a point in your relationship where you had to ask to be in each other's presence. and as far as you know, renjun is still your best friend.

"yeah, sure. you're not at the assembly?"

shaking your head, "no. well, seeing as you're here i assume you also know that they're not mandatory, huh." renjun nods his head. truthfully, he did not know and the only reason he was here was because he thought it was mandatory which meant that you would be there. and wherever you were he sought not to be, for reasons that he only he was privy to. that's what made this whole situation unbearable because as you prattled on about your day, he himself giving the bare minimum of reactions and responses, the tightening knot in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow. 

it grew exponentially, just watching you talk about your chemistry exam, and then your friends and then...this, "what about you, jun? how's your love life?" he's always been good at concealing his inner emotions around you, he knows what you notice and what you don't. sometimes being in love with your best friend has its perks, he supposes. "love life? you're serious?"

"yeah, i mean," you lean forward across the table, uttering under your breath so that the four other people in the cafeteria wouldn't hear, "we're in high school now. remember what we talked about?" renjun scoffs at that, at how high school y/n and middle school y/n still shared the same idea that first relationships were supposed to be reserved for the first two years of high school. he gives you an incredulous look, "we're not even a semester in, geez."

"so that's a no, like a no for 'nothing's going on'?" the glimmer of hope that glints in your eyes is indeed caught by the boy, your own first love, but his intuitions, the ones that were wrong from the start, prevents him from seeing into it any further. "yeah, nothing's going on. you?"

"well," you figure this is your chance to shoot your shot, as small of a shot as it may be, "me neither." what you didn't understand at that time was that boys, more specifically renjun, didn't take hints very well. he likes the facts and he likes them placed right under his nose. and what you didn't take into account was that by saying those two words aloud, you've in fact reprogrammed renjun's thought process to think the worst. and it really only gets worse and worse from there on out, until everything you've built up with him is suddenly, suddenly nothing.

you didn't study, plain as day as you stare at the blank whiteboard in the front of the classroom while virtually everyone else has their head downs, pencils scratching. there's three days until winter break, your first since high school has started and your sanity is definitely at stake. you look down, circle a two, a one, and two threes, and look back up, propping your chin upon a hand and tapping a finger along your jaw. perhaps a thinking pose with get your brain into the right mindset to dig for the right information. you're then reminded of how the information wouldn't be there in the first place. it might've been if you ever dared to listen in class. 

groaning aloud, seemingly the whole class turns to give you a look, a glare, even a questioning glance from your teacher who you're almost sure knows exactly what predicament you're in right now. huffing in equal parts regret and exasperation, you're the first to turn in the exam only forty minutes into the period. after all, randomly guessing the answers to two hundred multiple choice questions isn't all that hard when all you have to do is choose a number from one to three.

sitting back down with a soft thud, you debate sleeping for the rest of class but come to the decision that, one: sleep is for the weak, and two: you don't deserve to sleep after an exam, the only people that deserved to sleep were the people that stayed up late to study, not to watch corny minecraft videos under the blankets. it's not nice to judge other people's definitions of time and worthiness but you're really hard on yourself and the things you do for leisure, for obvious reasons.

body slumped over, you get the closest you can to sleeping without actually closing your eyes. in a classroom full of classmates, some friends and others acquaintances, you feel like you're left entirely to yourself, or your thoughts more specifically. they eat at you. and when your eyes roam and land on that one person, in the column to your left and four seats ahead, you can't seem to stop the spiraling. before you know it, renjun is all you can think about.

the way he twirls his pencil in his hand, you were there when he was watching youtube videos on how to do it. the pencil itself, you were by his side while he read out the reviews for it on amazon. the way he bounces his sneakers up and down in the most rhythmic fashion, the same fashion you'd always scold him for. the sneakers, the ones his mom bought him for christmas just under a year ago. you'd know because you were there too. eyes solely on him, you try your best to find one thing about him that you can't tie your name to before you realize it isn't possible. you know renjun through and through. you like to think you do.

but even with everything that you know, you wonder when you started to feel the tug in the back of your mind that kept whispering that he was moving on from you. maybe you were right to feel that way, the signs were all there. late night texts, facetime calls, hell, even instagram photo replies were scarce these days. and although he'd always chalk it up to his workload, you had to hold it in each time you wanted to quip back with the fact that the two of you were in freshman year, some colleges don't even count first year grades. talking to him at school wouldn't be so hard if he'd stop avoiding you, wherever you were he was not and whenever you'd ask to meet up, he'd give the vaguest of excuses. a general meeting for a club you've never heard of, a math study group with a friend you were sat right next to, a blatant lie. just as blatantly, you come to terms with the fact that it's time to accept and forget.

so when the bell rings and you see renjun rush to do his final, quadruple check, you simply move to put your things away. and when you see renjun return to his seat, eyes meeting yours for a split second, you look away with feigned disinterest. and when he turns to exit the classroom, you stop yourself from linking an arm and forcing conversation upon him. you simply follow in tow and turn in the opposite direction. you don't play into your desires because really, as much as you desire them, your fear of his distance is enough to draw a line. your fear of rejection is greater than any feelings you've ever held for him. isn't that how it always is?

sophomore year is two-thirds of the way through when you notice that renjun is taller than you by over three inches. that alone scares you, and saddens you, because it just goes to show that you haven't talked to him in so very long. his familiar smell and the way his fingers loop themselves in the straps of his backpack bring back a lot of feelings that would've made your heart swoon a mere year ago but now makes it stop dead in its tracks. sighing, you clasp your hands behind your back as your lips thin into a tight-lipped smile, "it's been awhile, jun. how have you been?"

renjun's eyes threaten to water at the sound of your voice. he swears the ground will open up beneath him and swallow him whole in response to the way you still call him 'jun.' the only thing he can do is grip his backpack straps a little tighter and try a little harder to conceal his emotions. after all, his efforts in doing so are what led him into this situation in the first place. "i've been good. you?"

with excess vigor, you nod, "i've been pretty good, studying and all that," you give a motion of your head to denote the obvious that was the building to the side of you. you just had to exit the library at the same time as him and his ride just had to be as late as your own. "so," your eyes snap back to him when he speaks, "how's it with uhh...jaemin?" nodding again, this time with less enthusiasm, as your ex-best friend notes, you prattle on, "it's going really well, seven months strong." 

oh hell, what was renjun expecting? even if you hated the living life out of your relationship, he doubts you would have laid it all out for him to see. the two of you haven't held a conversation, much less eye contact, for almost a year now. and by the looks of how your mom's car pulls into view just then and how you leave him standing on the curb with only a wave of your hand, it's about to be a year and counting.

your mom gives you a worried look as soon as the car door shuts behind you, "sweetie, was that renjun?" she veers the car out of the parking lot as you take one big gulp of air only to refute it back out in a dramatic huff. bounding your back against your seat, you strap on the seat belt and frown into the abyss, a clear devastation in your tone, "yeah it was."

"did you start the talking or did he?"

"i did! well, i thought that he would but he didn't!" with a click of her tongue matching the click of the turn signal, your mother gives you the briefest of glances, "darling, if he didn't want to talk to you then, then you shouldn't expect him to talk to you now."

"but it would've been even more awkward to just stand there."

the two of you shake your head for different reasons, your mother's just a bit more reasonable, "it's been a while, y/n. it's clear that he just didn't want to be your friend anymore. and plus, look at you, all moved on from your first love. your second one's quite the catch, huh?"

and she's right. you nod along with the thoughts that renjun's diminished presence was eye opening in many ways. one, it really was about time you got over him, two years was long enough. two, first loves were just that, the first and rarely ever the last. three, you barely had any friends. and four, your life didn't revolve around boys.

na jaemin asked you out three times before you'd said yes. you liked him more than enough during the first two tries but your hesitance was found in the way you didn't trust him nearly as much as you thought you should in a relationship. your phone pings from beside you and you lift it to see the same boy and the ridiculous contact name he had entered for himself, a nana with about fifty different variations of hearts following. 

a finger hovers above it, about to swipe and give a quick reply, when an incoming notification replaces it. the contact name is rather simple, huang renjun. you suck in a breath and immediately click your phone shut, shoving it back into the depths of your backpack. jaemin will have to wait for your damned nerves to calm before you can get to his text, the blockade being renjun.

it isn't until you're home, backpack slung on the footboard of your bed, changed out of your clothes and resting atop three heavy blankets that should've probably been exchanged in the wake of spring, that you steel yourself to look at the preview of your text.

let's catch up sometime, tell me when you're free. punctuation and all.

biting down on your lip, you note that the coffee in front of you, or rather just its aftertaste, is sickeningly sweet. looking up ahead, the regret that pools in your eyes is put full on display, unintentionally of course, but there nonetheless. you regret that you didn't text renjun sooner, that you broke up with jaemin on your one year anniversary, that you stopped talking to your mom about things that so obviously upset you, and that you simply took the path of misfortunes when it seemed like nothing else could possibly go wrong.

but the matter of the fact is that you did text renjun, and not out of desperation or to rekindle an old love that was never reciprocated. you texted renjun because after everything that had happened, you still have no idea where it all started to go wrong, you have no idea what you even did that could render such terrible circumstances and you have not the slightest clue as to how to get yourself back together. in short, in very short, you are in need of a companion and, for the better part of your life, that's exactly what huang renjun is to you.

as much as you would have loved to meet at a more secluded place, perhaps just your house, you also knew how informal that would seem of you after not talking to the dude for almost a year and a half now. he meets your eyes with his own, hesitant at first, but the smallest of smiles is soon to follow and you're left to wonder why, just like that, your world already seems to shift back into place and why his smile seems to make it all...make sense. 

"how are you now?" the laugh in his tone is bare but detectable only to you. being swaddled in familiarity really does a good number or two on your dampened mood. a smile hasn't chanced on your own face but you doubt it'll be long before it does, "pretty terrible, jun. how 'bout you?"

"about the same."

"same as me or...same as last time?"

"same as you."

the two of you nod, slowly and with eyes locked. his eyes are still on yours when he picks up his venti latte for a sip and even still when he puts it back down. yours are still on his when you do the same, and even still in the moments after when your voice breaches the silence once again, "so this is warranted."

this time only he nods, "you mean that this is necessary."

your response comes in the form of a smile, wide and exhilaratingly relieving, as if you've been waiting for a reason to smile and have, at last, been given one. your hands clasp around the paper cup, the contents inside warming your palms, a feeling that you welcome though the summer heat is fast upon you. the sun sets in the backdrop as your now reinstated best friend walks you home. it's nowhere to be seen when he drops you off at your doorstep and leaves with a mumbled, "goodnight, text me later," and the shuffle of quickened steps down your driveway.

that night, you stay up until the hours of early morning, texting the one person that's always had such a hold on you. sloppily spelled out text after text, you're bound to fall asleep until you do, but not before reading the last he'd sent. 

lets hang out tmw. no punctuation needed.

"i got your coffee, even added a ton of sugar," your eyes switch from the floor to the mug in your hands to the boy sat in front of you. instead of being grateful for the painstaking lengths you'd gone to trying to figure out how to get the coffee machine to work, renjun whines, "i only wanted a spoon of sugar."

"but you said you had to stay up late tonight," he takes the mug from your hands, fingers brushing and his eyes peering over the rim as he takes a sniff, "how will i get my caffeine if i can't even drink it?" shrugging, you take it back from him, "then i guess i'll just drink it."

"what? no, you have to go to sleep soon," renjun's brows crease in slight irritation at the proposition. your do the same, a mirror image of your best friend. when you've known someone for so long, slight nuances like these are always shared. "what are you? my mom?"

"no, but if i was, oho, you'd be damned," renjun grabs for the mug and this time takes a sip. he does his best not to scrunch his face when the sweetness hits. "i'm gonna go get ready for bed then, mom." his chuckles resonate from behind.

renjun stays up late to study and, seeing the score you got on the biology final the next day, you probably should have done the same. he looks back from his spot on the desk, the chair being positioned so that his back was to you. it's only been about fifteen minutes since you came from the bathroom with your retainers in and contacts switched out for glasses but it's just that gets his heart beating again, not so unfamiliar to the palpitations it underwent on the first day of high school, all those years ago.

he gets up and crosses the room, sock-clad feet careful not to make too much noise. you're slumped, half on the headboard and half sprawled across the bed itself, passed out already. bending over your figure, renjun slips the phone from your hands and sets it upon the beside table, he pulls your form further down the bed to prevent the worst type of neck aches in the morning, and he draws the blankets to your chin, tucking the ends beneath your figure in the same way you've always liked it.

then he crouches by your side and stares. he stares as your slow breaths fan across his face, lightly billowing the ends of his hair. he stares as the minutes on the blaring red digital clock on the bedside table fly by faster and faster. he stares until the glasses propped on the bridge of your nose bring back all the memories he'd sought to forget, when really, he could never let himself forget.

renjun remembers you crying about it to your mom, in second grade that is, after she'd picked you up with your nose all blotchy and red and renjun's tiny fists scathed. he remembers how much you hated them and wore them the least you could even though you needed them to see practically anything. renjun remembers at the age of eleven, he'd whispered in your ear on the first day of middle school, how much he liked your new frames. he remembers how you always kept them on when it was just you and him at sleepovers, or how you always told him that you didn't care what he thought of you because it was him, renjun. 

he still wonders if you feel that way though if not, he wouldn't mind spending more time with you to make it so. to renjun, you're presence is irreplaceable. and not because you make him happy, but because you also make him sad, because when you're angry, you don't mind that he's angry too, and that when the whole world is turned upon you, he's the only one that can ground you. to renjun, you're the only person that's capable of making him feel like the best and worst person in the world, at the same time, or not at all, or everything in between.

and if renjun has learned anything from his studies on the universe, it's that in the whole scheme of the world, the galaxies and galaxies so big that no one can even come close to fathoming their size, he is just as insignificant as anyone else on this planet. but he if he has found something, a someone, to which he can anchor his worth, his lifetime of feelings to, he has all the reason to live. renjun doesn't mean to be dramatic, but as a second year high school student he thinks he has all the reason to say that his reason to live sorta, maybe, possibly is you.

standing, he hooks two fingers under the sides of the frames of your glasses, lifting them off your face and folding them in a hand, careful not to smudge the lens, he places them on the bedside table as well. he goes back to studying but it doesn't last. how can it when all he can think about is you?

the you who he slips into bed next to instead of sleeping on the floor like usual. the flustered you who he wakes up to. the sleepy you who ruffles his hair before getting up and out of bed. the lovely you who brushes your teeth to the beat of whatever song is playing. the caring you who makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the both of you to share at lunch.

renjun sits in the back seat to your side, his mom smiles at you in the rearview mirror. somewhere in her eyes he can tell that she's glad you're back in his life. maybe because that's how it should've been all along. he looks over to you, now with your head stuck in your textbook trying to (futilely) get some last minute cramming in before the big test. his finger fidget with the loose threads of his sweater, he smiles. and it stays that way.

you're not a fan of the stars, at least not as avid as your best friend but you do your best to recognize the ones he's taught you and learn the ones he's teaching, right now. "that one? i thought that was the chameleon one…," renjun is not the slightest bothered, having the ability to go on and on about the heavens above even if no one was listening. he turns his head towards you, weight propped up on his elbows, "we're not even in the right hemisphere to be seeing the chameleon, y/n."

"oh," you turn your head to face him as well but instead of being on your elbows, you're flat on your back, the grasses that teem over the edge of the blanket brushing your right arm. "do you know how long we've been out here?"

"does it matter? we're literally in your backyard," he sits up to check his phone anyways. "it's barely one, let's stay out for a bit more."

"okay."

renjun lays back down, now also on his back and he stares in appreciation that the little city the two of you grew up in wasn't crowded with light pollution in the summer sky, almost as if him and his star fascinations were meant to be born here. the sounds of ten or so crickets are prevalent but not blaring and the light zephyr that sifts between the houses of your street meets your skin with a warm touch. you're fully convinced that summer nights belong to the young.

breaking the silence, you grasp onto the words that cross your mind in passing, "how was your day?" renjun's head swivels in your direction again. oh how easy it is for him to be sidetracked from his favorite pastime by his favorite distraction. "my day? wasn't i with you the whole day?" your right hand balls a fist of grass and pulls, the blades are plucked sleazily from the ground and fall just as sleazily as you release them into the wind. "well yeah, but like- how was it?"

"it was good, any day with you is a good day."

positioning your body so that it now faces him, there's suddenly many things that are crossing your mind and begging for you to voice them aloud. his curt but sweet answer leaves space for your inquiries. "are you ever going to tell me what happened?" he's turning to face you as well, the blanket beneath the both of you scrunching as he moves and the outlines of his face illuminated by the light of the lantern, a good fifteen feet away. "what exactly are you referring to?"

rejun sees his past being dredged up further and further with each coming word that tumbles from your mouth, "like a year ago." his heart beats a little faster and if he wanted to, he could mouth your next string of words. "you got all...i don't know, distant i guess." swallowing thickly, he can feel your eyes on him as he decides to come clean, half clean.

"that was- that was a weird time for me." a noise of confusion and a, "how so?" gets his brain working double time to feed your curiosities without bearing his heart to you. the mere prospect of telling you his undying love for you is undoubtedly out of the question. "i guess, i was having a hard time getting adjusted to school and i didn't have that much time for...us. that's what happened."

so huang renjun ends up tossing out a blatant lie, something he knows you weren't even close to accepting as the truth but also something he knew you wouldn't question. if he wasn't comfortable with letting you know then so be it. you nod. 

there are things that he wants to know as well, "then can i ask what happened with you and jaemin?" and for reasons all too similar to renjun's you also lie, "just kinda fell out of love with him. nothing spectacular."

but renjun knows more than he lets on. he knows from the rumors, things you've told your friends that have somehow made their way around the school, that have made their way to him. it still holds that he isn't all that trusting of silly gossip but the potency this one piece of information holds, the hopes, the desires, the dreams and the fantasies, it's not something he can so easily pass up. he knows that you broke up with jaemin because yes, you fell out of love with him, but that only happened because you were still in love with him, huang renjun.

where you live, september mornings, even still early in the month, have already succumbed to the edicts of fall. fog gags the clear air and renjun finds it difficult to see three feet in front of him. despite that, the road to school is still the same as always and though his mom was unable to drive him today, making it so he had to wake up half an hour early, he doesn't mind it half as much as he thought it would. in fact, he finds himself thinking more about you than anything on the lone walk there.

hands swinging back and forth, a little crazily in the absence of anyone else on the street, he passes by the convenience store a few blocks down from the school, the one that's open twenty-four hours a day and the one that you and him have been frequenting a lot at three a.m. when the midnight hungers start to kick in. the thought almost slips his mind before he has a chance to act on it.

you decide that junior year is the worst. not even halfway through your first period, the looming presence of empty resumes and college application preparations is already making you queasy. luckily, you share four of your classes with renjun who is currently in the seat next to you. he's focused, as always, while your ap us history teacher reads off of the syllabus to stall time. you really should be paying attention as well but the first day of school, especially one with renjun by your side, seems to transport you into the depths of your memories. your first day of freshman year. there's key differences though. 

let's start out with the obvious. renjun is now a head taller than you, much to your chagrin. he teases you about it just as much as you had when he was the same height as you. also as obvious, you're no longer on talking terms with jennie and donghyuck, whom have since stuck with jaemin. which leads to the biggest turn of events that distinguishes your first day in high school to your second to last, if such a comparison even mattered.

third period ends, this time ap english language, a class that you don't mind at all and are, in fact, so invested in the free write that was assigned that you don't notice that the bell has rung, or that all the people around you are either packing up their things or leaving. you don't notice renjun, who's still beside you, packing up his own things as well. his desk is completely cleared save for one thing, one thing that he picks up hesitantly and holds behind his back, entirely unsure if now was even the right time for him to be carrying through with his plan.

this plan of his had been meticulously thought out during his walk to school, an impulse driven thought that, if not successful, would guarantee a trashy start of his junior year. the corners of the carton are a little bashed up from being jostled around his backpack for so long and he hopes the contents aren't completely spoiled just yet.

your head snaps up in surprise as he crosses over to the front of your desk and you're even more surprised to see that the classroom is completely void of students, your teacher had even rushed out to make the most of his lunchtime. "oh shoot! we're not gonna get a spot at the cafeteria, jun!" with haste, you start shoving your belongings into your backpack, the pencil case still wide open as you toss it in. renjun himself recedes in his thought process, certainly there would be a better time. if only he lived on your side of town, maybe then he could do it while walking you home. or maybe if he had the last period of the day with you, surely catching you after class would be too difficult. or maybe it he should've done it yesterday after the two of you spent the whole night playing games, that would've worked out a little better tha-

"renjun, what's that you're holding?"

his hand that was once behind his back has now dropped to his side, escaping his notice, and you were bent over the side of the desk to yank your backpack closed, giving you the perfect view.

"oh, this," he overcomes his flustered state in a record time of three seconds. it's now or never, he thinks, "this is for you." renjun holds out a carton of chocolate milk to you. "picked it up on the way to school today."

you take it from him graciously, turning it over in your hands as the realization dawns on you, "wait, this is the same brand as- as that one." renjun licks his lips, he shoves his hands into his pockets, takes them back out, sets them atop your desk, "yeah, it is."

your bottom lip is tucked under your front teeth as you look up at him with thoughtful eyes, no longer of appreciation or revelation but rather…, "jun, why did you get this for me?" you fold back the top of the carton, as you had learned, folding forward once again so an opening would slit. bringing it to your lips, you take three sips, the container so small that that already amounts to over half its total.

the window of opportunity has never been set wider than now. you watch as your best friend gulps, visibly, as he blinks, purposefully, as a hand comes to the scruff of his neck and rubs at it, almost forcefully before twelve years of his pent up feelings are regurgitated into the empty english classroom. the cafeteria is surely packed now.

"i like you, y/n. i got it for you because i like you."

backpack left on the ground beside you, you take a step forward, one which he reciprocates with a step back. another step is taken and another until you're in front of him, the desk directly behind. swallowing your nerves, your eyes glisten in the garish yellow lighting, "that's- that's nice to know. because i like you too."

renjun licks his lips one more time before they're on yours, kissing you just as he'd dreamed of ever since he even knew what it was, what it meant. his hand on your waist is as decisive as his steps that push you back and back until your thighs hit the desk, you prop yourself up onto it. renjun uses his height to deepen the kiss, he duly notes the sweet tang of the chocolate milk on your lips and he loves it. he loves the way it tastes, he loves that it's his lips, his tongue, that's tasting it, he loves that it's your lips that he's kissing, he loves how your hand never leaves the spot on his waist, or the other one on his shoulder, and he loves how he gets to kiss you like this however and whenever from then on. or really, he just loves you.

and it stays that way.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — my many inspirations for this piece — the song around by niki, the kdrama 'reply 1997' an all time favorite, and of course, hannah! check them all out hehe... hannah babe, i hope you loved this piece as much as i love you. consider it a token of my love HASHAAs but really, you're such a wonderful presence in my life <33

[chimchimsauce]

XS - II (First Impressions)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

When YN wakes up, she's alone. For a moment, everything is okay. Her eyes flutter open and she stares up at the tall ceiling, a crystal chandelier throwing rainbows across her face. She sits up and silk slides down her skin, pooling at her waist.

She blinks, temporary confusion washing over her.

Where is she?

It hits her like a truck. She's been kidnapped. Or, rather, she's traded herself to a trigger happy stranger in exchange for her parents' lives. Her parents. A pit forms in her stomach just thinking about them. She has no real way of knowing if her "fiance" plans to go back on their deal or not. Her parents could be dead right now, bleeding out on their dingy kitchen floor with no one the wiser.

YN feels nauseous. She scrambles out of bed and heads to one of the doors in the opulent room, pulling it open. Unfortunately, it's not a bathroom, so she shuts it immediately, opening another and stumbling inside. She barely makes it to the toilet before spilling her guts, retching over the golden seat until nothing but air comes up. Her fingers tremble against the cold metal and porcelain, barely able to maintain a grip on it.

"Are you done?" a cool voice calls out from the doorframe.

YN would have startled if she wasn't so worn out. The best she can do is lift her head and wipe her mouth, glancing towards the source of the sound. The man staring at her is vaguely familiar, large nosed and sharp jawed, handsome in a way that's hard to pull off. For a second, she can't place her finger on it, and then she looks at his tatted hands and shrinks back.

He was the man who held a knife to her throat.

YN's fear must be evident on her face because this man - what was his name again? - grins sinisterly, tightening his loose hands into fists.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt ya," he says in direct contrast to his body language, "The boss likes you too much for me to get away with it."

YN swallows, a terrible taste on her tongue. It almost makes her want to puke again, but she doesn't have anything else left in her.

"He wants to see you," he says, "So you better clean yourself up. First impressions are important."

First impressions?

He doesn't give YN any time to ask questions before disappearing just as quickly as he came.

YN stands on shaky feet, stumbling over to the sink. She looks at her expressing, wincing at the face that stares back at her. Her skin is blotchy and discolored, red eyes looking at her sadly. There's blood on her clothes and ugly bruises from where she'd been manhandled. She can only look at her reflection for a few seconds before she has to look away, not wanting to face the reality of her situation.

Still, the body guard's words get her moving, so YN splashes water on her face, grabbing a towel from the rack by the shower and drying off. She takes a whiff of her shirt and cringes. Honestly, she smells terrible, heady with blood, sweat, and tears. Apparently, a quick splash of water will not be enough, especially if she has to make a "good impression".

She's hesitant to strip down in this place, especially since she doesn't even know if this is going to be her room or not. Still, she turns on the water as hot as it can go, watching with begrudging awe as water pounds down from the ceiling like a waterfall.

YN exits the bathroom, taking in the bedroom for the first time. It almost looks like a princess' room, white and gold with decorative molding on the walls. The carpet is soft and plush, YN's feet sinking into it.

She feels so out of place here and it only amplifies her anxiety about this situation. She doesn't know anything about her captors or even where she is. Taking a shuddering breath, YN finds her way back to the room she was in just minutes ago, switching on the light to reveal a closet bigger than her entire childhood bedroom. It's filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, and accessories that tell her with one glance that they're all designer.

YN doesn't know if she is even allowed to touch anything but she doesn't really have any other choices. She picks the least flashy thing she can find and pulls it off of the rack, surprised that it's her size. Does her captor have a sister? Or worse, a girlfriend?

The last thing YN needs right now is enemies, so she closes her eyes and prays that this is just a coincidence.

She stands under the water pressure, watching the water turn pink and her skin grow raw. There's some delicious smelling shower gel that she uses to wash off the memory of what happened as best she can. She washes her hair, taking her time to detangle it with her fingers and message her scalp, trying to let her thoughts float away with the steam. YN knows that she can't stay in here forever, though, and the fear of Tats coming back has her turning off the water and stepping out, wrapping herself in a warm towel.

Once again, she glances in the mirror. She definitely looks better at first glance, but the look in her eyes is vacant, soulless. YN bites her lip, tightening the towel around her.

"You can do this," she whispers to herself, "Everything will be okay."

She doesn't believe it, not at all, but she has nothing to comfort herself but her own words. YN looks away from her reflection and brushes her teeth with an unopened set of brushes and paste she found, rinsing with mouthwash to get rid of that horrid taste in her mouth.

YN pulls the clothing she picked out on, feeling the soft fabric on her skin. She doesn't know what to do with her hair so she pulls one of the many drawers open and manages to find some products. Creepily, they're the exact same ones she normally uses, along with some expensive looking conditioners and sprays she's never heard of.

Before she can begin, the bathroom door swings open, causing YN to knock her head against the underside of the sink. She curses loudly, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Madame! I am so sorry!" A feminine voice calls out, "I didn't mean to startle you. Boss sent me to help you get ready for dinner."

Dinner? Is it so late in the day already? She could have sworn that it was midday based on the light seeping through the windows.

YN pulls her head out from under the sink and looks at the woman. She's rather short and dressed plainly in black slacks and a black polo. Her hair is clipped in a sleek bob, brushing just under her soft jawline. She's rather beautiful.

"Who are you?" YN asks her.

She's already had enough of people barging into the bathroom.

"My name is Yoonji. Boss has assigned me to help get you adjusted to life here. If you need anything at all, call me to help you."

YN sits on the floor, looking at the woman before nodding her head. Might as well.

"Let me get your hair, madame," Yoonji says, rushing over and pulling out hair products.

YN wants to protest but she's tired and Yoonji's touch is feather light, styling it into something more fancy than YN would usually do.

"Is that what you plan on wearing?" Yoongi asks pleasantly.

Even though her tone is nice, YN can tell what she's suggesting.

"Should I change?" YN asks as Yoongi puts the final touches on her hair, adding pretty diamond studded clips.

"Let me grab something for you."

Yoonji leaves and comes back in a flash, holding a midnight blue evening gown.

"This will be more appropriate for dinner with boss and his parents."

"This . . . boss of yours," YN says, choosing her words carefully, "Who is he exactly? What does he do? Why am I here?"

Yoonji smiles at YN again, but YN can tell that it's more forced than before.

"Everything will be revealed in time. Don't worry about it. Boss is a good man."

YN highly doubts that considering he was only moments away from murdering her parents last time she saw him but she swallows and smiles at her, knowing that she doesn't have any allies right now.

Since her hair has been done up so opulently, Yoonji helps YN out of her clothes and slips her into the beautiful dress. She has no energy to feel embarrassed as she stands there in her underwear (thankfully she found some new sets, all still with the tags on) too emotionally worn. Honestly, YN should be more worried about meeting with "Boss" and his parents, especially since she has no idea what they expect from her, but she knows thinking about it too much will just make her sick again.

Yoonji runs off somewhere and collects accessories, turning YN into a sparkling prom queen. She even applies makeup to YN's face, no doubt hiding the stress etched into every inch of her face. By the time someone knocks on the door, YN is starving. SHe hopes she won't have to go through this process every time she has to go eat.

But when Tats comes back into the room, YN finds herself wishing that Yoonji had taken longer.

"Dinner's almost ready and the Boss is getting antsy. She done yet, Yoonji?" he asks.

"Almost," Yoonji replies, picking up a glass bottle of perfume and spritzing some on YN's collarbones, "She is now."

"Great." Tats says, grabbing YN harshly by her wrist and pulling her upwards, dragging her out of the room.

YN looks back at Yoonji who gives her a thumbs up, whispering a "Good luck," in YN's direction.

YN stumbles over the tall heels Yoonji had placed her in, barely able to keep up with Tats and his long legs as they stride through massive black and white hallways.

'Don't fuck up, okay," he says, stopping in front of an incredibly tall set of doors, "Remember, first impressions."

He swings the door open.

Chapter Three

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[ahockeywrites]

Chapter 2 - Edmonton, Alberta

“I cannot believe it’s our first day in Edmonton and we’re already at a hockey game,” Addison laughed. The department Addison and Simone were contracted to work at regularly attended hockey games as a group to encourage socialising outside of the workplace and had invited the girls along to meet their new colleagues.

It just so happened that one of the other girls in the department was good friends with the Oilers roster and was able to get some good seats occasionally, and this happened to be one of those nights. They had seats right next to the ice for the Senators @ Oilers match and seeing as Addison had barely paid attention to the Blues hockey lineup, she had no idea that the brother of the boy she had been ignoring for years was about to take to the ice for warm ups.

A puck hit the glass in front of Addison and she looked up to see who hit it. Standing in front of her was Brady Tkachuk. She shot him a confused look, she had no idea he even played hockey anymore let alone in the NHL. He gave her a quick smile and shouted “gimme a text, number hasn’t changed,” then he skated off.

“Wait, you know Tkachuk?” one of her new colleagues asked? This was not how Addison wanted her first day in Edmonton to go. All she wanted was an easy introduction to her new colleagues not to be bombarded with questions.

“Yeah, grew up in St Louis a few doors down from them,” Addison explained, trying to go into as little detail as possible. There was no way she could let the people she was going to be spending a lot of time with know that she used to be friends with the devil of Calgary. Her co-workers just nodded, trying to understand how she hadn’t shared this information before. To the majority of people, growing up around NHL players was the most amazing thing ever but to Addison it was the most difficult thing. She wished she didn’t block Matthew out that summer, but she knew it was best for her at that time.

The rest of the game went surprisingly well, even if Brady was on the losing end of the game. No one asked Addison anymore questions about the Tkachuk’s, which she was very thankful for but Simone had started putting the pieces together and had pretty much figured out who it was that Addison was avoiding in St Louis.

Addison did text Brady, but she waited until she had settled in to Edmonton first. Naturally, Brady had already let the entire family know who he had seen in the stands as soon as he was able to. Keith and Chantal already knew because of their closeness to Addison’s parents, Taryn was excited to know that Addison had moved and was using her degree to her advantage and Matthew said nothing. He didn’t want to believe that they now lived in the same country, let alone the same province.

Ever since that day in St Louis, Matthew had vowed never to love another woman. He couldn’t, Addison was always the only one for him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find someone else, he always had women falling over him almost anywhere he went, but none of them lived up to Addison. Instead of trying to settle down in Calgary, he had a different woman in his bed most nights to satisfy his desires.

Simone gave it a few days too before asking about the interaction at the Rogers Place. She was almost certain that the man who Addison refused to keep in contact with was the eldest Tkachuk child but she didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t want to reopen old wounds for Addison which could be especially painful. The safest space to bring up the topic was likely to be their shared apartment and she did one night with SportsNet’s NHL coverage in the background.

“Ads,” Simone started, she was unsure of how to approach the topic so decided to stay safe to begin with, “how do you actually know Brady Tkachuk?” Addison sighed, she knew this would eventually come up and was much happier that her best friend asked her rather than any of her other colleagues because it could have made the entire graduate program very awkward.

“I wasn’t lying at the rink, he did grow up a few doors down from me in St Louis,” Addison explained, “but I spent a lot of time at their house with Chantal because mom often worked late nights and dad used to, and still does, travel with the Blues for games. I’m the same age as Matt, so it just worked well.” She hoped that she hadn’t given too much away, it was the truth, just missing a lot of detail.

“But, is there anything else that I should know? You know, you’re probably gonna see the entire family next time you’re home and if I’m with you, the whole story is appreciated?” Simone tried to get as much information out as she could without hinting that she knew who Addison was refusing to mention.

“Matt was my first kiss and then I’ve ignored him ever since,” Addison said at such speed, she wasn’t even sure she took a breath between the words. It was the first time she had admitted it to anyone aside from her parents. “And I don’t think I ever stopped liking him.”

“Babe,” Simone exclaimed, “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because he’s a professional hockey hot shot and I’m me! Plus, I was going to MIT and he really doesn’t give me vibes of someone that could do long distance,” Addison said, letting a tear fall. “I thought focussing on my studies would get rid of this silly crush, but seeing him in Calgary has just made things worse.”

Addison was shocked with herself, she had never vocalised her feelings of inadequacy when compared to Matthew before. Everything that she had just said was something she had internalised for years and the only way she knew to respond to the word vomit that had come out of her mouth was to cry. Simone came over to her and just held her. She had seen Addison like this before and knew she just needed to know that someone was there for her.

The room was silent bar the commentator for the Stars v Kings game and the two were thankful that it wasn’t a Flames game. “How about, we order some Chinese food, eat ice cream and watch some terrible movies?” Simone asked, this was how Addison solved all of the boy issues that anyone encountered at college so hoped it would help. The two spent the evening watching crappy rom coms wishing they were the main character in all of them and this was able to take Matthew off of her mind at least for a day.

Work seemed to drag along for the rest of the week and Addison let it. She was spending the majority of her time in her office, which she shared with the other graduates, and kept her head down working on a new project she had been assigned. She was designing a new ball bearing and it was the most tedious thing she had ever done. College could not have prepared her to spend 40 hours a week in front of a computer designing such an essential part of a manufactured product in such detail. All Addison wanted was to finish the design and go out to the bars because it was a Friday night and she needed a beer. Eventually, Simone and Addison were able to head home and get ready for a little night out in Edmonton.

It took a few hours for them to get showered, changed and eat something because they knew that drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Addison chose to pair a deep green bodysuit with black jeans and heeled boots whilst Simone chose a flowery jumpsuit with small heels. They both knew they looked good and that gave them the confidence to head out with a smile. The Uber they had called arrived and they quickly threw back a vodka shot each. The night was cold but the bars calling their names were warm as hell.

The number of bars showing Calgary games was low, but apparently not zero because the first one they arrived at showed the Flames thrashing the Bruins and as soon as Addison looked up at the screen, she saw the baby blue eyed, curly haired boy she had been trying to ignore the life of for years.

“He’s everywhere,” Addison complained, “even in a city that supposedly hates him. I can’t seem to get away from him.” Simone shot her a look of sympathy, knowing that everything Addison had done was protect herself from getting hurt by a boy who meant so much to her. “I just want drinks.” And drinks Addison did get.

5 shots and two beers in two hours at the first bar took her to a state she rarely reached, very drunk. Seeing Matthew on tv had done it for her, he was living his life to the best so she was going to do the exact same, even if she was working 9-5, 5 days a week. Simone knew better than to let Addison go anywhere alone and made sure that she had drunk water and got home safely. However, Simone didn’t expect to wake up only an hour after falling asleep to hear Addison talking to someone on the phone.

“BRAAADDDYYYYYYYY!!!!” Addison shouted down the phone with a giggle.

“Heya Addie,” Brady replied, trying to control himself and not laugh too much but it was too hard. Here, well in Edmonton, in front of him was the exact opposite of the girl he had grown up with. Normally Addison was well kept and smartly dressed, today he saw her in a massive Blues t-shirt and hair forming a birds nest. “Has someone been drinking?” he asked playfully.

“Yeaaaaaaaaaa, I saw Matty on tv and decided I didn’t want him being the only one having fun tonight,” she said, trying not to hiccup. The alcohol she had consumed had kicked in suddenly and she had no idea what to do. As Brady was the most recent person she had texted, somehow she had called him.

“You saw a flames game in Edmonton? They must really hate their own team eh?” He laughed.

“I did! I think it’s because they’re coming for a game here next week, ooohhhh, maybe I’ll see Matty, I miss Matty, I was silly,” Addison explained, even if the drinks had gone to her head, she was trying to form coherent sentences.

“Hey, Addie, I know Matt misses you too. But, the best thing you can do is head to bed and get some sleep. It’s gotta be like 5am in Alberta, so go to bed, yeah?” Brady was really trying to help the girl, no matter what happened between Addison and Matthew, Brady didn’t want to lose the potential of a friendship with her again.

“Okaay Brady,” Addison yawned, “I’ve made it to bed, it’s sooooo soft, like Matty’s hair.” Addison couldn’t help but smile as she thought back to the time they had kissed, it was one of the happiest moments of her life along with graduating college.

“I’ll text you when you wake up,” Brady said, “now sleep Addie.” She had fallen asleep before he had even finished speaking and the sound of her softly breathing was the only thing that either Brady or Simone could hear.

prev//next

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 12

A/N: Another chapter! Yay! Thank you to those of you who read/liked the last chapter! This is definitely just a fun little thing I like to write in my free time for brainrot reasons, so knowing that even a couple of you read and enjoy this, genuinely makes me so incredibly happy! So thank you! Anyways, not much else to report! Hope y’all enjoy! 

Star City

July 22

07:50

The sun was already risen by the time Roy Harper swung his body through his window and into his apartment. His new black, grey, and red uniform stretched awkwardly as the material hadn’t yet been fully worn in, but it was still much easier for agility compared to the old tunic.

When the ginger looked around his apartment, however, he was shocked to find it much cleaner than it had been when he left for patrol. The dishes he had left out in the living room were gone, everything looked as if it had been dusted and vacuumed, and the room smelled faintly of citrus. For a moment, the archer thought that perhaps he had swung through the wrong window. But then he looked to his old, mishappenly stitched, leather couch and all became clear when he found the sleeping form of a familiar young brunette. She was curled up under a threadbare blanket and wearing a pair of sleeping pants that he was pretty sure were his, so he assumed she must have been here for a while.

Walking towards the sleeping girl, Roy rid himself of his mask and weapon, placing both on the coffee table as he knelt down beside her.

“Lin’?” He spoke softly, grasping her arm and running his thumb along her skin. For a moment, she did nothing. But when Roy spoke her name again, her nose twitched and a small groan emanated from her throat as Lina’s face rolled into the pillow underneath her head. Roy smirked and gently shook her arm. “Come on Frenchie, time to get up. It’s almost…” he checked the clock on the opposite wall, “4 in the afternoon in France, you should be up and at’em.”

Another moan, followed by a muffled. “Que sont les fuseaux horaires? Je ne sais pas!”

Roy stopped, hesitated, then said “yea...you know I barely passed sophomore year French by the skin of my teeth, right? I can say ‘I’m a baguette' and that’s pretty much it.”

Lina sighed and sat up slowly, her eyes drooping as she tried to run the sleep out of them. “Good morning, Roy.” She smiled sleepily.

Roy smiled back at her, rubbing her matted hair before plopping down on the couch. “Good morning to you too, Lina.”

“Sorry for coming in while you were on patrol, I needed a quiet place to sleep.”

“Trust me kiddo, I’m pretty used to it at this point.” Roy shrugged. “Everything alright?”

Lina nodded, “Kaldur and I were on patrol in Gotham until two a.m. Eastern last night...I don’t know how you guys do it. Patrols are very much not for me, I have learned.” She explained. “But then, after all that, my brother came home drunk and started very loudly talking about a party he went to last night.”

“Oh Calvin, you bastard.” Roy gave her a sympathetic look. “And I take it the, uh, ‘Cave’ you guys called it, wasn’t any good?”

Lina yawned as she stretched her arms up to arch her back, “Superboy doesn’t sleep very well, so he gets up early and watches static on the TV, and since my bedroom is right next to the living area…”

Roy nodded, looking around his apartment to study the unfamiliar cleanliness, “Well you know you’re welcome here anytime, even though the cleaning wasn’t expected.”

As Lina dropped her arms, she gave Roy a look. “The room was dirty, I didn’t feel like sleeping next to a bunch of dirty dishes.”

Roy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I swear sometimes you’re like if Dinah and Nanny McPhee had a lesbian lovechild…”

“Nanny McPhee? I do not know this woman...” Lina asked with a raised eyebrow, and she leaned over to look into a bag that was sitting on the floor by her head. Roy watched as she rummaged through her bag, before pulling out her uniform. Her hands went to the thigh of the clothing, identifying one of the hidden utility pouches, and opened it to reveal a compartment fitted to house an emergency dose of her medication.

“It’s a movie, don’t worry about it.”

Lina hummed, pulling her medication out. As she injected herself with it, her eyes shut and she focused on the feeling of cool ice flooding her veins. Once the syringe was empty, Lina took it out of her arm and placed it back in its case. Then she looked around, suddenly appearing much less sleepy.

“What time is it? I will make us food.”

“It’s about 8, I think.” Roy hummed and then got up. “But don’t worry, I got it. You’re a guest.”

Lina sprang up from the couch, waving his words off. “No no no silly, I’ve got it. Please, you know I love preparing food. Plus, you need to shower and get out of your uniform…”

Then she looked down and noticed the red and black fabric. Her eyes widened.

“You changed your uniform!”

Roy chuckled and nodded. “I thought it would help separate myself from GA, I’m also still workshopping a new alias. What do you think?”

Lina poked and prodded at the material covering his chest, studying the design and fabric. “Very cool, I bet this is much easier for stealth missions. What did you use? Where did you get it?”

“Cotton-spandex hybrid fabric, coated in CNTs with some leather reinforcements here and there.” He explained. “I got it from a guy.”

“...so the same idea as mine and Robin’s?” Lina asked with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you think I knew it would be good for agility?” Roy smirked, and Lina smiled back before pulling away.

“Well, it’s good to know you’re at least trying to be safe. But don’t think I won’t stop worrying just because you’re smart with gear.”

“I would never expect you to stop worrying, Frenchie, I’m smarter than that.”

“Good,” Lina smirked. “Now then...I will start on breakfast. I hope you have some decent food I can use...may I borrow a sweater?”

“You know where they are.” Roy gestured to the hallway that leads to his bedroom, and Lina flew off. The archer watched her fly away, then turned to pick up his weapons and put them away in the chesterfield beside the couch. Not the best hiding place, but he didn’t exactly have his own secret stash of warehouses quite yet.

“So how is the Junior Justice League?” Roy called out.

“Not the Junior Justice League, first of all,” Lina called back. “You know, you really hurt the guys’ feelings by brushing them off.”

Roy sighed, letting her comment sting him. “I’m sorry Lin’, but you know I was just stating my opinion.”

“We’re allowed to choose our own loyalties, Roy.” Lina said, walking back into the living room; now clad in one of Roy’s sweaters. “Just as you have chosen yours.”

Roy shrugged. “Ouch...but I guess I deserve that. I’ll send them all an apology text or something…”

“‘Apology text’, bah! Ce qui s'a passé à parlant dans vraie vie, là?” Lina sighed and walked into the kitchen. “We’re good though! We fought an evil air-manipulating robot named Mr. Twister the other day.” At the mention of the air-manipulating robot’s name, Lina had to tune out the sounds of angry Winds.

“Okay, that’s a terrible name.”

“Right?!” Lina exclaimed. “And I know from personal experience that air-related names can be hard to come up with but I mean...that just sounds so foolish, non?”

“Definitely.” Roy nodded. “You think there’s any relation to RT? We still don’t know where Morrow is, last I checked.”

Lina was silent for a moment, then answered. “Perhaps...he did seem to have a personal vendetta against him. And you’re right about Morrow...it doesn’t help that Red was off after the whole thing. But we defeated Twister, right? So I’m sure it won’t be any issue.”

“Your call.” Roy nodded and sat back down on the couch; deciding not to shower and change quite yet. “So...have you guys chosen a leader yet?”

Lina was, once again, silent. For a second, Roy didn’t know if she had heard him or not. Just as he was about to repeat himself, Lina replied, “no, we haven’t...I wonder if Batman will assign one before our first real mission…”

“He kind of seems the type to let you figure that out by yourselves, doesn’t he? Who do you think should be leader?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Lina knew her answer.

"Who do you think?"

“Yeah, figured as much. He definitely has the makings of one. But are you sure the others will be okay with that? Robin may want a seat at that table, and personally, I think you’d be a decent leader.”

Lina hummed in thought but didn’t respond so Roy decided to drop it. An unspoken agreement was made between the two, both knew that Lina wouldn’t be elected as the leader and wouldn’t try to force herself onto the position. Robin, however…

“So how is Kal? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“You would know if you reached out to him...” Lina said in an almost sing-song voice, and Roy sent her a look through the wall. Even though she couldn’t see his look, she knew it was there. “You guys are best friends, right? You should at least try and act like it. He may not admit it because he’s all stoic and calm most of the time, but trust me; he’s worried about you! To an extent we all are, but he’s not like me and the boys. He won’t drop in unannounced to check up on you.”

“That’s only you, Lina.”

“Bah! You know what I mean.” Lina exclaimed. “Obviously you can’t reach him right now because he’s in Atlantis with his parents but...just try to call him and invite him over every once in a while, okay?”

“He’s in Atlantis? Didn’t you say you were on patrol together last night?”

“He said he felt that he needed to be there or something.”

Roy let out a low chuckle. “What do you want to bet he just really wanted to see Tula?”

Although they had never officially met, Lina practically knew enough about Tula to write a small book about her. The pretty Atlantean girl who was Kaldur’s peer, friend, and crush. In the early days of her and the Atlantean’s friendship, Lina had asked him if he had someone special at home; and he had happily gone into a half-hour tangent about how Tula was not only one of the best friends he had ever had (along with his other childhood friend, Garth) but also one of the strongest, smartest, and most beautiful people he had ever known.

It was admittedly very cute, watching the usually very reserved man blush as he spoke about the young Atlantean girl. The one time that Lina actually saw Tula, when Kaldur showed a magic-infused picture of the trio of friends, she agreed that she was indeed a sight to behold. After one of his long tangents about Tula, Lina had once asked Kaldur why he didn’t just confess his feelings towards her. He replied that he had always wanted to, especially before he started splitting his time between land and sea. But for a multitude of reasons, he never had.

“You’re changing the subject,” Lina spoke sternly.

Roy let out a loud sigh at having been called out.

“Yes, I’ll reach out to him.”

“You promise?”

“Yea...but don’t tell GA alright?”

Even though he couldn’t see it, Lina rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect your stupid masculine ego.” And with that, she collected the bowls of yogurt and freshly cut fruit she had prepared and brought them out to the living room.

“My stupid masculine ego thanks you.”

Mount Justice

July 22

19:00

“Isla Santa Prisca.” Batman spoke clearly and loudly, as he stood in front of the team of 6 supernatural teenagers. Behind him shone a holographic map of an island that sat in the heart of the Caribbean. “This island nation is the primary source of a dangerous neo-steroid, a strength-enhancing drug, sold on the streets under the name Venom."

The screens flashed with images of factory blueprints.

"Infrared heat signatures indicate their factory is still operating at full capacity, but all shipments of Venom have been inexplicably cut off. That's where the team comes in." The Bat turned to face the eager-faced teenagers standing around him.

"This is a covert recon mission only. Observe and report. If the Justice League needs to intervene, it will." The leader of the Justice League turned back to the screens. "The plan requires two dropzones."

"So who's in charge?" Robin piped up, not at all hiding his excitement.

Batman and Red Tornado exchanged glances before the former said sternly,

"Work that out between yourselves."

Caribbean Sea

July 22

20:08

As everyone sat around the bio-ship, stale tension filled the air. Nobody dared to break the silence, if they were even aware of it. Most of the team stared ahead through the window at the sprawling sea, their thoughts locked away in their own mind. For Lina, her thoughts lingered with anxiety. The fact that they were going into their first mission without a clear chain of command made her innards tie themselves into tight knots. But instead of trying to make small talk, Lina cast her eyes up to the moon above them (trying very hard to not think about the flying contraption she was sitting in) and thought about the small bit of dialogue she and Roy had shared over the topic of team leadership…

There was no way she could be team leader.

Being responsible for the success or failure of six powerful teenagers? No, thank you. Sure, she could look after her family and Roy. But that was small stuff; making sure they ate and were hygienic, healing any minor injuries, giving them advice and making sure they were happy. But in battle? When one wrong decision could lead to real consequences…

She shivered at the mere thought of it.

Not to mention her sheer inexperience was enough to disqualify her from the discussion on its own. Just three years ago she had been a simple circus girl, a civilian, and she barely had a year of field experience under her belt. She didn't know the first thing about tactics or battle strategy. Running a hand through her hair, Lina let out a long sigh, and began mentally preparing for a mission she hoped wouldn’t go terribly wrong.

“Approaching Santa Prisca.” Miss Martian announced, snapping everyone out of their trances. “Dropzone A in thirty.”

Almost in unison, Kaldur and Lina stood from their seats. As their chairs sank back into the ship’s floor, the two teens reached for their insignias and gently pressed them. Black began to pulse from the letters on either of their waists, and slowly the darkness began to cover the entirety of their uniforms. Aqualad’s red and Zephyr’s white and gold all turned to the colour of the Caribbean night sky, leaving nothing but the metallic gold-tinting of their respective symbols.

As Lina pulled up her hood and looked down at the new look, she grimaced.

“I feel so…angsty.” The girl muttered, but then looked back up at Kaldur. Their eyes connected, silently communicating before the taller of the two looked to M’gann.

“Ready.”

“Putting bioship in camouflage mode,” M’gann replied, and the cabin’s air pressure changed as they descended from the clouds and closer to the water. The two teammates nodded at one another. “Go.”

As a hole opened up under the hero’s feet, they both fell down and into the saltwater below. Just as her body was about to breach the surface, Lina circled her hands and formed a bubble of air around her form. Then, once the two had fully submerged, the two rocketed off towards the shore. The darkness of the water made Zephyr’s human eyes strain, barely able to make out Aqualad’s form as she followed behind him, but the water was thankfully clear of any obstacles. Or rather, almost clear. After a moment, the two came across a long, large wall of netting, but Kaldur was able to promptly slash it open with a swipe of his sword, creating a hole big enough to swim through.

Not long after, they breached the surface. Kaldur poked his head out of the water for a moment, then dove back under.

“I’ve located the security sensors, are you ready?” He asked, used to speaking underwater. Lina nodded, then with one sweep of her hands, blasted them both through the water, breaking her protective bubble and lifting them into the air and over to the heat and motion sensors. When they landed, Lina pulled out a USB drive from one of the hidden compartments on her upper arm and plugged it into the large, boxy machine. After a moment, the USB began to blink a blue light.

“Heat and motion sensors have been patched. Data is now on a continuous loop. Move in.” Kaldur spoke into his earpiece.

“Acknowledged.” Robin spoke back.

As Zephyr and Kaldur made their way over to the end of the beach, they were met with a tall cliff. Overhead, they could see trees, foliage, and other signs of a jungle peaking over the surface, the jungle that housed the Venom warehouse. Kaldur turned to face Lina.

“If you please.” The young man leads as he placed a firm hand on his partner’s shoulder, and with a small nod, Lina summoned her Winds and began lifting them as slowly and as quietly as possible. About halfway up, however, they were interrupted with their com’s sparking to life yet again.

“Aqualad, Zephyr; dropzone B is a go.” Robin’s voice came through.

Kaldur lifted his finger to his ear. “Head to the factory. We’ll track your GPS coordinates and rendezvous ASAP.”

Once they landed, Lina lifted one hand to her ear and pressed her com. “Be careful, and let us know if you need assistance.”

“Copy.” Robin responded.

And with that, the two teenagers began sprinting/flying in the direction of the factory. Partway through, however, movement caught Kaldur’s eye and he slid to a stop. Lina had to quickly drop her Winds to avoid flying into him.

“What is it?” Lina whispered as she stood, and Kaldur motioned silently over to where the movement was coming from. Stepping over a little to get a better look, they were able to make out a slow procession of armed men a few meters away...and headed in the direction of the four younger team member’s coordinates.

“Superboy, KF.” Kaldur spoke as the two partners began their sprint yet again. “Switch to infrared, see if you are being tracked.”

A moment later, Wally replied. “Got a band of armed bozos incoming.”

“Two squads, but they’ll reach each other before they find us.” Superboy added.

“Sweep wide and steer clear.” Kaldur instructed, but apparently, his words fell on deaf ears as hardly a minute later, the sound of loud gunfire rang through the forest.

“Those miscreants always find a way to bring chaos to nature, so much disruption.” A voice sighed into Zephyr’s ear.

Almost in unison, the two heroes let out whispered curses in their respective mother tongues and picked up their speed.

Once the two had reached the source of the gunshots, a large clearing amongst thick greenery; Kaldur and Lina found their teammates fighting groups of men. Some were in long, dark red coats with black face masks, and others wore typical dark street clothes. Two of the red-clad individuals caught Aqualad and Zephyr’s attention and they jumped to action; the former leaping in front of the first goon, placing his hand just over the man’s heart and lighting up his tattoos to send a surge of electricity into it, and the latter using her Winds to pick up the other cloaked man, sending him flying into a nearby tree.

The last of the men fallen and unconscious, the team turned to look at one another.

“Nice of you to join us.” Wally smiled bashfully.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:20

“I recognize those uniforms,” Robin spoke up once the last of the men were hogtied and safely incapacitated. “The Cult of the Kobra…”

“I am certain Batman would have mentioned it if he knew a dangerous extremist was running Santa Prisca’s Venom operation.” Said Aqualad.

“Agreed.” Robin nodded. “And since there’s clearly no love lost between the cultists and those goons...I’m betting Kobra came in and tossed them out. That’s why normal supply lines have been cut off.”

“We get it, Kobra wanted super cultists: mystery solved.” Wally piped in. “Radio Bats and we’ll be home in time for-” He was quickly cut off by Robin.

“These cultists aren’t on Venom! Kobra’s hoarding the stuff. We don’t leave...not until I know why.”

“Until you know why?” Kid Flash spoke, frowning.

“This team needs a leader.”

“And it’s you? Dude, you’re a thirteen-year-old kid who ducked out on us without a word.”

“And here we go…” Lina sighed, just loud enough that Superboy, the closest to her, was the only one that could hear her.

Robin let out a cackling laugh. “And you’re a mature fifteen? You broke our cover the first chance you got!”

“Don’t you want to lead?” M’gann asked, tilting her head towards Superboy.

Superboy scoffed, obviously not fond of the idea. “You?”

“After the Mister Twister fiasco..?” M’gann cringed, raising her hand up in rejection.

Superboy gave her a shadow of a smile. “You did alright.”

M'gann face lit up with pink as her eyes grew wide. She quickly caught Lina’s amused gaze and the French girl gave the Martian an approving nod and thumbs-up behind Superboy’s back. Turning her attention back to Kaldur, Lina saw that he was carefully watching Robin and Wally bicker with a look of mild annoyance on his face. After a moment of trying to find the right words, Lina leaned in closer towards the Atlantean so that she wouldn’t be overheard.

“Being a leader is a very important burden.” She said. “It’s important to have the one bearing it be cool-tempered, reliable, patient, and level-headed.”

Her hinting wasn’t meant to be subtle.

“A good leader must also care deeply for their team, always have their best interests at heart, and have a good moral compass.” Kaldur countered.

“Fair enough.” She nodded but then turned to look directly at her Atlantean friend. “Although one could argue that some people on the team embody all these traits, while also having real experience with combat and strategy.”

Kaldur didn’t respond, but it didn’t much matter as not a moment later Lina’s attention was diverted by her overhearing someone muttering in Spanish. In her peripherals, she saw Superboy turn towards the sounds as well.

“Look at them argue.” One man spoke in Spanish. “Free yourself now and take them while they’re distracted!”

“Quiet!” Another man, this one larger and wearing black and white face paint. “For now I play along, they’ll give me what I need.”

Superboy and Zephyr exchanged looks.

“Yeah? You don’t even have superpowers!” Wally screamed, drawing the attention back to the young arguing boys.

“Neither does Batman!” Robin exclaimed.

“Duh,” Wally scoffed, “you’re not Batman.”

“Duh,” Robin mocked, “closest thing we’ve got!”

The two’s bickering was interrupted by the man from before, the one with the painted face, laughing.

“Such clever ninos.” The man spoke. “But you only know half the story. Let me show you the rest, get you into the factory via my secret entrance.”

M’gann knelt down to the man and began focusing, channelling her telepathy. “There is a secret entrance, but he’s also hiding something.” Her eyes began to glow white as she attempted to dig deeper.

“Ah ah ah chica,” Bane tutted, “Bane is not that easy.”

After a pregnant pause, M’gann let go of her telepathic connection and groaned. “He’s mentally reciting football scores en Espanol...this could take a while.”

“I can try and translate.” Zephyr voiced. “Mi Español debe ser satisfactorio.”

“Suffocation is an effective means of interrogation.” A deep, dark voice whispered in Zephyr’s ear, causing her to jump, straighten her back, and wave off the sadistic Wind.

“It’s not that complicated.” The man, Bane, said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

The team exchanged unsure looks.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:39

As the team hiked through the forest, led by Bane, each and every one of them felt uneasy. Even Miss Martian, arguably the most naive and inexperienced of the group, knew that their guide wasn’t trustworthy. It was like a ringing feeling in all of their heads, telling them that they shouldn’t be doing what they were doing. Eventually, however, they came to a cliff, and Bane silently motioned towards a large industrial compound. Robin took out his binoculars and began to scout.

“Look at all that product…” Robin whispered. “A buy is going down. But if Kobra’s not selling to the usual suspects, then-””We need to identify that buyer.” Kaldur finished.

“Just what I was thinking.” Wally nodded.

Robin scoffed. “Yeah, you’re the thinker!”

The look Wally gave his friend was the most unimpressed anyone had ever seen him. “Sarcasm? Dude, a real leader would focus on getting answers.”

A loud grunt, followed by a crashing sound made all of them turn to see Bane removing a large boulder to reveal a hidden passageway.

“Answers are this way.”

“So now El Lucador is our leader?” KF exclaimed, only to be smacked by Robin. “Ow!”

The passageway led to a gate, which-with Bane’s thumbprint-led to the factory’s interior. Bane poked his head through but was nudged to the side by Robin. After a moment, the young boy gave the all clear and ran out. When the others caught up, however, he was gone.

“Has that little fool already been captured?” Bane grunted.

“No...he just does that.” Kaldur spoke, disappointment evident in his face and voice.

“Stay put.” Wally whispered, slipping his goggles over his eyes. “I’ll get our intel and be back before the Boy Wonder!”

“Kid, wait-“

But Kaldur was too late, and the ginger had already sped off.

“Great chain of command.” Bane spoke, which to everyone’s surprise, earned him a deadpan remark from Zephyr.

“Bueno trabajo manejando tu fábrica.” Bane cast the girl a dirty look.

“What’s that?” Superboy piped up, and motioned to a nearby opening. It was a large garage door, littered with tall piles of crates with a forklift moving some out. The group moved to kneel behind the crates.

“It’s a massive shipment.” Kaldur muttered.

“Yea, but they’re only taking new product outside. They’re not touching this Venom.” Superboy noted.

“Maybe...freshness counts?” M’gann tried.

Suddenly, almost like a dog, Superboy’s head jutted upwards at attention.

“Helicopter’s coming.”

But of course, to everyone else, there was utter silence.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:45

Kid Flash zipped into the control room where his best friend sat. The older boy munched on one of the energy bars he kept in the hidden compartments in his suit as the Boy Wonder sat above a knocked out Kobra cultist. The sight of the limp body on the group didn't even phase the snacking speedster, however, as he walked over to peer over the Boy Wonder’s shoulder.

"What'cha got?" Kid Flash asked.

"Chemical formulas." Robin explained, not even looking away from the monitors. "I'd say it involves Venom but…"

Robin pulled up two pictures of molecular makeups and their chemical formulas as the ginger's eyes squinted in focus. Not even after a second of thinking, Wally's granola-holding hand extended to motion to one of the pictures. "That one's Venom", then to the other, "and that one's...Woah, the Blockbuster formula from CADMUS."

In a simulated diagram, the two images formed together to create a new compound.

"Mixed correctly, Kobra's new juice would be three times as strong as Venom...and permanent." Wally turned to Robin. "But how did Kobra get access to Project Blockbuster?"

"Our mystery buyer must also be Kobra's supplier!" Robin exclaimed. "Using the cult to create a Venom-Blockbuster superformula!" Robin raised a hand to his com. "Robin to Aqualad, we got-" He was cut off. Static.

Meanwhile, back at the loading dock. The helicopter Superboy predicted had finally landed. A blonde man wearing a hockey goalie mask walked out of the flying machine, met by an awaiting Kobra and two of his goons; a tall punk girl with orange hair, and an inhumanly bulky male with skin akin to that of a post-Blockbuster Desmond. The two men spoke, discussing business. But unbeknownst to either of them, an invisible force watched them from above. The camouflaged martian watched closely, barely being able to hear the words they were exchanging in soft tones. But she could clearly see when the cult leader, Kobra, opened a silver briefcase. Furthermore, she could make out the several vials of purple liquid that lay inside. Quickly, Miss Martian opened a telepathic link.

"Aqualad," She mentally spoke, focusing her gaze intently on the masked man. "Sending a mental image of the buyer now."

Back inside the factory, Kaldur focused on the image of the blonde man that flashed in his brain. Once he had, he opened his eyes to the other people sitting with him on the raised catwalk Bane had taken them to.

"Sportsmaster? He is the buyer?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Lina knew very little about 'Sportsmaster', never having run into him herself. But she recalled reading his file at one point. An average man, Lawrence “Crusher” Crock, but apparently some sort of sadist that was affiliated with the League of Shadows. He was trained in more than a few martial arts and was known to have access to an arsenal of dangerous weapons. Basically a glorified goon-for-hire, but a dangerous man nonetheless.

Kaldur raised a hand to his com. "Aqualad to Red Tornado, do you read?"

Upon only receiving static, he attempted other channels with very much the same degree of success.

"I cannot reach Robin, the League, or Kid. We need a plan. Now."

Bane gave a smile, an eery one that shot straight through Zephyr's spine. "I have a suggestion." And then he leapt right off the catwalk and straight into two armed cultists, quickly taking them down, but not before getting them to open fire at their attacker. The sounds of the gunfire quickly notified the rest of the security forces around the warehouse, who all rushed over to zero in on their intruders.

"What is he-" Kaldur didn't get the chance to finish his question, as the Blockbuster-esk Kobra goon (a previously normal man who went by the name of Mammoth) leapt through a nearby window and crashed straight into the catwalk. This caused the three members to fall or haphazardly fly down onto the floor, ridding them of any sense of safety.

“There goes our cover.” Superboy huffed.

Mammoth ran straight at the heroes, and the clone charged back at him, causing a resulting force strong enough to shake the whole building. As the two tanks went head-on with one another, a few dozen cultists began shooting at the two remaining young heroes. Aqualad knelt down, using his water-bearers to form a shield that protected both him and Zephyr from oncoming fire. Meanwhile, the young air manipulator lifted her hands, targetting the closest cultists she could see as her Winds picked them up and sent them all flying into metal walls.

“Where did Bane go?” Zephyr asked once she had realized that, once the shooting had started, the Spanish man had seemed to disappear into thin air.

“I’m not sure.” Aqualad shook his head as he lifted his other water-bearer to begin shooting cultists. “But I’m afraid we have more pressing matters.”

The fighting was a blur, with the members of the team very obviously outnumbered and confused, all of them internally reeling at how the mission was playing out. The large, open area of the warehouse floor made for little cover, and the sounds of repeated and multiple bouts of gunfire made it difficult for the team to get their bearings. At some point in the chaos, Miss Martian and Kid Flash had returned, only for the former to be blasted into a nearby wall by a rocketed projectile.

To put it simply, they were losing. And there was still no sign of Robin.

“Miss Martian, radio is jammed! Link us up!” Kaldur shouted.

A moment later, a sharp ringing entered each team member’s mind. Zephyr winced a little, but noted that the link didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it did during the initial cave tour.

“Everyone online?” The Martian girl’s voice rang into each member’s mind.

Superboy’s mental voice growled, but reluctantly spoke, “Yeah.”

“You know it, beautiful.” Kid Flash said from his place behind another support beam.

“Present,” Lina spoke, creating her own shield and blasted more cultists that were aiming at M'gann.

“Good. We need to regroup.” Kaldur’s voice rang.

Robin’s voice came through, rushed and chaotic. “Busy now!”

“Busy? What does he mean busy?!” Kid Flash’s actual voice sounded over the gunfire.

“Where did he go anyway?” Lina asked, but then spotted another cultist aiming straight at Kid Flash from around a corner. She delivered a quick air-strike to him, but in doing so, opened herself up. A sharp blast sliced at her arm and with a loud yelp of pain, she flew back behind the support beam for cover. “Putain!”

“Are you okay?” Kaldur asked, eyes darting to her injury.

Zephyr examined her arm, finding a tear just below her shoulder. Crimson blood seeped into her uniform, and the girl was suddenly grateful her costume was no longer white. “Just a graze, I’m fine.”

“Robin!” Aqualad called over the telepathic link. “Now!” After giving the order, Kaldur ran out, forming his weapons into water-whips and taking out as many cultists as he could.

“Strategic retreat! Kid, clear a path.”

A dark blue zig-zagged across the warehouse floor at top speeds, sending cultists down onto the ground as the remaining team member followed close behind and into a side door. Superboy lagged behind, having to wrestle Mammoth. But after a moment, the clone was able to leverage his strength into gripping Mammoth’s hands and send him flying into a group of armed men. Once the clone was able to enter into the side-passage way with the others, he and Aqualad promptly closed the door and resumed running. This only granted them a short reprieve, however, as Mammoth busted down the metal and was quickly followed by shooting cultists who open fired into the cramped walls of the hidden passage.

“Superboy! The support beams!” Aqualad exclaimed, and the clone delivered quick, strong strikes to the wooden support beams around him. Not a moment after, the rocky passage began to collapse, and with a rattling ‘boom’, all surroundings went dark.

[raywritesthings]

Scares and Sweets

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Thea Queen, Moira Queen, Robert Queen Fandom: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Halloween, 2000: Oliver's plans to impress Laurel are waylaid and then improved by his baby sister. Inspired by @unusual-raccoon *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

“Mom, no come on!”

Oliver couldn’t believe this. Had his parents always been trying to ruin his life or had it only been since his little sister had come along and decided to be such a pain?

He didn’t normally feel that way about her. And it was hard maintaining the anger as Thea skipped around him in her yellow princess dress, humming under her breath. But she was seriously cramping his style here!

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but Raisa is too sick to go out tonight.”

“So pay somebody else a little extra,” he suggested.

His father now shook his head. “You know your sister doesn’t listen to anyone else as well. We don’t want her going out tonight without someone who can handle her — why, thank you, your Highness,” he added as Thea stopped in front of him and gave a little curtsy, tripping over the plastic shoes she was wearing. Their dad bowed and reached out to straighten her back up.

“Can’t one of you take her, then? Tommy’s got Scream 3 on DVD,” he said. “There’s no point watching it if it isn’t Halloween. Laurel’s dad even okayed her staying till 10!” He’d been over the moon when she’d told them at school that morning. That was like a solid two hours longer than she could stay out most school nights.

“Then you can watch your movie after. I’m not sure why you’d even want to watch something like that,” his mother said with a shake of her head.

Oliver’s gut twisted a little as he wondered himself. But Tommy had gotten the DVD and said that girls loved it when guys comforted them during the scary parts. This could be his chance to really impress Laurel and show her he was more than a goofy slacker at school.

“And you know your mother and I are meeting with Walter and the board tonight about goals for the rest of this quarter,” his father said. “We won’t be home until dark, and that’s much too late for your sister. It’s her first year, Oliver. Don’t you remember how excited you were at that age?”

As if on cue, Thea looked up at him with her big green eyes. “Trick or treat!” She chirped through the gap her missing front tooth created.

“Man,” he groaned. “Fine, I’ll take her. I gotta call Laurel. I promised her a ride.”

Oliver got out his cellphone and pulled her up in his recent contacts, waiting for her to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Laurel!” Oliver said, his hand jumping into his hair and ruffling it as he continued, “Listen, I’m gonna be a little late picking you up for the movie tonight. My parents are making me take Thea trick-or-treating.”

“Aw, is it her first year? What’s she going as?”

“Uh, Belle. The Disney Princess? She liked the dress, and mom said no to the seashells.”

He heard Laurel’s giggle on the other end of the phone, and it caused his heart to pick up a little as a chuckle left him in response. “I remember those fights. Did you want some company while you take her? You could still pick me up on time, and we could just go to Tommy’s after.”

Oliver felt his mouth drop open in shock for a moment. “Really? Yeah, great! I’ll let our driver know right now. See you in a bit!”

When they picked her up, Laurel was still wearing the headband with cat ears she’d had on at school that day, and she smiled ear to ear at Thea. “Wow, I get to meet a Princess tonight!”

Thea bounced up and down on the seat in excitement. “My name’s Belle!”

“Well, Belle, you look very pretty in that dress.”

Their driver took them back out to the suburbs and to the neighborhood Oliver and Tommy’s parents had always designated as a safe place to walk from house to house when they were little. The sun was only just starting to lower in the sky as they all got out of the car and started down the sidewalk, Thea tugging on his hand to pull him towards the first house.

Oliver stopped on the sidewalk and let go. “Just walk up there with the other kids, okay?”

“Ollie, we can go with her,” Laurel scolded him. “Come on.”

So he found himself standing back a little from the stoop as Thea proudly brandished her bag for a middle-aged lady. “Trick or treat!”

“My, what a sweet princess you make, young lady! Here you go.” She dropped two candy bars in Thea’s bag, her eyes rising to him and Laurel. “And aren’t you two precious! Would you dears like anything as well?”

Oliver and Laurel exchanged surprised looks. “Uh… okay.”

They continued down the street, Oliver unwrapping the chocolate bar they’d received to split with Laurel. Sometimes Thea would run up to the houses ahead of them, sometimes she needed some encouragement and hand-holding, especially if one of the houses had put up freaky or gory decorations. Oliver found himself frowning at those more often than not.

“They know little kids are coming tonight,” he remarked to Laurel as they came up the walk, passing gravestones and a fog machine.

“I know,” Laurel agreed. “We can always skip—”

A large man burst out of the bushes with big fake paws on and fangs in his mouth. “Rawr!”

Oliver and Laurel both jumped, but Thea screamed.

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry!” The man said, faltering back a step.

“Hey, what’s the big idea, you jerk?” Oliver demanded, scooping Thea up as she wailed and tucking her into his body. If she wasn’t here along with other kids up and down the block, he would have said asshole like he was thinking.

“I couldn’t see her over the bush. I swear, I thought it was just you two,” the man excused. 

His front door opened, and a woman stuck her head out. “Stan, what’s going on?”

“Your husband made my sister cry, that’s what’s going on,” Oliver snapped.

“Oh no.”

“We’ll keep moving,” Laurel suggested, tugging on Oliver’s hand to get him to stop glaring at the couple. Though she cast a scathing look back over her shoulder as she added, “Maybe put up a sign with age restrictions next time.”

Oliver did his best to rub Thea’s back with one hand as he continued to carry her down the block, his other hand gripping the candy bag she had dropped in her fright. He could kick himself; he’d ruined his baby sister’s first Halloween. 

Gradually she quieted and stopped shaking like a leaf, though she remained clinging to him, her plastic shoes dangling precariously from her toes. He kissed the top of her head and kept walking.

Laurel reached out with her sleeve to wipe at the tears running down Thea’s chubby cheeks. “It’s okay, Thea. The bad man’s gone.”

“I- I’m not, not scared,” his little sister stammered.

“That’s right. You’re a brave little princess,” Oliver encouraged her. “And we’re gonna get you all the candy that a brave little princess like you deserves, okay?”

Her head bobbed up and down in a nod. “Okay!”

He set her down, and she took one of his hands and one of Laurel’s, walking down the street once more. Oliver kept carrying her bag as he glanced over and shared a relieved smile with Laurel.

By the time they’d made the full circuit, it was dark enough that the porch lights and lampposts were all lit, and Oliver was still carrying the candy bag due to the sheer weight of it. Thea was skipping ahead once again towards the car, already babbling excitedly to the driver who stood at the ready to open the door for her, the earlier scare totally forgotten.

“She’s so cute,” Laurel said, and he felt her slip her hand into his as they walked the last few yards to the car. “And I really am glad you gave that guy back there a piece of your mind. He was totally out of line.”

“Yeah?” Oliver tried to play it cool as he added, “Well, all in a day’s work being a big brother. But, uh, we can stop home with Thea and then head over to Tommy’s, okay? He probably hasn’t even missed us.”

Unfortunately, when they got to the Manor, his parents still hadn’t returned from their dumb meeting. None of the house staff that was typically assigned to watch Thea if Raisa was unavailable were still in. Just his luck.

“I’ll text Tommy to just start the movie without us,” Laurel offered, and Oliver let out a defeated sigh as he flopped onto the couch. Thea dumped her whole bag of candy onto the rug in front of him, sorting it into piles and cackling with delight. He was suddenly very sure supplying Speedy with all this extra sugar had actually been a terrible idea. But hey, at least one of them was having fun.

Laurel settled down on the cushions beside him, smiling as she watched his little sister. “She is gonna crash so hard in an hour.”

“Mm-hm. Sorry we aren’t gonna make it to Tommy’s.”

Laurel shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve already seen it anyway.”

He sat up and looked at her. “You have?”

She grinned. “I went the first day with mom. Actually, she just paid for both tickets and left the theater to grade papers in the lobby. Sara was so mad cause dad wouldn’t let her go.”

“Dinah Laurel Lance, are you a horror film buff?”

She gave another shrug. “Maybe. It’s okay. I would have warned you and Tommy about anything too scary.”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment. So he’d been caught out. “We just thought it’d be cool to, you know, watch something grown-up.”

“I know. But I kinda like that you’re a big kid at heart, Ollie. And that you’ll go trick-or-treating with your little sister instead of ditching her for some movie. It’s really sweet.” She sat up a little as well and leaned in, pecking him quickly on the lips. Laurel looked away as she tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear.

“Oh,” he said, just as soft. “Cool.” He nearly smacked himself in the forehead after. Cool? He was such a moron.

But he was distracted when Thea toddled over and dumped a whole bunch of candy in his lap. “Here, Ollie,” she said, her lips smeared with chocolate. She repeated the process with Laurel. “Thank you.”

Oliver reached out and ruffled his little sister’s hair. “Thanks, Speedy. Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween,” Laurel agreed with a smile.

“Trick or treat!” Thea crowed one more time.

The pair of them dissolved into laughter, Laurel’s head leaning on his shoulder. On instinct, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders in return, and she didn’t pull away.

Well, turned out he didn’t need a scary movie after all. Awesome.

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 2 - A Fresh Start

Chapter Summary: Marinette starts her new school, and meets an interesting group of kids with varying interests who welcome her to their circle.

First | Next

Marinette stands in front of her new school worriedly. It’s a bigger, more expensive school focused on the arts, but with Marinette’s portfolio and accomplishments she had gotten in with a good scholarship. Despite being told how skilled she was for someone her age, she couldn’t help but feel out of place here. This was a nice school, for nice people, people better than her, both in personality and skill. 

A nudge from her purse prompts her to actually start moving. She hugs her bare arms, careful of the make-up covering the bruises, and hopes she can get through the day without anyone hating her. That hope is promptly shattered when she runs into someone, tripping past them and bracing for another fall when they grab her arm, catching her.

“You’re lucky I’m like an eagle- talonted at catching things.” A cheery male voice said, letting go of her arm after she steadied herself. Someone else nearby sighed in exasperation. Marinette turned.

In front of her is a tall boy with dark hair and a bright face. He was dressed in a blue and white t-shirt and black pants. Next to him was a blonde girl with her hair in a braid, she was wearing a white button-up shirt with a purple sleeveless top over it and dark pants. Marinette was worried. They looked like nice people. Nice people she had tripped over - way to make a first impression. They probably thought she was stupid. Or mean. Or both, why not both. They probably-

“Are you okay? That was a close call.” The girl this time, sounding legitimately concerned. Yep, definitely nice people, which meant she didn’t belong with them. She had messed up friendship. She wasn’t nice.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I’m really sorry.” Though she certainly didn’t look the part. She was pale and sickly looking, probably shaky too. She wasn’t sick, but Tikki had explained that it was a ladybug thing. Marinette had been through a lot of stress and felt unsafe, and well, predators won’t eat a sick-looking bug.

“It’s fine, really, it was actually nice of you to drop in.” he reassured her.

“I don’t recognize you. Are you new?” The girl again.

“Yeah…” She was on her way to the office, where she could pick up a schedule and meet-up with a student assigned to be her guide. Some poor kind soul that would be stuck with her.

“Are you Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” What? How did this girl already know her name? Had she been a fan of the LadyBlog, one of those that passed over into Alya’s personal blog? Oh no. She’d just gotten here and already people knew about her failed past friendship.

“T-that’s me.”

“Great! Claude and I are actually your student guides! My name is Allegra.” She stuck her hand out in introduction and Marinette shook it. “Have you picked up your schedule yet?”

At Marinette’s shaking head, Claude spoke up again.

“Then we shall be your guides! Onwards!” He pointed forwards in a dramatic fashion. Marinette smiled shyly and small, his antics and pun earlier reminded her of her partner. The smile dropped when she realized that her partner was probably disappointed in her. She’d been distracted during the last patrols, and if he knew how helpless she’d been in defending herself, he’d probably want her to give up her Miraculous. She’d do it without a fight of course, Paris deserved a better hero.

Marinette hadn’t noticed how she had zoned out- staring at the pavement intensely when she was supposed to be following her guides. Not even five minutes at her new school and she’d already messed up twice. Great.

Shaking her head quickly, she looked up to see Allegra and Claude peering at her in concern.

“So t-to the office then?” She had to get their attention off of her. They nodded and the trio moved on, Claude keeping up regular chatter with puns sprinkled in. Allegra would groan at each one. When they arrived and her schedule was in hand, the tour began.

This school was way bigger than Françoise Dupont. She’d barely been started the tour and her head was already spinning.

“Don’t worry, it’ll get easier with time.” Allegra said as they lead her to her third hour. At Marinette’s confused and slightly panicked look, she continued, “Most new students typically say something about how confusing the school is. I figured you would feel the same.”

“O-oh, yeah. Sorry.” Was Marinette supposed to be talking more? Was she making them uncomfortable with her silence? 

“No need to be sorry! We always like meeting new students! That’s why we volunteer to show people around.” Claude responded. 

Eventually they had gone through her whole schedule, Allegra and Claude were in a few of her classes, as were their other friends Allan and Felix. When they’d told her this Claude had excitedly declared that they all must meet.

Entering the library, Marinette trailed behind Allegra and Claude as they looked around for their friends. Marinette was worried. Were they sure they wanted her to meet their friends? When it came to friendship she didn’t exactly have the best track record. In fact, she probably had one of the worst. How bad of a friend do you have to be to lose all but two of your friends in a day. She was such a-

“There they are! Allan, Felix, you have to meet this gem that we’ve been showing around! It’s crystal clear to me that we’ll all get along.” Claude ran up to a table with two boys sitting together. One, blonde and dressed in dark clothes, was reading, and the other had short dark hair and a green hoodie. He also had headphones on, slipping them off at Claude’s approach.

Allegra and Marinette arrived at the table, as they did they heard Claude ask, “Are you reading a book on anti-gravity, Felix? Because it seems impossible to put down.” Felix sighed and put the book aside. 

“Alright, Claude. I will put my book aside temporarily for the sake of introductions.” He turned to Marinette extending his hand, “Greetings, I am Felix Voclain.” Shaking his hand Marinette said, “Hi. I’m Marinette, um, Dupain-Cheng”.

‘Marinette um Dupain-Cheng’? Really? She probably made a terrible first impression. They probably all hate her now, like everyone back at-

“And I’m Allan.”

“Resident Mom friend” Claude finished for him. “He has, like, a grocery store worth of snacks on him.”

“A bit of an exaggeration, but I really can’t argue with your point.”

Claude and Allan slipped into a friendly conversation and Felix went back to reading his book. Allegra looked at her phone and turned to the table.

“Marinette and I should get to class. It’s not very close, and school starts soon.” 

At this, Felix glanced at his watch and nodded. He began packing the few things he had out back into his bag, apparently having the same thought.

“Yes. Allan, Claude, it would be for the best if you began heading to your class soon as well.” He turned to the girls, “Ms. Dupain-Cheng, Allegra, have a pleasant rest of your morning.” With that he left the library, as they moved to follow, Claude stopped them.

“Wait! We’re all going in the same direction, we should walk together. After all, Allan hasn’t gotten a chance to talk to Marinette. How can a mom properly adopt a child without time to fill out the papers?” 

Allegra sighed but waited, “Allan isn’t actually anyone’s mother you know.”

They were walking out now, and Claude gasps dramatically, “You shouldn’t speak to your mother that way, young woman!” Allegra rolled her eyes, he turns to Allan, “She didn’t mean it Mom. She’s just a teenager.”

The amusement clear on their faces made it clear this was all teasing. Marinette smiled softly at their antics. She hoped that she would be able to find some nice friends here- no, that wouldn’t happen. You blew friendship last time. No one will befriend you, at least not for long. They’ll all abandon you eventually too. You’re-

“So, Marinette, what art class are you taking?” Allan’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“O-oh. Um, I’m taking fashion and design.”

“Really? What sorta’ designs do you make?” At his question Allegra and Claude dropped their bantering to listen hear her answer.

“Um, I design and make most of my own clothes. And, um… a few other things…” ‘A few other things’? What was she even saying? She can’t even be more specific? Not to mention that they probably thought she was trying to brag about making her own clothes. Moments like these are probably why everyone turned on you.

“Didja’ make this?” he gestured to her outfit, a green shirt with quarter length sleeves and blue jeans. It wasn’t the most fashionable outfit, but something told her to wear it. The longer sleeves also meant she could use less make-up to cover her bruises, even if the weather didn’t exactly call for long sleeves. 

They had reached the girls’ first class, but Claude was excitedly making a little spinny motion with his finger, so Marinette raised her arms a little and spun in a small circle. Claude made a pun and Allan gave a thumbs up. She tugged her sleeve back down as the boys walked on, no one needed to know about her bruises. They would only worry about her, until, of course, they found out it was just because she was a clumsy idiot. Then they would just laugh at her.

Allegra lead her to a bench in the front row of the class, and the two sat down. She was quiet for a moment then, “Hey, where did that bruise on your arm come from?”

“...huh?” Oh no.

“Your sleeve slipped and I saw a bruise. It looked pretty bad, are you okay?”

“Oh...um, I tripped, that’s how this happened too…” she raised her right arm, where a brace still sat on her wrist.

“Must have been quite the fall. When did it happen?” Allegra’s voice held something that Marinette couldn’t quite place.

“I, uh, Thursday…” Was it really only Thursday that everything went wrong? It wasn’t even a week, and here she was leaving her friends for a different school and trying to replace them. No, they weren’t her friends, she’d messed that up… 

Allegra looked concerned, so she continued, “I’ll take the brace off tomorrow, I just… my parents and I figured it would be best to wear it today… ‘cause I’m going back to school.” Marinette didn’t want Allegra to think something was seriously wrong with her wrist. This was one of the worst sprains she’d had, but she was clumsy, it really wasn’t a huge problem.

Allegra nodded, and the two continued to talk until class started. 

---

When the bell rang for lunch, Allan led Marinette to the cafeteria after they both got their lunches. They sat down at a table while they waited for the others. Felix joined with his own home lunch, Claude and Allegra soon arrived with hot lunches from the school.

They spent a lot of time talking, trying to get to know Marinette as well as help her get to know them. She learned that Claude was here for acting, Allan was here for music. He was familiar with all types, but preferred more modern music. Allegra played the flute, and Felix the piano.

“If you do not mind me asking,” Felix turned to Marinette, “why have you transferred in during the second week? It seems as though if you were switching schools, you would transfer during the summer.”

Marinette froze. What should she say? What could she say? That she had failed at friendship? She liked these people, she didn’t want to have them realize she wasn’t worth their time. She couldn’t say nothing… her silence would probably concern them, and then they wouldn’t like her. 

“I, uh… there was… a delay! Something was wrong with my paperwork? So I… um, yeah.” Lying? She was no better than Lila now. What was wrong with her? But what else could she do? If she told them the truth… no, she couldn’t do that.

If the others noticed her panic and discomfort, they didn’t comment on it. The conversation moved on, but Marinette still felt a twist of guilt in her chest. Deceiving them would only delay the inevitable. One day they would realize that she wasn’t worth their time and she would be alone again. 

---

Marinette waved goodbye to the others as she began her walk home at the end of the day. They were nice- 

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone going off. Looking at it, she saw a message from Adrien. 

 Adrien: Hey Mari! How was your first day at the new school?

 Marinette: I like the school I met some nice people

Marinette: Hey! Shouldn’t u be in class right now? >:( u cant have ur phone out in class, youll get in trouble

 Adrien: I’m very sneaky! :) 

 Marinette: Pay attention! U only have another 10 minutes

 Speaking of when his school would be out, Marinette should hurry. If she didn’t she wouldn’t get home before Dupont’s day ended, and would risk facing her old classmates. 

One good side-effect of being a secret superhero was that Marinette was in very good shape, so she was easily able to cut her 10-15 minute walk home into about 8. She walked into the bakery and was greeted by her mother.

“Hello sweetheart! How was your first day?”

“It was pretty good, the people that gave me a tour were nice.” Hugging her maman, she headed into the back, waving at her papa as she headed up into the house.

Dropping her bags as she entered her room, she flopped on her chaise. Tikki flew up to her, sitting on her head.

“You did so well today! I’m proud of you!” the Kwami chirped.

“Ughhhh… Tikki, I can think of several ways I messed up. They probably hate me. Then I’ll have no friends, because Adrien will leave me too, and then I’ll grow up to be some crazy hamster lady who never leaves her house and-”

“Marinette! You didn’t mess up, those four that you met seem very nice! I’m sure they don’t hate you.”

Marinette was silent for a moment, then, “It feels so weird going to a different school… I’ve been going to Françoise Dupont for so long. I’ve known most of my classmates since école… well I knew them.” Her eyes welled up, her voice cracking, “Where did I go wrong Tikki?”

The Kwami’s heart broke, she hated this. Marinette was one of her best chosen in many centuries, she didn’t deserve this. The girl’s tendency to blame herself for everything certainly wasn’t helping her to move on. Tikki wanted nothing more than to set the record straight, and get to get even with all those people that had hurt her, but she couldn’t do that. Instead, she settled for nuzzling her chosen’s head, reassuring her that she would get past this.

Even if Marinette wasn’t open about how she felt in regards to this, Tikki would be able to tell. By this point Marinette was aware of the side effects of miraculous use, she just wasn’t aware of all of them. Ladybugs used their coloring as a defensive mechanism. Their bright colors and patterns warned predators to stay away. When Ladybug holders felt particularly stressed, uncomfortable, or threatened, they typically favored brighter colors and patterns. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but made them feel better. Anyone that knew Marinette would probably notice the strange choice of clothing she’d been wearing lately. Not that they would recognize the coloring for what it was, no, only other holders would recognize to be on guard, even if they couldn’t consciously tell why.

They sat together for a while, letting Marinette cry. She had very little homework, as it was only the second week so she could wait for a little while.

That is of course, until Tikki saw a pair of purple wings float into the room.

“Marinette! Akuma!” The girl sat up immediately, wiping the tears from her face and steadying her breathing. Focusing on thoughts that were not negative, she watched the akuma. I don’t want to be akumatized, I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I am better than you Hawkmoth. I don’t need a supervillain to fix things. I refuse to let you twist me into your minion, Paris needs me.

The butterfly hesitated for a moment before flying back out the window.

Marinette sighed, “Well, I guess I should take care of that. Tikki, spots on!”

As Ladybug exited Marinette’s room, she spotted for the akuma again. It was hovering around Françoise Dupont, waiting for one of the students leaving for the day to get upset. 

As worried as she was about going anywhere near her old school, Ladybug reminded herself that it was Marinette that they would be upset to see, not her alter-ego.

Swinging over to land on the roof, she was relieved to see no one had noticed either her or the akuma yet. The last thing she needed was for Chat Noir to hear shouts of ‘Akuma!’ and interrupt his daily life. He’d probably be even more upset when he realized Ladybug was already on the scene. He already was probably disappointed in her for being unable to focus on patrol, then to find out she couldn’t even handle an akuma that was still just a butterfly on her own. What kind of superhero are you? You can’t even pay attention when you’re supposed to be patrolling, then you can’t even do the one thing you’re good for? What a failure. What an absolute disapp-

“Hey! Ladybug!” Someone was shouting for her, trying to get her attention, but her mind was spiralling, she barely registered their voice. So focused on belittling herself, she didn’t notice her breathing getting more erratic, her emotions high.

She didn’t notice, but the akuma did.

-total failure. Fu will probably come for her miraculous himself, or Chat will. That is, of course, if she doesn’t mess up enough for the earrings to fall into Hawkmoth’s hands before then. She wasn’t worthy of this, Tikki probably-

A body tackled her to the roof, before she could even register what had happened, she was scooped up and carried to another nearby rooftop. She was set down, two gloved hands on her shoulders.

“Ladybug, hey, are you okay?” her partner was worried, but calm, “Can you breathe with me?”

Ladybug’s mind slowed, processing what had happened. She’d been after the akuma, then she’d… she’d done the one thing that you shouldn’t do near an akuma. She’d started thinking negatively, and now, the one thing that she’d wanted to prevent had happened, except worse. Not only had she dragged Chat out of his everyday life, but she’d worried him by nearly getting akumatized. She really was a failure.

“Ladybug?” Right. Her partner. She had to focus if she wanted any chance of her miraculous staying with her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She finally met his eyes, he wasn’t angry. Of course he wasn’t he was worried about her, he was just good like that. “I was going to cleanse to akuma, and then- I just- I’m sorry!” her words came out fast, rushed.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” he was still looking at her, his hands on her shoulders, grounding her. “You didn’t do anything wrong”. He looked over her shoulder, watching something. 

“B-but I- I’m sorry. I did, I was try- I was going to, supposed to-” her mouth wouldn’t co-operate, she was speaking basically nonsense, starting and restarting the same sentence in a bunch of different ways. “I’m so sorry, I just-”

Chat turned back to her. “No. You don’t apologize for this Ladybug. You did nothing wrong. I’m worried about you, and I’ll listen if you want to talk to me, but there is nothing for you to apologize for.” He looked into her eyes, reassuring and patient.

He glanced over her shoulder again, and she finally realized what he was watching. The akuma. The one that had now targeted her twice. Ladybug exhaled, and stood, turning to the dark butterfly. Chat took a step back, giving her space.

She threw her yo-yo, finally capturing the butterfly. Chat came up from behind her, looking at her, concerned. 

“Hey, Ladybug, do you want to talk? At least what you can tell me, and we can go somewhere less-”

“Hey! Ladybug! Do you have time for an interview? Is there an akuma in the area? Any message for the citizens of Paris?” Alya’s voice rang out over the people still around the school. The reaction was instant, Ladybug stiffened and tears came to her eyes. She rubbed her right wrist, remembering the last time they’d spoken

“Somewhere less out in the open, was what I was going to say…” Chat noticed her distress. “We don’t have to talk.”

“No! I can talk! You’re fine. I just-” her voice cracked, barely noticeable to someone without her partner’s hearing. “-don’t really want to talk to Alya right now.”

“Meet me at the Eiffel Tower, I’ll talk to Alya.” She nodded, swinging away as he dropped down to speak with the young reporter.

---

When Chat reached the top of the tower, he was met with a rare sight. Ladybug was sitting, hugging her knees, eyes unfocused and teary. He hadn’t seen her so upset since… the whole Stoneheart mess probably. 

When he landed next to her, she looked up at him and his heart almost broke at the sight of his lady so upset. He sat down beside her, ready to listen to his partner.

--- 

Ladybug wasn’t sure where to start. She wanted to talk to Chat, he was her friend, and should be aware in case something happened. On the other hand, he was her partner, who couldn’t know any details of her personal life.

“Chat, I- I don’t know. I just-” her voice cracked, thinking of everything that had happened. Her throat closed up. “I-I don’t understand. I messed up…”

Chat leaned in to her, offering silent support. “What happened? If you made a mistake I’m sure you can fix it. I’m sure your friends will forgive you…” At the word ‘friends’ Ladybug stiffened, a sharp intake of breath making him trail off. He looked at her, there were even more tears swimming in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but raise his arms in an offer of a hug.

He was surprised when his typically reserved partner immediately dove for it, burying her face in his chest. He hugs her tightly, worried.

“I don’t know. I messed up, and I don’t know-” her voice cracks again,“-what I did wrong!” She’s shaking as she sobs quietly.

He holds her for a few minutes, watching for black wings, but none come, she is free to feel bad.

She pulls away, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry Chat. I shouldn’t-”

He cuts her off, “No. I told you, there isn’t anything for you to apologize for.”

She smiles sadly, if only he knew how badly she’d messed up. There really was something for her to apologize for. “I just-” She exhales, steadying herself, “I just think I’ve had a rough past few days. I’ll be okay.” Another lie, but she was Ladybug. She was supposed to fight akumas, not be targeted by them. Though maybe it wasn’t such a huge lie, in a few days she may not be better, but she’d be better able to fake it, at least as Ladybug.

“You’re a tough one, m’lady. I hope things get better for you.” The hero stood, offering a hand to his partner. She shook her head softly, standing on her own - though a little unsteadily. 

“I hope so too. Thank you, Chat Noir.” she hugged him quickly, before approaching the edge of the platform, yo-yo in hand. “You’re the best partner I could ask for.”

With that she swings away.

First | Next

[pigeontheoneandonly]

The Price of an Afternoon

Part 3 of my Dragon Age / Mass Effect crossover. I also threw this up on AO3 if that’s more convenient. (Part 4 here.)

Several days later, when Nathaly’s turn to go into town came up, Kaidan met her at the bottom of the hill and declared his intention to tag along.

“No.” Her answer immediate, and expected. “It’s not a good idea.  You could have fled in any direction, but sooner or later, templars are going to search north, and this is the first significant settlement they’ll reach.”

“I understand,” he said, with fraying patience.  “I didn’t let you boost me from the Circle Tower just to wind up staring at cave walls instead.”

“It’s just for a few weeks.  Until we figure out if it’s safe to move.”

“I’m not going to walk into the town square and summon a firestorm.  I just want to…”  He struggled with the words.  “I haven’t seen people in a decade.  Not living real lives, instead of something premeditated and scheduled and assigned before they were born.  I haven’t smelled an apple that wasn’t cooked since I left my parents’ land for the last time.”

She shook her head, stubborn as he remembered.  “Kaidan…”

“I’ll keep my hood up.”  The weather was turning chill, and it would raise no suspicion.  “I won’t even say a word.  I just want to soak up the crowd.  Maybe eat a pie, or something.”

Everything on her face said this was a horrible idea, and she was probably right, but her eyes had softened.  Even in this short-lived reunion, he’d already learned they told the real story. He really liked that about her.  

“Fine,” she said, at last.  “But you’re going to take Ash’s cloak.  It’s far less noticeable than that blue thing of yours.”

She said this dressed herself in a forest green shirt and burnt orange breeches. Even her armor was covered in tooled designs, and he caught her working on more embellishment at odd hours, waiting for the next thing to happen.  That was a revelation.  He never expected her to care much for ornamentation.  

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to notice me next to all that.”  He gestured at her, grinning.  

She scoffed, but also seemed rather pleased that he’d noticed.  “Get the damn cloak.”

It was about an hour’s walk into Crestwood proper.  A large village or a small town, depending on particular preference, it bustled in early autumn, the harvest just starting to come in.  Alongside the grain and vegetables in the market were fresh catches from the lake, scales shining silver and green and rainbow-hued, eels, mussels, and even a species of crab.  He’d only seen them in drawings.  Their home village of Kinallen was strictly land-locked.

Fish was naturally a staple of Kinloch Hold, surrounded as it was by a lake.  But he rarely saw it whole like this, still wet, freshly gutted.  Never knew it could smell oddly fresh, clean like the crisp water that bore it.  

Nathaly caught him gawking and laughed, but not at him.  More like she was enjoying his enjoyment.  “Wow, you were going stir-crazy.”

“Only for thirteen years.”  And it was amazing how fast that became a joke.  He’d held himself so tightly for so long that any margin to relax had him spilling all over the place.

She grinned back.  For a moment, he thought she might grab his hand again, like she had on the boat, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it.  But she walked on.  And then he wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed.  Kaidan had worked with lightening as part of the standard curriculum. Standing in her presence felt like summoning a shock, the mild buzz tingling over his skin as he held it ready in his hand.  Exhilarating, but also dangerous.

One thing was sure. He still liked her every bit as much as when they were younger. She still made him laugh and put him at ease with almost effortless aplomb.  And Nathaly hadn’t changed a bit, either.  More confident, maybe, more sure of herself, and definitely ready and able to use that sword.  But still careless and wild.  Like nothing could stop her doing as she willed.  Her father used to call her “our little whirlwind”, because like the dust devils that occasionally raced across their plains, Nathaly rarely gave consideration to anything in her path, tumbling forward for the sheer joy of it.

And sure enough, they’d barely arrived before she was distracted by a different booth, one displaying bolts of cloth and buttons and embroidery floss.  He couldn’t imagine her with a needle in hand, but she bought several skeins.  As she tucked them into her pack, she caught his skeptical stare, and snorted.  “I taught myself leatherworking.  How much harder could this be?”

He rose to the bait.  “What kind of pattern are you thinking?”

“Maybe a little border going around a cuff.  A band of words.”  Delighted by her own idea.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, in a big circle.”

He laughed, hard enough that the hood started to slide back.  She caught its edge just in time.  “Careful, there.”

“Yeah.” It cast pall over the afternoon, reminding him that he wasn’t truly free, not yet.  Not until the templars had given up hope of finding him and he could walk in the open air without tempting fate.  But this was better than nothing.

She seemed just as eager to not ruin the day.  “Help me figure out what we want to eat.  This needs to last at least four or five days.  Garrus wants to scout west, see if there’s something more permanent for us to move into.”

“Sounds good.”  They wandered back towards the food stalls.

In the midst of picking through a fruit stand, trying to resist the raspberries in favor of something that wouldn’t spoil almost overnight nor get crushed in a knapsack, he felt Nathaly go stiff beside him.  He glanced up.  And then immediately back down to the fruit, trying subtly to pull the hood lower over his face.  A gaggle of Chantry mothers had arrived at the far end of the market.

She bent towards him, urgently.  “We need to finish up and leave.”

“Agreed,” he whispered back.

Then, as he started to move away, snagged his cloak.  “Slowly.  Don’t attract attention.”

A thousand years passed as he waited for her to finish selecting fruit.  Another century or three as she paid the man running the stall. The Chantry mothers roving ever closer, their gossip growing louder.  Kaidan tried not to stare.  But it was next to impossible when it felt like the thread of his life was hanging taut, just waiting for one of them to trip and snap it.

Nathaly piled the remainder of their purchases into his knapsack.  “Walk,” she whispered, as she put her arm around him and steered them towards the western road out of Crestwood.  Then, when he involuntarily tried to look over his shoulder, “Eyes front.  We’re almost in the clear.”

They walked through the stone arch and out of line-of-sight.  Kaidan drew a huge breath.  Nathaly dropped her arm and rubbed her eyes.  “Well, that was something.”

“Yeah, I—”  His eyes went wide.  His throat closed up.

“This was the worst idea,” Nathaly went on, oblivious.  “We’re never doing this again.”

He tried to wet his mouth.  His voice a weak croak.  “Nathaly—”

“And don’t you even start with the ‘I was trapped in a tower for thirteen years’ crap while I’m trying to keep you alive for the next thirteen—”

“Nathaly.” He spun her bodily.

Three templars had paused on the road east of them.  Staring the pair of them down, heads cocked to the side, still confused, focused on him.  Kaidan estimated that would last another moment or two and then they were both dead.

“Shit,” said Nathaly, eloquent as always.  “Maybe they haven’t noticed.”

The templar in the lead put his hand to his hilt and started forward.

Kaidan took a step back.  Wondering why in the hell he let her talk him into leaving his staff in the cave, giveaway or not.  “I think that ship’s sailed.”

“Double shit.”  And then she actually walked towards them.  The blood drained from his face.

She stopped a few paces from the templar group, forcing them to stop also.  “Can I help you?”

One of the templars in the back sniggered.  The leader shot him a tempering glare.  “Are you aware that you are traveling in the company of an apostate?”

Nathaly rested her hands on her hips.  Not retreating an inch.  Kaidan’s guts tried to turn themselves inside out.  “Dunno.  Are you aware that you’re about to make a terrible decision?”    

Outright laughter, unchecked by the templar in charge, who couldn’t suppress a smile himself.  “My dear woman, this… mage is our charge to return to the Circle from which he has fled, as Andraste bid us.  If you insist on standing in our way, we will be forced to remove you.”

“You can damn well try.”  She drew her sword, steel ringing in the autumn afternoon.  Her eyes shifting to each of them in turn.  “But if you do, I’ll kill you all.  There won’t be a final moment’s mercy, letting one of you run off and regroup.  One mage means nothing to you.  You’ve got hundreds.  Is this mage worth your three beating hearts?”

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 5: Varric

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

          Varric never minded much just sitting and watching the world pass by, as long as the world was interesting. At the present he was sitting on a bench with his back against a wall while tuning up Bianca. He watched as the activity in Haven ebbed and flowed around him. Thedas’s second weirdest company got back from the Hinterland this morning after spending a week running all around those hills. Mother Giselle had been nice enough, didn’t want to execute the Herald on the spot. Small improvements. Even didn’t think she should be jailed for the rest of her life just for being a mage. Honestly the woman was a bit of a radical.

           The killing bad guys who hurt innocent people, hunting down supplies for refugees, and even closing rifts became a little routine while they had been in the Hinterlands. It got a bit monotonous. The fun part was watching everyone try to get along. No one knew each other really, not even the original group from Haven. Varric hadn’t met Chuckles until they both got caught up in a fight together in the aftermath of the Breach. Varric knew Cassandra of course, but they weren’t exactly the best of friends. Throw in some very weird Dalish elves and a woman accused of being the worlds last and best hope, and you’ve got yourself a party. The two new elves in their party kept muttering back and forth to each other in elvhen, which put the Seeker on edge. The Herald tried to keep the peace by insisting that the twins speak in common, but Solas almost ruined the whole thing when he agreed because, “Your pronunciation needs work.”

           The big elf reminded Varric a little of Fenris when he almost ripped the mages head off. It made him a little homesick.

           Just then Varric saw the Blessed Lady herself walking back to her cabin. She was smiling and greeting people along the way. She exuded a calm energy that was desperately needed around Haven. Having a potentially world ending catastrophe kill all of your religious leaders only two weeks ago could have that sort of effect on morale. She reminded Varric a little of Elthina. Or maybe what Elthina should have been. When she came close to him, Varric noticed the small crease between her eyes that she was trying to hide. When she got to the door of her cabin he saw her shoulders sag just a little before going inside.

           Varric set Bianca aside and stood. He supposed even holy saviors needed pep talks occasionally, and if Varric had one talent it was convincing people to do things. Sometimes it was convincing them to give him money or information, but with his friends it was usually just convincing them they weren’t in as bad a spot as they thought they were.

           Varric knocked on the door to her cabin and only had to wait a moment before the Herald was opening the door. She looked a little tired, but when she saw who it was she smiled and stepped aside so Varric could walk in. She’d managed to make the place pretty cozy. Small candles were clustered on almost every surface with a large cluster on either end of the mantle opposite the door. On the mantle were eight small wooden figurines. They had simple designs on them, but they were still beautiful. The largest one looked kind of like a dragon and had a single red candle lit in front of it. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace and Varric thought he might actually have to take off his coat to keep from passing out from the heat.

           The Herald noticed him sweating and said, “I’m not used to the cold. I don’t think I’m built for it. May I?”

           The elf held out her hand and Varric gave her his coat. She wasn’t wearing her armor so he saw her hands for the first time. The vallaslin were broken up on her fingers by several dainty gold rings, some were all woven together.

           “I didn’t think Dalish got vallaslin past their faces.” Varric commented while he sat down at the small table she had one side of the little room.

           “Most don’t.” She hung his coat on a knob next to the door and walked over to get some water and cups from her bedside table, “Only priests get more extensive ones. The more extensive the tattoos, the higher rank the priest.”

           She set the water and cups on the table and sat across from the dwarf, “Tea?”

           “Yes please.”

           She reached across the table to grab a small wooden box in the center, opened it, and grabbed two blocks of tea out of it. She put a block in each cup, poured water in after, and then took hold of the cups. After a moment Varric could see the water begin to bubble and steam rise out of it. She handed Varric his still warm cup and said, “I apologize, I don’t have any milk or sugar.”

           Varric waved her off, “That’s alright. It’s not stream water or cheap ale, so it’s an improvement to what I’ve been drinking the past few days.”

           Varric took a sip and was happy to discover he had not been falsely optimistic. It was good, tasted a little like berries. The Herald took a sip of her tea before setting it back down and looking up at Varric, “So what can I help you with Mr. Tethras?”

           Varric chuckled, “Nothing.”

           Varric wouldn’t say the Herald looked shocked; maybe mild confusion would be more accurate. He continued, “You looked stressed and I decided to swing by to see if you needed to chat. Do you?”

           The Herald leaned back in her chair and took another sip of tea. Finally she sighed and nodded.

           “Okay then, lets start with names. Mr. Tethras is my father, everyone just calls me Varric.” Varric took a sip of his tea, “And, if you can believe it, in all the hubbub I didn’t catch your name. Cassandra and Solas call you Herald, the twins call you Rajha-whatever, but I don’t think I’ve heard someone use your actual name once.”

           The Herald looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “I think you’re right.” She extended a hand across the table, “Ellana of Clan Lavellan.”

           Varric took her hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you Ellana of Clan Lavellan, been nice fighting with you for the past week.”

           “Likewise.”

           “So, you said that the twins are part of a different priesthood from you, right?”

           “Yes.”

           “So how did you meet them? You seem to know them pretty well. Do you all serve in one place or…”

           Varric wasn’t trying to pry- no that was lie. Varric was always trying to pry. He wasn’t trying to be invasive. However, he was really curious about these Dalish that seemed very different from the ones he had met. Daisy would get a kick out of them.

           Ellana smiled and said, “No. We all live at different temples. I met them when they were much younger. I was sixteen when I first joined the priesthood, and the twins arrived a few weeks after I took my vows. They had been orphaned, and they were only nine years old. I had been having a hard time settling into temple life so the Raj’ha’haren at the time assigned me to look after them while they got settled. She thought it would be good for all of us. She was right, as usual. Helping them get settled helped me to understand my own place in the temple a little better. I wound up practically raising those two. When they were seventeen they decided that the priesthood of Mythal wasn’t for them, and they went off to join different temples. I was invited to both of their initiations. I was so proud.”

           Ellana smiled to herself and took another sip of her tea. The smile only lasted a moment before the small crinkle appeared on her forehead again.

           Varric put his now empty cup down, “They’re your kids.”

           “As a priestess of Mythal I have had a hand in raising many children who came to our temple… but yes. Those two were special.”

           “And now they’re here.”

           “And now they’re here.”

           “Well shit, that can’t be easy.”

           Throughout the conversation Varric could see Ellana relax bit by bit, but now she almost slumped forward.

           “It’s not. I was the one who volunteered to take this risk. To come to the Conclave. After everything happened, I understood that I needed to stay and help; I had accepted the dangers because I needed to. But they don’t have to be here. They can go home. Be safe.”

           “You could tell them to leave.”

           “They wouldn’t listen, and I’d probably offend them. As much as I worry, they are both extremely capable. I just wish Sahren would stop picking at Cassandra. She’s uncomfortable enough as is. And Mythal give me strength if Rasa tries to pickpocket Leliana one more time. The Nightingale might actually have them killed.”

           “Or recruit them.”

           That got a chuckle out of her. While Ellana made Varric some more tea he asked, “So, what’s the scariest thing right now? Other than the obvious possibility of death and dismemberment.”

           “Well other than that.” Ellana handed him his tea, “I suppose it’s all the walking on egg shells. I’m not ashamed to talk about my people or my beliefs, as I suppose you’ve guessed by now.”

           Varric nodded an affirmative as Ellana continued, “But I’m still so nervous constantly that if I don’t mix in the right amount of deferment, agree just enough that ‘sure, maybe your goddess sent me’ that they’d get a little too frustrated and…”

           “They’re not going to kill you.”

           Ellana sighed and her shoulders slumped, “I know, but you didn’t say it had to be a reasonable fear. I’ve seen what humans will do when elves get a little to elvhen for their tastes. It rarely ends well. I was talking to Josephine the other day and bless her she was trying to talk to me about my people and ask questions, but she had so many misconceptions drilled into her brain. Scary ones. Is it terrible that I don’t always want to have to be the perfect elf? Back home I am a leader among my people, but I’m a leader on my own terms. They know me, and I can be myself. I was the youngest priest in a very long time to be chosen as Raj’ha’haren, and that didn’t come without a lot of hard work. But does Cassandra care? Does Cullen? No. They’d rather I stayed quiet about the whole elf thing and focus only on the Breach. Afterwards they can look back on their elf friend and clap themselves on the back about how tolerantthey were with her.”

           As she had been talking her voice had gotten louder and angrier. When she finished she realizer her volume and took a deep breath to compose herself. Varric could see her walls going back up as she said, “I apologize I shouldn’t have-”

           “Bull shit you shouldn’t have. It’s okay to vent. It’s okay to be pissed about this whole situation. And I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and say that you shouldn’t worry and that you can be completely yourself, because you’re right, you can’t. But I will say I think you may be giving our compatriots too little credit. She may not seem like it, but I think Cassandra wouldn’t mind having an honest debate with you in your down time about religion. Maybe invite Mother Giselle and Josephine; it might be good for both of them. And don’t back down when they get frustrated, push through. You should also really introduce Sahren to Cullen because once they get past the obvious differences I really think those two would get along. And let me handle Rasa, they’re a decent thief, but they could be better.”

           Ellana smiled at him. A real smile. Not one of the smiles she shot at refugees who thanked her that exuded benevolence. Not a small one while speaking to Cassandra that worked hard to present her as non-threatening. No, this smile was a little crooked and made her eyes crinkle just slightly. She finished her second cup of tea and said, “It makes sense that Rasa isn’t a decent thief, it’s not what they trained to be.”

           “And what exactly did they train to be?”

           “A master assassin, they were visiting me from Antiva when I left.”

           “Wait what?”

Chapter 6: https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/187109071729/chapter-6-solas

[kunoichi-ume]

30 Days of Domestic Fluff - Masterpost

30 Days of Domestic Fluff Prompt List

I decided to give this a go for April, and to make it a bit more interesting (and keep myself from falling into plot and ending up with a massive story to write on top of my other projects) I am restricting each to a 100 word drabble. All 30 days are going to be about my OC Noara Starspark and Torian Cadera because, well, I adore this ship even if the game won’t let me have it.

Here is all 30 days in one post, now that they are finished. 

On Ao3.

Day 1: Waking Up Together

Every morning Torian wakes before Noara, but he never gets up unless he absolutely had to. He prefers staying there, holding her closely, watching her sleep and memorizing her face. It is a rare sight, her face free of the deep purple makeup she always wore around her eyes and across her lips. It took a year, long enough for him to fight a war and fall in love before seeing her like this. No one else ever saw her like that, not since she was a teenager, and he loved that it was a privilege reserved solely for himself.

Day 2: Morning Routine

Noara has a very specific morning routine when she is at home, wherever ‘home’ is at the time. She wakes, kisses Torian good morning before slipping out of his arms and informing him he can join her in the shower or wait. He rarely chooses waiting. While he dresses she paints her face, ignoring his good-hearted teasing about alternative designs she could try, before getting breakfast, and more importantly for Noara, caf. When they were at the base everyone knows better than to bring any issue smaller than an invasion or world ending catastrophe to her before her second cup.

3. Doing Laundry

Laundry is a joint effort between them, Noara takes care of the cloth items, under armor and causal wear, and Torian their armor. Noara had offered to handle her own armor, she was responsible for it being dirty, but he refused. “You didn’t even wear armor before me,” he had said, “how would you know how to care for it?” It was easier to let him do it than confess to reading everything she could about armor care on the holonet when he gifted her the first piece of her set. She hadn’t wanted to mistreat his gift after all.

4. Night In

Dates were rare, the demands for their time and talents many, so instead they had nights in – her advisors knew she was not to be disturbed for anything less than a 9 on her 1-11 scale of seriousness and any breach of that would be met, not with anger but disappointment and sadness – something she finds workes better against her friends. There is a lot of speculation about what they do those nights and they let the rumors fly. Better that then let everyone know they spent their nights in cuddling on the couch, drinking tihaar and watching sappy holodramas.

5. Nighttime Routine

Nighttime routines are less structured for them than mornings, Torian often has to pull Noara away from what she is doing to remind her to sleep. Sometimes they had sex, pulling each other’s clothing off the moment the door is closed and losing themselves in each other. Sometimes they undressed themselves, wore proper pajamas and were asleep as soon as they fell into bed. But most often they would just lay in each other’s arms, speaking quietly about their day and exchanging fervent expressions of affection, pressing soft, chaste kisses wherever they could reach until they drift off to sleep.

6. Shopping (For Needs)

Noara loves to go shopping with Torian. It need not be for anything special, just picking up groceries and various supplies. She likes to watch the other shoppers, the young couples lost in young love, the children laughing and driving their parents crazy, the elderly couples who have perfected the happy marriage. She likes to imagine they are no different, just another happy couple with few worries larger than what to make for dinner. It’s a life she’d like to have, a simple, peaceful one but can’t. So instead she pretends whenever possible and fights to ensure everyone else can.

7. Exercising

They don’t exercise like other couples. No jogging or synchronized cardio. They spar and learn each other’s specialties. Torian teaches Mandalorian brawling. Noara teaches Jedi swordsmanship and he learns quickly after years wielding an electrostaff. They have rules, no armor, blasters, or Force, putting them on even ground. He’s stronger, but she’s faster. Most days they just get a good workout, but sometimes they get carried away. He’s broken her nose at least once and she has cracked two of his ribs and given him a concussion. The medical staff wishes they would stop but they enjoy it too much.

8. Wearing Each Other’s Clothes

The first time Noara “borrowed” Torian’s undershirt to sleep in, he had a sneaking suspicion he would never get it back. That was in the early days, when they had just met and he learned she only had the clothes on her back. “When constantly fighting, clothes shopping takes a backseat,” she had said when he expressed how impractical that was. Now, over a year later and with a much more filled closet of various items – including her very own pajamas, he still found his undershirts constantly missing. He’d be annoyed, but she looked so cute drowning in his clothing.

9. Nursing the Sick One

They say those suited for nursing the sick make the worst patients. Noara was no exception. She was usually a cooperative and kind woman; illness made her grumpy and insolent. Before Torian she would refuse to admit it, working until she dropped. Now he’d coax her into bed, accompany her to see the medic, sit with her and rub her back while she dozed. She’d protest, that she had work, she wasn’t that sick, but she always relented. Anyone else would have been ignored, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny him what he asked when he looked so concerned.

10. Hair

When Torian joined the Alliance, he told Noara her people really liked his hair, a sentiment she shares. She loves the color, and how it compliments his skin tone, how it sweeps across his forehead, how he huffs when it gets in his eyes when he needs a trim, and the way it smells faintly of starflowers when he borrows her shampoo. She loves tracing her fingers along his sideburns and poking the strip on his chin when teasing him. She especially loves how it feels between her fingers when she uses it to pull him down into a kiss.

11. Coffee and/or Tea

It was no secret that Noara basically ran on caf, she had almost cried tears of joy when Torian was able to get Shae to send their special spiced caf along with the Mandos assigned to The Alliance. She had very strong opinions about caf, and the sludge served in the war room did not cut it. He only drank it when he really needed it, he preferred tea, but after seeing her light up after her first cup of spiced caf in months he made it a personal mission to always keep it stocked – and hide it from Theron.

12. Cooking Together

Noara had never really cooked before, but Torian could and decided to teach her. The first thing they made together was tiingilar, with all the spice. She’d been skeptical when she saw the ingredients, “will I be even able to taste it with all this heat?” He assured her that she would, and that being able to handle it would mean she was a “keeper” by Mandalorian standards. She took that as a challenge, spicy food didn’t scare her. She finished her meal, sweating and red faced but smiling when she asked, “this means you’re going to keep me right?”

13. Washing Dishes

Despite being Commander, Noara felt that no job on Odessen beneath her. When part of the kitchen staff came down with flu and there were no available replacements to cover for them, she volunteered herself and Torian. They got put on dish duty, no one trusted her to cook and few were brave enough to eat Torian’s recipes. Peaceful, cooperative dish washing soon turned into them flicking bubbles at one another when their backs were turned, by the time they were done there was more water on them then in the sinks. They were never allowed in the kitchen again.

14. Homework and/or Job Work

Torian preferred field work to strategizing and pouring over datapads. His favorite assignments were when he accompanied Noara on her missions. He rarely felt more alive than when they fought side by side, they were so in tune with one another they could almost work in silent tandem. He didn’t worry about her as much when he could personally watch her back. When they met he said he would protect her, and that was a promise. She was talented at getting into trouble and sometimes someone had to bail her out and he was more than up to the job.

15. Family Visits (I am cheating a bit on this one)

Once family was something Noara never considered. She didn’t have one; never would. So much has changed. Now she looks at Torian and she can almost see their future together - and their children. Children she never let herself dream she could have, never let herself want. Now she wants it, with him, more than she has ever wanted anything. Sometimes when she tries to meditate she instead imagines how they might look, how it might feel to hold them and know the life in her arms was created by their love and she’s never felt closer to the Light.

16. Trying Something New

When Torian learned that Noara had never shot a blaster he declared that was unacceptable. What if she lost her sabers in a fight and the only weapon available to her was a blaster? He took it upon himself to teach her. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling the first time he saw her holding his sniper rifle, both because her form was terrible and that he could almost imagine her, rifle in hand, clad in Cadera Clan colored armor, charging into battle with that reckless way of her’s. He wasn’t prepared then for that to become a personal fantasy.

17. Kisses

Noara was not very experienced at expressing her feelings and some days it was too hard to find the words to tell Torian how much she cared for him. It was so much easier to show him. She held him close in bed, massaged his shoulders after a rough day and she kissed him. Often. She kissed his scars to show that she was proud of him, his pulse to show she was grateful he was alive, his mouth to tell him she wanted him. She loved him and needed him to know, even if she couldn’t find the words.

18. Hugs

Noara was, in Torian’s opinion, the perfect size for hugging. She was just short enough to fit perfectly under his arms and slim enough that he could hold her against his chest and easily wrap himself around her. He loved holding her in his arms, burying his nose in her hair to smell her shampoo, feeling her arms around his waist. He liked to surprise her from behind, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close to press kisses against her neck. There was something comforting about it, having her close – where he can keep her safe and happy.

19. Forgetting Something

Sometimes Noara is forgetful about everyday things, like eating properly when she is focused on a task, wearing the armor he gave her and packing first aid supplies when she goes on a mission. When he points it out, reminds her about things she needs to do, she says it’s a side effect of carbon freezing, that she wasn’t forgetful before – though he knows better. She is just used to someone being there to remind her, Kira about food, Doc the medications. He doesn’t know how to find her friends, but he can be there for her in their place.

20. A Heated Argument

Their first argument blindsided Torian, fresh home from a mission, nursing a his caf to stave off a migraine when she burst into the room saw the empty caf pot and rounded him. He was stunned as she stomped across the room toward him grumbling angrily, biting out mild insults at him for finishing her last pot of caf. When she called him a scruffy nerf-herder his temper was slipping, then he noticed how tired she looked. “How long have you been awake?” He derailed her tirade when she couldn’t remember – staying up for 4 days would make anyone irritable.

21. Road Trips

Being alone together was rare outside of their bedroom, sometimes even that was interrupted. Getting to travel alone was even rarer, and a cherished opportunity. Inside the Defender they treasured every moment they got to talk, spar, relax and just be together without anyone else demanding their time or attention. It’s where he taught her to make uj'alayi and she taught him to waltz. Where they tried every sex position, on almost every surface, they could think of to sate her curiosity. No matter where they are headed, or why, every trip that’s just the two of them is special.

22. Picnics

The first time Noara mentioned to Torian that she’d like to go on a picnic, he wasn’t aware of how much it meant to her until he found her list-a list of normal things to try. Number 73, between food fight and learn an instrument, was “traditional picnic”. He had to talk to Aric and Theron to find out what that meant: a checkered blanket, woven basket with food and wine, and somewhere they could be undisturbed. She actually cried when he surprised her with a blanket and basket in hand on their last day of a mission on Alderaan.

23. Double Date

When Jurr arrived on Odessen after the disaster that was her second visit to Iokath and she learned that the trooper was married to Aric the first thing she said to Torian was “we could double date!” It was a common troupe in the romances she loved reading and she had been bummed that they didn’t have another couple to go out with. Between Torian and two troopers their double dates usually ended up being spent at the shooting range, or hitting munition markets for supplies, but that didn’t tamper her enthusiasm – even if she didn’t need blaster parts herself.

24. Shopping (For Fun)

When shopping for pleasure Torian was drawn to the weapon merchants, always looking for upgrades. For Noara it was one of her rare frivolous moments and she could always be found in a holonovel shop, pouring over the different datadisks. It had surprised Torian at first, he had always thought non-Mando women were more interested in clothing and jewelry – not books. He loved watching her read a new book, her face changing expressions in reaction to the story and sometimes he would ask her to read aloud, even if he wasn’t interested in the story just to hear her voice.

25. Keeping Plants

As a congratulatory gift for defeating Vaylin, Acina sent Noara a manaan fern. Torian wasn’t sure what the point of a houseplant on a planet that was 99% jungle was – they didn’t need the fresh air – but Noara loved it. She researched how to care for it and followed the instructions to the letter with the single mindedness she applied to most tasks. Despite her efforts the plant died. She told Torian she wasn’t grieving over it but saw through her. He didn’t call her on it, but the depth of her compassion was part of why he loved her.

26. Doctor Visits

Torian never put up a fuss about visiting the medics when he needed to but Noara had to be be talked into it, sometimes even deceived. At first, he thought she was just too stubborn and headstrong to admit she had been hurt but one night, after copious drinking and through tears, she told him what the issue was. It wasn’t her medic and it hurt more to see a stranger than any physical injury - the reminder that the first people she considered family were gone, that she might never see then again, and that wound refused to heal.

27. Pets

 When Torian and Noara had to land on Haruun Kal for supplies she had insisted that they find an akk dog. She had almost squealed with delight when they discovered a young one. She dropped into a meditation pose and he watched curiously as she and the beast stared each other down. After several minutes it approached her and laid it scaley head in her lap. Later, when the akk dog was on the shuttle with them she explained that she’d always wanted a pet, and a Force sensitive one was the best kind to have.She named him fluffy. 

28. Vacation

Vacation was not in Noara’s vocabulary, there was always too much to do. Sometimes she would overestimate her travel time to buy day or two to spend wherever they wanted, but proper vacation? She’d never had one of those until Torian made it happen. Two weeks on Veron, warm weather and beautiful forests, clear lakes to swim in, lots of wildlife to hunt and just the two of them together – it was perfect. She had never felt so relaxed and at peace before. For then on she made time for vacations, as long as he had time to join her

29. House Cleaning

After a traitor had tried to kill Noara, Torian’s first reaction was anger and relief that she was alive – exhausted, sore but alive. Then a promise to do anything to find them, make them pay for betraying her after all she had done for The Alliance, for the galaxy. It wouldn’t be the first time he needed to clean house; this time was as personal as before. After being barred from Umbara, and learning who the traitor was, he had never felt more helpless. He missed a viper at her side, almost lost her. He won’t make that mistake again.

30. I Love You’s

“I love you” were the three most important words Noara had ever said to anyone and she had only ever said then to one person. Torian was the first, and only man, to make her feel that way, willing to break The Code. Falling in love with him was so natural, she couldn’t have fought it if she had wanted to.

Torian said it in Mando’a, teaching her so she’d understand. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. It carried more meaning in his tongue than in Basic. “I love you” paled when compared to “I will hold you in my heart eternally.”

[soulstealer1987]

Arc 3, Chapter 7

Ziist Grozein

The story does kind of gloss over Bleak Falls Barrow, but if you're so terribly heartbroken over me not including the entire thing in the story, you're probably better off firing it up in your own game and whacking some draugr. It'll be much better anyway.

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 3: Live by the Sword

Arc 3, Chapter 6 ~ Arc 3, Chapter 8

As it happens, Gallus wasn’t the only survivor of Helgen to make it to Riverwood. One of the legionnaires, the one with the list as a matter of fact, had family here. He’d arrived a few hours before Gallus did, sporting some particularly nasty-looking burns but otherwise okay, and proceeded to tell anyone who’d listen about the dragon.

No one believed him, of course. Not until Gallus came along and confirmed his story. And while this particular soldier hadn’t exactly done much to keep him from getting executed… well, his relief at seeing Gallus alive told a much different story.

“I’m glad you got out,” Hadvar, the soldier, says over his second or third bottle of mead. Gallus has his own, that Hadvar insisted on paying for. It’s almost like Hadvar feels guilty over what his captain ordered… oh, wait, that’s exactlywhat’s going on here. “You shouldn’t have been in there. That girl shouldn’t have been either, for that matter. Did you see her?”

“Yeah,” Gallus says. “She got out.” He doesn’t elaborate, but that’s evidently enough for Hadvar.

“Good,” Hadvar nods, and smiles slightly. The two sit in silence for a time. The innkeeper’s clearly side-eyeing them for not actually staying in said inn at this point, but she says nothing, just judges them silently from across the room while pretending to sweep up. Gallus’ gut tells him she’s not all she seems, and he’s inclined to believe it. But soon, he’ll be out of Riverwood, and it won’t be his problem.

“What did she do?” Gallus asks, almost hesitantly. Because he is curious, but asking almost feels like an invasion of the mystery girl’s privacy. But then again, it’s not like Hadvar would know more than him. He’s pretty sure. “The captain said ‘obstructing justice’, but I- what does that mean?”

Hadvar must be a lightweight, because he grins drunkenly, claps Gallus on the shoulder, and says, “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Gallus initially thought that Hadvar was just saying that because he was, well, drunk off his ass. But Hadvar quickly recounted how, when the captain had made the decision that he and the thief definitely were criminals worthy of execution and ordered him thrown in the cart with the others, this girl - who had been just a civilian hunter in the area who’d actually done nothing wrong and was about to be let go - straight-up attacked her, with her bow, and nearly killed her before some of the other legionnaires dragged her off.

Hadvar was wrong, though. He does believe it. Whoever this girl is, she’s either someone from Gallus’ past or just… really got pissed off for some reason. With Gallus’ luck, she probably has nothing to do with him, but… he does wonder. And if he ever runs into her again, he’s not letting her leave before asking some questions, starting with do you know who I am?

He frowns, and amends that statement to do you know who I was?

“But really,” Hadvar laughs, “you seriously don’t know this girl? I thought you and her were, like, this.” An elaboration really isn’t necessary, and Gallus shakes his head.

“No,” he says, “I don’t know her.”

But… she might know me.

And, of course, she might not, it wouldn’t be the first time that he’d gotten his hopes up for nothing. Even so, he glances at the door, in the faint hope that she’ll walk in, but she doesn’t. She didn’t the last several times he did, either. Sure, there’s a hooded figure having a drink in the corner, but whoever they are, they’d been here since before Gallus got here, and he’s pretty sure Hadvar would have recognized her if it is her.

Even so, he’s almost made up his mind to go over and check, go over and ask, when the figure stands, pays for their drink, and leaves. Gallus realizes as she steps out - because he’s fairly sure the figure’s a she, although he’s not certain how he knows that - that she doesn’t have a bow strapped to her back. She doesn’t have the bow that the girl with the indigo eyes had, and had been willing to fight her way through a keep of hostile soldiers to get back. So it’s probably not her, unless she left the bow outside, but-

She probably doesn’t know me, Gallus concludes. He chooses to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut that he’s missing something here.

“Sounds like she has it bad for you, then!” In the meantime, Hadvar certainly isn’t helping.

Gallus frowns. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe it was something the captain said.”

Hadvar swears under his breath.

“That was it,” Hadvar says, “she’d just called her something… particularly rude, I’m not going to repeat it. I hope the captain didn’t get out of Helgen alive, she was... not a shining example of Legion behavior.”

“You and me both,” Gallus says. “You and me both.”

Gallus hears, later, that Ralof actually was from Riverwood too, and his sister still lives here. Even though he’s heard nothing about him, after he’s told Hadvar that yes, he’s leaving for Whiterun to go warn the Jarl that there’s a dragon around, go back to Solitude, he stops by the woman’s house.

“What do you want?” She asks suspiciously. Her door’s only opened enough that he can see one of her eyes and about an inch-wide area of the rest of her body.

“Did Ralof make it out?” Gallus blurts. She looks at him strangely. “I know you’re related to him, and I’m guessing… if he made it out, he would have come here. Did he make it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ralof’s sister says, and begins to close the door.

“Look,” Gallus tries again, “if you see him… well, I’m just glad he survived, if he did. I hope he did. Tell him that.”

The door’s only open a sliver by now, but the Nord woman’s stopped closing it, and only a sliver is more than enough for Gallus to hear her reply.

“I will,” she says, and closes the door. It’s not much, but it’s enough for Gallus.

With that, he decides it’s high time he set off for Whiterun. He wonders how Ria’s doing, if she’s taken the beast blood yet but, well, he needs to talk to the Jarl first, then go check on her. In that specific order, because dragons are… a bit worrying. Just a bit.

“What business do you have in Whiterun?”

That sounds vaguely familiar, and so does the person saying it. Gallus couldn’t tell for sure but, unless there’s two distinctly pissy guards assigned to gate duty, he might have somehow run into the exact same guard from the first time he came to Whiterun.

“Do we really have to go through this again?” Gallus asks instead. The guard hesitates, and Gallus guesses, correctly, that he doesn’t even remember him.

“What do you mean, again?” The guard asks slowly. His partner definitely isn’t the same guard from earlier, because his partner last time was a short woman with a mace at her hip. This one’s a tall man with a greatsword strapped to his back, but anyway.

Gallus sighs, and says, “Forget it. If you have to know what my business here is, I was in Helgen two days ago. Funny thing about that, Helgen doesn’t actually exist anymore. It’s been wiped off the map entirely, by a dragon. Yep.”

Even with the helmet that all guards wear, Gallus can tell that he’s taken aback. It’s then that his partner (definitely not the same one from earlier, he’s even more sure of that now) speaks up.

“A dragon?” He asks. “Truly?”

Gallus nods. “At least, I’m reasonably sure that’s what it was. All I can say is that it was big, black, could fly, and set the entire town on fire within a matter of minutes. I don’t know what else it could be.”

“The Jarl needs to know about this,” the second guard says finally. “Do you need directions to Dragonsreach?”

“No, I’ve been here before,” Gallus can’t resist looking pointedly at the first guard, the one he’d run into just a few short weeks ago. He still doesn’t seem to remember him. His loss. “But thanks.” He unlocks the gate, and Gallus steps inside. Unlike the last time he was in Whiterun, he actually knows where he’s going, and soon finds himself heading up the steps to the Jarl’s palace.

It’s called Dragonsreach, and Gallus can vaguely recall hearing something about how it was reputedly used to catch a dragon long ago, back when dragons were an actual thing. Supposedly, that was where its name came from. Before Helgen, he and probably a lot of others had dismissed that, but now…

Regardless of whether Dragonsreach was actually used to capture a dragon in the past or not, the first thing Gallus notices upon stepping inside is the skull mounted above the Jarl’s throne. It looks suspiciously like a dragon’s, so maybe there is some truth to the rumors. The second thing he notices, however, is the concerning amount of wood incorporated in the great hall’s design. Wood burns and, while that might have been a more recent addition, it might not have been.

The third thing he notices, which is honestly kind of hard to miss, is the Dunmer warrior blocking his path forward with her sword drawn, shouting for him to halt.

“What’s the meaning of this interruption?” She asks, a dangerous glint to her eyes. “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.” Of course he isn’t, that would be too easy. Gallus refuses to let himself be intimidated, and meets her gaze with his own.

“Does that have something to do with the dragon attack on Helgen?” Gallus asks, a hint of curiosity in his words. The warrior scrutinizes him cautiously, then sheaths her sword without taking her eyes off him.

“You know about Helgen?” She asks. Gallus nods. “The Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Approach.” Gallus does so, although he’s also well aware that her gaze doesn’t leave him for even a moment. Fair enough, he wouldn’t trust himself either.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun is a somewhat-elderly Nord who might have been an impressive warrior once upon a time, but has since spent a little too much time sitting around and consequently gained a bit more weight than he perhaps should have. Regardless, Gallus doesn’t doubt that he could hold his own in a fair fight. Most Nords can.

Well, there’s no such thing as a fair fight, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that he’s got the Jarl’s attention and, while he highly doubts anything will actually be done about the dragon, it’s worth a shot. Besides, he did say he’d tell the Jarl what went down. He never said anything about getting the Jarl to do anything.

“So. You know about Helgen?” Jarl Balgruuf asks.

“I was there,” Gallus nods, “so I’d hope I’d know what went down there, yes. There was a dragon, it destroyed the town, I didn’t see where it went from there.”

Balgruuf frowns, and asks, “Anything else?”

Gallus is very, very tempted to mention something about how the Imperial Legion apparently decided to sentence him to death for literally no reason other than that the commanding officer thought he seemed suspicious. However, he doesn’t know how this particular Jarl stands on the Civil War. He vaguely remembers hearing somewhere that Whiterun Hold is the one hold in all of Skyrim to still be neutral at this point, so he should be safe…

But it’s still probably not the best idea to admit that he was sentenced to death, regardless of the circumstances. So, instead, he thinks, and says something that the Jarl will hopefully be interested in.

“Ulfric Stormcloak was there,” Gallus says cautiously. “The Imperials had captured a group of Stormcloaks, including their leader, and were about to execute the lot of them when the dragon attacked.”

The Stormcloaks, he silently adds, as well as me, the thief, and that girl. But the Jarl doesn’t need to know that. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and Gallus highly doubts there’s any record of him being slated for execution anywhere at this point. If there ever was, it’s probably been burned up with Helgen, so he’s a free man at this point. Minus the obvious issue of amnesia, but hey, small mercies.

“I should have known Ulfric would be mixed up in this,” Balgruuf mutters, and Gallus takes a mental note of the fact that he leans more Imperial. Of course, a few moments later he adds, “But I bet fighting a dragon knocked the Imperials down a peg, don’t you think, Irileth?”

The Dunmer woman (who’s since taken her place beside him, maybe a bodyguard, or - no, the word’s  housecarl,  isn’t it) shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing across her lips.

“With all due respect, my Jarl,” Irileth says, “if that dragon comes here, we’ll have more trouble than the Imperial Legion, I think.”

“True,” Balgruuf says, and his own grin quickly fades.

Gallus, at this point, is more than a little confused, and eventually says, “So are you for the Imperials or the Stormcloaks?”

“I am for Whiterun,” Balgruuf says, and any hint of warmth in his voice is very much gone. “Now, what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, but it’s Gallus.”

“Well, Gallus… you’ve seen firsthand what a dragon can do. How would you like to help make Whiterun safe from it?”

Personally, Gallus would rather run for the hills. He’d like nothing more than to never see that dragon again… but he is curious. Not necessarily about the dragon, but what Jarl Balgruuf thinks will protect Whiterun from it. And if all else fails… he has been getting better at Invisibility.

“Depends,” Gallus says. “What do you have in mind?”

One trip to an ancient Nord barrow full of draugr, traps, and all sorts of other nasty things later, Gallus comes to regret saying yes, if only because the Jarl’s court mage, Farengar, is an insufferable prick that definitely doesn’t appreciate him taking another couple of days out of his time to go find a stone. Granted, it’s a stone that’s apparently a map of ancient dragon burial sites, but still.

He  really regrets saying yes when he gets roped into fighting the dragon due to unfortunately not having left before a guard ran in screaming about a dragon. It’s partially due to being in the right place at the right time, and partially because apparently, surviving a dragon attack qualifies him to fight it. Never mind that he spent that entire time running and trying not to die.

Somehow, he gets the feeling that won’t be an option here.

[chocolatebuttonsandbooks]

Summer’s Night, Winter’s Morning

This is a piece for @freezerburn-week and is the day 1 prompt. It’s a sort of Assassin/ Secret Agent AU (Yeah i’m not great at doing stuff in the canon universe so pretty much every freezerburn week thing from me is an AU).

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, violence and bad language (probably a teen rating). Also mentions of drugs but no consumption.

Pairing: Freezerburn (Of course)

2204 words.

Summer’s Night.

Yang fiddled with the poker chip between her fingers. She gave the bartender a wide smile when he turned to her.

“Strawberry Sunrise, please. Shaken, not stirred,” she said.

“Of course, madam.”

“Oh, and don’t forget the little umbrella!”

“I’ll be sure to remember,” he answered behind a smile.

“Thanks.” Yang fluttered her eyelashes

The bartender blushed under her gaze until she returned her focus to her target across the room.

Surrounded by a group of attractive young women, he was playing a game of poker against other finely dressed men whom Yang could only guess were as rich and downright shady as her target.

Yang heard a low crackle before her discreet earpiece transmitted Ruby’s voice. “I hope you’re keeping an eye on the time Yang. T-minus ten minutes until I’m setting the alarm off.”

Yang rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what time everything was going to happen. They had planned meticulously for weeks, and yet Ruby still worried about her when they were on a job. She sipped the drink that was placed in front of her and noted that one of the less smiley women in the target’s harem was making her way toward the bar.

Yang looked away, but not quickly enough to avoid locking gazes with a pair of bright blue eyes. It was only a second but Yang could read that the look she was given was steely, suspicious even. She twisted her watch around her wrist and took a long gulp of her fruity cocktail.

Yang shot up straighter when a voice rang out beside her.

“Dry Martini, please.” Of course, it was the woman who had caught her staring.

She was close enough that Yang thought ignoring her was kind of rude. “Very alcoholic. I like it.” She gave what she hoped was a confident grin.

“Why waste time with a mixer?” The woman smirked as she pulled a crisp note out of her purse.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” Yang placed a hand on her hip. “I do like something sweet from time to time though.” She turned towards the woman and took in her white hair, which, whilst odd in colour, somehow suited her. A cursory glance confirmed that she was dressed in an expensive white and sky-blue cocktail dress, but it was the red scar bisecting her eye that garnered most of Yang’s attention.

“I wouldn’t say I have a sweet tooth.”

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” Yang pushed her glass across the bar.

The white-haired woman looked up at her, through her eyelashes, then shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

“Let me know what you think.” Yang rested her elbow on the bar and leaned her chin on her palm. She watched the other woman take a sip of the cocktail and bit her lip. “So…?”

“Not bad.”

“Really?” Yang raised an eyebrow.

“No. It’s terrible. Sickly and just far too sweet.” They both laughed at that.

Yang’s ear piece piped up again. “Yang! Why are you stood flirting? You know now isn’t the time to be picking up girls. This isn’t the Alaska job.” Yang had to restrain herself from muttering about that being one time.

The woman with the white hair brought Yang back into the present conversation. “Why did you keep looking over at us?” She nodded towards Yang’s target.

Yang pushed out a short laugh. “I was wondering what kind of guy would have the attention of so many beautiful women.”

“Are you…” Blue eyes squinted up at Yang and searched her face, “jealous?”

Yang barked out a proper laugh this time. “Of him? Or of the girls who get to be with him?”

“That’s what I was trying to ascertain, yes.”

“Hmmm…” Yang tapped her chin. “I have to say that having a group of doting, beautiful ladies hanging out with you whenever you want has to be a pretty nice life. He’s kind of good-looking I guess but not really my type.”

“Right.”

“Why? Were you just checking I wasn’t more competition or something?”

The woman’s blue eyes widened. “No. No, he’s not my type either.”

Yang’s brows scrunched together. “Then why were you even with them the-” Her question is cut off by the screeching fire alarm that, whilst she should have anticipated it, still had her jumping back from the bar, heart racing.

The bartender was yelling over the cacophony. “That’s the fire alarm. Please all get outside to safety!”

It was time.

Yang moved from the bar just as the sprinklers came on and there were squeals of protest at the water ruining designer dresses and shoes.

Yang knew there was no real fire. She also knew that all but one of the exits would not be working which is why she wasn’t surprised when pandemonium broke out as everyone realised they all had to squeeze through one fire exit.

Yang shoved her way through the crowd, never letting her eyes move from the target.

He was panicking and pushing when she reached him.

He stopped when she pressed the metal of her handgun into his back and began to lead him towards the bathrooms downstairs.

She shoved him into the ladies and made sure she wasn’t being followed before closing the door.

“What do you want? Money? Drugs? I’ve got anything you could need. Name your price. I’ll pay.”

“No thanks.” She pushed him again, making him slip on the wet tiles.

“Who the hell are you?”

She grabbed his arm and made him kneel. “Someone who’s just doing their job.”

She fired the gun.

One shot into his brain and he slumped.

Yang took a photo for proof and sent it to Ruby before walking into the first stall and climbing onto the cistern of the toilet. She banged a fist against the thin window and Blake, their assigned getaway driver, pulled it open and grabbed her hands to help hoist her up.

“Hurry! Someone must have heard the shot.” Yang kicked against the toilet.

“You’re not exactly light.” Blake complained.

“Hey. It’s all muscle you know.”

“Sure.” Blake rolled her eyes but gave another tug and Yang could feel herself being yanked out and onto the hard concrete of the alley behind the casino.

“Shit it’s warm out here.”

“I know it’s night but it is the middle of summer.”

“Alright-” Yang quietened when she heard the door of the ladies’ crash against the wall. She peered back through the window and for the second time that night was met with wide blue eyes. Yang reeled up off the floor and started towards the car. “Someone has found him. She saw me.”

“Then we need to move fast. That’s not a problem.” Blake smirked and started up the engine.

Yang smashed her hands against the buttons to turn on the AC and wiped away the hair that was dripping into her eyes. “Did you bring a towel at least?”

“No. You’re going to have to wait till we recon with Ruby.”

“Ugh.” Yang pouted as she watched the palm trees that lined the streets go past the windows. “I wish I’d got that girl’s number. Before she saw me run away from a dead body of course.”

Winter’s Morning. 3 Months Later.

Weiss dragged the unfortunate, unconscious cleaner into the storage room. She rifled through his pockets until she found the key cards he used to access the hotel suites. She tied his hands up and placed him in the corner, just to make certain she had plenty of time before any alarms were raised, and left for room 504.

She strode along the hallways until reaching the room she had tracked down as her target’s current abode.

Room 504 smelt like vanilla. Sweet, but not entirely objectionable. Bright Winter’s morning light sliced through the gaps in the partially open curtains. There were clothes scattered over the armchair and a pair of yellow panties by the foot of the bed. The bed in question was unmade, and a half-empty cup of coffee was left on the bedside table.

Now that she had made it in, Weiss considered hiding in the ensuite, or the wardrobe, but settled on straightening the bottom of the crumpled duvet and perching on the bed.

She spent half an hour adjusting her shirt, clasping and unclasping her hands, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and tightening her off-centre ponytail.

Weiss was checking her lipstick in the mirror when the keycard was swiped and the door handle turned.

It was time.

Her target bundled into the room, threw her bag to the side and even kicked off her boots before coming to a sudden halt at the sight of Weiss, still sat on the bed, with a small gun held up in front of her.

“Remove any weapons from your person,” Weiss ordered.

“Whoa, whoa.” The target held her hands above her head. “Weapons? There has to be some kind of mistake. What are you doing in my room? Why have you got a gun? Who are you?”

“I don’t think either of us has changed much since we first met.” Weiss moved her eyes up and down the form in front of her, which was still as tall, blonde, muscly and gorgeous as three months before. “Now, do I need to repeat myself or will you remove all weapons on your person and place them on the ground?”

“Come to think of it.” The blonde woman took a step closer. “I do recognise you. August? At the Casino? How could I forget a woman with as refined tastes as your own?” She moved her hands to take a gun out of her coat pocket and placed it delicately on the plush carpet.

“You’re going to gloss over the other aspects of that evening then?”

“The… unfortunate fire alarm that cut short what could have been a memorable evening for both of us?” She smirked and removed not one, but two knives from her jacket.

Weiss let out a laugh; a hollow, bitter bark. “You got me into a fine mess that evening for sure.”

The woman’s eyebrows creased together as she took another, smaller, knife from a strap around her ankle. “How did I do that?”

“I don’t see why you deserve to know. Now,” Weiss stood up from the bed, “will you tell me your name before I kill you?”

“Hey. There’s no need for that.” The woman took another step closer.

“Don’t move again.” Weiss steadied her aim.

“My name is Yang. Yang Xiao Long. What happened that night was just my job. That guy was a nasty piece of work, believe me we researched him, and he got what was coming to him.”

“That guy was under my protection.”

“You’re a… bodyguard?” Yang raised an eyebrow.

“Not exactly, but I’m sure that title is easier for a thug like you to understand.”

“I prefer the term ‘secret agent’ but if thug makes it easier for you to sleep at night with my death on your conscience then hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do right?”

“So you’re not an assassin?”

“Well I am, but, my orders come from people who reckon they’re the good guys.” Yang shrugged her wide shoulders. “Anyway, since I’m gonna die will you at least tell me your name?”

Weiss tilted her head. “Weiss Schnee.”

Recognition dawned on Yang’s features. “Well, shit. I pissed off the daughter of one of the most powerful druglord’s on the planet.”

“I’m not just my father’s daughter.”

“Of course not. You’ve proven you’re far more resourceful than all our intel told us you were, Weiss.” Yang’s eyes were wide now, and closer than Weiss had planned on letting them get to her. “Do you really want to kill me over some bullshit drugs agreement?”

“You don’t understand.” Weiss felt a lump in her throat that refused to go away. “That was my client, my deal. You ruined my reputation. I can’t go back without something to prove I’m worthy.”

“Then don’t go back.”

Yang made it sound so simple. As if Weiss could just walk away from the family legacy she was always doomed to inherit and continue.

Yang took another step closer. Her wide, pleading, lilac eyes never left Weiss’ own as she lifted her hand and gently grasped the shaking gun.

And God, was it so easy to just let go.

Yang’s smile was as disarming as her hands and Weiss still watched those eyes when she heard her gun thud to the floor.

“You don’t need to surround yourself with people like that.” Yang was still smiling.

“And you’re better, are you? You Don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know you, but I’d sure as hell like to.” Yang shrugged and stepped closer again. “No, I’m not loads better. I’m a killer. So maybe I’m just being selfish.”

Weiss whispered her next words. “I’m a killer too.”

“Maybe we have more in common than our differences.”

“I still would have beaten you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you could kick my ass.” Yang smirked. “I can see it in your eyes. That’s what I like in a lady.”

[meshugana1]

Could you do a story for me where a hot college girl wishes for an even hotter figure and sex life, but ends up a gorgeous sexy lady who stays home all day because she has too much fun masturbating to leave her house? And she’s so embarrassed by her new like pervyness that she becomes super shy with other people?

Tess walked through the parks brightly lit knolls and hills on her way to her dark apartment. She didn’t get why she was always alone. She was hot, funny and had a bright personality. Her dates just never seemed to go anywhere and she hardly ever got a second or third one. She really was beautiful. She had slender short legs that lead into a nice pert bottom, a pinched in waist and respectable firm breasts. Her blonde hair framed a loverly face and her wardrobe made her standout particularly well with plenty of exposed flesh.

She noticed a few of her friends had gathered around one of the old fountains that dotted the park. She checked her make up and adjusted her top to maximize her cleavage and walked on over, sexualizing her steps as best she could. “Hey guys. Anybody mention me yet?” She said with a soft chuckle.“Oh hey Tess, I didn’t know your classes had gotten out yet.” Athena said. Tess and Athena had know each other since their room assignment had made them friends in their freshman year. Despite her namesake Athena was a plain looking girl, but in the arena of the mind she did the greek goddess proud.“I decided to blow them off. It was nothing new today anyway. So any fun plans? Are we finally going out clubbing?”“Sorry but we were all going to Adam’s house for an over the weekend study party. You’re welcome to come with.” Tom said. Tom and Athena had been an item for a month now and things seemed stable if a little bland for Tess’s tastes.“Why don’t you come with Tess. I’d love to spend a weekend away with you.” Nora said. Nora was Tess’s biggest obstacle. It wasn’t a secret that Tess played for the other team but she didn’t go around advertising it either. Nora did however and it was almost like she taunted her with flirting and passes that she brushed away as jokes. She was insanely hot too with full tits that cried out for attention and an athletic figure and a subtle tan that made her seem an amazon.“Yeah, maybe later.” Tess was a master at getting in her own way. She also had a bit of a shyness issue. If she were hotter this wouldn’t be a problem.

“Well as you wish then. We best get going before it gets too dark. See ya later.” Athena said, accompanied by ‘goodbyes’ and ‘later’s’ from the group, and one wink from Nora that produced a rosy color on Tess’s cheeks. She sat down on the bench and chided herself for her lack of courage. She looked up at the circular fountain and admired its intricate design. The park was old, built soon after the campus was in 1904. There were over a dozen fountains and each one had stories built around it. It was said that it you kissed your sweetheart near the one in the center you would be forever in love. Another one was supposed to help you pass any test as long as you drank the water from it. If Tess remembered right this one was the traditional ‘wishing’ fountain, toss a quarter in and get a wish but it always came with a terrible and ironic price as wishes normally get you.

Tess reached into her pocket and produced a handful of loose change. “Why the heck not?” she said and tossed all the change into the still water. She clasped her hands and spoke aloud “I wish I had a super sexy body and had a way better sex life.” Nothing seemed to happen, no ‘wish granted’ or pillar of light enveloping her body. Not that she expected much but somehow she always had a sliver of hope that something would happen when she made a wish. Tess returned her hands to her pockets and continued her walk back to the empty dormitory. Along the way however she suddenly felt just a little sick. She raised her hand to her forehead and felt a fever and her stomach was going summersaults.

She just crossed the threshold of her room when she began to feel bloated and off balance. She took off her coat and tried to remove her thin tank top but found it stuck in place. She quickly realized why as she saw her modest chest had grown in size! She had a respectable pair of C’s but now they were passing the double D range. She stood shocked at what was happening. She hadn’t eaten anything and didn’t have any allergies she knew about that could do this. She was snapped out of her contemplating by the straps of her top digging into her shoulders, and a similar sensation in her pants. She quickly mover to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the offending straps, but her melons had grow too large and were now being crushed inside the small piece of clothing.

Her ass felt like it was also being crushed inside her jeans but before she could move her scissors to free her new flesh  her clothing had lost its battle with Tess’s expanding ass and seems popped and stitching tore, ruining her expensive designer pants. She hardly cared though as all the felt was a sense of relief at the absence of crushing pressure on her ass. Her breasts were still in peril though and she without a thought began cutting down the center of her abused top. The cut wasn’t even halfway when the fabric finally gave way and split apart, sending Tess’s new tit flesh spilling out in front of her. Tess stared in awe at her breasts, they were larger than any natural pair she’d ever seen.

She had no time to enjoy them though as more pain filled her body. She fell onto the floor and rolled onto her back. She looked between her cavernous cleavage and saw that her legs were growing longer and her thighs thicker. Her tummy, which had just a slight bit of fat from the holidays had flattened and become taught and smooth. Her hair, which she kept ironed and straight, had become curly and wild and a vibrant shade of autumn red. Her neck became delicate and swanlike and her face though pretty before had shifted into a sultry and deeply beautiful image and was dotted with faint freckles. Her eyes had shifted into a sea green and suddenly all the pain and discomfort stopped.

Tess gingerly stood on her new shaky legs. After finding her new balance she walked to her closet mirror and inspected the damage. She was stunned by the image that greeted her. The woman in the mirror was over six feet tall and had breasts that put any stripper to shame, Tess reached up with her hand to probe one and was rewarded with an intense sensation coming from her pussy. She couldn’t help her other hand as it explored her other boob and felt her orgasm building immediately. She had no idea breasts this large could be that sensitive, or was it just her? She gave it no more thought as she continued to fondle her big boobies nearing more and more to an explosive orgasm.

One of her hands left her breasts and dived straight into her waiting, overheated pussy and she was instantly at the threshold of a brutal orgasm. She did her best to control the momentum and make this incredible feeling last and she was quite successful. She used whatever objects she could find in her dorm to pleasure herself and jilled herself off for literal hours until finally she allowed the orgasm to roll over her body and send her to heights of pleasure she had never even imagined.

The all night session was so intense that she remained motionless, just letting the remnant of her orgasm ripple though her body for hours. It was past lunchtime when she finally stood up and tried to find clothes that would fit her new sexy body. She dug into her closet, at first finding nothing, then she happened upon an old halloween costume she once wore. It was a habit for a nun, she just thought it would be funny, but now the outfit just slack enough to make a wearable outfit. She slipped it on and took a moment to appreciate the irony of her incredibly sexy new body in an outfit created for modesty. Her breasts tented outwards and left little to the imagination, her ass did the same and the dress ended just below her knees. Man, she thought, Nora would love this. Then it hit her. She was a super sexy dynamo now! She could easily seduce the pants off Nora. She immediately hit the streets and began the walk to Adam’s place.

At first the walk was like any other, but then Tess began to notice the stares she was drawing to herself. She initially chalked it up to her sexiness but then another thought creeped into her mind. Did they know? Could then somehow tell she spent the whole night masturbating? She didn’t know how the could but the thought just wouldn’t go away. Everybody was staring at her and it was starting to embarrass her. How could she have done that? It was such a pervy thing to do, she even used her roommates pillow to help jill herself off. Oh god people can totally tell.

She did her best to remain inconspicuous as she approached her friends home. She knocked on the door and looked behind her to make sure no one was staring. Adam opened the door and was in awe of the incredibly sexy woman before him. “Whoa! Who are you?” He asked. Tess remembered that she looked totally different and did her best to scramble up a cover story.“I…I…I’m…uh, HimynameisTeresaI’mTess’sfriendcanIstudywithyouguys?” She said all in one burst. Her face as red as her hair.“Um…sure?” Adam said, growing more confused at this woman by the second. Tess let out a deep sigh of relief, so happy to be back with her friends. As the two walked back in Adam introduced her as Teresa and everyone said hello, except for Tess who had clammed up at the sight of so many people. She weakly waved and took a seat at the very end of the large couch trying to will her tall body into a smaller shape. She didn’t make a peep for hours, to nervous to talk to her former friends afraid they might ask what she did last night.

It was Nora who finally got a word out of the shy sexpot. She sat about three feet away from Tess, extremely too close for the nervous girls comfort. She said nothing she reached over and patted Tess’s thigh just above the knee, not in a sexual manner but more as an assurance of friendship. This was far too much for the new Tess and she stood stock straight and said “ThanksforhelpingmeIgottagobye!” and quickly stepped out and ran back to her dorm. She slammed the door and immediately began another masturbation session crying out “She touched me! Nora Touched me!” This would last well into the night, and come the next day Athena entered her dorm room and was immediately greeted with the smell of sex and found Tess on her bed, still in the throws of orgasmic bliss.

The end. Be careful what you wish for!

[thesundanceghost]

Could Be Worse

Because I promised you guys a one-shot, and I had a lot of feelings about pre-Season One stancy.  This takes place in late October before the show actually begins, right at the start of steve and nancy’s relationship.  @stancy, I thought of you while writing this!  Also @dadharbour, thanks for calling me out about how i always say i’ll write stuff, because I wrote this entire thing out of spite lol

“Oh my god.” Nancy’s jaw dropped.  She was going to kill her brother.

She was holding what should have been her striped grey T-shirt for gym, but instead was a smaller, unflattering grey shirt with the Star Wars logo plastered across the chest above art of all the main characters of the saga.

Mike had switched the shirts.  She couldn’t believe him.  She knew he’d been annoyed at her all weekend, but this was ridiculous.

None of the other girls seemed to notice or care as they changed quickly and made their way out of the locker room.  She glanced at the clock, groaning when she realized she was going to be late unless she changed right away. Grumbling, she stripped out of her sweater and top and pulled on the T-shirt. Luckily it was one of the shirts Mike had bought a size too large, so while it was small, it wasn’t unbearable.  She threw her stuff into a locker and quickly walked to join the rest of the girls outside.

To add insult to injury, the coach had lectured her for five minutes in front of everyone about proper attire while the other girls giggled about the unattractive shirt.  The coach then announced that they were going to play soccer that day, which was naturally Nancy’s worst sport.

God she hated gym class.

Nancy managed to avoid most contact with the ball by hovering around the sidelines.  About fifteen minutes into the game, however, one of her more athletic teammates made the terrible decision of passing to her.  She noticed too late, and they all watched the ball fly off the field until it hit a fence.

“Wheeler, go get it,” the coach told her, shaking her head.  Nancy just nodded, but as soon as she turned away she started muttering under her breath as she walked towards the ball.

She’d never understand why she was still being subjected to gym class.  Last year she’d been lucky enough to share the class with Barb, and the two of them had been able to hang in the background unbothered through most of classes.  This year she was all on her own, and it made all the difference in the world.  She pulled at the small shirt in frustration, frowning when it kept rising above her waistband.

“Hey, looking for this?”

She looked up at the voice, blinking in surprise.  Steve Harrington was holding the soccer ball, eyebrows raised expectantly.  He was wearing basketball shorts and a grey T-shirt as well, as she realized he must be in his own PE class as well.  After a second, his eyes flicked down to her shirt.  He smirked.

Embarrassed, Nancy just nodded quickly and took the ball, holding it in front of her to block him from seeing any more of the nerdy design.

“Come on Wheeler, hurry it up!” Coach Johnson called, and Nancy blushed.

“Thanks,” she muttered before jogging back to the other girls.

Only forty more minutes, and then she could get out of this class, and this stupid shirt.

*****

History was her last class of the day, and luckily she wasn’t on her own for this one.  She was able to rant to Barb as they walked to the class together, even though she got the feeling that her friend thought she was a bit too angry at her brother for the prank.  Whatever.  She was a sixteen-year-old girl.  She was allowed to hate her baby brother, right?

They separated once they entered the class, Barb sitting by the door and Nancy heading towards her assigned seat in the back corner.

“Hey Nancy,” Steve greeted her as she set down her stuff.  Nancy looked over at Steve Harrington, who was throwing his stuff down on the desk next to her.

“Hi,” she answered back nonchalantly, giving a polite smile.  She tried not to think about their run-in earlier, but she had a feeling he’d already forgotten about it.  Even though they’d sat next to each other in history for months (as well as having attended the same schools since they were five), they barely ever spoke.  She doubted he knew anything about her besides her first name.

Steve turned towards her suddenly, mouth open like he was about to say something, when the bell rang and Ms. Katz made her way to the front of the class.  Steve shrugged and turned back to his desk.  He was probably just going to ask what we were supposed to read for homework, Nancy thought to herself.

The class passed slowly, as it always did.  Ms. Katz was a fine teacher, Nancy supposed.  It wasn’t the teacher’s fault that she hated history as much as she did.

She was doodling small UFO’s and dogs in the margins of her notebook when something lightly tapped her arm.  She looked over to see a ripped piece of paper folded into fourths.

Nancy stared at the note, picking it up from the corner of her desk so Ms. Katz wouldn’t see it and snatch it up.  She frowned when she saw there was no name written on the outside.  She glanced around, but nobody seemed expectant, and being in the corner meant that there was really nobody else to receive it.  Nancy looked at Steve again, who was tapping his pen repeatedly as watched Ms. Katz.

Sensing her gaze, he looked up and smirked.  After glancing towards the front of the classroom cautiously, he raised his eyebrows at her and mimed opening the folded piece of paper.

She was wary, of course, but figured it couldn’t hurt to just read it.  Not checking to see if Steve was watching her, she unfolded it and stared at the dark ink waiting inside.

Didn’t take you for a Star Wars fan.  Cute shirt though

Nancy read it three times, just to be sure.  She was blushing intensely, she knew, so she hid her face as she attempted to get back to the lecture.  She tried to listen to her teacher, but her eyes kept flitting over to the words etched over the blue lines on the paper.

She’d sat next to Steve for almost two months at this point, and he’d never said anything besides the occasional “hello” or “did you do the reading?”.  They weren’t friends.  They were barely even acquaintances.  Nancy wasn’t exactly a nerd-- or at least, not like Mike and his squad were-- but her and Barb hardly even existed in the same social realm as Steve Harrington and the rest of the jocks.

Was she supposed to respond?  She didn’t know the first thing about passing notes.  Not that she was too good for it or anything, there just weren’t that many people who bothered to engage her in it.  Steve wasn’t looking at her anymore, but did that mean he wasn’t expecting anything?

After two minutes (though it felt like half an hour) of debating with herself, she gave in.  One reply couldn’t hurt, and she had to set the record straight, after all.  As discretely as possible, she wrote out a small response under Steve’s writing.

It’s my brother’s.  He switched them to get back at me.

She watched Ms. Katz carefully, waiting for the perfect opportunity to set the note on the boy’s desk quickly.  She was never one to pass notes during class, and she refused to get in trouble for something as silly as this.  After it was safe out of sight in Steve’s hands, she returned to her note-taking.

She’d only written another line of notes by the time the scrap of paper was back on her desk.  This time she didn’t waste any time in opening it.

what’d you do to him?

The words were scrawled in that same lazy handwriting, contrasting sharply with her controlled cursive.  She scribbled her answer back underneath and carefully placed it back.

He couldn’t go to the movies with his friends since I wouldn’t chaperone.

She heard Steve give a small snort before jotting something down and tossing it over.

Cruel woman, Wheeler.  No wonder he set you up.

Nancy barely kept quiet when she read his response, shocked.  She quickly replied, handwriting messier than usual, and all but slapped the paper back onto his desk.

I had homework!!  Besides, he was being annoying, and it was a stupid movie!  I doubt you would’ve gone if it had been your brother

bullshit. I’d be an awesome brother.

Well feel free to take Mike if you’d like to test that theory.  He still wants to go to the movies.

Steve actually laughed when he read her reply, but he turned it into a cough before Ms. Katz picked up on it.  Nancy couldn’t help but feel pleased at the reaction.

maybe if you came along.

The bell rang before Nancy could write a response.  She looked at the clock in shock, not realizing how much time had passed, and realized she hadn’t paid attention to the last ten minutes of class.  She’d have to copy the notes from Barb before the quiz.  Although she was ready to go home, she found herself strangely disappointed by the end of the school day.

Steve had already packed his bag and was making his way to the door, but before he left he threw her a glance, a small smile on his lips.  “See you on Wednesday,” he said with a wink, ruffling his hair one last time.

Nancy could only watch him, not remembering to put away her things until he was out of sight.  Barb was by her side in an instance.

“What was that?” Barb demanded as they made their way down the hallway.

“Nothing,” Nancy defended, still holding the paper in her hand.

“You were passing notes with Steve Harrington and you expect me to believe it was nothing?” Barb asked, incredulous. “What did you even talk about?”

“Nothing, Barb!” Nancy said with a laugh, even though she herself had no idea what to think about the interaction.  “It was just a conversation.”

“Can I read the note?”

“No!” Nancy shot back immediately, though she wasn’t sure why.  There was nothing incriminating about it, and she hadn’t lied when she said they’d just been talking, but she really didn’t want to see what Barb had to say about it.  She clenched the paper a bit tighter.

Barb noticed, of course, and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Look, he was probably just bored or something.  I doubt he’ll even look at me on Wednesday.  It’s not like we’re suddenly friends or anything,” Nancy said with a shrug.

Barb sighed, but obediently changed the subject.  As they made their way to the parking lot, Nancy saw Steve leaning against his car as he talked to Tommy Harding.  She refused to look at him, not wanting to give Barb the satisfaction, but she got the feeling he was watching her.  Something fluttered in her chest.

Maybe she’d let Mike off the hook this once.

[johnthewriter-blog]

Flashbang

Flashbang

 The front doors of apartment condos of Lani’s building overlooking Square One are painted a stark, pristine white that glow under the harsh glare of the halogen lights.

Lani’s door is a cherry red.

I stand at the end of the hallway and look back at the closing elevator, shrug, and knock on the door.

The cushy material of the dark carpet pokes through the hole in the bottom of my sneaker.

There is a sharp mark on the door where Lani has probably been kicking the door open with her heels.

I knock again.

Lani sings through the door, “Come in, John!”

I turn the lock, and step inside.

The apartment is open concept; decorative Japanese wall screens the color of eggshells separate the kitchen from the bedroom and living room, which are blended into one. A projector screen above Lani’s mattress projects a surfing competition on a blank stretch of wall, and speakers secreted throughout the apartment blast commentary on some Australian woman’s technique. Next to the mattress, a low table with a glass top holds Lani’s phone and the remote for the projector and a bottle Tylenol.

Wrapped in her sheets, Lani’s leg bobs up and down as she listens.

Her eyes are covered in thick gauze and bandages.

I let the door swing shut behind me, lock it, and take a deep breath.

Lani’s head turns toward me, unseeing.

I smell breakfast drifting from the kitchen.

Pancakes and eggs.

I squat down, and study the bandages obscuring her searching face. When the wooden planks under my feet creak, Lani turns again.

Her foot freezes and her voice wavers, questioning.

“John?”

I let my name echo through the apartment a moment and stand properly.

“Your door’s unlocked.”

“I knew you were coming.”

I shake my head and she says nothing.

“Where’s your sister?” I ask her.

Lani smiles, and turns back to the projector.

“This woman down the hall is looking after her.  A’alona likes her cats.”

I remember Lani’s little sister loves animals. The smaller and cuter, the better for A’alona.

I open my mouth, and Lani continues.

“…besides, I had a date.”

I step forward and sit beside her, and she shifts to make more room, still staring at the screen.

I realize she’s brushed her hair and the long black tresses have been arranged into rough braids.

It looks nice, but I won’t give in yet.

I won’t tell her.

I wave a hand in front of her face.

Nothing.

“Why am I here?”

Lani looks after my voice and a sheepish grin creeps across her lips.

“I’ve got this psych assignment in my backpack.”

“I’m not a Psych Major. Why don’t you do it?”

She doesn’t bite.

Her voice, deadpan cool and her face is smooth stone.

“You’re better with words than I am, John. Besides, I’ll pay you this time.”

I snort.

I consider her hair and the driftwood hairbrush poking out from under her pillow.

“You were going on a date? You’re blind! Doesn’t Laurel know?”

Lani shrugs, and winces as she tries to roll her eyes.

I see her hands tremble on her pillow.

“Laurel came here. Hence breakfast. We made it together.”

She rolls over again, and stretches, and points toward the bathroom.

The Bob Marley t-shirt I’d given her has shrunk, and as usual, she hasn’t bothered with pants.

“Have some, Ku`u Lei.”

Loved One.

I nod, but wave my hand in front of her face again.

“John?”

I pull back the offending fingers as if I’ve been burned.

“Yeah, Lani?”

“I said you can have some.”

“Right, right.”

I stand, and she turns again, looking back at the screen.

The Japanese panels are real or at least she claims.

A glorious, blood red sun, as tall as I am, has been printed onto the folded screen.

I reach out to touch the silk, and kiss my teeth.

Lani flinches, but continues to stare at the screen.

If she won’t say anything I won’t.

I walk past the screens that close off Lani’s most prized possessions; her clothes, shoes and her surfboards. The shoes, heels, boots and other footwear I can’t begin to name nor describe have been tossed into a small pile opposite her clothes. Dresses, jeans and underwear in all colors are piled with t-shirts, hats and shorts. A vacuum-wrapped carton of bubble-gum occupies the corner.

The surf boards, about a dozen in all, with bright colors and vibrant designs, hang from a black steel frame, arranged one over the other to hang perfectly straight. Without even trying, I can still smell the pineapple surfboard wax I had seen Lani spend hours working into her more prized models.

Turning away from Lani’s treasures I enter the kitchen.

The pancakes are staying warm in the oven, and the eggs, covered in a frying pan, rest atop the stove.

I grab a mostly clean plate off the granite counter and heap on as much as it can hold.

Then I freeze.

My eyes flick to the bathroom.

Then the ‘spare room’ where Lani’s friends in ‘sauga would crash.

I raise my voice, “Lani, Laurel isn’t here, is she?”

Her voice is a sing-song, mocking sound.

“No, mea aloha, I booted her out.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, grab a bottle of syrup, and toss a fork onto the plate.

I’ve been a third wheel before and have no wish to repeat the experience.

As I balance the plate and bottle in one hand, I turn the heat down on the oven and the bottle’s brightly designed label catches my eye. I stare at the pineapple emblazoned across the label and scowl.

But I bring it the bottle with me, drizzling as I return and take a seat on the floor next to the glass table.

The pancakes are good.

I munch for a moment and think, watching her ‘watch’ surfer after surfer risking life and limb scaling rising mountains of water.

Her ‘gaze’ never wavers.

I sniff, and point with the fork, a syrup-soaked pancake chunk hanging from the tines.

“So, you kicked her out? How come?”

“Yeah. She started annoying me with all these questions, and I’m pretty sure she was poking through my phone, so I told her to ‘bounce’.”

Chewing, I consider this, and try to form the words, and wince as I trip over them.

“Maopopo iaʻu ʻole.”

It means “I don’t understand’, and Lani laughs.

“That was terrible, John. You’re trying to take shortcuts with the syllables…”

Her leg goes up and down again and again.

“…it’s a language of love and sun. You have to love and bask in each sound.”

She looks above my head, and smiles.

I wave my fork in front of her face like a wand.

“Lani, I’m down here.”

She muffles her face into her pillow and screams.

I continue eating.

When she raises her head, her smile is lopsided.

“It itches. And the doctor says I can’t scratch.”

She holds up her hands, and I see her prized nails had been cut down to the quick and the polish is a chipped and faded red.

Swallowing egg, I wish for I’d remembered salt.

She turns over, and stares at the ceiling, her stomach rising and falling with each breath.

“Lani,” I mumble around bland egg, “Did you know magnesium is used in flash grenades?”

She nods.

“The doctor mentioned as he was prescribing stuff for the pain.”

“How long until the bandages come off?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Lani?”           

Still nothing.

I put down the plate and reach for the Tylenol, and read the label.

OxyContin.

Bold letters blazed along the bottle, warning, “OxyContin contains oxycodone which is an opioid agonist and a Schedule II controlled substance with an abuse liability similar to morphine.”

Lani hears the pills shift in the bottle and turns her back toward me, staring at the screens across from her.

The surfers continue hurling themselves out into the ocean.

Her voice is quiet.

“It has been four weeks.”

I’m confused.

Maybe it’s the warm food in my stomach.

“I know I haven’t seen you in a while…”

I flinch at the word, but continue.

“…but I was busy, and I’m here now!”

She shakes her head.

“It has been four weeks since they should have come back, and I can’t see anything.”

I look at the bottle, and open it.

The pills are untouched.

I rattle them at Lani’s back.

“If you took your medic-“

Exasperated, she turns back toward me, reaching out for the table, and knocks her phone to the floor.

“John, they’re painkillers. They only push back the ache.”

I stare at the bottle.

Her hand dangles off the edge of the mattress and she stares, dejected and thoughtful, at the glass table, unable to see it with her green eyes covered in layers of gauze.

“The doctor says I need to wait. And not scratch.”

“Are you?”

“No. I don’t need the painkillers. They’re the reason my mom died and I had to bring my sister here, away from my dad.”

Her hands become fists.

I shuffle over my plate of food and try to meet her eyes, leaving the bottle on the floor. The phone is warm and smooth in my palm as I take it up from the smooth whorls in the wood grain. I take one of her fists in my hand and force it open, pressing the phone into her hand. Her other hand, a seashell bracelet hanging from her wrist, reaches out, searching for me.

She finds the dog tag around my neck, frowns, and mouths something I choose to ignore.

I bring my forehead to hers and push her face away from mine.

She smiles.

“Lani, everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

I glance up at the projector, where a woman with long dreadlocks flips her board off a wave, and crashes into the water. After a moment, the camera shows her face, grinning from the water, waving wildly and offering a thumbs-up to the screen.

I whisper again, holding her hand and my head to hers.

“You’ll see.”

[whitestationscribbler]

“The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” by Edgar Allan Poe (assignment was to rewrite a story from another author’s motivation)

There once lived a dark creature on the top of a crooked mountain soiled with the materialistic garbage of the brainwashing Whos. Alongside the dog, Max, who conflicted with his reputation of twisted and heartless, he resided in a carved out cave surrounded by sparkling snow that eternally opposed his mood. The only one left of his kind, he brooded over the paramount prejudice against him and how the vile creatures he lived near banished him for not conforming to their greedy culture. To the Whos, the creature, whom they called The Grinch, was an anomalous fellow filled with hate. Legends said that his heart was one that needed to grow thrice to be full sized, though some said perhaps his creator screwed his head around one too many, and even more said that possibly his shoes fit too tightly and made him into a creature of hate. In reality, The Grinch was lonely and bitter toward the race of people that stole his family and identity, but tossed him aside when he refused to adopt their ideals and morals. His physical differences catalyzed the fear regarding him; instead of being unnaturally small and having a tiny, rounded nose like them, he was covered in coarse green fur and towered over all the people, just like his mountain towered over their puny town.

His mountain. The mountain that was used as a dump, the burial grounds for his desecrated race, the only home he had truly known, overlooked the brightly evil civilization. Dazzling lights advertised sales and great deals, drawing in the Whos, forcing them to spend money to continue to be an appraised part of the community. Once December came, the lights doubled, tripled, quadrupled in luminosity and size. The season of spending and taking came with a feeling of dread for The Grinch.

To The Grinch, Christmastime was worst of all. The covetous Who children received exotic toys that made all types of noises and were a special kind of torture for The Grinch. He despised their joy and he loathed every last child, man, and woman. The sound of Christmas morning to him was equal to that of nails in a blender. Every year, his patience grew thinner and thinner, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

He was well into adulthood when the unsteady self-resistance he barely clung to finally broke and drove him into a rage. In a mad fury, he devised a plan to steal the happiness of those who stole his. His rough, green face twisted into a wicked expression as a perfectly devious idea bloomed in his maddened brain. "We'll steal the most important part of Christmas from them! The only thing that makes the wretched holiday as terrible as it is- the gifts!”

The dark idea warped and grew in his mind, ideas shooting out like bullets, thoughts grinding, possibilities drawing themselves out, until he formulated a foolproof plan that he thought would never fail him. He rummaged through the garbage piled on the cemetery of the rest of his people, feeling that he was finally avenging them, finally proving that his survival was not for naught, but to allow him to give the Whos what they deserved. The only thoughts they ever had were on what gifts to give or what gifts they wanted or how to spread fear across the town because giving and spending was not enough entertainment; they needed a sort of boogeyman, a demon to keep the children in line and to force the teens to work their hardest in school so they could get a good job making good money and continue the despicable cycle of consumerism. The Grinch's one goal was to destroy their despotic system in which malls and banks were the dictators. His plan was simple, at least to him, as he was always scheming and fuming and concocting different ways to ruin the Whos; by crumbling his mountain and creating an avalanche, by sneaking into the town in disguise and causing chaos by thieving or mocking or hiding, by interrupting a ceremony of glutton and lightning a conflagration that would fry up the corpulent bodies of the Whos. Maybe by stealing the children away, maybe teaching them the ways of his people like his parents had; explaining that things and money and prizes and appearances were not worth everything, creating a whole new generation of Whos. Alas, anger outweighed sympathy. The Grinch planned to steal their most beloved holiday. The materials were easily accessible and he was clever enough to do and build anything.

Sewing together a suit of red and white fluff was simple, but the sled proved difficult. The skeleton was constructed in moments, but he needed a way to make it fly, but he only had minimal knowledge about engineering. Three crashes and fails, and he succeeded in building a sled with space enough to cart away all the extravagances that the holiday relied on. He clothed himself in the red coat and hat and pants and stepped into boots, and shoved a red ball onto Max's nose. They were prepared to create chaos.

In the dark of the night, The Grinch took off. The giver, adorned in red just like The Grinch, was finishing his enabling job in the distance. The timing could not have been better for The Grinch's revenge. He slunk into the first home in the village and put in his bag all the gifts, all the lights, all the tinsel and baubles, the tree, and all the food from their fridge. The turkey would rot, the cans would be crushed, the eggnog would congeal, the cranberry sauce would harden. There was not even an ounce of regret in him as he dashed from home to home in his rickety flying machine and with his expanding bag of goods.

He encountered no roadblocks until he reached his last stop: the home of one Cindy Lou, a small Who child. As The Grinch crept along the floor, sweeping Christmas decorations into his bag, she tiptoed down the dark stairs. The Grinch barely had time to hide behind the big, pointy tree before she rounded the corner and gaped at him with wide eyes the size of the moon. "Mister Santa, what are you doing with our tree?" she questioned in her shrill voice.

The Grinch stayed silent for a moment before opening his hairy lips. "There's a light on this tree. It seems to not be lighting, so I will take it to my shop to fix it. Go back to sleep now, child."

Cindy Lou stood still, watching him, like she had laser vision that pierced through the tree and into The Grinch's heart. He grew woozy the longer her gaze persisted, and had to shut his spinning eyes. The small girl cracked a tiny smile, like she knew something he did not, and walked back up the stairs and into the dark abyss her room was presumably in. She halted to glance in his direction before disappearing, and The Grinch swore her eyes were burning red.

He pushed the madness boiling inside of him to the back of his head and continued robbing the house of the torture devices that hung on the walls. Once every inch of the house was empty, he left. Cindy Lou made him tremble with something akin to fear, and he wondered if possibly even the Who children were corrupted beyond repair.

Back on his sled, the bag spilled over the edges and pine needles stuck out of the fabric, poking his skin and getting stuck in his knotted pelt. Max sat at the front with him, whining whenever the sled rattled mid-flight, like it was seconds from giving out and crashing to the ground. His masterpiece held out; however, until it reached the precipice of his mountain home. He was going to dump the sack onto the tarnished cemetery of his family as one last step of revenge. Seconds before the bag was set to tip over, Cindy Lou's tiny head with eyes like embers emerged out of the mess. The Grinch wanted to let her fall, to let the town know his pain, but his conscience would not let him stoop to the level of the Whos. However, before he could begin moving of his own accord, something overpowered him. His mind grew foggy and a cry was ripped from his chest as a force threw him across the snowy peak and flung his arms around the falling bag.  Under normal circumstances, he never would have able to prevent the bag and child from falling to certain demise, but he was not himself. He had strength he had never known, and he lifted it with ease. Cindy Lou's face contorted into a sickening grin as she was moved from the edge and onto safer ground.

She slid off the lumpy sack and into the snow, The Grinch watching every move through hazy eyes. Once again, he felt himself being pulled by a strange force, and he got back into his sled and proceeded to return to the Who village. Cindy Lou followed him at a speed no grown man should be able to reach, much less a child. Before long, they landed in the middle of town, surrounded by a ring of Whos clutching hands. Cindy Lou almost finished the circle; there was enough room left for one being. The Grinch twitched as he tried to resist the supernatural force coaxing him toward the open spot, but ultimately, the force won. A ripple spun through the circle as he completed it, and his mind became blank of any thoughts. Every Who seemed overjoyed.

A song begun. The Grinch was surprised when he opened his mouth and sung along, not missing a single beat or faltering over a word. The haunting melody filled the air, encompassing him, and he felt as if his chest was too full and his heart was thudding too fast. Cindy Lou winked up at him. "It's returning to its normal size. Your poor heart. Now, you are one of us. One of us." She began to chant. The ring stopped singing to begin chanting with her.

Children emerged from the circle and marched slowly in synch to the sled and sack still lying in the epicenter. Their small hands expanded and their eyes became a bright red and suddenly, all the toys and trees and decorations and food were lifted out and floated to their designated homes. The Grinch felt sick.

He had not noticed the increase of speed and intensity the chanting underwent until the circle began moving. He stumbled along with the Whos to a building with a long table and hundreds of plates. Food blanketed the table. Every Who took a seat, and similarly to the circle, there was one remaining seat, right next to Cindy Lou. He sat beside her glowing body. She took his hand, and everything went black.

"One of them," The Grinch said into the darkness. "I am one of them."

-Mary Fite (10)