#why keep that from us unless he has some ulterior motives we’re not supposed to know about yet? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scandalousfemale · 4 years

Text

Ch.2 The Safety Dance

Chinese!OC x Kelce

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zombies were meant for apocalyptic movies and TV shows where one could binge watch for a day and return to their mundane life. But something happened, a lab test went wrong and suddenly the outbreak started. This story takes place exactly three weeks after zombies slowly started to take over the planet.

Series master list

WC: 6,726

Warnings: Violence, mentions of familial death and murder, THIS IS A ZOMBIE APOCALYPTIC FIC, there are mentions of weapons, we’re looking at someone’s wounds here, fighting, fear, ptsd, trauma, greasy old men being gross, please be aware that you are responsible for the media that you consume

A/N: I want to thank every single person who supported me this far. If you’re reading this it means that you liked the first chapter and you’re back for more! That means more than I can ever tell you because I love writing this series so much. Of course, it does get a little bit hectic because there are so many characters to take care of so thank you for little notes along the way from @rafecameron and a million thanks to @millyelliot for being my BETA reader and holding my hand while I cry lol I hope you all enjoy getting to know my characters a little more.

Waking up in a tour bus bunk was what Kaili felt waking up in a coffin would be like. The space was small and dark, and if it wasn’t for the quiet chatter towards the front of the bus, she’d believe that this was her own personal hell. She’d barely remembered falling asleep the night before, she must’ve passed out halfway through the movie and someone carried her to the bunk. If only so she wouldn’t be disrupting the flow of the common area.

Kaili made it a mission to learn about the characters in front of her today. She needed to know if she could trust them, even though a small part of her told her that she could. She pushed back the curtain to her bunk and slid out of the hole she had slept in only to find Kiara and Sarah on the seat next to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes to adjust to the sunlight before giving them both a small smile and then indulging in caring for her hygiene that she hadn’t been able to do in weeks.

“The boys have breakfast outside,” Sarah offered a sweet smile and Kaili couldn’t help but smile back. She nodded and exited the bus onto a RV campground. The people in the surroundings must be familiar with the area and faces because not one person looked out of place. She took in the rows of RVs around them, noting that privacy was a privilege that not a lot of them had, if there wasn’t a door next to yours then you were lucky. Maybe it was because no one wanted to park next to a bunch of kids or maybe it was the intimidation of trying to get out of a parking space next to the monstrosity that they called a bus but the few spaces next to them were empty. Of course, there could also be other reasons as to why the spots were empty but Kaili didn’t allow herself to dwell on the thought for too long, willing herself not to get sad about their current situation.

It didn’t take long for her to spot everyone she was looking for. JJ was holding a map, huddled with Pope as an older gentleman stood next to them, speaking quietly and rushed as he pointed out spots on the paper in front of them. The man couldn’t have been any younger than forty, his disheveled salt and pepper hair and tired eyes did not compliment the wrinkled green shirt and khaki shorts he was wearing. Kaili didn’t notice that she was focused on making the guy out until someone cleared their throat in front of her.

Rafe was cooking rice and beans in a pot over some fire, which made her wonder why they didn’t use the fully equipped kitchen they had indoors. He eyed Kaili as she stood by the door way of the bus trying to take in her environment. She stretched and it did not escape her that it was the first time in weeks that her joints didn’t creak and crack as she moved around. She finally moved from the doorway and sat down next to Topper on a lawn chair.

“Mind if I sit here?” She asked though she was already sitting down next to him, giving him a small smile though he barely looked up from his radio. He must’ve been looking for something specific because he went right back to messing around with the dials, switching from song after song until he found the news he wanted.

She ate her breakfast, or lunch, in quiet. She didn’t say much to anyone else and neither did the boys say much to her. It was nice, she had to admit, to be able to eat and take her time or not have to worry about watching her back, though it doesn’t mean she stopped being aware of her surroundings. The storm clouds settled over the camp as she saw a man in the distance and if it were any other situation and she was with any of her friends, she’d tell them that that’s one of the sexiest men she’s ever seen.

She might’ve gone up and made a move had it not been for an apocalypse going on. Even if the guy’s shirt rode up just a little and she could see the muscle on his pelvic that creates the V…or even how his arms are flexed from carrying the plastic bags. Kaili licked her lips and as she helped herself to eye candy before quickly diverting her gaze when the man started walking towards her. Her cheeks immediately heated up when the man got close enough for her to recognize who he was.

The smile on Kelce’s face, though small, proved that he definitely had seen her make eyes at him and if dying of embarrassment wasn’t such a shameful way to go in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, she’d have done it.

“What do you have there?” Kaili inquired about the bags Kelce was holding, hoping to ignore any thought she’d just had for him.

“A couple of trades,” he replied, getting the hint but his smile was even wider now. “Since we’re headed back to the market tomorrow anyway, I felt like it was time to get some new things.”

“What do you mean?” Kaili tilted her head, not sure what he was talking about.

“In the campgrounds, people trade goods, since money doesn’t really mean a lot to them right now. So, say I have a pancake mix with no stove, it’s useless, right? But you have a stove and you’re dying for pancakes but I’m not giving it to you unless you give something back. So, then the question arises, what’s it worth to you?”

Kaili raised her eyebrows at the man in front of her, really taking the time to drink him in. Almost like JJ, everything he says kind of has an edge to it. Even when he’s laughing or telling a joke, there’s a hint of either pain or anger that she can’t quite place. Of course, there’s the fact that he’s sexy but also that he looks, for lack of a better word, strong. His shoulders are wide and he holds them back like he knew he could take on anyone that comes his way but he also has scars running from his knuckles and disappearing into his long sleeve shirt. When her eyes met his hard brown eyes again, she could tell that he had just sized her up as well.

“Apparently a lot,” she tilted her head as he motioned to the bags he had placed next to Topper.

“Not enough,” Topper interjected as he rummaged through the goods that Kelce had brought back. “We need food and weapons.”

“We’re getting food tomorrow from that grocery store Wheezie pointed out,” Kelce brushed off his friend’s criticism.

“And if it’s cleaned out by tomorrow? What then? We’ll be hungry until the next place we can find,” and though what Topper was saying did make a lot of sense, she could also see that Kelce brought back things that might be of necessity. He brought back clothes for layering, winter hats, and a bit of canned foods.

“I’ll go back in a couple of hours, a lot of people aren't awake yet. Talking about trading though, you might want to start setting up our spot. Maybe something good will come to us instead since you have such a problem with how I trade,” Kelce bit back. And as much as Kaili wouldn't mind watching two boys argue with each other, she’d much rather do anything else. So, she excused herself from the friendly fire and ducked back into the bus to rummage through her bag, there had to be something in there that she could trade. All she had was maybe a couple of days worth of spam, if only for a person, and extra knives. She also found four switchblades and of course, her extra change of clothes. There was also a mini sewing kit she refused to part with and the bags filled with medicine that she wouldn’t mind parting with some of her inventory.

As she separated what she was willing to trade and wanting to keep, a little girl had sat down on the seat next to her.

“Do you always carry those?” Wheezie pointed to the knives on her weapons belt now strapped around her biker shorts from last night.

Without breaking from her task of separating which medicine was necessary to them, she answered back with a simple, “yes.” Because since she found this belt and the knives with Wei, she hasn’t.

“Why?”

Now, that had made Kaili stop to look at the girl. Her glasses pushed back against her face as her curly hair was pulled into a bun at the top of her head. Then she realized that some people weren’t exposed to the horrors of the world just yet. Maybe Wheezie was protected enough not to see a family member dismembered in front of her. How she wishes she could say the same.

“It’s dangerous out there.”

“But you don’t have to worry when you’re with us. Plus, Topper said the only people on the campgrounds are the living and breathing ones.”

Finishing up the bag she was willing to trade, she wrapped the handle around her wrist to make sure no one could pull them off, “Wheezie,” she said the girl’s name for the first time as she stood, “humans are the most dangerous of them all.”

“How?” The younger girl asked, a flash of doubt already crossing her face.

“Because you know what zombies want. They want to kill you. With humans, you don’t know what they want. They will smile to your face and then have an ulterior motive.”

Wheezie took a pause to think about what had been said and right when Kaili thought the conversation was over, she had turned to leave the bus, Wheezie stopped her in her tracks.

“You don’t trust us, do you?” It was a heavy question that had no simple answer.

“I want to,” was the best way that Kaili could explain it. Then Wheezie nodded at her as Kaili left the bus. The cold wind hitting her legs first and causing goosebumps to appear all over her body. She hugged her arms around her body, thinking about going back inside and putting on her long pants and long sleeve again but honestly, she couldn’t be bothered.

She hadn’t even made it past the floor mat that was being set up at the end of their bus yet when a voice called out to her to ask where she was going.

“I want to see what I can trade,” she said as she looked at Kelce’s face and if she hadn’t known better, it would’ve looked like he was upset. But he couldn’t have been upset at her, she hadn’t done anything to cause that reaction.

“I’ll come with you,” he said and Kaili would have protested if it looked like he was going to give her a choice.

After disappearing into the bus, Kelce came out a few minutes later holding a Letterman jacket with the name SMITH printed across the shoulders on the back and a small bag of his own.

“Wear this,” he pushed the jacket into her hands as he easily took the bag away from her so that she could stick her arms into the holes. And so she did. She mumbled a small thank you to him before grabbing onto her bag again and followed Kelce’s lead.

It didn’t take long for Kaili to get a peek into Kelce’s plastic bag, it was all filled with hygiene products such as deodorant, dry shampoo, and razors. Which made a whole lot sense as to why the trio she met at the pharmacy started throwing everything they saw in their bags.

“Remember what I said,” Kelce all but whispered next to her, “you have to know what your product is worth and how much what you’re asking for is worth. Some people will ask you for more but you have to be smart about it.”

Reaching the first group of people that seemed to be trading, they had set up all of their products on the floor. Two guys with guns standing beside the blanket as if they’ll guard it with their lives and honestly, Kaili wouldn’t doubt that they would. Even if what they were selling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Just a couple of magazines, jerky’s, and individual bullets. She hadn’t noticed but somehow, as they walked around and bargained, she had stepped closer to Kelce. Or maybe he has stepped closer to her. There was just a level of security being next to him that clouded her judgement, that made her squeeze next to him when someone else tried to step into her bubble. Something that made her feel alright when his arm came around her to move her out of the way when a brute pushed his way through the crowd.

Kelce was a natural at communicating with the traders. She was surprised to find him to be a people person because of how closed off he was in the bus but even now his eyes looked more distant than ever making her think that maybe he wasn’t really a natural, he was just trained very well.

At one table, he traded in canned corn for beans and then whispered in her ear that beans were better because they are heavier so that they would stay full longer and she guessed that made sense in a bus full of growing boys. He’d also traded two razors, shaving cream, and a deodorant for one blanket. Causing Kaili to raise her eyebrows in question.

“People, during a crisis, usually don’t think too far ahead. Maybe they don’t think they’d survive that long but all I know is that winter is coming very soon and we don’t have enough blankets for everyone to stay as warm as we need to be.”

As Kaili looked at Kelce there was an edge to his tone, “and you don’t trust that the bus would take you very far,” she concluded, saying the words he didn’t.

His face gave a hint to smile and the playful gleam to his eyes made him all that much more attractive, “it’s big, hard to maneuver, no matter what Topper says. I also don’t miss how everyone else looks at it. These are just the early days, people aren’t so desperate yet but they will be and they’ll see our vehicle,” she didn’t miss how he didn’t say tour bus, “then it’s only a matter of when, not if, we’ll run into a group big and strong enough to take it from us.” He shrugged as if she should’ve already worked out the equation in her head. Maybe she was too busy enjoying the luxury of the shower and the bed to think twice about it but he was right and she hated that she wasn’t able to pick up on how people looked at that bus at the end of the camp.

“Are you prepared? When that happens, I mean.”

Kelce smirked and spared a glance around them before he brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear and lean in. To anyone else, it might look like he was about to kiss the nape of her neck but he stopped to whisper her a sweet secret instead, “I’m a great shot,” he leaned back with a wicked smile. She didn’t miss how his eyes flickered to her parted lips right before she averted her eyes and began walking to a new group of people who seemed a bit more rowdy than the rest.

“Where’d you learn?” Kaili attempted to regain her breath, she didn’t need a distraction. Not now. Not when the world is crumbling.

They passed people huddled around radios, some listening to the president’s speech about how everyone was ‘all in this together’, it made her want to laugh but also cry at the same time. The people hidden away in mansions with gates and guards were definitely not fighting the same fight as the ones who were on the streets. Others were listening to the news about the widespread pandemic. Kaili didn’t stick around to listen but she caught a couple of sentences, talks of vaccines or having the whole city sprayed from the air were talked about being in the works.

“My father loved to hunt and he didn’t believe in doing anything we weren’t the best at,” Kelce's smooth voice broke through her line of thought and she welcomed it, “that’s how I learned.”

“So you’re telling me I’m standing next to the best shooter in wherever you came from,” she’d meant to tease but her tone came off a lot more impressed with him than she intended it to be.

All he did was nod once, never losing the smile.

“Lucky me.”

A group of guys that were causing a bit of a ruckus were trying to draw attention to their small tent as they pushed a couple of people out of their way to drop the heavy bags off of their shoulders with a thud. She could hear the metal clanking against each other and she knew exactly what they were before the men began to unzip the bags with a bright smile on their faces.

“Fuck,” she heard Kelce say below his breath next to her when the guys started pulling out guns and machetes one after another. She had wondered how many stores or maybe even homes they had raided to be able to accumulate their stockpile but that was a thought she pushed to the back of her mind when she saw a sniper with a stand and a machete that looked sharp enough to cut someone’s head off. She knew that she needed it. One of them would be a great service to the group if they were able to strap the sniper on top of the bus, it could help them with enemies, humans and zombies alike. As for the machete, it would be a better use for her because she wouldn’t have to get too close to her target and that was a privilege that her throwing knives did not allow.

She was the first one to step in front of the men, “what are you willing to trade with?” was her question, not taking her eyes off of the weapons.

“Well, baby, what are you willing to offer?” one of the greasy men with handlebars mustache had stepped before his friends and asked her.

“I want the sniper and the machete with the black handle,” Kaili didn’t waste time as she got on her knees and started pulling some products out of her bag, “I have spam for days, a Swiss army knife, and pills. I have medicine for anything you think you need. Asthma, anemia, you name it and I got it.”

The man didn’t waste time stepping in front of her kneeled figure and putting his hands on his hips, “you know what? I kind of like my little porcelain doll like this. How’s that for a trade?” the greasy man said as he looked over her shoulder and Kaili noticed that he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Kelce, as if asking him for permission to trade the weapons for her. Hearing Kelce chuckle behind her, disgusted, her lips curled about to give him a piece of her mind before the man was off of his feet and slamming onto the ground on his back. Kelce on top of him in an instant, his hand wrapping around the guy’s shirt while the other fist met the man’s cheek.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” Kelce’s jaw ticked as the man’s friends were now at their side but before they could even touch him, Kaili pulled two blades from her thighs, pointing the sharp instrument at their throats.

“Gentlemen, I don’t think this is a very nice way to conduct a business, don’t you agree? Now, before you get a tiny bit ahead about yourselves, I think that my offer was very generous. If you don’t believe so, that’s fine. We can walk away,” Kelce grunted behind her but she kept talking, “what do you say?”

The shorter man in front of her with red hair, freckles, and green eyes looked to the other one beside her, “Abby is asthmatic, we’ve been trying to find a pharmacy forever and you know we don’t even know what we’re looking for. The name’s all different and weird, man. I mean, I need it.” The other man seemed to agree so with great caution, Kaili looked them over again before sticking the knives back into her thigh band.

“I have salmeterol xinafoate, fluticasone propionate powder. I actually have a couple of those. I have a couple more other brands, I’m not really sure what Abby takes but they come with inhalers. Here,” Kaili gave them the bag which still also included the spam, not worrying herself with Kelce as he was still talking to the guy but at least they were off of the floor now.

The green eyed man took the bag gratefully as his friend shooed away the crowd that had gathered around them. Telling the people that if they’re not going to trade then they were basically wasting their time because no one was fighting today.

Kelce hadn’t mentioned standing up for her the entire time that they had looked around for more supplies and she didn’t bring it up. Not even when he glared at the man in front of her when she wanted to trade one of her throwing knives for a power drill. Yes, it was completely useless to the man selling it but for her, it was the only way to attach the sniper to the top of the bus.

After a couple of rounds to some other families, they’d finally made it back to Topper packing back up.

“What the fuck?” he looked at them with wide eyes as he saw the new found weapons.

“Is this not what you asked for?” Kelce said, already defensive but he was quickly distracted when he saw what Topper and Kiara was putting away, “how’d you manage that?” he pointed to the soggy used-to-be-frozen pizza in Kiara’s hands and something that might have looked like it used to be ground meat, Kaili wasn’t sure.

Dinner wasn’t half as bad as she assumed it would be but, then again, she wasn’t one to be picky. Earlier, when Kiara was fixing dinner with JJ, Kiara had the help of Rafe to put up the sniper on the rooftop and she was quite proud of the purchase, if she did say so herself. Rafe was also kind enough to praise her a whole total of one time. She must’ve been getting through to him.

“Hey,” Kelce nudged her with his leg as she shoved half a piece of kiwi in her mouth, courtesy of Sarah. She learned it’s best to just not ask anyone where they got anything and appreciate that they were willing to share it with her.

“If you teach me some of that first aid stuff, I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

“Wait,” Kiara squeezed her way into the spot in front of them, “teach me, too. I can teach you literally anything you need to know about cooking or mixing pre cooked food.”

“You guys know I’d teach you this without expecting anything in return, right?”

“Don’t,” Kelce advised, carelessly grabbing onto Kaili’s knee as he spoke, “don’t do anyone any favors without something in return. Including us.”

Kaili kept her eyes on Kelce’s hand until he pulled away from her, her eyebrows arched in question.

“What Kelce means in ‘rich people mentality speak’ is that if we can offer you something in return, you should take it. Like his jacket,” Pope pointed out and though his words could have been taken as a snarky response, she didn’t take it like that. She also chose to ignore his latter statement.

“What I meant was what I said,” Kelce refuted.

“Well, what you said came off kind of gross,” Kiara sided with Pope as she rolled her eyes.

“Good thing I wasn’t talking to you though, isn’t it?” Kelce’s voice stern but collected and Kaili could see it now. He didn’t have the air of a free spirited person the way that JJ, Pope, Kiara, and John B did. He was more put together in a way that he felt he always had to present himself. That brought her back to what Pope had just called him, rich. Of course, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen it before. The way it was so easy for him to talk to strangers in such a charismatic way that it almost seemed practiced. Instilled. He was rich and that meant that his friends, on their own side of the firepit, Topper and Rafe, had to have been rich as well. Not like it mattered anymore, as Kelce said, money doesn’t get you much in the streets.

“Okay,” Kaili announced when Kiara made a move towards Kelce, “so I can teach you both, or all of you, first aid but I refuse to do it if it’s inflicted from one person to the other. So, stop getting at each other’s throats.” With a nod, Kiara had a triumphant smile as she plopped herself down beside Pope and JJ.

Feeling Kelce’s eyes still on her, she shrugged, “what?” but Kelce didn’t respond. He just shook his head at her, a small smirk on his lips.

Kaili was about to head inside to see how Sarah and John B were doing when the man that JJ and Pope were talking to earlier today came towards them with a map. The middle aged man looked like he was about either about to flee or pass out at any moment by the way that he was fidgeting and looking over his shoulder. Kaili definitely didn’t like that. A man who looked like he was running from another kind of demon. He wiped the back of his palm across his sweating forehead even if it was one of the colder nights that South Carolina has seen this past week. A part of her wanted to reach out to the man and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about looking back as long as she was in front of him but another part, told her that he might’ve just brought trouble to her door step and she didn’t want to comfort that.

Pope had motioned Kiara to get up and follow him inside of the bus, a small act that Kaili caught.

“I found the map,” the older man said, JJ immediately moving next to him as he laid the map close to the fire, the only thing illuminating any of them on this dark night. She’d found herself moving closer to what seemed like a torn up and taped map of the United States, red and blue markers decorated the paper with lines and x’s. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at though.

“The guys, the military, man. They’re just picking people up left and right and they’re separating the men and the woman and I can’t have that. I can’t lose my girls,” he was still pointing to the x’s on the map. Kaili cleared her throat as if for either of them to explain to her what was happening since both the man and JJ seemed lost in their own world.

“Right,” JJ said as he looked to his friends and Kaili, “This is Mark,” JJ said without glancing back at the man, “he’d came up from Florida and he said that it’s a shit show down there. Bodies scattered on the street and then turning into fucking zombies. His stories are...something else, man. Apparently, Georgia is just taken over by the military now. They are snatching people up and no one really knows where they’re taking them, so I think it’s time we seriously think about leaving the east coast. He’s taking his family to Canada and they’re passing through New York to do it, he said it’s the safest way and I kind of believe him?” JJ ended his statement sounding like it’s a question.

The blonde boy sat on his knees as he traced the map, showing the group which route would be the easiest but there was an uneasy feeling bubbling up inside Kaili. It’s impossible that Wei and her were wrong but then again, does this mean that they would’ve been doomed either way? Before panic could take over her a hand came to her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Kelce asked her, eyes scanning her face as if he was waiting for any signs that she’d vomit her dinner on him but all she gave him was a shake of her head before she turned back to JJ who was still rambling about the roads.

“No,” she said as she stood, realizing that she’s declining both the men who were talking. All eyes turned to her and she took in their faces. Except for the man with the map, the boys surrounding her had such sweet baby faces and she will not watch another person die in front of her.

“I’m from Maryland, everyone there was basically told to go south because everything started in New York and though that might not be true, I can honestly tell you that Maryland is gone. There was nothing left there when W—, when my cousin and I ran.”

“You’re wrong,” Mark confidently said as he stood up himself, eyeing Kaili like she was the new threat, “nothing could be worse than the south and passing through New York is the easiest way to get to Montreal.” The conviction in his voice almost made her believe it, if she hadn’t seen the horrors of the states above them herself.

“Okay, so even if New York isn’t the epicenter, let’s say the news had lied, you’d have to actually get there alive and there’s a chance Canada will not let you in. Then what? You turn around and go back the way you came? The plan leaves you cornered and vulnerable. You need to think about getting gas in those states. States I’ve just told you aren’t safe.”

“You think I don’t know about getting gas? We have to stop for that anywhere that we go anyway,” the man insisted.

“Okay,” Topper tried to interject but Mark took a step forward. Kaili didn’t miss that he wasn’t the only one to do that. JJ is now standing, staring at the map in his hands. Topper is glaring at the space between Mark and Kaili.

“Listen,” Kaili took a breath before she continued, “I don’t have a say in what you guys do. I was only brought in to help your friend, I’m not dumb enough to think otherwise but I do know that we will go our separate ways if you want to go up north.” She declared. She took a pause to shake her head as the images of her parents clouded her mind, “I can’t go back there.” She softly whispered.

“Then it’s settled,” Mark spoke, his speech hurried as he took the map back from JJ, “leave the girl before she gets you killed and take my advice. Go north,” he gave JJ a quick nod and made his way back to his family.

The silence that he left behind would’ve made anyone else uncomfortable but not when she was lost in her head. She just wanted the flashbacks to stop.

Topper gave a quick nod to the guys and walked back into the bus, along with Rafe, probably going to talk about the best way to leave her behind, she assumed.

“How many?” JJ asked suddenly as he sat in front of her and Kelce was still beside her. Feeling a bit uncomfortable that she’s the last one standing, she reclaimed her seat.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How many people have you lost, or watched die, however you want to put it?” And the question squeezed her chest tightly. She didn’t want to think about it but it was all she could think about as she dug her nails into the part of her thighs that were exposed.

“Five, that I know,” she said with an exhale, “my parents first, they were...eating my aunt and uncle in law. Then I lost my little cousin three days ago. She was barely sixteen,” tears swarming her eyes as she squeezed her leg tighter.

JJ nodded in understanding, “I lost my dad,” he said as if the memory doesn’t affect him but the strain in his voice gave him away, “he was an asshole but it still hurt. He’s actually the first zombie I saw. I thought he was high as fuck again when he came at me but then he didn’t stop. Even when I broke his arms. So, yeah, I killed my dad. How’s that for fucked up?” He released a humorless laugh.

“I lost my parents,” Kelce said next, his voice low and JJ winced as if he had already heard this story. Of course, they all must’ve. “My dad had killed my mom when he saw what she had become. She was trying to attack my little sister so it really only made sense but when he came to, he just looked at me and shot himself. He couldn’t take it, I guess. Not that he cared that he’d be leaving two kids behind.” Kelce said in disgust, “and then I told my sister to stay close, stay next to me so I can protect her. I told her that it was the only way to make sure that she was safe but when we got to the ferry for the mainland she wouldn’t stop crying and crying about her friends. I mean, I get it. She’s thirteen and she cares about them, too, but before I even realized it, she was gone.”

“What happened to her?” Kaili hadn’t realized that she was holding her breath.

“I don’t know. She sent me a text before our phones went off. She said her friend is sailing across the Atlantic, that their parents have done it before and how she wished that I’d listen and I’d gone with her, but how could I have been listening when I was thinking about our safety? You know? She said that she had called my name and that I’d just kept walking into the ferry, following my friends.”

“Is that why you don’t talk much? So you can listen?” Kaili asked.

Kelce shrugged, “when I’m not thinking about her, sure.” He turned away from them both. JJ offered her a small smile.

“See, you don’t need to suffer in silence here. We’ve all gone through something,” and though it was true, it still didn’t make her feel better. “So when you need your space or you need to work some shit out, let us know. We’ll listen or leave you alone, whichever you prefer.”

And just when Kaili was about to thank them for their kindness, Rafe showed up at the door, “so are we done having a heart to heart or are you guys going to sleep out here tonight?” He said. But there was something in Rafe’s voice that betrayed the cold exterior he was trying to portray and she wondered if their little heart to heart was heard by everyone else in the bus.

“I should probably check on John B anyway,” Kaili excused herself, ignoring the grumbles behind her as the rest of the boys told Rafe that was uncalled for.

The energy inside the bus has shifted, more than likely Topper and Rafe had filled the girls in on their change of direction and Kaili’s inflexible heart. She was aware enough that it was probably her trauma speaking when she said she wasn’t going back. She knew that maybe the information could be right and maybe she could be wrong but that doesn’t help the fact that her body was rejecting the idea of even going. Yes, she’d be alone if they left without her but she wasn’t going to ask them to change their minds either if it was already made.

She made her way into the bigger bedroom at the end of the bus where John B has taken up space right now after washing her hands and her arms, making sure that he was going to be as protected as possible. The boy looked to be sleeping the night away but at least his color was coming back and the sweating had stopped.

Hearing someone come into his space, almost as if instinct had taken over, his body stirred and he opened his eyes, tension leaving his body when he found her standing by him.

“You’re looking better,” Kaili offered a small smile as she sat beside him on the bed, asking if she could look at the sutures she performed on him.

“All thanks to you,” the boy said as he lifted up his shirt, wincing as he moved, “I was sure that I was a goner,” he continued with a faraway look in his eyes.

She maneuvered him in a way that made it easier for her to look at the stitches without having to undo the entire bandage on him.

“What even happened?” She inquired and though she knew not to pry, it was curious to her that in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, someone would die from blood loss from a wound instead. “I know your friends said it’s a knife wound but it looked like you were stabbed with something a bit more...bigger? Thicker than a knife.”

“Are you telling me you don’t believe I fought off a whole bunch of pirates for their boat so we could cross over to South Carolina safely?” John b joked as he offered a flash of a smile before Kaili shook her head with a small laugh, making sure that his wound was looking better and not infected.

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t either,” he began, “I was trying to run away from some zombies with my friends. They’d all jumped over a fence and I guess I over shot it or under shot it, I don’t know. I was jumping and then the next thing I know, a part of the sharp end of the metal fence was in me, I didn’t even really feel it at first, my only thought was like I hope that Sarah hasn’t left without me—because we were going to her house to get her, you know? I don’t even think that I screamed.”

“He most definitely screamed,” Pope said at the entrance to the bedroom, “I know you’re not supposed to remove the thing lodged inside a person but it was either leave him there or pull him out and we’re not really in the habit of leaving people behind.”

“Lucky you,” Kaili sweetly said to John b as she looked to Pope, “to have friends willing to risk their lives for you.” And this she said to the both of them. Afterwards, she’d gotten up from the bed, John b had nodded returned to closing his eyes and Pope excused himself to the kitchen.

Kaili had washed her hands again, thoroughly before returning to JJ’s side as he put on another movie for the night.

“So, I think our best bet is just going west to California,” Rafe announced to everyone in the bus, sparing a glance at Kaili.

“What?” Kaili asked, confused.

“You’re not going north and we’re not going south. We sure as hell can't swim the ocean so we’re going west,” Rafe explained and left no room for discussion as he turned back around to Topper and right then, her heart might’ve mended itself a little bit tonight.

Tags: @stfukie @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @rafecameron @outerbankslut @thegreatestofheck @starlightstarkey @stargazingstarkey @anxietyandtacos @spideymyluv @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @pogue-writings @bedazzledbanks @pankowrudeth @bricksatanakinswindow @cutiecolbsss @downbytheouterbanks @butgilinsky @jiaraendgame @deathcompass

#kelce obx #obx kelce #kelce x oc #oc x kelce #kelce outerbanks #outer banks au #my writings #LIAB

58 notes · View notes

psycheswritings · 5 years

Text

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Five

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smoking. Word Count: 4071

Author's Note: Hello, again and welcome to the new update. Things start to develop right now and I want to know what you all are thinking of it. Thanks to everybody that commented and liked the fic. Please, let me know what you think. It makes me really happy and helps improve the story. What do you think of the characters, are they too OOC? Something is bothering you? There’s too much scenes of the show in there? What are your thoughts? Share with me. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated. Tags are at the bottom, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Summary: Alfie and Daphne have a little conversation that opens their eyes for things that they might have been ignoring. The Shelby Brothers Limited start to put into action their expansion and Daphne has a very interesting encounter.

Masterlist

Five

They were both sitting at the table, breakfast served, newspaper on their hands and silence filling the place. Cyril was sprawled out on Daphne’s feet enjoying the little ray of sunshine entering through the window. Things have been surprisingly good in the Solomons’s household.

“The Blinders took the Eden Club.” She said nonchalantly, taking a sip of her coffee, neither of them taking their eyes out of the paper.

“I heard.”

“Are we ignoring it them?”

“For now.” She sighed, resigned, knowing that he wasn’t going to talk anyway.

“Will you need me next Wednesday?” Alfie lowered his newspaper at that, observing the woman who still had the object hiding her face.

“Not that I remember. Do you have something planned?” She folded the paper, putting it aside on the table and looking up at him.

“Polly Gray invited me for tea.” He blinked once, twice, before folding his own journal and throwing it beside hers.

“Isn’t this Thomas’s aunt?” There was a hint of surprise on his voice. He remembered the woman from Daphne’s party, she seemed skeptical of the young woman the whole night, watching her from aside, trying to make Daphne slip on her words. It did not made any sense that the gypsy woman would invite her for tea without ulterior motives. Unless… Unless that she had seen what Alfie had been trying to ignore since the first time that Thomas Shelby had put his feet at the bakery – or more precisely, since the first time he had laid his eyes on Daphne.

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you considering her offer?”

“Maybe.” He scratched his beard, not taking his eyes of hers. Daphne could almost hear the gears working inside his head.

“Well, it could be good to build up trust, you know. She seemed a little guarded around you.”

“She was analyzing me. Both of us, for that matter.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah, but she seems to have picked more interest in you than in old, creepy me.” Daphne rolled her eyes at that – he wasn’t that much older than she was.

“We are women, Alfie, sometimes we see things that you men don’t.”

“Like the fact that Will still loves you?” His statement surprised her. Alfie was like a brother to her, they talked about almost everything and he was one of the first that had the courage to point out that William had fallen for her in France. “You can’t tell me that I was the only one who noticed the staring contest between him and our darling Thomas.” She stayed silent, looking at his blue eyes to try to discover where he wanted to go with this conversation. “I’m not stupid, Daph, I’ve been fighting your suitors since we came back from France, I know when a man looks at you as something more than the powerful businesswoman that works with the mad Jew. And that is the way Thomas Shelby looks at you.” He propped his elbows onto the table, hands placed together underneath his chin. “And don’t go telling me that he is curious about us because we’re past this point now.” She smiled, a genuine one, and Alfie had to fight the urge to not do the same.

“He is curious.”

“Well, you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.” She saw the smirk on his face and the joke in his tone.

“Are you planning to?”

“It depends on where his curiosity is leading him.” Daphne really wanted to believe in him but there was something in the way he talked that told her that he was willing to do what it takes to keep Thomas Shelby from getting too close to her. “You go on and met Polly, aye. See if you can discover something useful to us. Either way, it may be good being on her good sides.” It would come in handy having her out of the bakery if he was going to do what he was planning. Alfie knew her for a fair amount of time to recognize the signs – she was falling for the Brummie gangster.

Since they met, Alfie never saw Daphne show any interest in a romantic relationship. She flirted just alright, could lead men on to think that they had a chance of winning her when the truth was far from that. He even suspected that she and William had some kind of fling at some point. But he also knew that the doctor wanted more – he had talked to Alfie about it in a drunken haze one night. He said that he would rather be in her life as only a friend than not being in her life at all. There is no need to say that they never talked about that ever again.

Yet, he had discussed the topic with Daphne a few times – he was protective of her but it didn’t meant that he didn’t wanted her to be happy, which he truly did. He was a bad man, by society standards, that is, he always had been. Taking what he wanted, manipulating people, lying, deceiving, beating, killing… his whole life. She was completely the opposite – gentle, caring and loving, with a fierce personality and courage that would put any man he knew to shame. Daphne deserved the world – but she did not believed in that. Not after the war. Not after losing everything, after being unmade and having to pick up the pieces. So she ignored everything, everything that could make her feel alive – including the hint of attraction that she felt for William and with that any chance that he had of convincing her that they could be good together.

Considering all of that knowledge, Alfie found a little amusing, at first, the sudden interest that Thomas Shelby had shown towards her the first time they met. It was subtle, the Brummie was not a man that used to show his emotions freely, but the Jew caught his gaze and recognized the curiosity there. And she was right, indeed, because in the beginning all that Tommy wanted was to discover what her connection with Alfie was. But that changed quickly when he learned that she had no romantic involvement with the Jew and he was more than surprised when he saw the hint of interest in Daphne’s eyes the day Tommy brought his man to the bakery.

Alfie didn’t liked the path things were starting to run up to, so he decided to play his cards and deal with things his own way. Thomas Shelby was no good men and that wasn't the first time he crossed somebody to his own benefit so he shouldn't feel guilty for behaving like the gangster he was. Then why he felt like he was doing something wrong?

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

Thomas was leaning onto the dresser, reading the newspaper and smoking while he waited for his brothers and aunt.

“Are you alright?” Polly asked when she entered through the front door, taking off her gloves and going to sit by the fire to try and warm up. Tommy clears his throat, throwing the paper in one of the chairs and taking the bottle on the table.

“What is it? Just us?” Arthur asks, curious, standing beside his younger brother.

“Just us.” Thomas uncorks the bottle and starts pouring the liquid into the three glasses displayed on the table.

“Are we celebrating?”

“Just taste this.” Tommy hands the glasses to each of them. Arthur and John sit on the lovesit, the eldest Shelby takes the drink in one gulp.

“What do you think, Arthur?”

“Yeah, it's good. Good stuff, really nice. Too good for the Garrison. I suppose we could shift it to the toffs at the Eden Club. Why? What is it?” He asks, curious like the other two. Tommy starts explaining while Arthur takes the bottle and pours himself another glass.

“That is part of an export drive. We now have a secure warehouse in Camden Town and secure passage to the Poplar Docks. So, on Monday morning, we'll be sending out our first export crate. A crate of Riley car spares bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia.”

“Where there's prohibition.” Polly finishes for him. He gives her a half smirk, pointing at her with the hand that holds the cigarette.

“Where there is prohibition. All over Canada and America, people are making their own booze in bathtubs. But rich people in New York, in Toronto and Boston are still paying a lot of money for the real stuff. So, on Monday, the first Shelby company crate will contain a thousand Riley carburetors. But hidden in the packing will be five hundred bottles of the finest quality single malt Scotch whisky.” Polly is examining the bottle that Arthur had put back on the table. “And we, Shelby's, have a license granted by the Minister Of The Empire himself, which means our crates won't be searched.” Thomas sees the hesitation in his aunts demeanor. “And, Polly, all of the whisky will be packed at the docks, so Michael can do the books without being involved. Like I've been telling you all for a year now motor cars are the future.”

“So, how is your life then, Tom?”

“On the up, Johnny, on the up.” Tommy is supervising the shipment of the crate while smoking a cigarette.

“But, Tom, really, come on, how is it?” The gypsy steps closer to Tommy, hands on his waist. “You know I hate to see you not even married yet. I have a fine looking cousin, she'll make your life hell. You deserve her!” He laughs and the gangster smiles a little. “We haven't had a good old wedding in a long time.” The gangster can do little to stop the image that his brain conjures in his head - Daphne, standing at the altar in a white dress veil upon her face. Damn, woman for making him want things he can’t have. He is quick to go back into business.

“Have you had a look inside these boxes, then, Johnny?” The man is carrying boxes to the boat and tries to run away from the gangster’s question.

“What do I want to look at car parts, Tommy, when I haven't even got a car?”

“Faith in family is a fine thing, eh? And I wouldn't even be counting. If twenty five becomes twenty four, then twenty four it is.” Tommy walks closer to him, stopping by his side.

“Oh, you know I'm no good with numbers, Tom.” The gangster puts his arm around Johnny’s shoulders.

“And if 24 ever became 23 then that'd be tax. We don't pay tax.” The man looks at him clearly frightened.

“No, Tom.”

“Good man.” Tommy pats his back and makes his way to the stairs of the warehouse,, where he mets Billy Kimber.

“I put an iron door on, and we've put iron bars on the windows and across the skylights.”

“Good.” The gangster passes by Billy and the man follows him up.

“So what will you be keeping in here, Tommy?”

“Temptation, Billy. Temptation.”

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

“Morning, Arthur. I was just passing.” The eldest Shelby is fucking a woman on one of the couches of the club, pointing a gun at the alleged threat entering the room. Tommy just walks by, going directly to the back room take a look at the books.

“I think I'm in fucking love.” Arthur takes a few minutes to go met his brother, appearance disheveled and still breathing a little heavy. “Drink!” He becomes one of the waiters and sits down in front of Tommy, buttoning his shirt. “She don't know where to look.” The waiter comes with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Whisky, Tommy?”

“No, I've got a long drive ahead.” The younger Shelby is deeply concentrated in the number in front of him,

“You off home?” Arthur asks, serving himself a glass of the alcohol.

“Mm-hmmm. Eventually.”

“To Birmingham.” The eldest Shelby raises his glass before taking the shot.

“What's this?” Tommy asks turning a page and tapping his fingers on it. “Olives.”

“Yes, it's miscellaneous. It's, erm, olives. Sticks, you know, with little bits of fucking onion and things. That's what that is.” Arthur gestures while speaking and Tommy just stares at him.

“We've taken six hundred pounds on olives.” The older man seems a little unset

“Yeah, with little bits of onion.” Tommy takes a drag of his cigarette before speaking, very calmly.

“I told you, Arthur, the dealers sell the cocaine, we take a cut. We don't sell direct. The Home Secretary's cracking down and I don't want this to fuck up everything else, you understand?

“I understand.”

“How much of that six hundred came out of your pocket?”

“It's under control.” Arthur says after a while, pouring himself another drink.

“I put you down here because people are scared of you, Arthur. But if you don't straighten up, it'll be John's turn in London.”

“No need. I can handle it.”

“It's under control?”

“It's under control.” Tommy closes the book in front of him, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs while Arthur downs the whisky.

“Fucking tidy profit, though, eh?” They both smile, while Arthur looks around.

“It's happening, Tom.”

“Good. Good.” Thomas gets up, taps the book on the table and leaves but not before shouting to his brother. “Straighten up, soldier.” Arthur kneads his fingers through his hair, finishing to button up his shirt and taking the money from the table.

“Yes, sir, Sergeant Major.”

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

After knocking on his sister’s door and waiting for her to open the door for him, Tommy it’s taken a little by surprise when he is received by a young man.

“I'm looking for Ada.”

“Who are you?” Thomas just pushes him away and marches into the house, the man follows him.

“Ada.” He greets her sister.

“I asked you a question.” Tommy turns to face the man that had just passed through the living room door.

“It's all right, James. This is my brother.” The woman doesn’t bother herself by the presence of her older brother.

“Who's he?” Tommy asks and Ada answers nonchalantly.

“He rents a room.”

“You need to rent out rooms?”

“Actually, she doesn't charge rent.” James answers instead.

“He's a writer, which means he's skint.”

“You get up late these days, Ada.”

“Mm. I go to bed late.”

“Yeah? Where's Karl?”

“What do you want, Tommy?” Ada lowers the paper in her hands and notices that Tommy analysing James and is quick to say. “Oh, God, before you start sizing him up for a wedding suit, he's not interested in me. Or in girls of any kind.”

“Ada!” The writer reprehends her.

“What? Tommy won't judge you.” She goes on reading the paper again. “He sure as hell won't go to the police.”

“Look, I'll go and get dressed.” James makes a move to leave but Tommy stops him.

“James I'm Thomas.” The gangster extends a hand to him. “Pleased to meet you.” The young man seems a little unsure, but reaches for Thomas’s hands, shaking it. “Can I have a minute with my sister, please?”

“Yes, of course.” He leaves the room and Thomas takes a seat on the couch, looking around and then at his sister.

“So, does your lodger know your name?”

“Yeah. Thorne. You think I'd tell anybody anything else? Your Brummie boys are all over the papers. Just one last push, eh? Then you'll go legit? Just one more obstacle to get round then it'll all be straight?”

“Actually, yes.” Tommy seems unamused by her commentaries. Ada scoffs before talking again.

“Personally, I find it quite amusing. Men like you are becoming very fashionable down here. No society party in London is complete without a gangster for the girls to go giddy for. Anyway, what is it that you want?”

“I don't have any children, Ada.” That takes her attention. “So I have set up a trust fund. The beneficiaries will be John's kids and Karl. In order for Karl to benefit, I need your signature.” He takes a paper from the inner pocket of his coat, unfolding it and putting it onto the table for her to take. “I've set up an account. Money will be transferred in the event of my death. It'll set them up for a new life.” Ada folds the newspaper, putting it aside to take the thing he has left on the table.

“Are you sick?”

“I'm just doing what any ordinary man would, putting my affairs in order.” She paused for a minute or two, reading the terms of the trust fund.

“And putting your affairs in order includes admitting that you feel something for Daphne?” Since he had came to her asking about the woman, Ada had been dying to ask him about it. After her conversation with Daphne and seeing the way they both looked at each other at her birthday party, the Shelby sister was more than convinced that there was something in the water. Tommy rolls his eyes, scoffing at his sister but she doesn’t give him a chance to talk. “Wherever it is that you are doing that made you think about putting up a trust fund for your nephews certainly is trouble enough to make you stop moping around because of that damn barmaid and move on to someone that’s worth.”

“And Daphne is.” Ada sighs, irritated by his cold façade.

“You know what, Tommy. Go on and keep on pretending that you don’t care about anybody anymore. Keep on lying to yourself about what you really feel. Maybe that way she can have a chance with somebody that bloody deserves her!”

“I don’t know if that man really exists.”

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

Daphne was sitting at the cafe, book in hand and a cup of tea in front of her, appreciating the piece and quiet when she noticed the man coming towards her. She knew that it was just a matter of time, she had already noticed that Finn had been following her all day, it was obvious that it had something to do with his older brother’s doings.

“Mr. Shelby.” She lifted her gaze to met his and saw the little hint of surprise in there.

“Miss Scott, a surprise to find you here.”

“Really. You mean that the fact that Finn is out there in the cold taking guard to see what time I arrived is totally coincidence.” He gave her a sideway smirk at her cleverness. He wasn’t expecting to get caught so easily. “Call the poor boy inside.” Thomas beckoned the younger blinder inside and in a minute he was by her side, looking at his brother a little concerned that he would get reprimanded.

“Hello, Daph.”

“Hello, Finn. Why don’t you go to the counter and ask Mary for a sweet? On my behalf.” He looked at his older brother for permission before thanking her and walking towards the counter. Tommy pointed at the chair in front of her.

“May I?” She closed her book, putting it aside.

“Be my guest.” The waiter came to the table immediately and she asked for more tea and something for them to eat before Tommy had a chance to talk. When the waiter left he was looking at her, smirking. “So what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit outside of the bakery?”

“I was just passing by, thought that would be good to see you.” The warmth that spread through her was something that Daphne wasn’t expecting.They weren’t friends, they were just business partners and all that considered he was still a stranger for her - what little information she had of him, besides one or two things confided to her by Ada, was mostly business related. However, for some reason that she couldn’t quite understand, the simple fact of this man sitting in front of her and saying that he thought that would be good to see her in such a casual manner, like it was something that he had been thinking about for a while, made her heart flutter.

“Everything alright with the first crate of Shelby Brothers Limited?” He smiled as he noticed the faint blush on her cheeks and the fact that she was redirecting the topic. It seemed that Daphne Scott would never cease to find a way to amaze him in some way.

“All going according to the plan.” There was silence again as the waiter came back with the food but they never averting their gaze from each other more than what was strictly necessary. Daphne thanked the waiter and took a sip of her tea. “How’s the preparations for your friend's wedding?” If she thought that his inquiry was strange she didn’t showed it.

“Rushed but going well despite William’s complaints.” At the mention of the doctor’s name Daphne saw Thomas’s flinch but he quickly regained his composure.

“You seem pretty close.” He took a sip of his own tea trying to put the image of the doctor hugging Daphne to the back of his mind.

“Yeah, we know each other for a long time. William is a good friend.” He made a little pout murmuring a “hmm” and then there was silence. Being under his stare was never unsettling, not like it was with other people sometimes, she felt surprisingly comfortable with the silence in a similar way than what she felt around Alfie. But the Jew was right - like Ada and Harriet - there was something in the way he looked at her, something that wasn’t just curiosity. He looked at her like he knew something about her that she hadn’t figured it out yet and she had to admit that she felt compelled to discover what it was.

“Friend.” The word was said as if it contained venon. “I see.”

“He’s a good man.” She said casually and he scoffed at that.

“Yeah, I bet he is every mother’s dream for her daughter. Any particular reason to way he’s not married yet?” She arched and eyebrow at him.

“Any reason to why you are not married yet?”

“I am not a good man.” Thomas leaned back into the chair, analysing her piercing gaze.

“I doubt that this is a hindrance, lost count of how many women I saw daydreaming about marrying Alfie.” She smiled, biting a scone and taking her time chewing it. “There are people that are drawn to danger.”

“Are you?” There was the glint in his eyes again and Daphne paused for a moment before answering him.

“If I feared danger I wouldn’t live with a gangster.” It was a bold affirmation and he noticed that she did nothing to conceal it. He looked around, people seemed too absorbed into their own conversation to eavesdrop, even then, he was surprised by her bluntness. Thomas let the statement sink in with a prickle of satisfaction, a smirk creeping into his features. “You didn’t touched your food.”

“Not hungry.”

“Would you disregard me like that?” He knew what she was doing, trying to guilt trip him, so he decided to entertain her and began to eat. She seemed rather satisfied with herself as she took another bite of her scone, smiling.

“Are you going?” Tommy gave her a confused look, like he had been distracted. “To the wedding.”

“Do you want me too go?” The question caught Daphne by surprise even when she knew that the leader of the Peaky Blinders’s boldness. Yet, there was no surprise to her in figuring out that yes, she did want him there.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Shelby, but you don’t seem like a man that cares about anyone else’s opinion.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning in closer.

“And if I care about yours?” She felt lost in his gaze, lost into this strange feeling that she had around him. But the moment had come and go just as fast when Josiah approached her, informing that she was needed at the bakery. So she had to excuse herself, getting up to leave. Daphne extended her hand for him to shake, like usual, and was taken by surprise when his rough fingers turned hers around, guiding them to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, a barely there touch, but his azure eyes stared at her conceding everything that he did not say. “See you then.”

Tags: @stressedandbandobessed7771

43 notes · View notes

croatian-nt · 4 years

Text

Mafia au-Part five

Summary: When an unassuming artist saves a man’s life at the shooting at the gallery, he ends up in the midde of the war between two mafias and as he gets dragged deeper into the whole thing, he soon learns the line between the sides and right and wrong blur more than he expected.

Pairings: Livi/Bruno

Word Count: 3417

Warnings: mentions of blood, fighting, threats of violence and torture, mentions of broken bones

Notes: I apologize for the longer wait for this part, last week has been a bit hectic and this chapter was supposed to be from Suba’s pov but I legit scrapped it bc this made more sense so. Yeah. Here it is at last. As always, thank you @lovren-la-vida-luka for editing this, you are a life saver. To everyone else, enjoy :)

Livi

Livi was pacing. He was well aware that Bruno was getting more agitated by the second, but he couldn't help it. It helped him think. And there was one question that kept bothering him.

How did Josip know there would be a shooting at the gallery?

Josip was only a byki, and he wouldn't know if someone from high up ordered an assassin. Unless, it wasn't an assassin, and someone from the mafia decided to do the job themselves, which either meant it was personal, or they didn't want anyone to find out. Or both.

Livi shivered, despite the fact that he wasn't cold. He could only imagine this kill being personal for one person. Suba.

He closed his eyes and pulled on his hair, hoping the pain will make him concentrate.

Why would he want to kill Luka, after all this time? What could have Luka possible have done that- suddenly that train of thought ground to a halt and Livi froze with it, stopping his pacing.

He started training Livi. Throwing knives, catching them. Making Livi show him how Lovre and Suba taught him to fight. He was training him to fight them.

And Livi talked about it to Josip.

Livi leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling sick. Luka was using him, preparing him to take out people he used to call his family. And Josip... Josip might have reported everything he said to Suba.

Livi was certain his legs were going to give out under him.

"Livi? Livi!" Bruno's voice and his hand on his shoulder got him out of his frozen state.

He turned around, but just enough to hug Bruno and bury his face in his neck. He willed himself to concentrate on Bruno's heartbeat, to let it calm him down, but he couldn't stop his thoughts from spiraling.

If Suba planned this,and Josip knew he wanted Luka dead, why send him a message? Was it regret or...

They didn't know about Bruno. They didn't know Bruno would convince him to call Šime. So what did they know?

Livi closed his eyes, trying to see himself through his best friend's eyes. What would he expect him to do? What would Livi do, two years ago?

He would go alone. And arrive just in time to be killed as well.

This time his legs did give out and he clung desperately to Bruno not to fall. Bruno caught him, carefully carrying him to the couch, and then lifted his chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Please tell me what's going on, Dominik. You are scaring me."

Damn. Livi knew it was serious when his boyfriend used his full name, but as much as he wanted to share everything with him, he didn't even know where to begin. And should he even tell him? What if Bruno gets killed as well, just because Livi got him involved in all this?

"Don't do that."

Livi snapped his gaze back to Bruno, raising his eyebrows. He still wasn't sure if he could speak without his voice betraying him.

"Don't shut me out and deal with whatever is going through your head alone. And before you say it, I don't care if you think it's better for me that way - that's not your decision to make. I am your boyfriend, please let me in. Let me help you."

And Livi told him everything. He didn't plan to, but when he started talking, it all just poured out of him, and as he talked he realized how many secrets he was actually carrying.

He told Bruno why he really defected, how the only other people who knew that were Luka, Dalić and Josip. How he and Josip stayed in touch. How he suspected Luka had ulterior motives for training him. And how he thinks Suba wanted Luka dead because of that.

The silence rang loudly in Livi's ears after he finished his speech. He was too scared to look at Bruno, but the longer the silence stretched, the more his anxiety grew.

"So what do you plan to do?"

Of all the questions Livi was anticipating, that was not one of them.

"What? After all that, that's the only thing you are going to ask?"

Bruno shrugged, and squeezed Livi's fidgeting hands between his.

"That's the only one that matters right now. I mean, I'm not going to lie, this is a lot to take in. But I trust you, especially after you trusted me with all of this. But, from what you told me, we can't really trust anyone else, and we need to act quickly. So... what do you plan to do?"

Livi chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. He grabbed his phone - the one he used to talk to Josip. But he didn't dial the number or start typing a message. He just stared at it for what seemed like an eternity.

Bruno stood up, letting go off Livi's hands. Livi already felt cold.

"If you'd prefer me to leave so you can talk to him..."

"No!" Livi shouted, startling both of them.

Bruno stared at him, willing him to tell him what he decided. What he wanted. Whose side he was choosing. Livi was so tired of choosing.

"I am just..." Livi sighed, ruffling his hair. “I am so tired of choosing."

Unable to bear the sight of the screen any longer, Livi threw the phone. It fell to the floor with a loud thud, followed by a silence that stretched for a long, long moment as he stared at it.

And then Bruno walked over and gently took Livi's hand in his, rubbing soothing circles in his palm.

"Then don't. Just choose this… choose us. There is no right or wrong here anymore. We both know better than that."

Livi turned his head to the side, trying to make sure that he got what Bruno was saying.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... we could disappear. We need two days max, just to pack everything and leave. We’ll figure out where we’re going on the way, and I can easily get us everything we need."

Livi met Bruno's fierce, unwavering gaze. Livi saw Bruno as his anchor, but he sometimes forgot he could be a storm as well.

"But your sister..."

Bruno smiled, shaking his head.

"It would be better for her to get away from this city as well. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where there are no sides to pick."

Livi could see that life, so perfectly clearly in front of his eyes. A life that he wanted so badly growing up. And Bruno was offering him all that on a silver plate. And yet...

Livi squeezed Bruno's hand tighter.

"I want that, I swear I do. This isn't a no. Just a not yet."

Bruno nodded, but Livi could see his face fall slightly. To anyone else, the change in expression would have been undetectable, but Livi knew each feature of this man’s face like the back of his hand, and the almost imperceptible droop of his eyes and mouth sent a pang of guilt through Livi’s chest. He closed the distance between them and kissed Bruno slowly, trying to put all of his love and gratitude into that kiss. Once they parted, Livi pressed their foreheads together, looking intensely into Bruno’s eyes.

"I just need to know first. I need to know if my best friend lied to me all this time. And I need to know if my dad-" Livi realized his mistake, and quickly tried to swallow a lump in his throat, "if Suba ordered a hit on me. I need to know, before I move on. Or I will carry my past wherever we go."

It was Bruno who kissed him this time. Livi pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He wanted to have this moment frozen in time and keep it forever. He wanted to forget about right and wrong, about choices, about a murky past and uncertain future and everything inbetween. Just for one perfect moment.

Neither of them said anything for a moment after they parted. Bruno gently stroked Livi's cheek with his thumb and then pressed one more quick kiss against his lips.

“So for the third damn time,” Bruno said with a hint of a smile, “what's the plan?"

Livi grabbed the phone from the floor and took a deep breath.

"First, we find out what's really going on. One way or another."

***

Livi tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong. If Josip suspected anything and didn’t arrive alone, the whole plan would fall to pieces.

He looked around the apartment while he waited. It looked almost the same as it did when he left it two years ago, just emptier and with dust heavily settled over everything. The comfortable brown couch stood in the same place, and while some of the furniture was turned over, probably in search for clues after his disappearance, it still looked too similar to how he left it for his liking.

The front doors opened with a soft click and Livi froze in his hiding spot, tensely waiting. Josip entered the room and Livi held his breath for a heartbeat, and then another. Nobody came in after him. Livi exhaled.

And then he grabbed his gun, and ignoring the guilt churning in his stomach, pointed it at Josip, stepping into the room.

"Don't move," Livi said, making Josip spin around to face him.

He eyed the gun in Livi's steady hands, and Livi could practically feel him calculating the distance between them and how fast he could disarm him. Too bad Livi counted on that.

"Don't bother. We both know I can shoot much faster than you can move, and I don't think you want a bullet wound."

Josip pressed his lips into a thin line, slowly raising his arms in surrender.

"What the fuck are you doing, Dominik?"

Livi almost laughed at the use of his name - no one except Bruno really used it, unless they were mad at him. He supposed pointing a gun at someone was a good enough reason to be mad, though.

"Getting some answers. How did you know about the shooting at the gallery?"

Josip paled, and his hands twitched, as if he was resisting the urge to fidget. Or reach for Livi's gun.

"Didn't we have an agreement about not asking each other about what we do and what we know? So no one can gain the upper hand?"

Livi cocked his gun, and the sound rang in the silence.

"Tell me how you knew about the shooting or the next question I will ask will be if you'd prefer me to shoot you in the leg or in the arm first."

Josip clenched his jaw, and focused on Livi, analyzing him for a moment. Probably calculating how likely he was to pull the trigger.

Livi felt numb. The only thing he concentrated on was the weight of the gun in his hands, and his steady breathing. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a trick Suba taught him when was younger. Focus on things you can control, and let them ground you.

"I was supposed to be a backup, if anything happened. The plan changed last minute," Josip bit his lip, "but something was off about the whole thing.

"Off how?"

"Off like... it was very rushed. Sloppy almost. Kalinić wanted it to be over with quickly-"

Josip's speech got interrupted by the doors slamming open and Livi, in his startled state, took about two seconds to turn and aim his gun at the intruder and shoot. Too slow.

He missed.

The man moved so fast Livi didn't recognize him at first. Not until they both stood opposite each other, each looking down the barrel of the other’s gun.

His long blond hair pulled into a ponytail and the way he held a gun were unmistakable. Domagoj Vida. Shit.

"Livi. Put the gun down. You really don't want to make this worse for yourself."

Livi tightened his hold on his weapon.

"Make what worse for myself? What exactly did I do to make you decide to point your gun at me?"

If he was being honest, he was stalling. It wasn't hard to guess why Domo was here. Livi acted too suspicious lately, leaving too many clues for someone to pick up.

Knowing information he shouldn't, then showing up with backup to save Luka from the hospital... he was getting sloppy and someone - either Luka or Dalić, he supposed - caught on. Stupid.

"Luka told me to keep an eye on you. That you might be getting information from people," Domo titled his head towards Josip, "that you shouldn't even talk to anymore. And it seems he was right."

Livi clenched his teeth, studying the man in front of him. He’d seen Domo fight a few times, so he knew what he was dealing with. He was brutal and reckless, but his main goal was to cause damage. Which meant his blows wouldn't be as precise as Livi's. If he could give a few precise hits fast enough...

"He didn't specify if I should deliver you and your friend dead or alive though. Which is unusual, but I’m taking it to mean it’s up to me, so you might think about what you are going to do."

Livi's blood froze in his veins as something clicked in his head. There was no way Luka could have said that. Livi spoke to Šime before all of this mess and Luka was asleep. And if he did that after he woke up, there’s no way Domo would have the time to follow him here.

Someone was setting him up. Livi couldn't think past the roaring of blood in his ears. Josip's words from earlier echoed in his ears. Kalinić. His brother was somehow involved in all this, but he couldn't have ordered Domo… not unless he had help from someone from their side.

Livi pushed all of his thoughts and suspicions aside, acknowledging that he really didn't have the time to think about this right now. He needed to focus on keeping himself - and possibly Josip – alive for now.

Domo glanced at Josip for the briefest second, but that was all Livi needed.

He threw himself forward, knocking Domo's gun out of his hands, but losing his in the process as well. They both scrambled for their weapons and landed clumsily on the floor with Livi on top of Domo.

"Run!" he shouted to Josip, which earned him a hard punch in the mouth for his moment of distraction.

Pain spread through his jaw and he tasted blood from his split lip. He jabbed Domo in the ribs with his elbow, and by the crack and the grunt of the pain, he probably broke at least one.

Domo retaliated by kicking him square in the solar plexus, and Livi gasped, trying to catch his breath through the sharp pain. Domo pushed him off, and Livi rolled on the floor, barely getting up in time to stop Domo's next blow.

He blocked the punch, but wasn't fast enough to stop Domo from grabbing his wrist as he did so, slamming his left hand to the wall. The sickening crack and pain that erupted from his wrist told him it was broken. Well shit.

Livi reached blindly with his right hand, grabbing the first thing on the counter next to him and slamming it into his opponent’s head. He saw that it had been a vase, but it shattered as it connected with Domo, sending shards of ornately painted ceramic clattering to the floor.

Livi pushed him away hard and Domo stumbled, shaking his head to stay conscious. Livi didn't give him a chance to recover - he jumped, spun in the air and kicked Domo right in the head. The blond dropped to the floor with a loud thud, and then there was silence. Livi's breath was ragged, but he didn't have the time to get it under control.

He grabbed his and Domo's gun from the floor and ran to the door. Bruno was waiting for him with a parked car and his eyes widened when he saw his boyfriend. Livi realised that he probably looked awful, with blood on his face and his left wrist hanging limply.

"Drive!" Livi ordered as soon as he sat in the car and Bruno complied, eyeing him nervously.

Bruno was about to say something but Livi interrupted him again.

"Not to our apartment. Drive to the safehouse where Luka and Ante are. If I am right, they are equally in danger as I am."

Livi reached for his phone, hissing in pain as he remembered his left hand wasn't functional at the moment.

"What danger? Livi, what's going on?" Bruno asked, gripping the wheel tighter.

"No time to explain, sorry" Livi said, dialing Šime's number, "I need to call Šime and tell him he needs to be there as well. Something is very, very wrong."

Before Livi could press call though, something else happened. Josip was calling him. He never called him on this phone unless it was an emergency, but Livi supposed this whole situation was one. He answered immediately.

"Josip? Are you alright?"

"Yes," The other man's voice was breathless from running, "I needed to check if you were alive. I am almost at the main house now but, God, Livi what the fuck was that?"

Livi sighed, not being sure what to say. How could he even explain when he wasn't sure what was going on?

"I am not sure myself. Just...be careful, alright?"

"There is something else that I need to tell you. I remembered-"

Josip's voice was suddenly cut off, and Livi could hear distant voices and shouting from the background. What was going on?

"Who is this?" a different voice asked sharply.

Livi's heart stopped for a moment, his blood turning to ice. This voice was all too familiar… a voice that he had been hearing almost his whole life. The voice of his brother. Lovre.

"Lovre?"

The question escaped him without his permission and he wanted to kick himself instantly? What kind of stupid idiot...

"Livi," Lovre's voice was icy, and he didn't ask, he knew it was him, "I see you found a way to keep tabs on us. Congratulations."

Livi gripped the phone tighter, his breath catching in his throat. Hearing his brother’s cold, detached tone hurt him more than he thought possible, even after all this time.

"I hope you got all the information you needed. Your friend Posavec might be... otherwise preoccupied for a while. A little tied up, one could say."

Livi could practically hear the sadistic smirk on Lovre’s face, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Images of Josip being tortured flashed through his mind, making him feel so nauseous that he thought he was going to throw up right then and there.

"But since I’m such a good brother, I'll give you a choice. If you show up in the next 48 hours, I'll let him live. If you don't... well I’m sure you get the idea, but I'll send you a video just to make sure."

Livi breathed in sharply, biting his already split lip until blood was all he could taste. His head was spinning.

"Lovre, wait! You can't-"

A dull beep told him the line had gone dead, and he let the phone slip through his shaking fingers. God, what had he done?

He glanced at Bruno, who, by the look on his face, was definitely still looking for answers of his own. His mind quickly went through Luka, Šime and Ante's possible reactions, and realised that he knew what he had to do. He picked up the phone from the footwell and opened a new text message… Bruno couldn't hear this conversation.

I need your help. Text me as soon as you wake up.

Livi had hoped to be able to talk to Luka in person about this, but the way things were going, he didn't want to risk it.

Livi smiled bitterly. Who better to ask how to fight his brother, than the person who’d been training him for that exact situation for months?

With that thought, Livi's exhaustion and injuries finally caught up with him and he fell back into his seat, drifting off into a turbulent sleep.

Taglist:

@morska-vjestica

@hetapeep41

@hvnedge

@incelhugochavez

@wordpuddle

#croatian nt #mafia au #dominik livakovic #bruno petkovic #josip posavec #domagoj vida #long post

14 notes · View notes

adhduck · 6 years

Text

We Keep it a Secret (You Leave Me Dying to Know)

Bellamy and Clarke were going to fake a relationship for just one date, honest. But then things got...a little out of hand.

(AO3)

Bellamy doesn’t claim to be the greatest at dating. Between basically raising his sister and working two jobs since he was sixteen, he didn’t have time for it until college, so he’s always felt a little behind everyone else when it comes to romance. Plus, he can’t seem to hold onto a relationship for more than a few months, probably because he’s been quietly in love with his best friend for the past six years, but hey, at least he’s trying to get over her.

Not, of course, that this current situation is helping.

“Let me get this straight,” Clarke says, eyebrows furrowing cutely. “Gina invited you to a double date with her new boyfriend, you said you had a new girlfriend, and you want me to pretend to be said girlfriend?’

Bellamy nods sheepishly. “I may have panicked.”

“Not surprising, knowing you,” she teases, and he’s a little weirded out that she’s been so cool with this so far. He was sort of expecting her to kick his ass.

“So, uh, you’ll do it?” he ventures after a moment of silence.

She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I’m always down to make your exes jealous.”

Bellamy laughs and nods, though the point of this is far from making Gina jealous. She’s an awesome person, and was a great girlfriend for the three or four months they were together, but Bellamy doesn’t want her back in that way. He just wants to feel like he’s on top of life, like he’s getting better at this whole dating thing.

Plus, acting like Clarke’s boyfriend is kind of his dream, even if it’s all for show. He’s going to take what he can get.

They set up a backstory of how they got together—mutually pining for a while, Clarke getting drunk and accidentally confessing her love for Bellamy before giving him a quick kiss and running off, and Bellamy thinking it was a joke until he asked about it the next day. It’s believable, especially knowing how often they’ve each stumbled into relationships in the past, and it makes Bellamy’s stomach twist into all sorts of knots.

“What about ground rules?” Clarke asks as she flicks through Netflix for something to watch. It’s good for their story that she’s already over a lot, but now Bellamy can’t help but feel a little awkward, as if he’s supposed to be acting like a boyfriend now instead of at the date.

“Like for what we tell Gina, or for us together?”

“Both I guess, but I meant the second one.” He notices she’s careful to leave her eyes on the screen, but he can’t decipher if it’s discomfort or nonchalance towards the situation.

“Well, when it comes to Gina, I guess just stick to the script. And when we’re at the date, just…I don’t know, act like a normal couple? Sit close together, maybe hold hands. I don’t know.”

The thought of even that has Bellamy feeling a little lightheaded, so when Clarke adds, “What about kissing?” he swears his vision goes spotty for a second.

“Uh—” he starts, a little strangled. “If the situation calls for it, I guess that’s fine. Though I doubt anyone’s going to expect us to make out in public.”

“But pecks, cheek kisses, that sort of thing? You’re fine with that?”

Her eyes still haven’t left the screen, but Bellamy catches her hand twitching, an old nervous habit. “If that’s okay with you,” he says slowly.

She nods, finally turning to look at him. “You can’t be that bad of a kisser, right?”

He snorts, feeling the tension drain away a little. “Horrible.”

She smirks and clicks play on The Good Place, settling against his side like she always does. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy echoes, trying to school his heartbeat into something normal, “lucky you.”

Gina’s surprised and then excited when she sees who his ‘girlfriend’ is; she even goes so far as to hug her, raving about how glad she is they finally got together. Clarke gives him a look at that but doesn’t seem suspicious; they’ve always had friends think they have a thing for each other, this is nothing new.

The boyfriend, Shawn, is tall and sort of plain looking, but seems nice enough. He shakes Bellamy’s hand and then Clarke’s, saying he’s a waiter but is working on an EP in his off time. Bellamy almost jokes about wanting his Spotify link, but thinks better of it.

Once they’re in the restaurant, everyone orders quickly, too hungry for pickiness; Clarke gets a dish without fries and then proceeds to steal his, as always. He shoves her away, complaining, but when she does it again, he just turns the plate so the fries face her. She beams at him and he tries to suppress the overwhelming surge of affection rising in his throat, then remembers he’s not supposed to do that right now and leans down to kiss her hair instead.

He can feel her flinch in surprise just the tiniest bit, but it must not be enough for the others to notice, because no trace of suspicion crosses their faces as he pulls away. In fact, Gina’s giving him one of those smiles she always gives Raven when she and Zeke are being cute, so he figures they’re all in the clear.

Clarke does shimmy a little closer to him after that, though, seeming to remember her ulterior motive for being here. Not that he’s really complaining.

Once they’ve finished eating and paid, they decide to just walk around town. It’s not particularly romantic, almost more of a hang-out, but the sudden overwhelming awareness Bellamy has of every miniscule interaction between him and Clarke makes it feel like he’s about to propose. Should he be walking extra close, or their normal distance? Are they supposed to be holding hands, or should he wrap his arm around her shoulder?

Finally, he decides to just walk and see what Clarke does; a few seconds later, he feels her fingers slip quietly through his. Her hand is warm and soft, and when he squeezes it, she gives him a small smile.

“So,” Gina says, glancing at their intertwined hands and making Bellamy flush, “how’d you guys start dating?”

They’ve prepared for this much, at least. “We went to a bar one night after I had a bad day at work, just the two of us,” Clarke says. “Since I was the one wanting to drown my emotions, Bellamy volunteered to be the designated driver, which meant he got to sit there and watch me get drunker and drunker.”

“It was very entertaining,” Bellamy adds.

“Yeah, until I blurted out that I was in love with him.” Clarke laughs a little. “He literally froze; like, for a second I worried he’d stopped breathing. I didn’t know what to do, so I just pecked him on the mouth and ran to the bathroom.”

Gina snorts. “That must’ve been an awkward car ride home.”

“The most awkward I’ve ever had,” Bellamy agrees. “I assumed it was all a joke, though, except when I stopped by her apartment the next day and tried to bring it up, turns out it wasn’t. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Clarke echoes, squeezing his hand. He glances at her and finds her gaze unusually open, her mouth parted just barely. For a second, Bellamy thinks about kissing her for real, but he chickens out at the last second and presses his lips to her forehead instead.

They wander around for another hour or so before Gina and Shawn have to leave. Gina says it was really nice to hang out and they should all do it again sometime; Bellamy mutters something politely noncommittal, then waits for them to be out of sight before he releases his hold on Clarke, wiping his hand on his pants awkwardly.

“So,” he says, not sure what to say. “Should we, uh—”

“Your place?” she asks, then adds quickly, “It’s still not that late; we could watch something on Netflix.”

He sighs a little in relief. They’re okay then; there hasn’t been some horrible shift in their relationship because of this. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

They watch Parks and Rec because they’re cliché and it’s a good show, and after a little bit Bellamy manages to loosen up and feel less awkward about sitting close to Clarke. He slouches a little so she can lean against his shoulder better, pinching her side so she stops hogging the blanket. It’s nice, really nice—which maybe isn’t a good thing. After spending several hours being affectionate the way he’s always wanted, it’s suddenly taking physical effort not to just turn his head and kiss her.

He doesn’t, of course; not even when she’s walking out and says teasingly, “I had a really nice time tonight,” while leaning in with her sparkling eyes and sideways smile and shirt that’s shifted a little lower since she got here. Instead, he just gives her a hug and says goodbye, turning away before she’s even shut the door.

Only one of Bellamy’s friends is a morning person, and Monty knows never to call before nine unless it’s an emergency, so when he wakes up to his phone buzzing angrily just after six, he rushes to pick it up with more than mild panic.

“What happ—”

“BELLAMY BLAKE WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

Okay, so not Monty, and probably not an emergency. He sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a groan. “What are you talking about, Raven?”

“You and Clarke dating, you asshole!”

Bellamy freezes like a kid stuck with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Instead of hearing it from two of my best friends, who know how long I’ve been waiting for them to get their heads out of their asses, I had to hear it from your ex at 5:30 in the morning! She gets up way too early, by the way.”

Mind racing, Bellamy stands to pace around his room, trying to decide if he’s supposed to tell her the truth or not. He and Clarke didn’t set up much of a contingency plan for other people finding out, which was stupid in hindsight, but they’d kind of expected it to be a one and done thing. He definitely didn’t think Gina would tell Raven about it.

“I’m waiting,” Raven prompts, her voice slowly dropping from the initial scream.

“Well, uh—” He pauses, then decides for the truth. His ass-kicking for this will be much less painful than the ass-kicking he’d get if he led her on. “We’re not actually dating.”

He can almost see the shock cross her face. “What?”

“We, uh—well, Gina wanted to go on a double date, and I told her Clarke and I—I told her I had a girlfriend, and Clarke volunteered to fill in. I mean, I asked her to, and she said yes. To fake, I mean.”

A solid ten seconds passes with nothing but silence before Raven deadpans, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

“I wouldn’t exactly lie if Clarke was my real girlfriend,” Bellamy points out. “Yeah, it’s fake. We would’ve warned you beforehand, but we didn’t really think you’d hear about it.”

Raven sighs. “Every time I think you two can’t shove your heads farther up your asses, you prove me wrong.” Bellamy tries to protest, but she cuts in, “I won’t tell Gina, by the way. This idiocy is for you guys to figure out on your own. And it is fucking idiotic, I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Bellamy concedes, rubbing his forehead. “I really am sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“You should feel sorry you didn’t ask Clarke out for real if you ask me.”

“We’ve already been through this, I can’t just—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t think she has the same feelings, you don’t want to hurt the friendship, you guys are shit at relationships. But just—think about it, okay? Especially if you guys have to keep this up. There’s only so much anyone can fake.”

Bellamy bites his lip, but says, “I’ll think about it.”

And he does, for several hours after they hang up, but it doesn’t really help. He’s still too terrified to confess his real feelings, but too far gone to get over her, so he’s stuck, yet again, in the middle—praying they don’t have to go on another fake date, but also really fucking hoping they do.

It’s no surprise he has some mixed feelings when Harper calls a few days later inviting him to hang out, adding nervously that Gina and her boyfriend will be going, too.

Clarke doesn’t seem miffed by the idea of acting like his girlfriend again, though she does ask if they should tell everyone besides Gina if it’s fake or not.

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says honestly. “They’ll be pissed if we don’t tell them, but some of them also can’t keep their mouths shut.”

“It’s okay, you can just say Jasper,” Clarke teases, then shrugs. “Trying to contact them all sounds like a hassle, to be honest; we can just fill them in later, if Raven hasn’t already, and if they even notice a difference in how we act.”

Bellamy’s traitorous heart swoops upwards in his chest at that, even as he tells himself that doesn’t mean anything. “Sounds good to me,” he says, hoping he sounds normal.

“Me, too,” she replies, and that’s that.

When they get to Harper’s house, the row of cars parked outside tells Bellamy most of their friends have already arrived. Bellamy contemplates if he should walk in holding Clarke’s hand, but it ends up not mattering because Clarke steamrolls ahead the moment they’re out of the car. Bellamy’s confused for about half a second before he realizes she’s greeting Harper’s dog Jordan, a Boxer who’s mostly just a tangle of limbs and love he’ll give anyone who calls his name. He’s also a little bit of a Houdini, which is why he’s managed to escape a fully gated house with no open doors.

“Good to know I’m loved,” Bellamy huffs, mostly joking. He still bends down to give Jordan a scratch behind the ears and is rewarded with a wet, sticky kiss to the face.

“Well, there’s your first kiss of the night,” Clarke teases, laughing as she coaxes Jordan back to the house (which isn’t hard, that dog would go anywhere she asked). Bellamy laughs, too, but in his head it sounds more like choked-off screams of confusion.

Monty sees them first, waving and inviting them over to where a huddle of people are talking. The part of Bellamy that would rather hide in a corner with Clarke and Jordan and take a nap – which is basically all of him – wants to protest, but he loves his friends and wants to interact with them. Plus, Clarke’s already grabbing his hand and tugging him over, so there’s not really another choice.

Gina, Shawn, and Harper are obviously present, along with Raven, Zeke, and Jasper, who looks like he would be willing to take Jordan as a date if it meant he weren’t the odd one out again. Bellamy and Clarke stand by him, trying to start up a conversation and make it seem like they’re just three single people stuck with couples and not another couple trying to include the fifth wheel. He talks about the chemistry project he’s put genuine blood, sweat, and tears into over the past few weeks and how there’s this really cute girl in one of his classes who’s his only motivation to go right now, and all is fine—until, at least, Gina walks over.

“Hey,” Bellamy says as casually as he can muster, but his brain has shifted instantly into overdrive and he doesn’t even hear the word leave his mouth. Is he standing too far away from Clarke? Too close? Should their hands be at least brushing? Will Jasper think they’re dating if he does anything? Will Gina figure out the lie if they don’t act affectionate enough?

Clarke leans into his side slightly, a move most would barely recognize, but Bellamy’s so attuned to her proximity to him even without an extra glamour to worry about that it feels like she just jumped over a river to stand by him. He leans back a little, letting their shoulders brush a little, and the immediately prick of comfort the contact gives him makes his cheeks grow warm. God, he’s so gone for this girl.

“Hey,” Gina replies, as if this is all fine and normal and casual and she hasn’t both wrecked and perfected his life. “How are you guys?” Bellamy just nods in response, and Clarke gives a similarly nonchalant answer, so she grasps for another straw. “So, I was realizing, I kind of asked you guys how you got together, but I never even thought to—”

She doesn’t have time to finish that new thought, though, because Jasper takes that moment to scream, “WHAT?! YOU GUYS ARE DATING?!?! YOU GUYS ARE DATING AND I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT?!?!”

Clarke glances worriedly at Bellamy for a moment –she was clearly hoping like he was they’d be able to skate by this without lying to anyone else – and then starts damage control. “Jasper, breathe. Breathe, dude.”

“You guys didn’t tell him you were together?” Gina asks, surprised and a little sheepish.

“We were going to—ah, tell him tonight,” Clarke says awkwardly. “We didn’t tell him before because, uh….”

“Because I was hoping to put in some earplugs before we broke the news,” Bellamy cuts in, hoping to lighten the situation. It works; Gina laughs, and Jasper’s shoulders visibly relax.

“I’m not that loud,” he grumbles, then adds, “But I better hear about all this. You guys have broken a code of friendship by withholding this from me, I’m pretty sure. I coined your ship name, guys.”

“You guys have a ship name?” Gina asks, delighted again.

“Bellarke,” Jasper says proudly. “It’s perfect, right?”

“Totally. Shawn and my names don’t work together at all. I mean, what could you do? Shina? Gawn? I’d kill for Bellarke.”

“I’d kill for them, too,” Jasper says, and they all laugh, which Bellamy is grateful for, because he needs a second to remember what breathing is. Clarke has her chin tucked up on his shoulder and her hand curled delicately around his bicep, and it’s doing weird things to his brain.

As they explain their ‘secret relationship’ to Jasper and the others, Monty pulls out the alcohol, which Bellamy is equally in favor of and not in favor of. The positives: Clarke’s cute when she’s drunk and he doesn’t think so much. The negatives: Clarke’s cute when she’s drunk and he doesn’t think so much.

Nevertheless, he drinks, because why the hell not at this point, and as the night goes on Clarke gets more and more affectionate. By the second hour, despite drinking water between each drink, Clarke’s tipsy enough to be smiling at everything, especially him, and she insists on being tucked into his chest when they’re sitting on the couch. It’s great, besides the fact that she keeps nosing into his collarbone on accident and he thinks he might actually die.

In Clarke’s defense, she’s not the only one getting tipsy; with every swig he takes, Bellamy can feel some of his self-control ebbing away. When he makes a joke and Clarke scrunches up her nose cutely at him, he barely even hesitates before dropping a kiss on it, which makes Clarke giggle a little, and he keeps one hand anchored at her waist most of the night, too. It’s nothing crazy, nothing they can’t just awkwardly laugh off later – it’s not like he’s got his hand up her shirt or his tongue in her mouth or something – and honestly, it’s nice. Still Bellamy and Clarke, just a little looser.

At least, until Gina has to ruin things again.

(Seriously, there’s no way one woman can cause this much simultaneous terror and bliss for someone on accident, right? Like, this is three times now. Bellamy’s starting to think she’s a witch.)

“Guys, we should play truth or dare,” she says excitedly, setting down her glass of water on the table. (Of course the bartender is staying sober to watch over her friends. Bellamy freaking loves that girl.)

“What are we, seventeen?” Harper asks, but she seems interested.

“Jasper might be,” Monty points out, and is promptly shoved.

“Why not,” Clarke says, curling a little closer against Bellamy’s chest. He really hopes she either can’t hear the shift in his heartbeat or is too tipsy to care.

“Yeah, whatever the hell you guys want,” Bellamy agrees.

They start with Jasper and work their way around the circle; most of it is dumb shit, as expected, like asking about the most awkward place someone had sex or daring Raven to lick Zeke’s sweaty foot. But, of course, when it gets to Clarke, Jasper has to change it up.

“Truth or truth?” he asks, completely deadpan.

Clarke frowns, her eyebrows furrowing cutely. Bellamy wants to kiss the spot between them, just above her nose, but resists the urge. “I’m pretty sure it’s truth or dare.”

“Not for you. Truth or truth?”

Clarke shrugs and says, “Fine. Truth.”

Jasper grins. “What was your guys’ first real kiss like?”

“We already told you about that,” Clarke says bemusedly. “I was drunk, I blabbed about how much I—”

“No, no, no,” Jasper says, shaking his head like a professor who’s disappointed his top student has answered incorrectly on a simple answer. “Your first real kiss. Where you were sober, and knew how the other person felt.”

“Uh—” Clarke glances up at Bellamy. He nods slightly, giving her permission, and she gives him a small smile before turning back to the others. “So, obviously Bellamy stopped by my house to hang out, and when he was there, he asked about what happened the previous night. He was so incredibly awkward about it, too,” she says, pushing at his chest fondly. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her, which makes her grin and his heartrate double its speed. “He was all like, ‘Uh, so, uh, I was wondering, uh, about that thing, uh, with, uh, what you said, and, uh, what you, uh, you know, uh, did, and—’”

She’s doing a horrible impression of his voice, and Bellamy pinches her side in protest. “I did not sound like that.”

“You absolutely did,” she says proudly. “Anyway, when he finally gets it out, I can sort of get that he wants me to say I meant it, so I just tell him.”

Bellamy scoffs. Maybe this story is fake, but he knows how he and Clarke work with relationships, and forthright isn’t exactly a quality he’d use. “Yeah, if by ‘tell him’ you mean you dodged around the subject for like ten minutes until I forced you to just say it.”

“Details, details,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Anyway, when I say it, he grins like some dumb lovestruck idiot—”

“Which I am.”

“And just grabs my face and kisses me.” Clarke pauses here a moment, and Bellamy wonders if she might be done, but when he looks at her, she’s looking back at him, smiling shyly and biting her lip a little, which, fuck, okay. Kill him on the spot, why don’t you, that’s fine. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that kiss,” she says, never looking away from him. “It’s like – okay, I’m gonna be sappy, but you asked for it, so – it’s like he was giving some grand speech, trying to tell me everything he felt without saying a word. Like he was kissing with his heart instead of his mouth.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Bellamy is unable to look away from Clarke, to even breathe; he feels paralyzed, locked in place by the softness in her eyes and the slight part of her lips. She sounds so genuine, like she’s thought about this, a lot even, and it makes him feel off-balance.

Then Clarke leans in and presses her mouth to his, hand curling around his jaw, and his entire body short-circuits for a second, every nerve resetting to process only her. He touches her arm, trying to steady himself, and a moment or two later she pulls back, looking at him like she’s trying to memorize the moment.

“Dayum,” Jasper crows, effectively killing the moment. “You guys really kiss like it’s your first time.”

“Well, it is,” Clarke says, clearly without thinking; her eyes widen just barely upon realizing her mistake, but Bellamy’s already cutting in.

“I always say kissing her is always new, like it’s the first time every time,” he says, finally breaking eye contact with Clarke to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s how I get back at her for being a giant sap.”

“You started the sap thing, I don’t know why you pin that on me,” Clarke argues, giving him a quick look that says, Thanks for saving our asses there.

“You literally confessed your love for me while drunk because you, quote, ‘couldn’t stand me not knowing anymore.’ I’d say that’s pretty sappy.”

“Whatever,” Clarke says, but she’s smiling, blushing even, and she hides it in his neck. He strokes her back affectionately and after a moment of murmurs about how disgustingly cute they are, the game continues. Bellamy doesn’t pay much attention, though; he focuses more on the blonde with her face nestled into his collarbone and the ever-present lump of feelings in his throat that’s becoming harder and harder to keep out.

After that, it sort of becomes a…thing. The news spreads to the rest of their close friends – Murphy collects bet money from Emori when they share the news, and Miller literally punches Bellamy for not telling him sooner – and so the act spreads to basically any social situation they attend. Bellamy starts to get better at the whole showing physical affection without nearly having a heart attack thing, and he even manages to work up the courage to kiss Clarke a couple times. (On the mouth.) It becomes normal, easy even, and Bellamy thinks they could hold it long enough to properly stage a break-up, though he kind of wants it to go on forever.

After a couple of weeks, someone asks them why they haven’t spent the night together in almost a month (Bellamy had crashed at Clarke’s a few weeks ago; it was because he was sick and she insisted, but no one needs to know that), and they claim it’s because they’ve just been busy. It so happens, though, that the upcoming weekend is wide open for them both, so they figure Clarke needs to stay the night at Bellamy’s to keep up appearances.

She arrives early Saturday evening in her pajamas, which makes his heart clench oddly, and greets him with a beaming smile, which makes his heart stop entirely.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, bringing her in for a quick side hug partly because he’s missed her (they really have been busy the last week, only hanging out once) and partly because her hair is in this messy lopsided bun with loose strands falling over her cheeks and he’s only so strong.

“Hey, you,” she replies. “You wanna eat first, or just start?”

“I ate just an hour or two ago. But if you need food—”

“I ate pretty recently, too. But thanks.”

“Okay, cool.” Bellamy pauses a moment, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He hates how hard it is to act normal around her now, how normal being her boyfriend is starting to feel, and especially how possible it feels to just lean down and kiss her senseless.

Thankfully, he does not do that, just follows her to the couch and turns on the TV to start the show. She curls up against him, eerily similar to how she’s been doing at social gatherings, but he dismisses it. They’ve always been affectionate; he’s just a little (okay, a lot) more aware of it.

Halfway through the third episode, Clarke says, “Hey, can I ask you about something?”

Her tone tells him this is not a ‘talk while the episode plays’ kind of question, so he clicks pause and shifts to look at her better. “What’s up?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, her cheeks growing faintly pink—not a good start. “So, the other day, I was talking to Harper, and she…mentioned something. About us.”

Bellamy frowns, wondering if their cover’s been blown or she had to make up some huge lie like that they’re secretly married or something. “What?”

“She asked why—well, I mean, she didn’t ask, not directly. She was just talking about her and Monty, and some of their, ah, favorite things to do, and wanted to know what I liked. I was sort of on the spot, and I didn’t want to say anything too crazy that you couldn’t easily corroborate, so I just said hickeys.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, managing to nod despite the word ‘hickeys’ bouncing around in his brain. “And?”

“Well, and then she commented that I must be really good at covering them up, then, and I fumbled again and said we just hadn’t…you know, done that recently, since we’ve been busy. And so she said I should make sure you give me one while we’re together.”

“Oh.” Bellamy has lost all other vocabulary; his tongue feels like cotton. “Oh.”

“It’s a mess,” she says, putting her head in her hands. “Being your girlfriend should not be this hard, why do I keep fucking it up?”

“Hey,” Bellamy says, reaching over to stroke her back. “You’re not fucking it up.”

She lifts her head to glare at him in protest. “First you had to save my ass at Harper’s party, and now she’s going to expect you to give me a real fucking hickey because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, or at least say something I don’t have to prove.”

“You could just say it didn’t happen this time?”

“Yeah, but she’s going to expect one sometime. You and I have never been super subtle with our significant others.”

That’s true; he’s seen Clarke with signs of love bites peeking out of her collar or under her hair, and Bellamy’s gone to work with turtlenecks to hide bright purple bruises of his own.

It hits Bellamy then that they’re in deep with this now; they can’t just pass it off with some handholding and a couple of little pecks. (Even if those pecks make his heart roll over in excitement.) If they want to keep up this façade, they’re going to have to do something real—something like Bellamy giving his best friend an honest to God hickey in his living room.

So he is thinking a little when he blurts out, “So let’s do it then.”

Clarke startles like a gun has gone off, almost physically scooting away from him in shock. “What?”

He shrugs, trying to pass this off as casual. “Harper needs a hickey to prove we’re together, so you need a hickey.”

Her lips part, which doesn’t help anything, and her eyes flutter a little, which really doesn’t help anything. “You...you’d do that?”

“Yeah, of course. What are friends for?” He immediately winces at that word choice. “I mean—”

“I get it,” Clarke says, touching his arm lightly. Then she swallows and sits up straighter. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

“Uh, now?”

She raises her eyebrow at him. “What, you want to set a thirty minute timer to prepare first?”

“No, that’s fine. It’s probably best just to do it now, you know, while we still...you know.” While I still have the brain cells left to physically move my mouth.

“Yeah. Okay.” She’s getting more fidgety by the second, and Bellamy can tell she hates this waiting bit, so he decides to just get started. He swallows, wets his lips with his tongue a little, and brushes Clarke’s hair off her shoulder to expose her neck. She stiffens, but nods encouragingly, and he leans in before he can think himself out of this stupid decision.

He doesn’t kiss her right away, though; just ghosts his lips over the junction between her shoulder and neck, trying not to go so fast it spooks her or doesn’t give her a chance to back out if she decides she’s too uncomfortable. His hands feel awkward hanging by his sides, so he sets those on her waist. She moves her own hands to his leg, probably feeling about the same as him, and tilts her head a little—permission to start whenever he’s ready.

The first kiss Bellamy gives is soft, chaste, barely a touch, but he can feel Clarke’s muscles go rigid beneath him. He freezes, but she whispers, “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just…keep going. I’ll tell you if I need to stop.”

“Okay,” he says, feeling his heart start to beat right out of his chest. “Okay.”

He kisses her neck again, a little more confident this time, and starts working his way up, testing to see which spot she likes. If she has to get a hickey from someone she’s not attracted to, he at least wants her to enjoy it somewhat.

When he reaches the spot just under her jaw, Clarke makes a tiny purring sound, and his hands spasm a little with the surge of want that courses through him. It’s maybe this, or perhaps the confidence that almost imperceptible sound of pleasure gives him, that inspires him to graze his teeth against the sensitive skin slightly.

Clarke’s hand tightens on his knee, the other sliding up his thigh an inch. He wants to suck on that spot by her jaw until it’s nearly black, just to get her to do that again, but he wants her to be able to hide the mark easily if she wants, so he makes his way back down, open-mouth kissing the exposed skin until she’s shaking—from enjoyment or nerves, he’s not sure.

Finally, he latches onto a spot near her throat, letting his tongue lave out to taste her, and she actually gasps, a tiny hitch of breath. It fucks with his mind a little, and he has to pause for a moment, letting his breath fan over her skin as he strokes his hands up and down her arms.

When he starts again, one of her hands leaves his knee and finds its way into his hair, slipping into the curls and holding him against her. A jolt of pleasure shoots straight to his dick, but he tries to focus it into the hickey. He’ll probably never get to do this again, so he wants her to remember it, no matter how selfish that might be.

Too soon, the mark has fully formed, and after a few extra moments of stalling, Bellamy knows he needs to stop or Clarke will know how he really feels about this experience. With one last, chaste kiss, he pulls back; Clarke lets her hand fall from his hair, but doesn’t move the one on his thigh.

“Um,” Bellamy says, not sure what to say. He just gave his best friend and secret love of his life a hickey. That really just happened.

“Thanks,” Clarke says awkwardly; after a moment of silence, she bursts into laughter, and Bellamy follows suit, laughing until his stomach aches.

“We good?” he says when they finally get a hold of themselves again.

She nods firmly, holding his gaze to convey her genuineness. “Definitely.”

“Okay. Good.” Then, lest he ruin that by crushing his mouth to hers and pushing her onto her back to kiss her until he can’t hold himself up anymore, he reaches for the remote and presses play. “We need to get through as many of these as possible; I hear Chidi gets a shirtless scene around episode five.”

“You fool,” Clarke says, tucking herself against his side like nothing’s happened. “I’ve already seen every gif of that shirtless scene, and the one where he wears a tiny t-shirt. You’re going to die.”

“What a way to go,” Bellamy replies, but in his mind he’s thinking not of Chidi’s bare chest, but Clarke’s hand curling into his hair, holding him close.

Clarke falls asleep on the couch soon after they get caught up on the show, which he’s kind of grateful for, because he was secretly worried they’d end up sharing his bed and he would actually lose his mind. He tucks a blanket around her, taking a moment to brush the hair from her face. She looks so soft in sleep, even with her mouth open awkwardly and her arms thrown out haphazardly, he can’t but lean in and kiss her forehead, just a tiny press of lips to skin.

He looks at her for a moment longer before he stands and goes to the bathroom, washing his face vigorously and getting ready for bed.

He hopes to fall asleep quickly, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Clarke’s open gaze when he pulled away, feels her fingers scratching a tiny bit against his scalp, hears the half-concealed breathy sighs she let out whenever he went back to that one spot on her neck.

More than ever, he wants to march up to her and tell her everything—how long he’s wanted her, how much, how he can’t imagine ever loving someone else. But he can’t, so he just covers his face with his hands and tries to sleep.

Bellamy wakes up to rapid tapping on his door and sits up groggily, trying to wipe the sleep form his eyes. “Yeah?”

Clarke peeks her head in, looking at him for just a second or two before she says, “What can we have for breakfast?”

“First of all, you can have anything that’s not my roommates’ or the entire fridge,” Bellamy says. “Second of all, how the fuck are you up before me?”

She shrugs. “I kept waking up, so when the clock read 10am, I figured I’d just stay awake.”

Frowning, Bellamy stands, puts on his glasses – he’s too lazy for contacts if he doesn’t have to go anywhere – and asks, “You okay?”

Clarke straightens at that, like he’s poked at something deeply personal. “Uh, yeah, totally. Just that image of hot Chidi floating around my brain, I guess.” She laughs unconvincingly, but Bellamy lets it slide; she looks uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to push it.

Even though Clarke claims she’d be fine with cereal, Bellamy makes her waffles; they’re her favorite. She piles them obscenely high with strawberries and whipped cream, but that doesn’t stop them from being gone before he’s even finished making one for himself. He always calls her Leslie Knope for that, though he also claims she’s half Ron Swanson, which is a weird combo in theory but it works, okay? She’s dedicated and loving as hell, and when she gets on a rant you just have to wait it out, but she also hisses at the idea of healthy eating or talking to nearly anyone.

(And okay, yes, Bellamy does consider himself a little bit of a Ben Wyatt, but that doesn’t mean anything, okay? It doesn’t.)

“I might have to rescind my statement about you not being allowed to eat the whole fridge,” he comments as he scrapes some butter onto his waffle and pours some syrup on the side to dip into.

“Please do, I really want your leftovers,” she says, swallowing her last bite and standing to take care of her plate. “But seriously, thanks for the waffles. They were good.”

“I’d hope so, or else you’re so starved for real food you’ll eat anything.”

“That, too,” she grins, gathering her hair in her hand to pull into a messy bun, and then all Bellamy can do is stare, because there it is. On the lower half of her neck, reddish-purple and impossible to miss, is the hickey. His hickey, from his mouth, which he gave.

Clarke must notice him staring – how could she not, his jaw is practically dropped – because she says, “It look okay?”

He kind of chokes on air for a second despite his best efforts, but manages to say, “Yeah. Yeah, it—it’ll definitely convince Harper, at least.”

“And all my coworkers.”

Bellamy winces, shame flooding into his system. “Sorry, I should’ve done it more discreet, I can help you cover—”

“Bellamy, it’s fine. I can hide it at work, and when it comes to people like Harper, I kind of want them to see, right? For the proof. You know, so it has a purpose.”

Purpose. Right. It’s all for show, just a ruse, no feelings attached. He tries to burn that into his brain, but he doesn’t think it works. “Yeah, that makes sense. You want to shower?”

“Nah, I’ll just shower tonight. I hate walking around with wet hair,” she says, and so despite the universe’s best efforts, life continues as usual.

If Bellamy were smart, he’d have expected the visit from Raven the next day, but he is the guy who started a long-term fake relationship with the woman he wants a long-term real relationship with and then gave her a hickey like bros do; he’s not exactly the epitome of intelligence when it comes to these things.

So when there’s a rapid knocking on his door, he hardly expects it to be about Clarke at all—until, at least, he hears Raven screaming, “BELLAMY BLAKE, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW SO I CAN KILL YOU.”

Despite this violent threat, Bellamy obliges, opening the door hastily for Raven to storm in, looking fucking livid.

“Uh—” he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say to avoid getting shanked, so he just lifts his hands in defense.

“You…fucking…idiot,” Raven wheezes, pointing her finger at him like a weapon.

“I’m aware of that, yeah. What is this ab—oh,” he says, remembering again Clarke’s hair brushed off her shoulder and his breath on her neck and the red bruise like a beacon on her skin.

“Yeah, oh. I have lived through weeks of you two being even bigger idiots than normal, with the handholding and the kissing and the cuddling and the sappy comments like they’re nothing, but a hickey—”

“Harper was suspicious as to why Clarke hadn’t had one despite liking them so much,” Bellamy protests. “She’d figure it out if we didn’t.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Raven demands.

“We can’t just—” Bellamy cuts off, because he knows the truth. They could cut this off whenever they wanted, but he doesn’t want to. It’s selfish of him, horribly so, but he wants this thing with Clarke to last as long as possible. She’s just following his lead because she’s a good friend, and he’s dragging her along because of his stupid fucking crush.

Raven must see this in his eyes, because her posture relaxes a little and her brows unfurrow. “Why can’t you believe she might like you back?”

Bellamy sighs heavily and collapses on the couch, tears starting to build up in his eyes for no reason. “It’s—she’s Clarke, Raven. We’ve known each other for seven years and been best friends for nearly that long. If something was going to happen, it would’ve by now.”

“Okay, you know that’s not how it works,” Raven says, moving to stand in front of him and crossing her arms. “Come on, Blake, you really can’t see how she looks at you?”

“It’s like she looks at everybody,” he protests, but his voice is weak. That little part of him that believes Clarke could love him back, it’ll listen to anything if it gives him hope. He basically breathes the stuff.

“Bellamy, she looks at you like you hung the fucking moon. And not just that—she can’t seem to stop looking at you. Any moment you’re looking away, she’s watching you, memorizing every expression, every feature, every freckle. It’s like she’s incapable of spending five minutes without visibly expressing how much she loves you.”

Bellamy’s heart jumps into his throat at that last phrase; he swallows it back down, hard. “Even if—no matter how you think she feels, or how she acts, I can’t…I can’t risk that, Raven. It’d be one thing to risk our friendship by telling her how I feel in a normal circumstance, but now? She’ll hate me for leading her on. She’ll never talk to me again. I can survive her not loving me back, but I can’t survive her not being here at all.”

And it’s dramatic, but that’s truly how it feels—if he doesn’t have Clarke, he thinks a vital part of him will go with her, something he can never replace or function without. Maybe it’s unhealthy, but he needs her.

Raven sighs, then squats in front of him, setting her hands on his knees. “I know how much you guys love each other, romantic or not. You’re stronger than any shit life has thrown at you, and if Clarke can survive you dating Echo—”

“Please never mention that again,” Bellamy says, grimacing. “It wasn’t my fault her dad Jason was practically threatening to fire me if I didn’t date her.”

“My point is, if your friendship can survive that, and all the other horrible fights and traumas you’ve gone through together, I think it can survive this, too. But you can’t go on like this forever, Blake. If you love her, you’ve got to tell her.”

Bellamy sighs heavily, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I hate being this scared of it.”

“Hey, that’s okay. Feelings are fucking terrifying, and I’ve been to space. But you’re brave, okay? You can do it.”

She wraps her arm around his neck and he reciprocates, resting his head on her shoulder and letting himself cry a little more, taking the comfort before he draws away. “Thanks, Raven. For threatening to kill me, I mean.”

She smirks. “Love you, too, Bellamy.”

He nods, smiling a little, and she lets herself out, leaving Bellamy to his thoughts.

The party at Bellamy’s apartment is not actually his idea; it’s Raven’s, probably because she has an agenda and that involves giving him every opportunity possible to tell Clarke the truth. He appreciates it, but he doesn’t know if he can tell Clarke during something public, or even right after; he wants to be prepared, organized, and alone with her, so there’s no scene.

There’s also no alcohol present, which he appreciates; he’s so constantly about to burst with his feelings lately, he worries just one swig of alcohol will send them all pouring out.

Clarke’s one of the last people to show up – being her late self as always – but she does arrive with a bag of chips and some salsa, so Bellamy is willing to forgive her. She also greets him by stretching on her toes to give him a kiss, so he doesn’t have the brain capacity to feel anything negative about her anyway.

Everyone digs into the food immediately, then after a stupidly long time debating what game to play, they settle for HedBanz. Bellamy is horrible at it unless Clarke’s the one giving him the clues, so whenever it’s his turn everyone silently prays the die will land on Clarke’s.

At the end of one of his turns, as he’s putting a new card in the headband, everyone stars murmuring conspiratorially and he frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” they all chorus, even though they’re grinning devilishly.

“Does it say dildo or something?” Bellamy asks Clarke, who’s tucked against his side. “I thought this was a family-friendly game.”

“No, Bellamy, it does not say dildo.”

“Then what?”

“Well, I can’t tell you, it’s against the rules. You’ll just have to guess.”

“Hopefully I get you on the dice role then.”

She blushes a little, which is weird. “Yeah, hopefully.”

They go around the circle again – Bellamy spends the entire time trying to get Miller to guess helicopter and the closest he gets is ceiling fan – and when it’s Bellamy’s turn, he reaches for the die only for Raven to grab it from him.

“Hey, it’s my—”

“Sorry, I’m rolling for you this time,” Raven says, then just turns the die to Clarke’s color and sets it down. “Hey, look, you got Clarke, how wild. Okay, guess on.”

Bellamy gives her a weird look, but it’s not like he minds being paired with Clarke, so he just shrugs and turns to Clarke. “Ready?”

She nods and slips from his side. “Ready.” Then she flips over the timer and drops to one knee next to the couch, miming holding something in her hands.

This one’s easy, of course, but Bellamy decides to draw it out a little. “Engagement ring?”

Clarke gestures to her whole self and mimes saying some big speech.

“Fiancé?” he guesses, smirking.

She grunts and mimes pulling out the ring, then gestures from herself to him.

“Okay, okay, fine. Proposal.”

“Yes, finally,” Clarke says.

“He said yes!” Raven cries excitedly, and everyone claps; Bellamy’s going to roll his eyes, but then Clarke smirks a little and suddenly she’s surging upwards to kiss him, hands holding his face.

He’s too stunned to reply, just sort of puts his hand at her side; she pulls back a moment later amidst whoops and hollers. “It’s official, everyone,” she declares.

Bellamy’s bright red by this point, but he plays along, holding up his hand to show off the nonexistent ring. “Can’t believe she beat me to it, but at least it’s pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are cute, whatever,” Miller says. “Your timer ran out, so sit down.”

Clarke sticks her tongue out at him, but obediently curls back up against Bellamy’s side. He tucks his arm around her shoulder and tries his hardest not to lick his lips, or to turn her chin so he can kiss her again, even if that would probably be acceptable. If he kisses her on her own right now, he might not be able to stop himself from doing it later on, too. He’s strong, in terms of self-control, but not that strong.

They switch games soon after that – apparently a proposal makes everything else seem less exciting – and Clarke starts getting sleepy, letting him play her turns in Clue so she can lay her head in his lap and get her hair played with instead.

“No fair, that gives Bellamy double the knowledge the rest of us have,” Monty complains.

Bellamy shrugs. “Tell your girlfriend to get sleepy, then.”

Monty looks to Harper, but she shakes her head. “No way. I’m winning this thing.”

Clarke whines a little in protest that Bellamy is no longer petting her hair, and he says something about her being obnoxiously needy, but he scratches at her scalp all the same.

Bellamy does in fact win the game, which makes everyone annoyed, and he gives half his credit to Clarke for her ‘generous contributions to the Bellamy Blake fund.’

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s made many generous contributions,” Jasper smirks, and Bellamy flushes. He hates when his friends make sex jokes about them. Not only does it make Clarke uncomfortable, shown by the way she tenses beside him, but it makes the whole don’t think about how much you want to have sex with Clarke and get married to her and have kids and dogs and stray cats who come by and you pretend not to love them but buy them food and toys anyway thing a lot harder to ignore.

Clarke is a lot better at running with the punches though; she just shrugs nonchalantly and says, “All anonymous, of course,” before kissing him on the cheek, awfully close to his jaw, and starts cleaning up the board.

They kiss two more times before everyone starts heading out; once because Clarke beat him in Mario Kart – by basically cheating, he might add, that stupid blue shell isn’t fair at all – and he pouted so she kissed him to make him feel better, and once because Bellamy beat her and he got a little excited and just kind of smacked her on the mouth. She laughed it off, though, so hopefully she was cool with it.

As everyone leaves, Bellamy starts to reach for Clarke’s bag, but she shakes her head slightly. “I was gonna stay a little later, if that’s all right.”

Harper smirks a little as she passes, and Bellamy is reminded of their position. “Course it’s all right. I was just going to move this out of the way.”

She smiles softly, crumpling up the empty chip bag to throw away and putting the leftover salsa in the fridge while Bellamy says goodbye to everyone.

When the door closes for the last time and he turns, feeling a little anxious now that they’re alone, she’s right there, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her face into his neck.

“Uh,” he says, returning the hug on instinct. “What’s this for?”

She lifts her head a little so he can hear her as she says, “I just like being able to hang out with you.”

He laughs gently. “Did the last, like, four hours not count?”

“You know what I mean. Just the two of us. You and me.”

“Yeah, you and me,” Bellamy agrees; he kisses her hair without thinking, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, we’re all out of TV shows to binge unless we want to start something new, and we’ve played a lot of games, and I don’t really want to commit to a full movie right now, so maybe we can…I don’t know, just sit? Enjoy the company?”

That actually sounds really nice right now, albeit a little terrifying considering how attuned Bellamy is to his desire to make out with Clarke and how very alone they are, so he just agrees and slowly pulls away so they can walk to the couch.

For a while, they do just sit; they don’t talk, they don’t play anything, they barely even touch apart from Clarke’s arm against his and her head on his shoulder. It’s comforting, knowing how easily they can exist in each other’s presence without needing to be actively doing something, how just the sound of their breath going in and out is enough for them. He fucking loves this girl.

Clarke picks up his hand after a while, tracing the lines on his palm silently. He’s gotten comfortable enough with her touch he doesn’t even flinch at the contact, but he does jump a little when she turns his hand over and then lifts it to press a tiny kiss to his ring finger.

“Not even wearing it,” she teases, looking up at him. “What was the point of buying such a fancy ring if you won’t show it off?”

“Maybe you got the wrong size,” Bellamy says, smirking. “Don’t hold my hand enough to know how big my finger is.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes, and leans in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

On the mouth.

While they’re alone.

Clarke.

KISSES HIM.

She pulls away half a second later, looking horrified. “Shit.”

“Uh….” Bellamy says, not sure what he can do that won’t fuck this up one way or another.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I—uh, it was instinct. Sorry.”

Bellamy considers her wide eyes, her slightly parted lips, and most of all her hand, which she hasn’t moved from his. She’s waiting for his reaction before she pulls away, and as stupid as it is, he doesn’t want her to. The lines have blurred between the pretend and the genuine, and he doesn’t care anymore what side he’s on. He just wants her.

So instead of brushing away her apology and moving on, instead of pulling away, he says, “Kiss me more.”

Clarke’s eyes go wide. “What?”

The panic starts to return, but Bellamy fights for control. “I mean, it’s good practice, right? And kissing you is—kissing is fun, and I don’t…you know, mind, I guess. So, why not?” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. God, why is he so bad at communication?

Clarke stares at him for a moment longer before she says, slow and careful, “So you…you think it’d be a good idea, to kiss more?”

The words catch in Bellamy’s throat, too true to be spoken, so he just nods, and in the next moment Clarke’s mouth is on his.

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but it feels like it—there’s no one watching, no one to prove or to please; no one except Clarke, at least. When she puts her hand in his hair, carding her fingers through the curls, it feels like it’s because she just wants to, no because she’s supposed to put on a show.

And God, Clarke’s a good kisser. Bellamy considers himself fairly experienced in this department, but the way she draws out every movement out like she can’t get enough, one moment unbearably slow and the next sloppy and rushed, leaves him shaking a little. He moves his hands a lot, trying to hide his nervousness and just how fucking wrecked she makes him just by kissing—first on her shoulders, then her neck, her waist, his fingers barely trailing over the bare skin peeking out from her shirt.

Clarke seems to like this, if the way she arches towards him a little is any indication, so he experimentally slips a hand under the material to feel her bare skin, and she kisses him harder, surer of herself.

The angle is starting to get a little awkward with them side-by-side on the couch, though, so hesitantly he grips her thigh and pulls a little in encouragement. Immediately, Clarke swings her leg over to sit in his lap; they take a moment to breathe while she gets comfortable, which is hard because Bellamy’s breath hitches every time she shifts the tiniest bit.

Faintly, he wonders if this is really happening. It doesn’t seem possible, but he’s not sure he could conjure his up in a dream.

Clarke sees him staring and smiles shyly, setting her hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, careful not to touch her yet, just in case. He knows how people can get caught up, go farther than they meant, and then regret it later. He doesn’t want that for them.

She swallows hard, then lifts one hand to cup his cheek, looking at him with a soft but serious expression. “This is going to sound like the worst timing in the history of the world, but you’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Normally, hearing the phrase friend from someone Bellamy is desperately in love with when they’ve been making out would not exactly be his favorite thing, but he gets what she means. No matter what this is – because they both know this isn’t just practice – whether it’s well-timed horniness or pent-up sexual tension or something more, what matters most is who they are to each other, and that will never change. Bellamy knows he will always love Clarke like she’s part of his soul, and against all odds, he knows she feels the same.

“I know,” he whispers. “You’re my best friend, too.”

She smiles in that sort of way that makes Bellamy’s throat clog up with happy tears and leans down to kiss him again. She sets the pace slow, and Bellamy doesn’t mind at all; it’s the comforting kind of slow, that makes it feel like there’s no rush, no fear. He slips his hands under her shirt to stroke her back, which she definitely enjoys because she sighs into his mouth, tugging at his hair a little before soothing it with her fingertips.

When she pulls away to breathe, Bellamy can’t help but keep kissing her, peppering his lips across her cheek and jaw before pausing at her neck, unsure if she’s okay with this when it’s not for their previous…purpose.

“You’re good,” she whispers, rather breathily.

He nods slightly and works his way to a spot under her jaw he remembers her being rather eager about; she sighs in pleasure and strokes his hair, so he starts sucking at the skin there, pressing his hands firmly against her back to keep her close. Clarke’s responding mewls make him shiver with want, but this is about her right now, and he loves making her this way—his Clarke, so stubborn and tough, melted like putty under his ministrations.

When the mark is fully formed, he takes his time kissing down her neck, liking how she keeps a firm grip on his hair to keep him close, how he can feel every shiver running down her spine against his fingertips. At her throat, though, he pauses, because he sees it then—the fading red hickey, his hickey, the one he almost lost his mind giving her.

It could expose him, but he’s too love-drunk to care, so he presses a tiny kiss to the mark and, with his lips still touching skin, whispers, “That’s mine.”

He can not only hear but feel Clarke’s low groan against her throat, and then she’s tugging him up harshly to seal her mouth over his. The slowness is all gone now; she kisses him like there’s not enough time in the world to do as much as she wants, even if they did this forever. He feels the same – God, he could hold her the rest of his life and still die wishing he had a few moments more – and he tries to express it the best he can, this need for her, for this something. Her t-shirt bunches in his hands as he hikes it up, curling it into his fist for a moment while he slips his tongue into her mouth; she grinds down on him a little and his hands spasm, which she must find amusing, because she pulls away with a smirk.

“You okay if I take this off?” she asks, reaching for her own shirt hem.

“Jesus, you’re so polite sometimes,” he teases. “No, I don’t mind if you take your fucking shirt off, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just checking. Consent is important, Blake.” But she doesn’t seem annoyed, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because when she pulls off her shirt and tosses it aside, all Bellamy can do is stare.

God, she’s so beautiful. Sexy, absolutely – with those perfect boobs in that dark blue bra and that soft stomach and the way she looks at him, all smirking confidence – but just…it’s like every inch of her screams again to him how much he loves this girl. How strong she is, how brave, how fierce, how kind, and how much he wants to fall asleep and wake up beside her every night he has left.

Clarke must sense something more than just hormone-induced staring, because she starts to blush. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bellamy says, though he can’t get his voice to sound anything less than awed. “You’re just…well.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” she replies, smiling, and leans in to kiss him again.

Eventually they get to the bedroom, and out of their clothes. Seeing Clarke like that – uncovered and open and completely vulnerable, all for him – is too much for Bellamy, and he can’t help but plant kisses on every inch of skin he can. Clarke encourages him with breathy sighs and her fingers fluttering over his shoulder blades, but when he gets to the swell of her stomach, her breathing falters, and he pauses.

The air is still for a moment; not quite awkward, but still heavy and charged. An in-between.

“I’ve got you,” Bellamy whispers. “If you want me to.”

She nods, winding her fingers into his hair shakily, and closes her eyes. “I want you to.”

When he puts his mouth on her, she moans and tightens her grip, but after that he’s so overwhelmed with the feeling of it, of them, that he barely hears the noises she makes, barely registers the sharp tug of her hands on her hair, barely even registers she’s come until she’s pulling him back up to slot her mouth over his.

“Good?” he manages to ask between kisses, worried again.

She laughs, pulling back to raise an eyebrow at him. “I think the orgasm should’ve told you that.”

He blushes a little despite himself. “Okay, okay. I’m just checking.”

“You’re cute,” she teases, brushing his heating cheeks with the backs of her fingers, and he hides the deepening color in her neck.

They stay like that for a moment, Bellamy hovering over her with his nose in her hair, until his arms start to tremble a little with the effort. Clarke presses down on his back to get him to lay flat, but he resists, mumbling, “I’ll crush you.”

“Oh, shut up, you’ll fallen asleep on top of me before. Remember when I had to crash at your place and you rolled over me in your sleep?”

“That was a slightly different context, Clarke,” he points out, but he obediently lets his weight drop onto her entirely.

For a few seconds it’s relaxing, Clarke stroking light circles into his back and their breaths nearly in sync, but the press of skin on skin everywhere quickly makes Bellamy dizzy, and he can’t help but press tiny kisses to her neck up to the curve of her jaw. She purrs at the attention, but soon it’s not enough for her, either, and then she’s drawing his mouth back to hers; one hand cups his cheek gently while the other strokes meaningless patterns into the small of his back.

Somehow, this wrecks Bellamy even more than the sex part, just them kissing lazily in bed like a couple. It almost makes him want to cry, but he doesn’t want to break the moment, and he’s not ready to explain how kissing her could make him sad, so instead he kisses her a little harder, rising onto his elbows again for a better angle.

Clarke’s hands slide feverishly up and down his back and ass, fingernails digging into his skin when he rolls her bottom lip between his teeth, and she breathes, “I—I need—”

Just those two words make Bellamy’s vision go black for a second, but he manages to reply hoarsely, “I’ve got you. What do you need?”

“You,” she whispers, and she must feel the shiver that runs down his back. “All of you.”

He pulls back to see her face and this, he thinks, may be what kills him—Clarke staring up at him, open and nervous but still sure, hands still pressing into his back and skin flushed. Needing him.

It’s too much to process, so he just stares; he stares so long Clarke frowns and pinches him a little. “Bellamy? You with me?”

He shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I was just trying to process this is….” Real, he thinks, but that word feels too charged, too close, so he says, “happening,” instead.

She grunts. “Well, it’s not right now, unless you get a move on.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, muttering about how bossy she is, and it earns him a swat on the ass as he reaches for the package of condoms in the nightstand.

The mood shifts again when they get going; the rhythm is slow but a little messy with both of them shaking, and Clarke presses their foreheads together so they share every breath. A tear rolls down Bellamy’s cheek at one point, but Clarke doesn’t say anything, just wipes it away and holds him a little closer.

They stay that way until the very end—hearts beating too fast, bodies shaking, looking at each other like the moment will crumble to dust if they look away. Together.

Bellamy wakes up with hair in his face, which confuses him for a second, since his hair is nowhere near long enough to be getting in his mouth. Then he realizes who the hair’s attached to, sees whose body is splayed across the bed next to him, and his soul disconnects from his body for, like, half a second.

God, last night actually happened. He had sex with Clarke Griffin, kind of platonically, who he also wants to have sex with all the time, kind of not platonically. It was new, and overwhelming, and wonderful.

And she’s still here.

Slowly, she pushes her hair over her shoulder so he can get a better look at her face, which is half hidden by the pillow. This moment feels vastly different than the last time she slept here, and yet vastly the same—there’s no difference in the soft way his heart turns over looking at her.

Though there is a slight difference, he’ll admit, in the images that rise in his mind when he catches sight of the bruises under her jaw and peeking out from her collarbone, because now they’re real. Possible, even.

After a moment, he shakes her shoulder softly, and she stirs, blinking in confusion for a moment before her eyes meet his. Her expression melts into a shy but genuine smile, and Bellamy’s heart turns instantly to putty.

“Hey,” she says, soft as a feather touching the ground.

“Hey,” he says back. He really wants to kiss her, but he’s still so worried about boundaries—now that the night of ‘practice’ is over, are they back to just friends? How much affection can he risk without her knowing the truth before he’s ready to tell her?

She saves him the trouble by leaning over to kiss his cheek, then slumps back into the pillow and says, “I want pancakes.”

He scoffs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I ran a bed and breakfast.”

She shrugs without lifting her head, her muffled voice making out something like you bang ‘em, you feed ‘em, which makes Bellamy laugh even if it also makes his face hot with embarrassment.

They don’t have any pancake batter, and he doesn’t love Clarke enough to make some from scratch at this hour (kidding, but also, he really doesn’t want to) so he makes eggs and toast instead.

It’s all going fine, too, until Clarke walks in halfway through the ordeal wearing just one of his shirts, at which point he slips and burns himself on the pan.

“Shit,” he hisses, dropping the spatula to put his hand under some cold water.

Clarke comes up behind him, tutting, “Clumsy, clumsy Bellamy.”

He glares at her. “It’s not my fault.”

She shrugs innocently, but it makes the shirt hike up higher and he really doesn’t have time for the urge to make out with her, so he starts to turn back to the food, but Clarke stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. He hesitates a moment, but he’s never known how to say no to this woman; sighing, he turns back around and meets her gaze.

“We good?” she asks; her tone is casual, but her eyebrows are too furrowed, and the muscles in her jaw are tight.

Feeling a little guilty, he nods. “Yeah. Course we are.”

“Okay,” she says, but she still sounds a little unsure, so impulsively Bellamy leans down to peck her on the mouth.

“Stop worrying, Clarke. We’re good.”

She smiles a little and reaches to kiss his cheek, surer this time. “Okay.”

One day, when it’s cold enough for Bellamy’s hands to go numb if he’s outside longer than fifteen minutes, Clarke shows up to his apartment looking oddly excited.

“Bellamy,” she says, holding up her phone, “they have ice skating opening this week.”

“Okay,” he says. He never did any ice skating when he was little, and even now he’s gone maybe twice, but he knows Clarke took lessons a while back and is pretty good at it. “You want to go?”

“We have to, Bellamy. They’re going to put the lights up for Christmas the same week. It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Like you,” he says reflexively, and she mimes gagging at his weak compliment. “Hey, don’t be mean.”

“It’s like sixty percent of my personality, so no.”

Bellamy just rolls his eyes, because this is the least true thing in the world—Clarke may be stubborn and overly honest sometimes, but she is rarely mean. In fact, she picked him up when his car broke down last week, and a few days later helped Harper out with an issue with her thesis paper for two hours (Bellamy’s only gripe on that one was she had been paying him a lot of attention before the call, but she gave him extra afterwards to apologize, so it was worth it). Hell, she got him through the few years where his little sister hated him and his whole world started to fall apart, and without ever asking for anything back.

She’s the best person he knows, and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever find someone better. He doesn’t want to, either—every flaw she has just makes her more Clarke, more perfectly aligned with all his own dark parts, and so even when they yell at each other or she does something that makes him grind his teeth in frustration, he never wants to take any of it back.

Anyway, sappiness aside, they plan for Thursday evening to get dinner and go ice skating. The day in question isn’t too cold despite being early December, so they decide to just walk to the restaurant, a laid-back local burger joint Clarke would probably cut off a finger for. She orders a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake, because she’s like that, and convinces Bellamy to get a panini instead of a salad because “for the love of all that’s holy, Bellamy, we get it, you’re hot and fit, now eat some fucking carbs.”

Bellamy thinks she really just wanted more fries on the table, because as soon as she’s plowed through hers – at a startlingly fast rate for someone who’s not that big, he might add – she starts reaching for his.

“Hey, quit it,” he says, slapping her hand away for the third time. “You have your own.”

“Had,” she corrects. “And I’m still hungry.”

“You have half the burger left!”

“I want fries though.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t plan accordingly,” he says, but it’s not like he’s actually going to stop her, so he just lets his eyes wander away whenever she reaches for his plate.

Just to make it even, he takes random sips of her milkshake – he can have a sweet tooth sometimes, too, all right? Just because he wants to eat healthy doesn’t mean he eats nothing but greens, no matter what Clarke says – and she similarly grumbles but doesn’t stop him.

When it comes to pay for it, they fight a little about who should take the check – Clarke wants to take it because her meal was more expensive and she voted they have this night out, while Bellamy votes he should take it since he wanted to eat out – but finally decide to take separate checks and pay for the other’s as a compromise.

They sit outside the restaurant before they walk to the rink so their food babies will dwindle a little, Clarke resting her hand near his, and when they get up she intertwines their fingers like they’ve done it a million times—which they sort of have, but never so clearly away from the prying eyes of their friends.

At this point, Bellamy realizes they’re sort of on a date—like a real, planned, found-it-on-Pinterest date. It throws him a little, which is maybe weird considering they’ve literally had sex (another fact that throws him), but it just feels so…normal. So not part of practice for a fake relationship, or part of a normal platonic relationship. So close to what he wants them to be all the time.

(There’s this small part of Bellamy that knows this isn’t just some fake thing to convince Gina anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time, but if he stops calling it that, he has to call it something else, and he doesn’t know what it is yet. He’s scared to know what they’ll be without this protective coating to everything they do, if they’ll be anything at all.)

Despite the undertone of anxiety that accompanies such easy affection between them, Bellamy can’t help but smile as they walk with their arms swinging a little, Clarke leaning into him only half for warmth, them both testing the coldness of the air with their breath. No matter what they are, he knows it’s good.

The moment Bellamy puts on his skates and gets onto the rink, he remembers how bad he is at this. He slips immediately, having to grab onto the edge for purchase so he doesn’t fall onto his face; meanwhile, Clarke slides past him smugly.

“We should’ve done football or something,” Bellamy grumbles as she circles around the rink and back to him without faltering at all. “Then I could’ve tackled you for being such a jerk.”

“Excuse me, I have done nothing wrong,” she says, coming to a stop to raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s not my fault you have the skating skills of a four-year-old without a box to hold onto.”

“Yeah, but you could help.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” she says. “If it makes you happy.”

She maneuvers to his side and hooks his arm over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Okay, just focus on your balance. Don’t try to be fancy.”

He really does try, but it’s hard to balance on someone who’s a head shorter than you, and he’s so bad at skating. They have to stay by the edge of the rink and just circle around slowly, so whenever Bellamy starts to slip he can grab the edge instead of pulling Clarke down with him.

There aren’t a lot of people there since it’s a Thursday night, which Bellamy appreciates. They can circle the rink with the twinkling lights in trees all around them in relative quiet, slowly building up his confidence until he can go to the middle—as long as he’s still hanging onto Clarke, at least.

By now, though, it’s been like a solid forty-five minutes without annoying Clarke, which is absolutely unacceptable, so Bellamy starts to purposefully lean into her as if he’s falling even though he’s stable. She threatens to let him fall when he does it a fourth time, but it’s not needed, because on the fifth time he leans harder than he intended and neither of them are able to regain their balance; they fall onto the ice in a tangle of limbs and annoyed grunts, Bellamy on top of Clarke.

“I fucking hate you,” she mutters. Her nose is crinkled up in annoyance, but it just makes her look cuter, paired with the hat pulled down low over her face and her red cheeks and the little bits of white shining in her hair.

“Nah, you don’t,” Bellamy says; he intends it to be teasing, but he’s sort of distracted by how pretty Clarke looks. Without thinking much of it, he leans down and kisses her softly, cold lips warming upon contact. She kisses him back, gloved hand coming up to touch his cheek briefly, before he pulls back and helps her up (or, really, her helping him up, but whatever).

Her cheeks are definitely redder now, and he can’t help but grin at the sight. “See? You don’t hate me.”

A tiny smile tugs at Clarke’s mouth, but there’s something in her eyes; something far-away and yet nearly close enough to touch. Something almost sad. “I guess not.”

Bellamy swallows down the confession he’s been so close to sharing for ages now, fear getting the best of him again. Instead, he holds out his hand and says, “Shall we?”

She takes it, squeezing tightly. “We shall.”

When they get back to Bellamy’s apartment, they change into dry clothes (Clarke steals another one of his shirts to wear with her pajama pants because she knows he’s weak) and curl up on the couch with a blanket to warm up.

Bellamy wants to kiss her, like always, but she feels just a little distant, and he doesn’t want to push anything, so he just strokes her arm and touches his chin to her hair until she lifts her head to initiate the kiss herself.

It’s soft, almost unbearably so; she holds his cheeks in her hands delicately, moving her lips slowly against his as he holds her waist and matches the softness. She moves to his lap, but it feels more for comfort than sexual prowess; there’s no grinding, no moans, no kissing anywhere but their mouths. Nothing but this slow, deeply intense trade-off between them, back and forth.

A few minutes in, Bellamy tastes salt on Clarke’s lips, and he pulls back, immediately worried; sure enough, a couple of tears are slowly sliding down Clarke’s cheeks.

“Clarke?” he whispers, not sure what to say. Panic builds in his chest, that he’s done this, that something’s happened, that she’s hurting and he hasn’t noticed. “Clarke, what is it?”

She wipes the tears with the back of her hand, a little wonderingly, and says, “It’s not about you, Bellamy.”

But she doesn’t sound sure, and the anxiety builds in Bellamy’s throat. “Clarke, if something’s wrong, if I did something, please—”

“You didn’t do anything,” she says, voice stronger now, and sets her hands on his shoulders. “I promise, it’s not you. I just….” She falters, then just lets the sentence hang there, unfinished.

“Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

Clarke considers this for a few moments, scanning his face, then slowly shakes her head. “Not yet. Not tonight.”

He thinks of all the things he wants to say to Clarke, how it never feels like the right time. He understands her worry, but even if he didn’t, he would never push her to share something that makes her so uneasy. That’s the last thing he wants, to hurt her.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

She smiles uncertainly at him, so he leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering. She rubs his shoulders, signaling she’s okay, so he kisses the other cheek, then her forehead, her nose, her jaw, her eyelids, everywhere on her face until she’s smiling again. Then she captures his lips with hers again, more confident than before, sliding her fingers into his hair like she always loves to.

Bellamy strokes up and down her back and thighs, trying to express everything he doesn’t know how to say—trying to let her know it’s going to be okay, because they have each other.

He feels something in the way she kisses him, too, like she’s promising him something; he doesn’t know what, but he feels his heart soften all the same.

Clarke doesn’t have work until the afternoon, and Bellamy’s heart tugs at the thought of her leaving, so she stays the night. They don’t have sex, but Bellamy doesn’t mind in the slightest; he curls around Clarke’s body, arm thrown across her waist, and she tangles her fingers with his.

“Good night,” she whispers, almost like a confession.

“Good night,” he replies, kissing her hair, and it feels like a confession of his own.

There are still moments in the next few weeks where Clarke gets a little sad or distant, but for the most part she’s as loving and eager and Clarke as ever. They fall into a perfect rhythm, alternating whose apartment they go to and planning with roommates to try to be alone when they can and doing stuff whenever they’re both off work (yes, like dates).

It’s awesome, and natural, and fucking overwhelming. They’ve been doing everything he’s ever wanted except expressing his love for her, and that should make it easier to tell her, but somehow it makes it so much harder. If he tells her and she doesn’t feel the same, if this is just practice to her or she doesn’t want to be committed or whatever, he could lose everything. Not just the sex or the kissing or the dates, but Clarke, and now he knows more than ever how much of his heart is dedicated to her.

Still, he always enjoys their time together, whether they’re staying in or going on a walk or splurging to try a good dessert shop Clarke heard about. One time, when he goes over to her apartment, she had even bought salad for them to eat. He nearly cries, but also low-key worries she’s been replaced by a robot until he sees she also bought a giant bag of his favorite dark chocolate for “whenever the craving hits.” Which is apparently often, because she’s already eaten like ten.

Another time, Bellamy is laying on the couch after work when Clarke gets there, and instead of waiting him for sit up, she just sighs dramatically and flops directly on top of him. He thinks she’ll get up after a second, but she doesn’t, and within fifteen minutes she’s fallen asleep. He just chuckles at her ridiculousness and keeps his arm around her so she doesn’t fall off, laying there until she wakes up a few hours later, complaining that she’s hungry and he’s an uncomfortable bed.

And at New Year’s Eve, Clarke shows up to the party with her hair cut in this little bob with the ends dyed pink, and Bellamy can’t stop playing with it the whole time. He also very much appreciates how it exposes her neck more, and they end up finding an empty room so he can give it the proper attention it deserves, almost missing the drop in the process.

When they come back in the main room with thirty seconds of the year left and Clarke looking extra flushed, everyone rolls their eyes while Raven shakes her head slowly, looking torn between laughing and wringing their necks. She’s given up trying to talk Bellamy into telling Clarke, at least on her time, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t spend every moment she’s around them annoyed at their stupidity.

Which is fair, he gets that, but if she wanted a relationship that made any sense, she shouldn’t have voted for him and Clarke. They are the fucking worst at feelings, or making sense in general.

Nearly six months after the day Bellamy asked Clarke to fill in as his fake girlfriend, she sends him a text saying, come over now if u can pls. i really have to talk to u about something.

Doing his best not to panic, Bellamy hurries over to Clarke’s apartment, and lets himself in (she’s expecting him, and he has a key anyways, from one too many times of Clarke needing him to grab her something she forgot). Clarke’s waiting for him in the doorway, looking nervous.

“Okay, I’m here,” he says carefully. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Well, to settle your rampant worry-wart tendencies, no one has died or gotten sick, I’m not moving, I don’t suddenly hate you or think you did something horrible, and I still have my job.”

Damn, she reads him like a book sometimes. “That’s good. But…still bad news?”

She shrugs. “I don’t think so? I hope not. I don’t know, it’s just news.”

Clarke fidgets a lot when she’s nervous, and right now she’s practically vibrating, so Bellamy has them sit down to try to alleviate a little bit of that. Also, he wants to be ready for whatever she has to tell him, even if it’s apparently not life or death.

“So,” she starts. “The cat’s out of the bag.”

Maybe this is the worst or stupidest thing Bellamy’s done yet, but it takes him a full ten seconds to realize what she’s talking about; to remember they’ve been kind of lying to their friends for six months. “Gina,” he says finally.

Clarke nods. “I guess Raven was drunk and ranted about the whole thing to Gina while she was on the clock. She called me on her break to ask if it was true.”

“I’m assuming you told her the truth.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if that was right, to tell her without your permission, but I was just tired of lying.”

Bellamy tries not to let that comment sit uncomfortably in his chest. “How angry was she?”

“Honestly? Not really. She was more just…confused. Both that we did it in the first place and also that we kept it up so long. She said….” She drifts off, then says instead, “But, uh, I guess that wraps that all up. We can, you know…stop faking now.”

She glances at him and suddenly, for no reason at all except for the softness in her eyes and the nervous hope in her gaze, telling her is the easiest thing in the world. “I already did,” he says softly. “Long before we even started this thing.”

Clarke’s eyes widen, and a dopey grin follows soon after. “Oh, thank God. I was going to strangle you if you were really that good of an actor. Or ask you to try out for Broadway.” She hesitates, then adds, “You really liked me that long?”

“Clarke, I’ve liked you for six years.”

“Jesus,” she says. “Only you would hold onto a crush that long. And I thought I was stupid for just having a crush on you for one year.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still stupid,” Bellamy says, a stupid grin of his own quickly taking over his whole face.

She rolls her eyes, then takes his hand and says softer, “When you asked me to fake being your girlfriend, a big part of me said not to do it, that it was the stupidest thing in the world to fake date the guy I wanted to real date. But I thought maybe my feelings would…I don’t know, dilute if I went on a date with you, knowing it was fake. Convince myself it was whatever and move on.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re definitely still stupid, because that’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“Hey, you’re the one who picked me despite an apparent six year crush!” she protests. “And anyway, I knew in my heart it was all just a ruse. I wanted to be yours, even if it was all pretend.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She snorts. “You know, sometimes you and I are just a little too similar. If we weren’t such fucking idiots, we could’ve been actually dating six months ago.”

“Who says we weren’t?” Bellamy says, shrugging. “I’m counting it, at least.”

“Makes it easier on all our friends, at least. No need to expose the scandal if it resolves itself.”

Bantering with Clarke is fun and all, but Bellamy is also literally about to burst with the desire to kiss her – his girlfriend – so instead of replying, he pulls her towards him and seals his mouth over hers. It’s messy to say the least, what with their dumb grins and general excitement making their accuracy absolute shit, but Bellamy has probably never loved a kiss more.

“You kiss like it’s your first time,” he teases when their teeth clack for the third time.

“It’s always the first time with you,” she replies easily. “That’s why I love you.”

Bellamy’s heart kicks in his chest a little, but honestly, he already knew. Maybe he always has. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” she says, stroking his cheek gently even as she hauls herself into his lap, eager as always. “That’s good.”

They do eventually tell their friends about the whole thing, half because they feel guilty and half because looking back, it is the funniest and stupidest fucking thing ever. Their friends all agree about the stupid part at least—especially Raven, who literally cries when they tell her they’re officially dating because “I was this fucking close to breaking every friendship rule in the book and swapping your diaries so you’d know the truth. God, I fucking hate you guys sometimes. Come here.”

Clarke also moves into his apartment a few months later, which isn’t a particularly huge gesture considering she practically lived there even before their whole debacle. She still steals his clothes all the time, and he still tuts whenever she tries to claim eating a family-sized bag of chips counts as a meal, and they still fight over little things and big things and nothing at all. Nothing has changed, really, and he doesn’t particularly want them to; after all, everything is as it should be.

At least, until he’s saved enough for a ring.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #clarke x bellamy #the 100 #*101 counting bellamy #t100 #bellarke fanfic #modern au #fake dating #mutual pining #fluff #tate writes #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fanfic #t100 fanficiton #t100 fanfic

364 notes · View notes

vexedtonightmares · 5 years

Text

with great power (elu spiderman au)

eliott has been saved by spiderman quite a few times for absolutely no reason. hopeless romantic that he is, eliott accidentally starts falling for spiderman somewhere along the way and doesn’t know what to do about it. obviously, there’s only one solution. he and his good friend lucas should pretend to date to make spiderman jealous. there’s no ulterior motives here, of course, just lucas helping a bro out.

aka eliott’s falling in love with spiderman, lucas is in love with eliott, and lucas is spiderman.

1 2 3 4 5

ao3

no.5 “What if Spiderman was someone you knew in real life?”

He really had to tell Lucas about the kiss. It was all he could think about, whether he wanted to or not. When he wanted to, he thought about the kiss in the way he’d experienced it, full of love and light and heart racing joy. When he didn’t want to, he thought of Lucas, of how Lucas would be happy for him and they’d go back to the way things had always been, and he didn’t want that. But he also didn’t want to let go of Spiderman.

It was all so confusing, Eliott’s mind could hardly catch a break and he couldn’t be too upset because it was what he deserved. He’d put himself into this situation, now he had to figure out a way out of it.

Maybe he didn’t have to tell Lucas about it, actually… it wasn’t like it was ever going to happen again, was it? He’d kissed Spiderman one time because Spiderman had saved his life, that was all. But then there had been that moment before the kiss, where Eliott felt intimately connected to him in a way he had only felt with a few people in his life. That heart stopping, world pausing feeling where everything left your head and it felt like some sort of epiphany, a euphoric sensation where everything in the world made sense.

He wanted to get a second opinion about it all, but he already knew what Idriss would say. He would tell him to be honest with Lucas and that if Lucas didn’t want him after it all it was his own fault.

It was his own fault, everything was his own fault. He tried so hard but always came up short or screwed himself over in some way. Even if he wished it wasn’t so, he knew deep down he’d ruined whatever future he might have had with Lucas before it had even begun.

There was a knock on the door, pulling Eliott from the corners of his own mind and reminding him that he had only a minute longer to make a decision, because Lucas was at the door, and he had to have some sort of explanation for blowing him off.

“Hey!” he opened the door with a wide grin and cringed internally. Yes, he was happy to see Lucas, but now Lucas was looking at him suspiciously.

“Everything ok?” Lucas asked as he walked in, throwing his trusty blue bomber jacket on the back of a chair. Eliott nodded casually, walking into the kitchen to avoid having to look at Lucas straight on. How had it taken him this long to realize that he was the most beautiful person in the entire world?

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Eliott called over his shoulder, only to see that Lucas had followed him into the kitchen. He halted and shifted on his feet nervously. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you came with me.”

“El, what’s going on? You’re acting super weird.” Of course Lucas could see right through him. It made him happy, in a small way, but mostly a bit anxious at the present moment. If he looked too long into Lucas’ eyes, would he see everything? Would he run?

Eliott leaned back against the counter, opening his mouth and not knowing what he would say first until it came out. “Spiderman kissed me.”

Lucas blinked in what Eliott assumed was surprise. “Our plan worked then?” he asked with a slightly strained voice.

“I guess, if you put it like that,” Eliott said hesitantly. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted the conversation to go, but he had no idea how to steer it into a different direction. Lucas seemed upset, but was that because Eliott had kissed someone else or was it because of something entirely unrelated?

“So, we’re done with this, then,” Lucas said definitively.

Eliott snapped his head to look at Lucas. “Woah, woah, I didn’t say that.”

Lucas looked at him with narrowed eyes. “But… you got what you wanted. There’s literally no reason for us to keep doing this.”

“I got what I wanted? You say that like Spiderman is some shiny prize or something,” Eliott argued.

“Isn’t he?” Lucas asked, and Eliott froze. Did Lucas really think so little of him that he thought he only wanted Spiderman because he was seemingly unattainable, that it was just another person for him to treat like some kind of object? Sure, Eliott had a few tumultuous on and off relationships in the past, the most recent being Lucille, but he never once saw them as any kind of prize to be won. He just fell too hard too fast and overlooked any and all red flags until he was in too deep.

Instead of letting his insecurities come to the surface or lashing out at Lucas, he changed the subject. “Still, why would we be done? You still need to get your man, unless you have already and haven’t told me.”

“He’s never going to like me back,” Lucas said without a pause, “I’m over him, he’ll never see me the way I see him.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Eliott said.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s not about what you believe. It’s a fact, the sooner I accept it the better. We done here then?”

“Oh.” That was abrupt. “Um, I mean, we can still hang out? We’re best friends right?”

“I’m not really in the mood,” Lucas said softly.

Eliott nodded like he understood, but he didn’t, he really didn’t. “What are we going to tell our friends?”

“You broke up with me, obviously.”

“Obviously?”

Lucas laughed mirthlessly. “No one is ever going to believe I broke up with you. It’s much more believable that you just got bored with me and wanted to move on to something better.”

“Bored with you? Seriously Lucas?” Against his wishes, he was starting to get a bit angry. It didn’t help that Lucas was acting so strangely, like none of this mattered. “Maybe you think I just go wherever the wind takes me and I just get bored with people and toss them aside like garbage, but that’s not true. I love people so fiercely it physically hurts sometimes, but I keep doing it, hoping that someday it’ll lead me to my forever.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Lucas began, face getting red.

“Then what did you mean Lucas?” Eliott could hear his voice start to shake and begged himself inside his head to hold it together. “Of all people… I always thought you were the only one who would always see the real me, who would like me despite all my flaws and never make me feel like shit because of them.”

“El—” Lucas’ voice broke, then hardened, “I didn’t mean that. I meant that it was ridiculous that anyone believed someone like you ever loved someone like me in the first place. I do always see the real you, I would recognize you anywhere.”

“I would too.” Eliott hated hearing Lucas talk about himself like that, especially when Eliott did love him, he just didn’t know how to say so.

Lucas shook his head sadly. “No, you wouldn’t. But it’s ok, I don’t expect you to.”

He left the kitchen and Eliott followed in confusion, catching as Lucas grabbed his jacket and shrugged it back on. Eliott reached out to grasp his arm before he could make it to the door. “Lucas. What just happened?”

“Nothing,” Lucas said brightly, shaking his head, “It’s cool, Eliott. Go get your man.”

“L…” Eliott tried, but Lucas slipped out of his grasp and out the door. Eliott only hoped he hadn’t slipped out of his life. Their entire conversation had left him feeling entirely unsatisfied and slightly scared for their future. If Lucas really did start to tell people that they’d broken up, it’s not like they could just go back to being best friends like normal. They hadn’t thought through that aspect of it.

The question still remained of whether Eliott even wanted to be with Spiderman or not. His head and his heart were telling him different things, but both were so cluttered that he couldn’t understand what they were saying regardless.

He supposed he’d get some answers at school, see if Lucas actually went through with his decision, or if they’d both overreacted and would find time to talk it through during the week. Selfishly, he hoped for the latter.

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Lucas wasn’t at school. It was odd, partly because Lucas hadn’t said anything about missing school and partly because Lucas never missed school. Eliott was always the one of the two of them to be absent, more often than he should have been.

It also seemed he hadn’t said anything to his roommates about his discussion with Eliott, because when Eliott asked Manon where he was, she looked at him oddly and thought he should have known, given the fact they were dating. He never got an answer from her, pretending to have received a text that had slipped his mind.

Yann was his last hope, but he couldn’t be obvious about how he asked, hopefully Basile or Arthur would ask in his stead. The four of them were sitting together in the cafeteria, Eliott gazing out the window, lost in thought, when the subject was finally brought up.

“It feels ominous, without Lucas here,” Arthur said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Basile nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucas miss a day of school. Probably because he’s a nerd.”

Arthur smacked Basile upside the head and nodded to Eliott entirely unsubtly. Eliott probably would have argued if he’d had the brain power to do so, but everything seemed so caught in a limbo in his mind that he let it slide. Besides, Lucas was a nerd, in the best way possible.

Yann eyed Eliott briefly before speaking up, “He sprained his ankle.”

“He what?” Eliott asked before he could stop himself.

Arthur furrowed his brows. “You didn’t talk to him?”

“Yeah… of course I did… but you know Lucas, he thinks things are no big deal until he ends up with a sprained ankle. He must have gone to the doctor this morning, I saw him last night.” That much was true, if it counted for anything. Did he actually have a sprained ankle, or was Yann testing him?

“Yeah,” Yann agreed, “He texted me before French this morning, letting me know he wouldn’t be there for a day so I should send him my notes.”

“Should we go see him after school? Bring him a care package or something?” Basile asked, words barely discernible between the food he continually shoved into his mouth.

Arthur nodded in agreement. “That’s a good idea, he’d do the same for us, right?”

Yann agreed as well, and they all looked to Eliott. “Well?” Arthur asked, “Lover boy?”

“Yeah, um, sounds good,” Eliott said noncommittally. The other three looked at him suspiciously, and he tried to muster more enthusiasm. “We can meet at the bus stop after school, I can ask the girls if they want to join as well?”

“Ooh, good idea, Manon is probably better at care packages than we are,” Basile grinned in agreement, before switching topics, allowing Eliott to continue to tune everyone out. He pulled out his phone and pulled out his last brief texts with Lucas, wondering if Lucas was still mad at him for those too.

Eliott: u sprained your ankle??

Lucas: Oh, hello to you too

Eliott: l.

Lucas: El.

Eliott: lucas i’m serious, what the hell?

Lucas: Yes, dad, I sprained my ankle. I’m a dumbass, but it was barely a sprain I’ll be fine in like a week

Eliott: that’s not how sprains work??

Lucas: What, you’re a doctor now?

Eliott: are you mad at me for something?

Lucas: No.

Eliott: why do i find that i don’t believe that one bit

Lucas: I don’t care what you believe, I’m not mad at anyone but myself for spraining my stupid ankle

Eliott: how did you even do it? i literally saw u last night

Lucas: I tripped on the sidewalk on my way home, thought I just twisted my ankle but it was super swollen this morning so Manon made me go get it checked

Eliott: thank god for manon

Lucas: I’m literally fine I should be at school

Eliott: what, you’re a doctor now?

Lucas: Hilarious

Eliott: thanks i try

Eliott: anyway, the boys (and possibly girls) and i were going to come over after school with a care package what do u want in it

Lucas: Care package? Please don’t do that

Eliott: too late it was baz’s idea

Lucas: Fuck

Lucas: Idk?? Whatever you think

Eliott: thanks, that helps a bunch

Lucas: I don’t want a care package!!

Eliott: i know, that’s why i gave u a heads up

Eliott: time to prepare your award winning performance for surprised and grateful fallen hero

Lucas: Fallen hero

Eliott: isn’t that what you are?

Lucas: Truly, your capacity for humor astounds me

Eliott: who said i was joking?

Eliott: i know, i’m great

Lucas: I didn’t tell them yet, by the way

Eliott: yeah i kinda figured that out

Lucas: Oh yeah…

Eliott: are you still planning to?

Lucas: Yeah, I’ve lived enough lies in my life

Eliott: can you give it until the end of the week? spiderman kissed me, remember?

Lucas: What does that have to do with anything?

Eliott: maybe i don’t want to be with him like that anymore

Lucas: Why not?

Eliott: i’ll tell you by the end of the week, i promise

Lucas: Ok, Mr. Mystery, whatever you say

Lucas: I have to go, Mika is fussing again

Eliott: i’d pay good money to see that

Eliott: remember: act surprised and grateful

Lucas: Yes dad

Eliott: daddy ;))

Lucas: Do not push your luck Demaury

Eliott: see you later, l

Lucas: See you later, El

This was good. This was good? This was good. Eliott had given himself a self imposed deadline to sort out his feelings, and he was determined to actually do so this time. Hopefully he’d run into Spiderman at some point before then to get some clarity surrounding that situation.

He thought that was maybe why his feelings were so confused in the first place. Spiderman had gone from seeing him and pretending to save him multiple times a month, or even a week, to random meetings every once and awhile. Aside from their pseudo date, or whatever that had been, Spiderman hadn’t initiated contact with him, and Eliott had no way of knowing how to reach out to someone who remained anonymous.

Well, with or without Spiderman, he’d have to figure it out. He had no other choice.

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Lucas had acted both surprised and grateful when nine people showed up at his door after school with a wild collection of things they thought constituted as a care package. Eliott winked slyly at him over everyone’s heads and Lucas had smirked in return before he was engulfed in a big group hug.

He had a pair of crutches that he definitely was not using, which Imane chided him for, but Eliott could tell it was only because she cared so much. He would never say it out loud because she’d probably kill him, but Imane’s soft spot for Lucas was so glaringly obvious, heartwarming as it was.

Their care package consisted of a blanket Emma already owned but knew Lucas liked to use when he was at her house, some cookies made by Manon, a six pack of beer from the boys, biology notes from Imane, a rainbow pin from Alexia, and colored sharpies from Daphné, who’d thought Lucas would have a cast for them to sign instead of an ace bandage. Eliott had gone in on the beer with the boys, but he’d tucked some of his drawings into the package when no one was looking.

“So how did this even happen?” Emma asked, kicking his leg. Manon shot her a glare as Lucas winced slightly.

“I tripped on the sidewalk when I was coming home last night,” Lucas said, the same answer he’d given Eliott. Not that Eliott had thought he was lying, but he’d never really taken Lucas for the clumsy type. Everyone had surprises, it was just that Eliott always thought he’d figured out all of Lucas’ surprises. He didn’t know whether it excited or terrified him that he hadn’t yet.

Manon made Lucas sit back on the couch, which he did with a pointed expression of disgust. Honestly, if any of them were to hate having a sprained ankle, it would be Lucas. Eliott probably wouldn’t care that much and would use it as an excuse to skip more school, but Lucas always liked to be a part of things, liked to put chaotic energy into everything he did, and the fact that he was relegated to the couch was clearly not sitting well with him.

Eliott sat beside him, it would have been weird if he hadn’t, and Lucas looked at him softly, grinning slightly.

“How are you doing?” Eliott asked quietly as everyone else engaged themselves in other conversations. “Actually?”

Lucas leaned his head back on the couch, glancing up at the ceiling. “Physically? Fine. It really doesn’t even hurt, I’m just a dumbass.”

“Mentally?” Eliott asked, because he was the only one who would know to.

Lucas answered with a weak shrug that made Eliott want to wrap him up in a hug. So he did. They weren’t broken up yet, so he could do things like that and even if Lucas didn’t like him like that, he could just pretend it was all a show for their friends.

Surprisingly, Lucas melted into his embrace, folding his arms around Eliott in return, his fingers lightly brushing the skin on Eliott’s wrist. It made Eliott’s nerves stand on end, a sensation similar to when Spiderman had gripped both sides of his face and pulled him closer.

Remembering, he shifted a bit, Lucas still in his grasp. Every time he thought he was over the kiss, the memory rushed back in a heartbeat, spurred by the most random things. If the kiss hadn’t been what it had been, his decision might have been easier. But it was such a kiss, such an intense feeling, that it was hard to consider that anything might ever match it.

“You two are so gross, seriously get a room or something,” Emma said, sticking her tongue out at them. Lucas pressed himself further into Eliott.

“This is my flat, Em. Plus, I’m injured I need El to carry me from room to room, weakling that I am,” Lucas fake whined, earning a few fond eye rolls.

“That’s so not true!” Basile interjected, “You’re, like, weirdly strong.”

Lucas shifted a bit uncomfortably, laughing in what Eliott could tell was a forced way. “No I’m not Baz, maybe you’re just even weaker than me. I’m pretty sure everyone here but you and Daph could beat me in a fight.”

“No! Remember the time you accidentally flipped Arthur over your shoulder or when we did piggyback races and you carried Yann way faster than Arthur carried me?” Basile asked.

Lucas shrugged and laughed again. “Well, those were flukes, I can’t do much carrying right now anyway can I?”

Eliott saw Imane narrow her eyes at Lucas and he wondered if he was missing something. Lucas was stronger than he thought he was, but he didn’t know why that would be a big deal. Why was he arguing with Basile so much, wouldn’t Lucas want people think he was stronger than he was?

“Speaking of which, can you help me to my room? This has been great but I need to do some homework,” Lucas said, squeezing Eliott’s hand.

Eliott nodded, untangling their bodies. “Of course.”

He hoisted Lucas up bridal style, to which Lucas began complaining immediately. “El, El, put me down I just meant like grab me those stupid crutches or something.”

“Can’t hear you.”

“Eliott…”

“Please, move along, some of us are trying not to vomit right now,” Arthur said, winking at Lucas. Lucas flipped him off, still in Eliott’s arms, then flipped Eliott off, who grinned goofily down at him in response. Eliott carried him all the way down the hall before plopping him onto his bed and closing the door behind them.

Lucas sat up, resting on his hands, hair a mess, and Eliott almost thought his mind was made up right then and there. “You don’t actually have to hang out in here with me, they’ll all leave soon,” Lucas said, and Eliott re entered his own mind.

“Why do you keep saying that? When have I ever not wanted to hang out with you?” Eliott demanded, flopping down on the bed next to Lucas.

Lucas looked down at his lap, playing with the strings on his sweatshirt. “You know when.”

Eliott did know when, but he didn’t know why that applied right now. Sure, he had a tendency to blow off Lucas and his other friends whenever he dated someone new, but he didn’t do it so often that he neglected everyone all the time. Had Lucas been acting so weird because Eliott blew him off that one night to hang out with Spiderman? That had been their plan, it shouldn’t have been a big deal.

Either way, he was with Lucas right now, not Spiderman, even though he really needed to have a conversation with Spiderman.

“Kissing Spiderman,” Lucas began, still refusing to look at Eliott, “What was it like?”

“Why do you care?” Eliott asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Lucas answered, finally meeting his eyes.

Eliott sighed deeply. “Ok… um, it was amazing. Like kissing in general is amazing, but there was something about it that felt so familiar, so comforting, you know? Like we knew each other outside of the bubble of Spiderman and his damsel in distress. God, that sounds so stupid, I know it does, obviously I don’t know Spiderman outside the mask, but it really made me wish I did. I was kind of content with the idea of the hero in the mask until then, you know? But he said something to me that made me want more than what we’d been doing up until then.”

Lucas looked away from him abruptly. “What if Spiderman was someone you knew in real life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he was someone you already knew, would it change how you felt about him, or the person you knew?” Lucas asked in a soft whisper.

Eliott contemplated it. In some ways it might feel a bit relieving, to have it be someone he already knew on some level. But also, wouldn’t that person have been lying to him this whole time, showing interest when it was convenient but pretending they were someone else entirely the rest of the time? “I guess so,” he said at last.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, I guess it would depend on how well I knew them. Like, if it was Arthur or something I’d probably be kind of mad they didn’t just have a conversation with me and felt like they had to hide behind a mask to show me how they felt, but if it was just someone random from school I’d kind of understand,” Eliott explained, hoping he was making sense. Sometimes things were easier if you didn’t have to be yourself, that was why he’d always identified with a raccoon after all, but there were some people you shouldn’t need that mask around.

Lucas got quiet again and Eliott wondered what he was thinking. Was it possible Lucas had a crush on Spiderman as well? No, that would be crazy… right?

“Want to watch a movie?” Eliott asked, trying to clear both his mind and Lucas’. He wanted them to settle back into being El and L, best friends, even if one was possibly in love with the other.

Lucas sighed, mostly to himself, before turning around with a small smile and scooting closer to Eliott. “Sure. I get to choose, though, I’m injured.”

“You just said you were fine,” Eliott pointed out. He had quite the list of movies and tv shows he wanted to watch, and Lucas only ever wanted to watch the same three things over and over. One of those things was Stranger Things, which Eliott also loved, but the third season had emotionally devastated him enough that he wasn’t quite ready to go back down that road.

“Well, what do you want to watch then? I love Call Me By Your Name, because I’d fuck Timothée Chalamet in a heartbeat, but I can’t watch him cry to ‘Visions of Gideon’ again,” Lucas pleaded. Eliott cracked a smile, ruffling Lucas’ hair.

“How about The OA? It’s one of my favorite shows, I swear it’s so good,” Eliott asked, folding his hands together and giving Lucas puppy dog eyes.

Lucas narrowed his eyes and grimaced. “Fine, but if there’s peach sex, we get to watch what I want.”

“Deal,” Eliott agreed, because he knew very well that there was no peach sex.

They settled in for the first episode and Eliott clicked play, trying not to react as Lucas slumped his head onto his shoulder. He really had to make up his mind, otherwise he might end up hurting Lucas in ways he didn’t even want to consider.

#skam france #elu fic #elu spiderman au #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

33 notes · View notes

razieltwelve · 5 years

Text

Secret Santa

Here is a little Christmas present for all of you. The characters in this snippet are from The Unconventional Heroes Series.

X X X

“Why do I have to be Santa?” Gerald asked.

Timmy patted the bureaucrat on the shoulder and gazed off into the distance. “Think of the children, Gerald. Think of how happy they’ll be to receive gifts. Think of how their smiles will light up their faces.”

“But why me?” Gerald really didn’t want to be the centre of attention, and playing the part of Santa would ensure that he was.

“It’s pretty simple. Santa is supposed to carry all of his gifts around in a giant sack. For obvious reasons, carrying around a sack big enough to carry gifts for all of the children in the world would be impossible, so Santa has to be using magic to do it.” Timmy smirked. “And guess whose magic fits the description?”

“Oh.” Gerald made a face. “Mine.”

“Exactly.” Timmy pointed to where the rats were filling a sack with a random assortment of bits and pieces. “Whenever you’re about to give a child a gift, you’re going to reach into that sack before using your magic to pull out a suitable gift via your magic. It will look like you’ve got a bottomless sack, just like Santa.”

“But can’t you just use one of the sacks you got from Mike the Corpse Dealer?” Gerald asked. “Those are pretty big.”

“Sadly, they’re not big enough. Since I still haven’t cracked how he makes them yet, it’s up to you to be Santa.” He patted Gerald on the shoulder again. “Relax, we’ll be right there backing you up. It’s not like we’re going to throw you at a bunch of excited children on your own.”

“I guess.” Gerald took a deep breath. “For the children.”

“Exactly,” Timmy said. “For the children – and my future status as the legal ruler of this area. After all, what better way to secure the loyalty of the villagers than by building them schools, giving them access to clean water and proper medical care, and maybe throwing a few gifts their way. Hopefully, they’ll remember this the next time someone suggests grabbing some stakes and pitchforks.”

“I knew there had to be an ulterior motive.”

“Gerald, there’s an ulterior motive behind everything.” Timmy grinned. “Now, go with Bramante.” The rat waved. “He’s in charge of getting you fitted for a fat suit and fake beard.”

X X X

Avraniel stared at her dragon. “What are you doing?”

Spot wagged his tail happily and then held still as Katie attached a pair of what looked to be fake antlers to his head. I’m a reindeer.

“No,” Avraniel said slowly. “You’re a dragon.”

“We’re going to visit the villagers for Christmas,” Katie explained. “And hand out some gifts. It’s part of my master’s public relations campaign. When Spot found out that Gerald would be dressing up as Santa, he asked if he could be a reindeer.”

A flying reindeer. Spot flapped his wings and grinned. Who helps Santa give gifts to good boys and girls… and eats bandits and stuff.

“I’m fairly sure that none of Santa’s reindeer eat bandits,” Katie replied. “Although I’m sure the bandits don’t get gifts either.”

“Fine.” Avraniel shrugged. “Let me know when you guys get back, so I can join all of you for Christmas dinner.” She smirked. “Your master might be an idiot sometimes, but he knows how to put together a good spread.”

“Actually,” Katie said lifting a costume up into the air with her shadows. “My master and I were hoping you could help. You see, Santa is supposed to have elves for assistants and you are the only elf in the castle, so…”

“No. Not happening.”

At Avraniel’s words, Katie nodded gravely. “I see. Well, as my master would say, it’s a good thing I prepared a backup plan.” She nudged Spot.

“What?” Avraniel laughed. “You think Spot can force me to help? Good luck with…” She trailed off as the dragon looked at her with puppy dog eyes. When she continued to scowl back, he merely increased the power of his puppy dog eyes until they began to reach truly epic levels. Finally, when even that failed, Chomp trotted over and added his own puppy dog eyes to the mix, all six of them since he had three heads.

“Fine!” Avraniel snapped. “Just give me the damn costume.”

X X X

Old Man raised one eyebrow as he eyed the contraption that Gerald would be riding in. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

Daerin put his hands on his hips and smirked. “That, my friend, is the latest in dwarf engineering! It might look a little cumbersome, but that sled is perfectly capable of hovering in mid-air thanks to an assortment of runes, seals, enchantments, and other technology. Of course, it’s not like it can move around on its own, but that’s what the others are for.”

Attached to the sled were Spot and an assortment of zombies, the largest of whom was Roger. The gigantic zombie shark-hydra-drake towered over everything and gave off a truly menacing aura.

“The villagers may well assume that they’re under attack.” Old Man paused. “And are those giant fake antlers on Roger?”

“I made those,” Katie said, smiling sunnily. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“I’m not sure that adorable is the word I would use,” the swordsman replied.

“It should be fine.” Amanda had joined them. She was wearing an outfit not unlike the one Avraniel was wearing except the vampire also sported some fake elf ears. “And the villagers are already used to Roger. They see him whenever they going fishing at the lake.”

“Ah, of course.” Old Man nodded. “That’s true.”

“All right,” Timmy said, striding out into the courtyard in his own outfit. “Is everything ready?” An assortment of ninja rats chorused their agreement. “And has someone strapped a parachute to Gerald? We can’t having Santa accidentally falling to his death in front of the children.” The rats pointed to where a parachute had indeed been strapped onto Gerald. “In that case, let’s get going.” He nodded at the others. “Everyone climb aboard. It’s time to do our good deed for the day.”

X X X

Katie watched with a small smile on her face as Gerald handed out gift after gift. Somehow, each child got exactly what they wanted. It was really quite remarkable unless…

“Master,” she murmured. “Did you ask the ninja rats to spy on people, so you’d know what to get them?”

He shrugged. “If the ninja rats just so happened to be wandering nearby when people were talking about what they would like for Christmas, that’s simply a happy coincidence.”

Almost as popular as Santa were the two elves he’d brought along. Katie bit back a laugh as she watched Avraniel do her best to keep a smile on her face as the children swarmed around her, eager for a chance to talk to one of Santa’s elves. Amanda handled the excited youngsters with more aplomb.

Not far away, Spot was trotting alongside Tabitha. Apparently, Spot had saved the little girl and her brother from wolves some time ago, and they’d become friends.

“I’m glad you could visit, Spot!” Tabitha said, hugging the dragon.

I’m not Spot. I’m a reindeer. Spot had decided to stick to his story despite his scales, his wings, and his incredibly sharp teeth and claws.

“Okay.” Tabitha giggled. “That makes you my favourite reindeer.”

Spot preened.

“This isn’t just about public relations, is it, master?” Katie asked quietly. The smile on her master’s face was far too genuine for that to be the case.

He said nothing for a long moment before replying. “Christmas with my family wasn’t a big deal. We never had all that much, but, well, it was nice. When I became my master’s apprentice, Christmas became a survival exercise.” He chuckled softly. “We’ve done very well this year, Katie, far better than I could ever have hoped. War… war is tough on villagers and other common folk. When Everton goes to war, they’ll be asked to fight, and they don’t have powerful magic or excellent equipment like us. If I can give them something to smile about before things take a turn for the worse, then I’ll do it.”

“You’re a big softie, aren’t you?” she teased.

Her master ruffled her hair. “Don’t get too confident. You need at least another ten years of training before you can even think of overthrowing me.”

X X X

Timmy chuckled as Avraniel sauntered into the dining room. After hours of dealing with excited children, the elf was ready for a good meal, and he’d made sure not to disappoint. The dining room was set with a feast, and from the way she was practically drooling, she approved. Beside her Spot, hurried to shrug off his antlers. With the arrival of good food, his days as a reindeer were done.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Avraniel crowed. “Not bad.”

“Aye,” Daerin said. “It is a feast fit for a dwarf.”

Timmy waved them forward. “Go ahead. Get started.” He grinned at Amanda. “And, yes, I did have some suitable blood brought in too. We wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

The vampire smiled. “You have my thanks.”

Timmy waited until things had begun to wind down a little before revealing the last trick up his sleeve. “Now, I know today has been very busy. You’ve all been kind enough to help me with the villagers, so I thought I should pay you back. If you look under your chairs, I think you’ll find something interesting.”

Attached to the underside of each person’s chair was a present.

“It’s that ancient tome I’ve been looking for!” Katie cried.

It’s honey-baked drake meat! Spot cheered.

One by one, each of the others opened their present to reveal that, yes, Timmy really did know what to get people for Christmas. Later, as everyone prepare to go to bed with a full stomach and a smile, Katie approached him.

“Master, how did you know where we would all sit?” His apprentice’s brows were adorably furrowed. “The layout of the dining table was different from usual because of all the extra food.”

“Katie, the layout might have been different, but I know all of your preferences. Avraniel likes sitting where she can keep an eye on the doors and windows, Amanda likes sitting where she can avoid any light coming through the windows, Old Man usually takes a seat where he can challenge anyone coming through the door, Gerald likes to sit as far from any of the doors and windows as possible, and Daerin likes to sit near the fireplace. As for you… well… I cheated a little. Given the choice, I knew you’d pick the pink chair.”

Katie’s eye twitched. “Of course, you did.” She looked about furtively to make sure no one else was looking before reaching out and hugging him. “Thanks, master. Merry Christmas.”

He ruffled her hair. “Merry Christmas, Katie.” He paused and nodded at Rembrandt. “And Merry Christmas to you too, Rembrandt.” The rat, who was perched on Katie’s shoulder, nodded back.

“But when did you attach the gifts?” Katie asked. “The rats have been around you all day, and none of them saw you do it.”

He grinned. “I have my ways, Katie.”

Later, once everyone else was already asleep, Timmy headed for the kitchen with a cake. As he’d expected, Sam was already there waiting for him. The protoplasmic horror had readied several slices of cake, and he pushed one toward Timmy.

“Thanks, buddy.” Timmy handed Sam the cake. “And this is for you. Thanks for helping me out with the gifts earlier. It helps having a friend who can phase through solid matter.”

Sam signalled his gratitude, and the two of them sat down to enjoy some cake. His very first Christmas after his master’s death had been just like this: just him and Sam and some cake. He smiled. There were still two more gifts to give. They should be arriving at their destinations any second now.

X X X

James’s eye twitched. A lump of coal. Someone had put a lump of coal in his stocking. He had no proof, but he knew who exactly to blame.

“Timmy…”

X X X

Vicky looked at the invitation to Boxing Day lunch. She’d already had Christmas dinner with her family. Spending Boxing Day with Timmy and the others would be a welcome change. There was even a small gift attached. Opening it, she smiled.

Timmy always gave the best gifts.

X X X

Author’s Notes

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. This year has had its ups and downs, but it’s been a pretty good one overall. I hope the next one is even better.

And if you’re looking for a little bit of extra good cheer, please do check out The Unconventional Heroes Series if you haven’t already. The fourth part Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City came out last month.

#original fiction #the unconventional heroes series #christmas

8 notes · View notes

snarkybluechristian · 6 years

Text

Hazbin Hotel: Unwanted Visitors

After burping her, Angel placed Cassie in the little day bed he kept in the living room, switched on the radio at a low volume, and went off to take a bathroom break and to change into what he was going to wear for that day. He didn’t dress very fancy in those days, at least not by his standards. He emerged from his room in a plain off-white collared shirt, brown pants, suspenders, and leather shoes and got to work making coffee and preparing some breakfast for himself and Maggie. It was how Angel had been living for the past month. It was a complete change from the partying and wild living he was used to. Before Angel barely ever spent any time at home. The drugs, alcohol, and good company were always a big enough draw to leave. But with Cassie, it was different. With Cassie, Angel found that he didn’t mind spending so much time at home, especially since Maggie was there with him. Even though their lives mostly consisted of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Cassie, it somehow never felt boring. He was practically a domestic and couldn’t be happier. Just then, a knock on the door interrupted his cooking. Angel looked at his pocket watch and saw that it was just about 9am. He wasn’t behind on rent, and even if he was, the landlord usually didn’t get over his hangover until about noon. The knock on the door sounded again, so Angel just shrugged his shoulders, took the food off the stove before turning it off, and said, “Yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first time. I’m comin’!” Angel unlocked the door and muttered under his breath, “I swear to God if these are more Jehovah’s witnesses…” He opened the door to see his father and brother standing right outside. It was surprising to say the least. “So, this is where you’ve been,” Don Lucchese said. “I wouldn’t have believed it unless I saw it for myself.” Angel shrugged in annoyance and said, “Oh, great. It’s you. What do you two want?” “Angelo, I’m surprised at you,” his father said in an overly sensitive tone that always managed to get on Angel’s nerves. “Can’t a grandfather come to visit his first grandchild?” “What stopped you from coming by the first six weeks?” Angel asked skeptically. “Molly’s been here at least half a dozen times.” “We were busy, little brother,” Eric retorted. “We’ve had to deal with a lot of work, especially since you’ve been missing-in-action.” “Sure, blame me,” Angel said sarcastically. “Look, I’m tired, so if you have nothing important to say, could you scram? I have to go back to taking care of my six-week-old daughter…” Angel tried shutting the door, but Eric pushed his way through before he could shut the door and said, “Can’t I see my niece, Angelo? Why do you have to be such a little bitch?” Angel sighed and reluctantly held the door open, so his father could walk in to join his brother. His father looked around and said condescendingly, “Quite the little dive you have here. I expected ya to be livin’ somewhere swankier. Who picked out your furniture?” “It came from Maggie’s family,” Angel said with badly hidden annoyance as he shut the door. “She didn’t want us to waste money buying furniture.” “Ah, so your dame is cheap?” Don Lucchese said. “She doesn’t need to be with all the dough we have. Not holdin’ out on her, are ya?” “No,” Angel replied defensively. “She likes it the way it is, and I like to make her happy.” “Whatever you say, Angelo,” Don Lucchese said dismissively. “I suppose it’s spiffy enough for what it is. She keeps a nice house.” “Thanks, we try,” Angel retorted sassily. “Where is the little woman anyway?” Eric asked as he sat down on the couch. “She’s sleeping,” Angel replied. “The baby kept her awake last night.” “So, you’re caring for the baby yourself?” Eric asked incredulously. “Ain’t that what nannies are for?” “Why hire a nanny for a job you can do just fine yourself?” Angel retorted. “Besides, I’ve enjoyed it.” “Explains why you haven’t been home in weeks,” Eric spat back. “You’re such a daisy.” “Enough bumpin’ gums,” Don Lucchese interrupted. “I want to see my granddaughter, Angelo. Can’t you two put your petty bickerin’ aside for that?” Don Lucchese delivered a particularly pointed look to Eric, and he relented immediately. Angel eyed them both suspiciously. He knew that look only too well. It was a look that said, “You know what we’re here for. Don’t futz up this job for us.” It was that look that let Angel know they had an ulterior motive for showing up. Angel covered his suspicion with an annoyed huff and said, “I’ll go get Cassie. Don’t make too much noise now. She fell asleep not too long ago.” He walked slowly and quietly as he always did when he hoped to hear them talk behind his back, but they were completely silent. They were definitely hiding something. Angel arrived in his kitchen and stared at the calm baby lying in her bed swaddled in her blanket. He stared at her peaceful sleep for a moment before he reached down and lifted her into his arms. Angel held her closely and stared blankly out the window as she rested against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cass,” Angel whispered quietly. “I won’t let the bad people hurt you. I promise.” Angel took a deep breath and walked back into the living room where his family was waiting. “Here, she is,” Angel said as he lowered her into his arms so they could see her face. “This is Cassandra Maria di Lucchese.” Much to Angel’s surprise, Eric’s expression softened and his mouth hung slightly agape. Not to Angel’s surprise, his father’s expression didn’t change. “Can I hold her?” Eric asked. Angel visibly hesitated for a moment before Eric asked again. “Please?” Eric asked with pleading, excited eyes. Angel couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing. He was so taken aback that he laid Cassie into his arms immediately. “Hold your arms out carefully,” Angel said positioning his daughter in his brother’s arms as carefully as he could. “You have to support her head. She’s been holding up her head more, but she still needs help.” “Like this?” Eric asked holding Cassie much like Angel did the first time. “Yeah,” Angel replied with a gentle patience that surprised him. “You’ve got it.” Eric stared at Cassie in absolute awe. It was an expression that he never thought he’d see from his cold-hearted gangster of a brother. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. Angel sat down next to Eric while he continued studying the baby’s face. “She’s got Mom’s nose,” Eric finally said after a few minutes of silence. “I swear. It looks just like hers.” “She has her eyes, too,” Angel said. “They’re green, just like mine.” “No kidding?” “Nope, you’ll see her eyes if she wakes up. She took most of her face from Maggie, but she got some of our good stuff…” Just then, Cassie opened her eyes. Once again, Eric was awestruck as she looked straight at him and studied his face like he was studying hers. “Hey there, toots,” Angel said as he rustled his fingers through her hair. “This is your Uncle Eric and that guy over there looking all serious is your Grandpa. Say hello.” No one said anything while Eric and Cassie continued to study each other’s faces. “Well, what do you think?” Angel asked. “You were right about the eyes, Angelo,” Eric said holding Cassie up so that she could look straight at his face. “They’re just like Mom’s.” “I told ya,” Angel said. “She’s kinda funny. She’ll stare at you all day with those eyes. She’s such a curious little thing. It’s kinda unnerving, but you get used to it. I know she don’t mean nothin’ by it. I read somewhere it’s a sign of intelligence.” “Intelligence, coming from you?” Eric asked sarcastically. “That’s rich, but I suppose it could happen. You aren’t a dumbass all the time.” Angel paused for a moment and sat silently. That was the sincerest compliment that Eric had ever given him. Eric cradled Cassie gently in his arms and said, “She’s a beauty, Angel. I’ll give you that.” He then nervously glanced over to his father heightening Angel’s suspicions. “Hey, Dad?” Eric asked. “Do you want to hold her?” “I can see her from here,” Don Lucchese replied harshly and gesturing with his eyes towards Cassie’s diaper. Eric looked away and then nervously shook his head. Evidently, Don Lucchese didn’t buy it because he made the same gesture again. Normally, Angel would have stayed out of it, but this time, his bambina was on the line. “What the hell are you two up to?” Angel asked suspiciously. “Come on. Spit it out. I know you two are hiding something. What is it? Why are you really here?” “You’re smarter than we give you credit for, Angelo,” Don Lucchese said while Eric, for the first time in his life, looked away in shame. “I’ll get straight to it. We know that you went out with your wife and the baby last night over to a cabaret…” “What the hell?” Angel asked angrily. “Why are you tailing me this time?” “We didn’t,” Eric replied defensively. “One of our informants just happened to see you there.” “Sure,” Angel replied sarcastically. “We know you dressed in drag, Angelo,” Don Lucchese retorted. “The baby was dressed up too, but we wanna know what for.” “What are you saying?” Angel asked defensively. “Angelo, do we really have to spell it out for you?” Eric replied. “Was the baby dressed in drag last night? Is she actually a he?” Angel was too stunned to reply for a second, but then, he said, “No. No! Cassie’s a girl. I was there when she was born. I have been changing her diapers for weeks. I bathed her this morning. I have the fucking certificate from the hospital. If Cassie was a boy, I would have figured it out by now. Why the hell would I lie about something like that?” “Because you love your child and want to keep him from us?” Don Lucchese asked. Angel gritted his teeth angrily, took Cassie out of Eric’s arms, and said, “Visiting hours are over! Scram, the both of ya!” Cassie started fussing in Angel’s arms. He knew it was probably because of the yelling, but he didn’t lose face in front of his brother or his father. He couldn’t. Eric put a hand on his Father’s shoulder and said, “Dad, I didn’t feel any balls on her. Angelo’s tellin’ the truth. We should go…” “Not until I know for sure,” Don Lucchese said slapping the hand away and walking towards his frightened younger son. “Let me look at her, Angelo. Just one peak to be sure you ain’t lyin’ to me…” Angel held his crying daughter more defensively and snarled angrily, “Stay the fuck away from her, you goddamn pervert.” “Look, who’s finally grown a pair,” Don Lucchese said now standing over his son who was glaring him down for the first time in his life. “Hand her over or show me yourself, Angelo. Either way, I ain’t gonna be happy if you’re hidin’ an heir from me and I ain’t leavin’ till I know for sure. I’m unhappy about this attitude, son.” “I don’t care. You can push me around all you want. But you ain’t layin’ a finger on my daughter.” “Hand her over, Angelo.” “No.” Don Lucchese then punched Angel in the gut as hard as he could. Angel keeled over in pain as his father snatched his sobbing little girl out of his arms, unwrapped her blanket, dropped it on the floor, and peeked under her diaper. Angel leered at his father in unbridled hatred. His baby girl was crying even harder now. The poor thing had no idea what was happening, only that it was wrong. Angel couldn’t listen to it. He forced himself to stand up despite the pain. “Looks like you were tellin’ the truth, Angelo,” Don Lucchese said coldly as Angel finally got to his feet. “She’s…AHHHHH!” Without a word, Angel punched his old man in the face. The punch was hard enough to leave him stunned and staggering in pain so that Angel could snatch back Cassie. Eric just watched in stunned silence. Once he got her back, Angel held Cassie against his shoulder and started bouncing her up and down while saying, “It’s okay, bambina mia. It’s okay…” “Have you lost your mind?” his father finally asked threateningly while rubbing his face. “I told ya,” Angel said as he confidently stared his father down again while rubbing his baby girl’s back. “You can fuck with me as much as ya want, but you will never ever touch my little girl like that ever again. Is that understood, Dad?” Don Lucchese straightened up, smiled at his son smugly, and said, “You really have grown a pair. Haven’t you? Who knew two dolls were all it would take…?” “Get out,” Angel interrupted firmly. “Now. You’re upsetting Cassie.” Don Lucchese laid a check on the couch, smiled again, and said, “Enjoy your paid paternity leave, Angelo. We’ve got work to do. Come on, Eric.” Don Lucchese showed himself out. Eric gave Angel an almost apologetic look before he silently slunk away to join his father. When the door shut behind them, Angel allowed his face to show pain, but he gritted his teeth and held his crying baby daughter close. Angel cried a little, too. They cried together at the fear and pain their family brought. No matter how much time passed, they would always scare him, but now, he had to be strong. Cassie needed him to be. Angel walked over to the couch and flipped on the radio to calm himself and his baby down. He heard the opening trumpet chords as his new favorite Louis Armstrong song began playing. Angel smiled and started bobbing Cassie up and down to the music. The jazz calmed him down like nothing else, especially when it came to Satchmo. Angel always felt connected to this man who like him faced a world of hell but always found a way to find beauty in it. Cassie began calming down as Angel looked into her eyes and started singing with Louis Armstrong, “Oh, when you’re smilin’, when you’re smilin’, the whole world smiles with you. Yes, when you’re laughin’, oh, when you’re laughin’, the sun comes shinin’ through. But when you’re cryin, you bring on the rain, so stop your sighin’ and be happy again. Yes, and keep on smilin’, keep on smilin’, baby, and the whole world smiles with you.” When the instrumental trumpet and piano section began, Angel stood up and started dancing with Cassie to the music. They looked at each other as Angel swayed with her to the smooth yet upbeat jazz melodies coming out of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet and from his accompanying band. When he noticed that she was calming down, Angel started making his moves fancier. He moved his feet around more smoothly. He dipped Cassie. He swung her in the air above his head. She seemed to enjoy at the extra movements, and the exercise calmed Angel down, too. Then when the song finally closed, Angel dipped her one last time and smiled. Much to his surprise, for the first time in her life, Cassie smiled, too. Her eyes lit up. Her lips spread open into a toothless grin. She even squealed to show her happiness. Angel was dumbfounded for a second as he felt happy tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Then Angel smiled back and said, “Cassie, you’re smiling. Oh, my God. You’re actually smiling! Maggie! Maggie, get out here!” Maggie burst out of her room in her dressing gown with a handgun in her possession. “Angel, I heard almost everything from the bathroom,” Maggie said nervously. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had to get this handgun ready. Where are they? Did they leave? Are you okay? Is Cassie okay?” “Yeah,” Angel said nonchalantly walking over to her. “But that’s not important now. Look, Maggie! Cassie learned how to smile.” Angel held Cassie out to Maggie, and sure enough, she was still smiling. “Look at that,” Maggie said happily dropping her handgun into the pocket of her dressing gown, taking her baby from Angel, and cradling her in her arms. “You learned how to smile. Great job, Cass! Keep it up. You’re gonna be a cutie. I can already tell.” “What are ya talkin’ about?” Angel asked taking his baby back, walking back over to the couch, and letting her lie on his lap. “She’s already a cutie. She’ll always be a cutie. I don’t care if she sprouts six arms and turns pink. She’d still be a cutie.” Cassie continued smiling at his words and waving her arms around even though she had no idea what they meant. Maggie sat down next to them and continued watching her baby with her “husband.” “You have no idea how happy you make me, bambina,” Angel said rubbing his little girl’s head while she cooed happily in response.

#hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel

4 notes · View notes

ravenclawbaz · 7 years

Text

Carry On Countdown

Day 19

Prompt: Late nights/early mornings

Summary: Tired Baz finally tells Simon how he feels (aka I suck at descriptions so this is what u get)

Word Count: 2051

Also on AO3

Simon’s POV: It’s late and I can’t fall asleep. Or is it so late that it’s technically early? Anyway, it’s probably 4 in the morning and I’m still awake.

This is a normal occurrence, it’s just weirder today because Baz is also awake and even though my back is to him, I can tell. The only time I can actually hear him breathing is when he’s asleep (creepy, right?) and I can’t hear him right now.

I’m also pretty sure he knows I’m awake too, but neither of us are saying anything. I roll only my back and stare at the ceiling.

The sky is darker than usual tonight and isn’t letting any light into our room so there isn’t much to stare at. But after concentrating for a few minutes I can start to make out where the light directly above me.

I hear Baz shift in his bed and move my head to look at him. Judging by his outline, I think he’s facing me. I turn on my side so that I’m also facing toward him.

Our beds are so close together, I really could just reach out and touch him if I wanted to. And he could easily kill me while I’m sleeping from where he is. I stare at him, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness on his face, but my mind makes up shapes and he looks like a monster. I shut my eyes.

“Snow?” His voice is softer than usual. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” I open my eyes again but avoid looking at his face. I don’t like what my mind makes up in the dark.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and I think he’s gone to sleep, until he speaks up again.

“Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Just because it’s 4 in the morning and he’s talking to me like we’re best friends, I’m not going to act nice. This could all be some big plot of his.

“You’re acting like I’m asking about your deepest secret.”

“That could be your end goal. Is there ever a conversation we have where you don’t have some ulterior motive.”

“Whatever.” He pulls his blanket up to his neck and turns so he’s facing the other way. My eyes are getting more adjusted to the darkness.

We lay there in silence while I argue with myself in my head. I would like to think that not everything Baz does is to get at me, but I can never be too careful. I guess I could have a civil conversation with him for once though. What harm could it do?

“My brain won’t shut up.” I say. “I keep thinking about things and I can’t sleep.”

“I thought you didn’t think.” I can practically hear the smirk that is undoubtedly on his face.

I grab my extra pillow and throw it at him, aiming for his head. It misses his head and hits the wall next to him.

“Terrible aim too.” I see him reach down and grab it off the floor, then he turns so he’s facing me again.

“Oh shut it. It’s dark.” I try to defend my bad aim, but I know he won’t listen anyway.

“I can see perfectly fine.” He tosses the pillow back and it lands next to me on my bed.

“Yeah cause you’re a vampire. You have like, bat eyes that can see in the dark.” I say, tucking the pillow behind me and sitting up on my bed.

“Do you really think that I have bat eyes?” He sits up so he’s facing me. “Your suspicions about me are getting worse. Maybe I just have really good eyesight.”

“Or you’re just a vampire. I doubt vampires can even have bad eyesight, they’re too fancy for that.”

“Strong argument.” He’s laughing and he’s playing with the edge of his blanket, twirling it between his fingers.

“What were you thinking about?” He asks.

I know he’s just trying to get into my head, manipulating me into telling him about any plans the Mage has made. Jokes on him though, the Mage doesn’t include me in his plans. I think I’m more of a last resort thing for him; the final option if nothing else goes his way. His bomb.

I answer him anyway.

“A lot of things. The Humdrum. Agatha.” He doesn’t know that me and Agatha broke up, and he doesn’t need to know.

“Ah, Wellbelove. How are things with her?” Last time I checked, Baz didn’t seem to care about me and Agatha. Well, except for when he was trying to steal her from me, I guess.

“If this whole conversation was just to see if Agatha is available or not, give it up.” I sigh. “She’s all yours now, just don’t rub it in my face.” I lean back against the headboard and stare at the wall in front of me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you guys broke up.”

“Yeah and it was supposed to stay that way.” I thought we were going to have a nice conversation for once, but of course he had to ruin everything by bringing up the one thing I wanted to take my mind off of. “And don’t say you’re sorry. I’m sure you’re beyond happy that you can be with Wellbelove now. Unless it was only about making me miserable, which you’ve succeeded in by the way.” I hear him sigh and lean back against his headboard too. I cross my arms over my chest and close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep so I can avoid this uncomfortable situation. “That’s not why I was always sabotaging your relationship.” Now I’m a little curious. I open my eyes and look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want you and Agatha to break up so I could be with her.” He sounds nervous, that’s new. Baz is never nervous.

“Well then why did you?” I can’t help but raise my voice. “Did you really have to go and ruin my relationship just for your own amusement? You’re sadistic.”

He doesn’t say anything and I just give it up. I’m already getting worked up and I’m not in the mood to go off tonight. I make a show of laying back down, throwing my pillows and punching them until they’re comfortable.

I lay down and put on my angry face even though Baz isn’t looking at me. He’s staring straight ahead.

“Simon?” His voice is so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.

“What.” I really wish he would just leave me alone.

“Do you want to know the real reason I kept getting between you and Agatha?”

“I don’t care. Can we stop talking about it?”

He looks down at his hands and squeezes them together. “Please?”

“What?”

“Can you please just hear me out? It’s really late and I’m not thinking straight and I know that if I don’t say this now, I never will.”

“Fine, spit it out.” I sit up a bit more, but not fully, and stare at him.

“Alright. But you have to promise not to say anything until I’m done. And never bring this up ever again.” I roll my eyes and nod at him. “Okay. The real reason I always tried to spoil your relationship with Agatha wasn’t because I wanted to be with her, Snow.” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to be with you.”

I feel like I’ve just been punched in the chest. That was by far the last thing I was expecting to hear coming from Baz’s mouth. The Baz that has never shown any emotion in my presence aside from annoyance and anger. The Baz that, since we were both 11, has been hurting me in any way that he can.

“Excuse me?” I heard him, but I need to make sure that he actually said what he just did.

“Crowley, Simon. I’m in love with you! Do you need me to spell it out for you?” His voice is raising and I don’t think I’ve ever heard Baz get this upset over something. When I don’t respond he says, “Just forget I said anything, I’m going to sleep.”

He rolls onto his side, his back to me, and pulls the blankets up over his head. I need to think about this.

So, your evil, vampire roommate, who has made it very clear that he hates you ever since you first met him, has just confessed his love for you. What do you do? Probably not what I did, which is just sitting there, silently staring at him. That could have been a bad move.

I should be surprised, but all I can think about is what would happen if we actually did get together. I know Baz isn’t the terrible person he wants me to think he is.

I’ve seen him helping the younger students when they need help; pointing them in the right direction when they’re lost or offering to help them with their homework. He has a soft spot, he just doesn’t let anyone see it.

I push my blankets off me and get off my bed. I stand between our beds for a few seconds before reaching down to Baz and touching his shoulder.

“Baz?” I roll him over when he doesn’t respond and I can see that he’s awake. “What do you want, Snow?” I keep my hand on his shoulder as I kneel down on the floor next to him so our faces are level.

“I don’t mind that you like me.” I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t think I’m ready to confess anything to him, but it has always been in the back of my mind. Whether I’ve noticed it or not, it seemed like I always felt something more than Baz. I just hid it by pretending my obsession for him was because I knew he was hiding something.

I guess I just didn’t expect this to be what he was hiding.

“That’s good to hear, Snow. But could you please go back to your bed?” He tries to shrug my hand off his shoulder but I don’t let him. Instead, I move it to grip at the base of his neck and sit up straighter so I’m hovering over him.

He’s laying on his back and his arms are crossed over his chest. I don’t think before I lean in and kiss him. My other hand finds its way to his side and I hold him there for balance.

He hesitates at first, but soon he’s moving his lips against mine and running his hand through my hair, letting it rest on the back of my neck.

His other arm wraps around my waist and he helps pull me up so I’m not on the floor anymore. I’m sitting on my heels next to him now, leaning down and moving my hand into his hair, clenching my fist in the back.

He takes his hand off my neck and grabs the back of my thigh, moving it so I’m sitting on top of him now. I break off the kiss and sit up, breathing deeply to catch my breath. Thanks lungs for failing me now.

My hands are resting on his stomach and his are gripping above my knees.

“Well that was,.” He takes a deep breath. “That was something.”

I nod my head and roll off his lap so I’m laying next to him. I roll over and drape my arm across his chest, playing with the hair that’s clinging to his neck.

“I think we should bring this up ever again.” I say, making fun of what he said earlier.

“That literally does make sense but I agree.” He laughs and turns to face me, resting his forehead on mine. “You should go to sleep now.”

“I will. I’m not thinking about Agatha so much anymore.” I lower my head under his chin and close my eyes, breathing in Baz. He smells so good and I think I could get used to falling asleep like this; holding Baz in my arms while he gently plays with my hair.

I knew he could be soft if he wanted to.

#carry on countdown #carry on countdown 2017 #coc 2017 #carry on #carry on fanfic #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #my fanfic

47 notes · View notes

arcadiasarchives · 4 years

Text

The Choices We Make

Did I fill one of my own prompts? Probably. At least I’ve actually finished something. This was actually finished a little while ago, before I went into Lockdown but I’ve been waiting for the person I wrote it for to read it before posting.

University was turning out to be a lot more fun than Killian had expected. His lessons were interesting, the teachers cool, and he’d begun making friends for the first time in what felt like forever. He was finally out of the house as well, having found a classmate to share his place with to help cover costs, and it felt good to be away from his brother no matter how much he loved him. It turned out that love didn’t stop you from wanting to punch people in the face. Fancy that. He had the flat to himself that night, Nicolai had a tutoring job at the library, and he was using the quiet to get as much of his homework as possible out of the way. If he got it done before the weekend he’d just be able to kick back and relax, maybe have a few friends round. But that was only if he got his homework out of the way because as cool as his teachers were some of them were right demons, literally. He’d been working for hours, music on low in the background, and was just considering stopping to eat something when he heard the window open. It should probably worry him considering they were on the 5th floor but he had a pretty good idea who it was. And if it wasn’t them, well worry wasn’t going to help anyway. He glanced at his visitor’s reflection in the glass of his picture frame, shaking his head with a small sigh. “You realise who they are don’t you?” It wasn’t a question not really and he wondered briefly if he’d get away with not answering. Though if that was the case his brother would have just sent a text rather than breaking into his flat at stupid o'clock. And really, he had a key. “Of course I do, now would you mind shutting that window it’s cold out.” He heard the window shut and his brother’s footsteps move closer to the desk. Sighing he set aside his homework and turned to give the other his full attention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting this after agreeing to be the villain’s brother’s room-mate. But he certainly wasn’t going to be made to regret the decision, not even by Kieran. “Is that all you have to say?” Kieran’s voice was a little harder than Killian had been expecting and he frowned. He was willing to entertain his brother’s misgivings certainly, especially as he’d been nice enough to come while Nicolai was out though whether that was intentional or accidental was anyone’s guess. But he drew the line at being treated like a reprobate child. Pushing away from his desk he gave his brother a once over before getting up and heading into the kitchenette. “Pretty much yeah, coffee?” He started the machine anyway, Kieran had quite obviously stopped by after patrol and caffeine might put him in a slightly better mood. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand he ignored the clock on the wall that clearly said he was pushing his luck when it came to sleep and opened the fridge. There wasn’t much that didn’t require cooking, which to be honest he couldn’t be bothered with, so he grabbed an apple of the counter instead. Kieran had followed after him and was now leaning against the breakfast bar, frown still firmly in place. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner?” He said as he watched his brother bite into the apple. “It’s not my dinner.” Kieran shook his head with a frustrated sigh, he wasn’t fooled by Killian’s innocent smile but he had other things to focus on for the time being. He could bitch about his brother’s poor eating habits later. “It’s dangerous for you to live here.” Killian sighed, he’d been hoping against hope that they’d drop the subject. “No more dangerous than me living back home, I’d wager.” Kieran flinched at that and Killian felt momentarily guilty, after all, he hadn’t meant to imply it was Kieran’s fault. But what else could he say? Unlike him Nicolai had no idea who Killian was, Kieran’s identity was still largely a secret and he’d done everything in his power to keep Killian off everyone’s radar even his own people for a while. Whereas Nicolai’s siblings had never cared about hiding their identity or protecting him. It had made him a target, if not of violence then of suspicion and fear, Killian refused to be a part of that. They’d been pushed together by one of their teachers during the first week of class. Neither of them had any connections in the class and hadn’t really made any effort to find a work partner when prompted. So she’d done it for them. Nicolai had been nothing but upfront about who and what he was and when Killian had told him it didn’t matter he’d meant it. Kieran’s opinions be damned. He placed one of the two coffee’s the machine had made in front of his brother and lent against the other side of the counter. “You were safe there, even if everything’s discovered. What happens if everything is revealed now?” Kieran demanded thinking of all the contingency plans he’d put in place over the years. Even before he’d trusted Marcus enough with his secrets he’d made sure Killian would be safe. “I’ll be more careful, I’m already more careful, it really doesn’t change anything.” The entire place was warded, he and Nicolai had spent hours at it, not to mention the security system they’d put in. This place was just as safe as the house was. “Your room-mate changes everything!” Several things in the kitchen shook and Killian glared, his own temper rising. “You don’t know anything about him.” And he really did try to keep his voice calm but there was no mistaking the edge it had taken. “You can’t just make assumptions like that.” Kieran snorted. “What makes you think he’s all that different from his siblings, you really expect me to believe one of that family turned out decent?” Killian opened his mouth, closed it, took a deep breath and opened it again. “I’m not sure we’re in a position to be criticising peoples family background do you?” It was the safest thing he could think of saying but it still made Kieran slam his mouth shut with an audible click of teeth. They didn’t talk about their family history, through some sort of unspoken agreement none of the decent side of the family did. But not talking about something and hinting at its existence were two very different things in Killian’s opinion. “Maybe not but it certainly gives me reason to doubt his motives.” “Jesus I’m not going to ask why you’re so paranoid, because I know and I get it I really do, but there’s legitimately no way Nicky could have ulterior motives to getting a place with me. As far as he’s concerned I’m just another student.” Unless you know something I don’t Killian mentally added but he didn’t say it out loud. He wasn’t about to accuse the other of keeping things from him and he didn’t believe Nicolai would do such a thing anyway. “Fine let’s say I accept that he has no idea, what about when he finds out? Or if you trust him that much what about when his siblings find out?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You can’t really believe he’ll stand up to them for you? Why wouldn’t he just hand you over?” Because it’s wrong he thought angrily but Kieran was unlikely to accept that as anything but deflection. He took a deep breath and suddenly he didn’t care if he upset his brother he just wanted this all over with. “You shouldn’t hold everyone to your own standards,” Killian spat ignoring the was his cup trembled. He had himself under control, hopefully, the same could be said for Kieran. “Some people obviously have better morals.” It seemed to take a minute for the words to compute but then Kieran’s cup exploded. Maybe Killian should suggest to Marcus that they start practising calming techniques again. Not that he was probably going to be seeing him for a while. “Are you saying that I-” “Well, you’re the one pushing it so-” “Because I’m worried about you I can’t believe-” “No! Being worried is one thing but this is-” “Just because you’re too stupid to consider- “Oh, so I’m stupid now am- “You’re certainly acting like it! You have to see it’s not safe-” “I don’t see anything except your prejudice and-” Their shouting was stopped by the front door opening and Killian quickly tried to reign his temper in, glaring at his brother in warning as Nicolai looked between them from the door. He looked exhausted, not just physically but mentally and Killian wondered how much of their argument he’d heard. “Sorry, I can-” He started but Killian was quick to cut him off. “No it’s fine, Kieran was just leaving anyway.” The look his brother gave him made something inside Killian hurt but he didn’t argue, barely even looked over as he headed out, brushing past Nicolai with a quiet ‘night’. Killian slumped back against the counter, staring at the shards of glass and slowly spreading coffee. At some stage, during their argument, the other cup had been destroyed as well and there were a few things on the floor, though nothing looked broken thankfully. He should start cleaning up but he couldn’t make himself move. Something was placed on the counter beside him and he turned to look at Nicolai as he leaned beside him. “I picked up dinner on my way back, didn’t think you’d have stopped your essays.” Nicolai’s voice was soft and careful, he expected that if his friend didn’t have a headache it wouldn’t be far off and he didn’t want to risk making it worse. “Yeah, I was almost finished when...” He trailed off unsure exactly how to continue before shaking his head slightly. “I should clear up.” “I’ll do it, go set the food at the coffee table.” “But-” “It’ll take me less time than it will you in this state.” He wasn’t wrong, Killian had been planning on clearing up by hand which considering they were short on cups probably wasn’t the wisest decision anyway. So he picked up the bags of take-out and headed into the main room. Nicolai had joined him before he’d finished setting out the cartons and he slumped down onto the sofa beside him, holding out a bottle of beer which Killian accepted gratefully. They didn’t usually drink on a class night but as he clinked his bottle to Nicolai’s he felt they both deserved it. While Killian lent forward to grab some food Nicolai turned the tv on to a random channel. It was barely loud enough to hear but it had been their ritual from the start, both used to plenty of noise. They’d been eating for a little while when Nicolai spoke. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” Killian said through a mouthful of food before quickly swallowing. “It’s not your fault.” “Would you have been fighting with him had you not been living here?” “Probably,” Killian said with a shrug he was always fighting with his brother after all. “As badly?” Nicolai pressed smiling slightly at Killian’s annoyed huff before stealing some of his food. “You have to admit I’m a defining factor.” “Perhaps,” Killian agreed as he stole half a spring roll off the other’s plate. “But that’s his problem, not yours.” “I don’t like the idea of ruining your relationship with your brother,” Nicolai said quietly and Killian smiled, nudging his friend gently. “You won’t ruin it I promise, he’ll cool off and we’ll talk like adults when we’re not both so tired. He’ll come around he just needs some time.” Killian refused to dwell on how long it might actually take. They’d gone months without speaking to each other while living in the same house, now who knew how long it would last. But they’d get there eventually even if it took Jasper and Marcus smacking them round the head come Christmas.

0 notes

rixwrites · 7 years

Text

The Chaser Gets Chased (Chapter 4 Preview)

Author’s note: Hello again! I have finished the first scene of the last chapter of ‘The Chaser Gets Chased’ and figured I’d share it with you guys as a 1.5k long preview to the entire chapter. I’ve kept you waiting long enough - and I do feel sorry about it. Blame my French exam: I do, too. Also: a special thank you to the anon who sent me a lovely message and gave me a much-needed kick in the butt to get started. Anyway, do let me know what you think of this first scene and I hope to have the entire chapter finished sometime this weekend!

CHAPTER 4 - PREVIEW

The Sixth Year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws have a free period following lunch on Wednesdays and much like every other week, William Magnusson finds himself holed up in the Arithmancy section working on next week’s assignment. He’s hidden behind a bookcase filled with overly large and stuffy books that don’t seem to have been touched in decades, enjoying the solitude for as long as it’ll last. (Erik has never been good with numbers – William’s expecting his friend to come find him as soon he’s finished with his Herbology essay.)

The Ravenclaw is halfway through his Arithmancy homework when the chair in front of him gets pulled from underneath the table. When he looks up, it’s not the blonde Ravenclaw he was somewhat expecting but rather his Gryffindor best friend clearing some of the cluttered workspace for himself. Chris initially doesn’t offer any explanation for his unannounced presence and William just greets him silently before continuing with his work.

Chris seems distracted – more so than usual without his girlfriend around. He wiggles around in his seat, opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something and then closes it again, before sighing while listlessly leafing through his textbook. Frankly: he’s driving William nuts.

William understands there’s something Chris wants to say but figures it can wait: unless the castle is on fire or someone has died, the Prefect would very much like to have this assignment finished before patrols tonight. It would upset his entire week’s schedule if he didn’t. Nonetheless, Chris’s shifty behavior keeps William from completely blocking out his surroundings and because of this less-than-optimal focus, the Ravenclaw notices someone occupying the desk on the other side of the bookcase.

The student pulls a couple books from the shelves – creating a little window for William to peek through – and makes themselves comfortable to begin an afternoon of studying. When the thick robes come off and the student ties up her long blonde hair – for it is definitely a her – William catches sight of scarlet-painted lips. His heart skips a beat before a scowl creeps across his face almost subconsciously.

Chris immediately takes notice and looks around hoping to find the cause for the change in his friend’s attitude. When he too, spots the pretty blonde, the words he’s been forcing down ever since the Patronus incident burst free.

The Gryffindor taps his wand on the side of their table and casts the Muffliato-charm, filling the ears of any person who might be trying to overhear their conversation with an unidentifiable buzzing sound. Then he clears his throat, making William tear his gaze away from Noora Sætre – which isn’t as easy as it probably should be for someone who hates his fellow Gryffindor as much as his best friend claims to.

“William.” Chris snaps his fingers in the brunette’s face. “Knock it off, would you? She doesn’t even know we’re here.”

William’s scowl deepens further. “Oh, really? I suppose it’s just a coincidence then that she’s in the library at the exact same moment that I am? That she’s occupying the table next to mine? She doesn’t even take Arithmancy!”

“Since when do you know Noora’s class schedule?” Chris raises an eyebrow in surprise. William glares.

“I don’t. I just know she’s not in my class, which means she’s not in Sixth Year Arithmancy.” He states matter-of-factly. “No, you’ll see: she’s just here to bother me some more. She didn’t get the last word the last time we spoke, so she’s come to try and convince me to go out with her.”

Chris scoffs. “Maybe come off your high horse, William,” He advises. “The last time you and Noora interacted, you humiliated her in front of the entire student body. I doubt she’ll be up for a date anytime soon…”

“Huh?” William turns his harsh glare away from a blissfully oblivious Noora and faces his friend. He seems confused which in turn confuses Chris. “What are you talking about?”

“The whole ‘Boggart in Slughorn’s closet’-thing?” Chris tries. “What did you think I was talking about?”

William swallows nervously – Chris smells something fishy. “Nothing.” The Ravenclaw sputters. “That, uhm, the Boggart-thing, just like you said…”

“You’re a rotten liar, Magnusson.” Chris’s eyes have turned into slits: he’s onto something here. “When did you speak to Noora?”

“I haven’t.” William takes another look at the blonde girl. Could it be that she hasn’t told her friend – who then undoubtedly would’ve told Chris – about their thing atop the Astronomy Tower?

“Are you sure?” Chris isn’t stupid: he and William have been friends since their first trip aboard the Hogwarts Express. He knows when his best friend’s lying to him. William throws him another glare. It’s defensive – Chris takes notice of that.

“Fine. If you say you haven’t spoken to her since then, I believe you.” Chris concedes.

“Thanks.” William turns back to his work – at this rate, he’ll never be finished by the end of his free period. He can already feel his eyes itch with the lack of sleep because of Chris’s (and by extension, Noora’s) interruption.

“It’s just…” Chris continues. William groans. “If you did talk to her…”

“Which I didn’t.” William interrupts. He almost growls.

“Which you didn’t,” Chris agrees. William hates how his friend’s agreement sounds smug. “But say you did, hypothetically, talk to Noora…”

“Is there a point to this?”

“There is, if you’d just stop interrupting me.” Chris deadpans.

“Get to it, would you?”

“Don’t make me hex you, Magnusson.” Chris threateningly waves his wand. “As I was saying: say you did talk to my dear fellow Gryffindor, I hope you used your manners? Said ‘thank you’, maybe?”

“Why should I?” William doesn’t like this: Chris knows something he doesn’t. That’s never a good sign.

“Remember that dolphin Patronus in the Great Hall?” William raises an eyebrow in question. Chris elaborates. “That was Noora.”

“Huh?” Chris’s smug little smile is back on his face.

“You heard me. That little display of magic which so greatly amused you after that Magical Creatures class? That was Noora.”

“Why?” William’s shocked: Patronus Charms are notoriously difficult and a Corporeal one, like Noora had allegedly cast, requires an even greater level of skill from the witch or wizard who conjures it.

“A little birdie must’ve told her you were a little down after Professor Hagrid’s class. She probably wanted to make you feel a little better after your encounter with the Thestrals.”

“She couldn’t have sent some chocolates, like any normal person?” William doesn’t know why he can’t just accept the idea of Noora doing something nice out of the kindness of her heart.

“You’d probably accuse her of trying to poison you. Or trying to slip you a love potion.” Chris is leaning back on the hindlegs of his chair and fiddling with one of William’s spare feathers. He’s the epitome of relaxation whereas William’s body becomes tenser by the second.

“No, this is something else.” He racks his brain for some kind of ulterior motive Noora must’ve had. He finds one, too. “Merlin! This is classic Sætre-behavior! And you fell for it! Merlin, you almost had me falling for it!”

Chris is frowning as William glares through the little peephole on the bookshelf at Noora. She’s furiously scribbling away on a lengthy scroll of parchment. If that’s the Transfiguration essay they’ve got due, she’s definitely reached and foregone the required length of 2 feet. William notices how she barely looks at her notes from class or the large number of books spread out around her.

Is she really writing a Transfiguration essay for Professor McGonagall without so much as consulting one reference work? The arrogance of this girl!

“What are you talking about? Classic Sætre-behavior? Have you completely lost your mind?” Chris sounds disbelieving - almost angry - when he pulls William out of his musings.

“Don’t you see?” William is well aware that he sounds slightly maniacal when he explains Noora’s supposed motives. “She didn’t conjure the Patronus for me, she did it to show off for everyone else! To show how talented and superior she is to everyone else! I bruised her ego, so she had her ass-kissers sing her praises and make her feel better about herself!”

Chris’s mouth is left hanging open: who is this narrow-minded individual ranting and raving in front of him and what happened to his best friend, the rational and level-headed guy he knows?

“Are you serious right now?” He finally voices. “Because if you are, you ought to know that I am about to punch you. Hard. Repeatedly.”

The crazy look in William’s eyes dims somewhat. Chris continues. “I don’t know what happened the last time you spoke to Noora, but it has rattled you. She hit a nerve and you’re unwilling to confront what she said to you.”

William goes to disagree, but Chris won’t let him. “Get your head out of your ass, Magnusson. And use your manners next time you talk to my Housemate.”

With one last angry look, Chris gathers all of his belongings and leaves William to his scattered thoughts. The Ravenclaw doesn’t finish his Arithmancy homework – too busy being ashamed of himself.

Author’s note: That was it! The first 1527 words of the last chapter of ‘The Chaser Gets Chased’. Do let me know what you think! I love reading your messages and your thoughts on the story. I’m working on the remainder of the story while you’re reading this and I hope to have it uploaded here soon! Have a great rest of the week!

#noorhelm fic #noorhelm writing #hogwarts!noorhelm #hogwarts!au #hogwarts!william magnusson #hogwarts!noora saetre #mohnstad #chriseva #the chaser gets chased #gryffindor!noora #ravenclaw!william #ooc noora #ooc william

44 notes · View notes

bestiesandagents · 8 years

Text

Looking Up

Picks up right where Stuck in the Middle (With You) leaves off.

-12x12 spoilers below-

Crowley has had quite the day, and just when he thinks the worst of it is over and he can drink away his worries, he gets a call from none other than Dean Winchester. It might not have been so bad, if he didn’t have Lucifer shouting in the background, saying all the things that the King of Hell did not want Dean to know. But when he finds out why Dean is calling... well, maybe things are looking up.

Word count: 1650

“That’s not my name,” Lucifer growled.

“It is now,” Crowley muttered. He was about to take another drink when his phone began to ring. He wanted to ignore it, but it might be word on the Colt, so he sighed as he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Who is it?” the devil cooed.

Crowely shot him a narrow-eyed glare, but otherwise ignored him as he answered the phone. “Haven’t I done enough for one day?”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Dean answered, as Lucifer began humming an annoying tune that Crowley did his best to block out.

“Then why are you calling, squirrel?”

“Ooooh, it’s Dean,” Lucifer gushed. “Do you think if you confessed your love to him he would reciprocate or kill you? See, my money’s on him killing you.”

“Because… Who’s that?” The hunter’s voice was only vaguely curious, assuring Crowley that he didn’t hear clearly enough to make out any words, or to recognize the voice.

“No one important,” Crowley said coolly as he rose from his throne and strode out of the room.

“Awww, why are you leaving?” Lucifer shouted after him. “You don’t want me to overhear you compromising yourself for the idiot you love?”

Crowley growled to himself as he closed the door behind him. He needed to find a way to muzzle him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Um…”

He froze. “You heard that?”

“…Yeah…”

Crowley nodded. Of course he heard it. “That was just an attempt to piss me off,” he tried to smooth it over.

“I know you don’t let your demons talk to you that way,” Dean pointed out.

“That wasn’t anyone in my good graces, and I assure you, he’s already suffering quite nicely. Now, I’m assuming you called for a reason.”

“Yeah…” Dean took a moment to collect himself. “Um… you kinda zapped out before we got a chance to thank you.”

Crowley blinked in surprise. “You’ve never thanked me before.”

“True, but Cas would be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Not for the first time.”

“Yeah, I know. And I know it’s not the first time you’ve come through for us, either, but… look, I’m thanking you now, okay?”

“Well, you’re welcome.” A small smile turned up the corners of his lips.

There was a pause long enough that Crowley would have thought Dean had hung up, if it weren’t for the fact that he could still hear him breathing. “Hey, so… why would a demon say that to piss you off?”

Crowley gritted his teeth. He did not want to be having this conversation. “Because he was fishing for anything to use against me.”

“But… that had to come from somewhere… right?”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “What are you insinuating, squirrel?”

“Oh, calm down, I know better than to think you actually love me. I was just wondering if demons actually thought you would compromise anything for my sake?”

His expression turned incredulous. “Are you serious? I just confronted the most powerful demon in the world to intervene on your behalf, when he had told me that if anyone came near him, it would be on my head. I sacrificed one of the most powerful weapons in the world to save your best friend. And that was just today, shall I go on?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “I just figured you had some ulterior motive,” he finally muttered.

“If you count keeping the three of you alive as an ulterior motive, then yes. But the point remains that I have compromised a lot for you, so don’t you tell me I never would.”

“But… why?”

Crowley sighed. “I doubt you’d understand,” he said bitterly.

“Try me.”

He hesitated for several seconds before deciding to simply tell him a sub-reason. “The world needs you three.”

Dean took a moment to process that. “Yeah, see, I can understand that reasoning. Which tells me that that’s not the real reason. Come on, Crowley, what’s the truth?”

“There’s no point in telling you.”

“Won’t know unless you do, will you?”

Crowley didn’t respond. He should probably just hang up, but something stopped him. Probably the same thing that stopped him from snapping Dean’s neck whenever he pissed him off.

“Alright, well I have a theory,” Dean continued when it became clear that Crowley wasn’t talking. “Will you tell me if I’m right?”

“I might,” he hedged.

“You care. Somewhere deep down in your cold, black heart, you care about us.”

“That would be a fundamentally stupid thing for me to do.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it would be. Believe me, I thought the same thing when I realized I care about you.”

Crowley’s eyes widened slightly, and it took him a moment to respond. “Guess we’re both idiots, then.”

“Guess so.” He could hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “Does that mean you’ll join us for a drink?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “You sure moose will be okay with that?”

“You saved Cas’s life. He’ll be okay enough.”

He smiled. “Well, then. Power down the wards, and I’ll be right there.”

“Done,” Dean replied a couple seconds later.

Crowley hung up, and after snapping his fingers for his decanter (no point in forcing down the alcohol they would have on hand), he teleported to the bunker. Sam and Castiel were sitting at the table, each with a beer in hand, and Dean was walking back over to them.

“You’re looking better, feathers,” Crowley noted.

“Thanks to you.” Castiel inclined his head slightly towards him.

He shrugged. “Just had a hunch.”

“Well, I’m glad you acted on it,” Sam turned to him.

“Me too.” He strolled over to take the seat beside where Dean had just sat down. “If anyone would like something decent to drink.” He shook the decanter slightly before pouring himself a drink.

As soon as he was finished, Dean snatched it from his hand and poured his own glass. “Thanks.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Since when do you have a taste for the finer things?”

“Well, I’m not gonna turn my nose up at it.” He smirked at Crowley as he sat the decanter down in front of him.

Crowley quickly decided that drinking with the Winchesters was much preferable to drinking in his throne room with only the caged Lucifer for company. Sam was being nicer to him than usual, Castiel even more so, and Dean… well, Dean was actually treating him like a friend.

“I suppose I should get going,” Crowley said a couple hours later, after Sam and Castiel had both turned in.

“Right,” Dean muttered, almost reluctantly, as he followed Crowley’s lead and got to his feet.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “Unless you have a reason for me not to.”

“Not really a reason, just… a question.”

“Oh?”

Dean licked his lips nervously. “That demon that was trying to piss you off… he was half right, wasn’t he? I mean, he said you were compromising stuff for us… except, he was saying it was for me… because you love me.”

Crowely kept his face expressionless. “What are you asking, Dean?”

“I-I don’t think you love me, but… was he onto something? I mean, you’re closer to me than you are to Sam or Cas.”

He took a deep breath as he carefully scrutinized Dean’s expression, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. “What do you want me to say?”

Dean sighed. “The truth would be nice.”

Crowley nodded slowly as his gaze darted away. “Alright, then…. Yes. He was onto something.”

There was a pause in which Crowley couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean, and then the hunter’s lips were on his. It only lasted a second, and then Dean was watching him hopefully as Crowley fixed him with a steady gaze.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Crowley said smoothly, carefully reining in his emotions.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. Doesn’t change anything, though. Okay, well, I might not have actually kissed you if I’d been sober, but I’d have wanted to.”

The corners of his lips twitched up as he fought against the hope he felt. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly.

“In that case…” He took a step closer, resting his hands casually on Dean’s waist and getting a thrill at the ability to do so. “How about we make this just you and me next time?”

Dean smiled. “Tomorrow work for you?”

“Eager, are we?” Crowley taunted, though his smile matched Dean’s. “I’ll be here at seven.” He leaned in for another kiss, teleporting back to his throne room just a couple seconds after their lips met. As much as he would have loved for the kiss to last longer, he couldn’t resist teasing Dean.

He had a large smirk plastered over his face as he stepped in front of the bars separating himself from Lucifer. “Pay up.”

The devil’s eyes were narrowed as they turned to Crowley. “Excuse me?”

“You said that your money was on Dean killing me if I admitted my feelings for him. You couldn’t have been more wrong. So – oh wait, you don’t have anything to pay me with, do you? Because you have nothing.” His smirk grew as Lucifer glowered at him. “I suppose I’ll just accept you getting me a date as payment. I don’t know that Dean would have asked me out if it weren’t for what you shouted earlier, after all. Good dog.”

The incredulously furious expression on Lucifer’s face was easily the second-best thing to come out of the night. Before he could muster up a retort, Crowley teleported from the room to ensure that he had the last word for the night. The day had been far from perfect – being thrown around by a Prince of Hell and losing the Colt being the most troublesome parts – but things were definitely looking up.

#drowley #crowlean #dean x crowley #crowley x dean #12x12 #drowley:fanfic #my work

14 notes · View notes

cwdcshows · 4 years

Text

Stargirl - S1 E3 - Icle

Honestly, I wasn't nearly as impressed with this episode as the first two episodes. There were a few decent parts, but the story felt weak and a lot of pointless plot points that felt like something you'd see from an Arrowverse show. The part where Pat took Courtney to the Justice Society headquarters was nice, but that felt like something that should have happened in either the first episode or the second at the latest. Ditto the ending, when Courtney takes the Justice Society gear to recruit new members; and I don't know how I feel about that either, as it feels a little forced. And what's up with the JSA having giant banners of themselves hanging in their headquarters? I can buy the villains doing that, but it seems pretty narcissistic of the heroes.

I'm seriously over the trend that happens virtually every new show now to take for fucking ever just to set up the core premise of who the main characters are and what their dynamic is; get to the fucking point. Maybe I'm to impatient, but I saw nothing wrong with how they used to start a series by using the pilot to layout the framework of the series and then just hit the ground running telling the stories. Look at the first episode of Buffy, within the first two hours of the series (and let's be honest, "The Harvest" was part two of the pilot) we knew the "sitch" as Buffy would say of who the main characters were and what their deal was. We met Buffy, Joyce, Giles, Xander, Willow, Cordelia all in the first episode too; plus the big bad of the Master and they still advanced the plot by having the Master try to free himself. Meanwhile, three episodes in it's obvious they're going to make Courtney and the girl who's being harassed and called a "slut" best friends, but Jesus they're dragging that out. And while I applaud Courtney for trying to stick up for her, the dialog felt contrived. Then of course they try to go to the opposite extreme by trying to rush an investment in a new character, just so they can kill them and try to milk some kind of sentiment for an intentional, yet seemingly pointless death. I fully expect this magic kid (Joey, I think they said his name was) to also befriend Courtney in a Xander-esque capacity (not to lean too hard on the Buffy comparison), but come on, we're supposed to give a shit about this kid getting killed by Icicle just because we saw a couple of scenes of him doing some shitty card tricks (badly); and sharing one scene with the main protagonist? Let us learn more than his name first; or even just let us be sure his name is in fact Joey if you want us to care when kill him off. And what the hell was up with the level of enthusiasm for this school's talent show? I think they said something about "regionals" or some bullshit, but come on. Is this one of those performing arts highs schools? And if it is, why did Courtney seemed so surprised by everyone being in costume? Why are they all in costume during the regular school day? There's need to be in costume all fucking day, rather than change right before your performance; that's what the call time is for. It's the time ahead of the show during which you get ready. Why were so many students gathering around to watch this lameass card trick? Who would give a shit? Are they all stoned? Did serious no one else, besides the one guy, not see the card Courtney picked, to realize he later picked the wrong card? Because they absolutely would have called him on screwing up the trick if anyone else had seen. I'm also starting to think the writers have no fucking clue what to do with Courtney's mom. What was the point of her coming home only to find Pat and Courtney were out? And why did they choose that exact moment to leave and take a tour of the JSA HQ, when at least Pat knew that what's name would be home before they could possibly get back; to say nothing of his own son. Her being at...whatever that meeting was for city development, seemed random - especially since I either missed it or it wasn't made real clear who Icicle is supposed to be in his public life. Is he the mayor or something? Her comment on the community theatre was yet another instance in this episode that seemed random and kind of forced. And why are these characters, who I can only assume are elected officials, at least in the context of that scene, talking about the community theatre losing money; it's not a fucking subsidiary of a business you own. Maybe that theatre group is renting space from the city or something, but if they're losing money, that's not really the city's problem, unless they're in a position to support it; and they're not losing money from that fact, unless the theatre group is behind on their rent. But considering how big of thing the fucking high school talent show is, I'm kind of astounded to hear them suggest their community theatre is losing money. If they're losing money it's probably because all of the fucking high school students keep renting their costumes and wearing them all day, getting them all sweaty and stained at lunch (theatre rule #12: never eat in costume); and then drop them back off without washing them, so the theatre has to drop a shit ton of money to have all of those costumes drycleaned. But apparently the writers just needed some contrived excuse to show Courtney's mom expressing interest in what's happening in her town to justify her joining whatever board or committee we see her attending later in the episode; rather than just having her say she'd decided to get involved by serving on this committee or whatever, like any normal fucking person would. And how much you want to bet it's not even the fucking the community theatre board she's joining, but just some random community development committee or something? Or even who fucking cares? Because in three episodes they've given her about as character much development as the kid they killed off this week; and I'm not even sure they've mentioned her name. It seems probable they did, but I'll be damned if I can remember it. So far the only defining aspect of her character is that she's played by Amy Adams, who is apparently a vampire, seeing as she doesn't appear to have aged in the last 20 years. We sure as hell haven't been shown anything to show that she and Pat are actually in any kind of romantic or sexual relationship. I can't even remember if they said they were married. I think they did, but much like her name, I can't fucking remember. And why did Icicle kill Joey? What possible purpose did that serve? He seemed to have an ulterior motive for it, but I'll be damned if I can figure out what it could be, other than naming the community theatre after him and milking people's emotions over that. But they couldn't even be bothered to draw an association between him and the community theatre to make that make sense. Is Icicle omnipotent, that he can so effortlessly manipulate the environment from a distance? He can light blow, from wherever the fuck he was, and make the road/bridge ice over in just the right spot? Why would Joey just leap into traffic like that, just to retrieve of his stupid fucking playing cards? Spend a buck and buy another pack? A lot of card tricks tend to bend up or even tear their cards, so I'm sure you're regularly buying new decks anyway. Even if the road wasn't suddenly icy, he jumped into oncoming traffic, without a care of any cars heading his way. It's not like the ice made the car speed up; it just made it harder for the car to stop when some asshole jumps out in front of him. And why should we care that his father is also murdered? It was obvious from the start that he was probably also a former member of the Injustice Society; and given how hard they leaned into the magic stuff in his introductory scene, it was equally obvious that he possessed real magic. Yet apart from whipping out his wand, so to speak, we don't actually see him display any real magic. Nor do they really tell us anything worth knowing about him throughout the rest of the episode; other than he was apparently some elected official. Was Courtney's mom filling his vacancy? Was the why Icicle killed him? Because that just seems round about. And, shock, gasp, the boy Courtney was talking to earlier turns out to be the son of Icicle! Who could possibly see that coming...other than people watching it with the sound on (and probably a few without sound)?

0 notes

disrepairhouse · 5 years

Text

Chapter 26 - Damage

Itara couldn’t tell what was worse: being in front of Robotnik or being back in the room. She gave away too much already and spent even more time fumbling over her words to take it back or fix it, so she was better off away from him so she could recollect her thoughts. But at the same time, the extent of his knowledge and the ambiguity of his intent, especially since she couldn’t escape the barren room on her own, only caused her further panic.

As soon as Zero took her back to the room and closed the door again, she returned to her spot on the floor next to the wall and curled right back up. Her only source of comfort before was the fact that Robotnik didn’t know anything about her, and while he could still never guess her full power, the fact that he even knew the Iblis Biters were of Solaris’ creation caused her to question everything. Why did he know? How? It wasn’t possible he did actually know what she was, was it? The idea made her skin crawl.

Shaking her head violently, she reached up and wrapped her hands around her ears.

Calm down.

Just because Robotnik knew something, it didn’t change everything. It’s not like he… spent months chasing her down after her initial escape. When she had no powers and was of no use to him. Even if she escaped now, it’s not like he’d hunt her down again. It’s not as though her home was one of his old bases. It’s not as though her only source of protection were his robots, gone rogue.

What was the point of escaping?

Maybe she was better off staying, after all. Her escape would only lead him back to RK and Sparky. She was in too precarious a situation now. Besides, maybe if Robotnik could activate her powers where she couldn’t, she could fix it, after all.

A hollow laugh filled the room before fading into quiet sobs as the hedgehog curled further in on herself, wrapping her arms around her head and drawing her legs tightly to her. All because of her stupid crystals. All because her crystals were showing. She would have been looked over as another hedgehog if they hadn’t been showing. Zero wouldn’t have even noticed her in the mayhem if she hadn’t been a literal shining beacon of attention. A furious growl mixed with the sobs as she reached back to grab one of her crystal-covered spines. She stared at them, for a long moment, the rage filling her eyes until she reached up with the other hand and attempted to snap them off.

She pulled at them, tried to snap them in half, even went so far as to slam them against the wall behind her. Anything to get rid of them. But they didn’t budge. She clawed, slammed, and bit until she wore herself out and tore the skin around them up, the crystals not suffering even a single chip. With a final, half-hearted attempt to tear it off, she gave up and slumped back against the wall again, bursting into tears. Her arms and quills and ears hurt, the crystals were still there, and Robotnik likely knew what she was now.

She could do nothing about it. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to RK and never leave again. She should never have gone on the stupid trip in the first place: She didn’t even get to the manuscripts. It had all been a waste.

After what felt like hours of crying, her eyes finally seemed to dry up and left her tired and drained. She leaned back and smacked her head against the wall behind her, staring off at the metal-covered ceiling blankly. Everything hurt and the mystery of what was happening outside of her cell frightened her. She couldn’t hear anything, she couldn’t see anything, and she couldn’t leave. She was completely locked in and isolated.

At least, isolated for a while. As she dozed off, the door slid open beside her, starling her awake though she didn’t move as the tall, red robot walked in. She had wanted it to be RK so badly, but of course it wasn’t. He only took a couple steps in, enough for the door to close behind him, and turned to look at her, eyeing her strangely. She sighed and looked away, knowing her eyes were likely red from crying and didn’t want anyone to see. Especially not him. He was just as much at fault for her situation as she was now and she hated him equally.

“Do you have no control over your powers?”

The question was so direct it took Itara a moment to process it. She had hoped they at least wouldn’t catch onto that, but of course they would figure it out. If she had control, she would have used them by now-- she obviously didn’t want to be there, she would have attempted to escape if she had access to her power. With another small sigh, she muttered, “Wh-what makes you th-think that?” Maybe there was some small semblance of a chance they didn’t actually know, maybe she could trick them into thinking she was exactly where she wanted to be and hadn’t escaped because she didn’t want to. It was the most basic of cons, but she was out of ideas.

“Because I have seen you without the crystals and you have damaged yourself trying to get rid of them. It seems most likely this is not your normal state of being and if you had control over them, you wouldn’t need to break them off.” Itara glared up at him, but said nothing and turned away again. He waited for a response before moving to crouch in front of her, studying her further. “The Doctor believes your power may be able to assist us. Perhaps if you cooperated, we can help you access them again.” The uncertainty in his voice caught her attention again as she turned back just enough to side eye him, studying the struggle for words on his face.

“A friend of mine, back home,” he continued, when he got no further response, “once had to teach me this lesson, that you’re stronger together than trying to handle everything on your own. I also once believed everyone was an enemy and trusted no one, and admittedly I still don’t trust easily, but him, I’d rely on. I don’t belong here, and your powers may be of use getting me back to him.”

Itara tilted her head curiously, noting the distinct hint of homesickness on the bot’s face, a sadness in the sharp blue eyes. “Where is… home for you?”

“Nowhere you’d know. I’m not from your world,” Zero responded, sharpening his gaze again as he looked off, “There are no mobians where I’m from, only humans, robots, and combinations of the two. The city I’m from is overrun by what we call mavericks, robots that have gone rogue and wreak havoc. My friend and I, as well as our team, hunt them down to keep the peace. I suppose the closest thing you have to this, from what I’ve gathered, is your Metal Sonic.”

Itara’s eyes narrowed, taking a moment to think about what he could mean. Metal had been inactive for months, he hadn’t been wreaking havoc since before the reset, not since going rogue. She thought about correcting him, but resisted. She’d already said too much. The story struck her as fishy, seeing as Metal’s done nothing but lay around playing video games since going rogue, but she couldn’t tell Zero that. Especially since Metal had been fighting Sonic right there at the university, she couldn’t argue the point.

Instead, she shook her head, “I’m never… ever cooperating with Robotnik.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s responsible for more chaos than the robots ever would be, especially on their own. They’re his robots, after all.”

Zero remained silent to contemplate and Itara studied the suspicious gaze that touched his face as he did. Once his expression returned to normal, he added, “What chaos has Robotnik been responsible for, exactly? He has no control over the robots that go rogue, after all, and from what I understand, they went rogue to help you, did they not? All three of us were present for that attack on the grocery outlet: you, me, and that red echidna.”

Itara had been ready to start in on every terrible incident Robotnik’s caused in the past, but at the mention of the rogue robots she stopped and her eyes widened in horror. Robotnik knew Metal and RK were with her?! How?! He didn’t even know who she was until she let it slip! Unless he did. Did he know this entire time? But why? How?

“H-How did… why does Robotnik know that?! He shouldn’t know that! He can’t!”

Zero studied her, narrowing his eyes before explaining, “As I’ve said, I’m not from around here and I have no intention of getting any more involved than necessary. But it wasn’t hard to figure out, according to him, once Metal Sonic went rogue and the attacks started.”

“But we… but he… we’ve been… we were trying so hard to…” Itara curled back up, wrapping her hands around her ears and staring off, “we were trying so hard… to stay under his radar. To stay under everyone’s radar.”

“You’ve failed, then. Which is why you should give in and cooperate, instead. You’re still young, I don’t know what you’ve been told by the others, but this mission of yours is meaningless. You should take a better look at the world around you, choose the right side.” Zero stood at this, looking down at the confused hedgehog as he turned back to the door, “it’s possible to change, even if you don’t think it is. Consider this.”

Itara’s brows furrowed, only half hearing what he said, having been thrown right back into her internal panic. Others? Mission? What mission? Surely, he couldn’t be talking about helping humanity over Solaris, there was no possible way any of them could know about that, at least, right? As much as Robotnik seemed to know, he couldn’t know of Solaris’ plans, not even she knew. Besides, why would Robotnik want to help for once when he’s always the one putting everyone in danger. It made no sense. There had to be an ulterior motive, but what was he up to? Why did he know so much to begin with?

Shaking her head, she looked up at the robot, who was halfway out the door again, “Wait.” He stopped, moving his hand away from the pad to look down at her. “Please… please tell me how he knows any of this. No one should know any of this, I don’t even know!”

Zero stared in confusion, but looked towards the door, “You should ask him this. We’re not far from our next destination. Give what I said some thought, we can talk again when we land.” He reached for the pad again, walking through the door and closing it behind him. With another heavy thud Itara was left alone to her thoughts once more. Whatever headache had started up from her crying only worsened. She was confused and exhausted and in pain. She just wanted to sleep. Why couldn’t her powers work like they’re supposed to? She curled up on her side, as tightly as possible, shutting her eyes and letting her thoughts swim. Maybe it was all a terrible dream and when she woke up, she’d be back in the hotel and she could try the entire day again. She wanted so badly for everything to be another terrible dream.

Itara stared down the short driveway, following the pavement up the sidewalk to the small, slightly raised, covered porch, to the pale green door in a white frame, set into a white-paneled suburban house. A set of burgundy curtains were pinned back in the large window and the back of a TV could be seen from the outside. The fake garage door seamlessly blended in with the real garages around the quiet neighborhood. There were newly installed shingles on the roof and a tall wooden fence surrounded the backyard, with the one gate she was too small to open on her own.

The snow had melted and the sun was shining, the neighborhood was quiet and Lynda was nowhere to be seen. She stared up at the house she’d come to call a home, her eyes filling with tears, as she bolted down the driveway and up to the front door, yelling for RK, letting them know she was home. She tripped over the raised porch, but refused to slow and stumbled her way through the door, slamming it open and crying out for RK, Kipper, and Metal.

The living room was exactly as she remembered it, the couch in front of the TV, the arm chair against the wall, the table behind the half wall separating the living and dining rooms. Even she school calendar was still pinned to the wall leading down the hallway. She looked around, ears perked, listening for any sound of the robots or doll, but continued in when she got no answer. They must be downstairs.

Barely remembering to shut the front door, she ran in, not bothering with her shoes, as she continued to the ‘garage’ door that led down to the basement lab. She called out for everyone again, telling them she was home, and heard the computer beeping below. Smiling, she ran down the stairs, being careful not to trip down them, calling out for RK again. When she looked up at the bottom of the stairs, she saw the two robots she was looking for and a third presence, but it wasn’t Kipper.

It was Robotnik.

He turned around, grinning at her, saying nothing as he pressed another button on the computer, activating the robots standing near the charging stations. They stood up straight, their expressions blank as they waited for instructions. Itara’s heart dropped.

“Bring me the anomaly,” the doctor instructed and the bots turned towards her. No sign of recognition on their blank, robotic faces.

Horror struck and it was all Itara could do to scramble back up the stairs as the towering robots chased after her. She cried for Kipper, but got no response. Upon reaching the top of the stairs a robotized doll flew in from the hallway, taking a swipe at her, the little red gem on its head pale and inactive. She dove away from it as the other two robots reach the top of the stairs. She scrambled and tripped her way out the front door again, slamming it shut, but stopped in her tracks as soon as she turned around again.

The neighborhood was gone.

The comfortable warmth of the day had turned to a boiling heat, the cozy suburbs had been reduced to ash and rubble, the inlet of trees around the outer edges were nothing but charred, black ground. The road was cracked and uneven and the sky was a furious red that stretched as far as she could see. Everything was gone. Destroyed.

She turned around, expecting to see the robots at her back again, her face twisted in terror, but only dropped when she did. Even her house, and the robots with it, were gone. Flattened. A chasm of rubble collapsed into the hidden basement, charred and jutting. Just like the mansion. Everything consumed by fire.

As she watched, too shocked to move or think or focus, the rubble at the bottom of the chasm shifted. Subtly at first, she barely noticed, but before long the rubble melted, creating a deep, boiling pool of lava, consuming everything it touched. She shoved herself to her feet and moved further away as it tore at the walls around the pit, bringing more and more down with it, pushing her further and further away. But as she watched, backing up, a voice spoke up behind her.

“Useless.”

She knew that voice. All too well. Though it had been some time since she heard it quite like that. Swinging around, falling in the process, tripping over her own feet, she stared up at the crystallized hedgehog with the glowing green eye. She hadn’t seen him in that form in years, but she knew him. She could never forget him. The bright magenta sclera, the furious green eyes, the purple and teal crystalline fur, the mouthless, grey muzzle, the purple fog that followed him everywhere.

He’d gone by Mephiles in that form, but she knew him otherwise. “Dad…”

The mouthless creature shook his head, narrowing his eyes, “How many times have I told you not to call me that? You’re an incidental creation of my power, nothing more. I was wrong to let you keep it.”

Itara cringed, dropping her head, “I… I’m s-sorry…”

“You ought to be. I let you continue existing, I teach you to use your powers, I give you the ability to travel through time, and you use it to continue repeating the past. Over and over again, you’ve been caught.” Itara curled in on herself but remained silent. “This is why I cut you off.”

Her eyes widened, jerking back up, staring up at him, “wh-what?”

“I knew this would happen again, you let it happen once, after all. Of course you’d let it happen again. I knew you’d put us at risk, so I cut you off. As if I’d ever let my powers be touched by humans again. This is how we got here in the first place,” he spread his arms out, motioning to the destruction around them, “humans. Always humans. I should have never given you your body back. It was a mistake I don’t intend to make again.”

“I… I…”

“No more of your excused,” he waved her away, looking beyond her, “we’ll handle this ourselves from here on out. You’ve proven just as useless to me as that fool, Shadow.”

“We?”

Her brows furrowed, the lava that had been bubbling and shifting behind her roared to life, rising out of the pit, revealing a great, green-eyed serpent. She looked back, screeching in terror at the massive monstrosity, yet even this she recognized. “Iblis!” The great monster roared loudly, shaking the ground below, causing Itara’s ears to ring.

“Yes. Iblis and I will destroy this world once and for all… you and your robots and humans, included.”

Itara shook her head, trying to get the ringing to stop, but looked back and forth between the two of them, terrified and confused. However, after a moment she looked down, shaking her head again before looking up, glaring at them both, “Th-this is… this is just as much your fault as it is mine! If you hadn’t cut my powers off, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!” As soon as the words left her mouth, though, not only did she immediately regret it and threw her hands over her mouth, but Mephiles glared down at her.

“My fault? You have no one to blame but yourself. Clearly you can’t handle my power, so return it to me.”

Before she could response, the ever-crumbling ground reached where she sat. She had no time to move as the pavement caved underneath her, sending her plummeting towards the fiery lava pit. She grasped for anything within reach, the unbearable heat singing her fur as she fell, Iblis letting out another furious roar above her as she mentally begged and pleaded with something, anything to save her. But as the boiling rage below her drew closer and closer, all she could do was close her eyes and cry out.

Zero stood in front of the Doctor’s console, staring up at the monitors and their various feeds, both outside and inside, thinking over the conversations of the day. There was something about what the hedgehog had said that felt off to him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He replayed the conversation over a couple times, noting that the mobian had essentially admitted to causing the problems they’d been researching lately. She’d even admitted to Metal Sonic going rogue to join the mobians. But something about even that felt off to him. Perhaps it was because she was so young. Maybe it was the confusion so blatant on her face. She knew what he was talking about, regarding the mobians’ movements and the rogue robots, and yet the insinuation that they shouldn’t know about it confused him.

He was aware, to a degree, that Robotnik was feeding him half-truths, at best. Though he couldn’t call them out as blatant lies just yet, he could pick up on the mask the doctor was putting on. It clicked the strongest during the conversation between the hedgehog and doctor, both of them were putting on an act and yet he was the only on that seemed annoyed by it. But it was the conversation about the robots that most heavily suggested Robotnik was likely lying, at least about their reason for going rogue.

I don’t even know!

What did she mean by that?

He didn’t have much time to consider it further, however, as one of the screens brought up a series of warning and drew him from his thoughts. Looking up at the blaring red warning, he noted that it was coming from the area the hedgehog was being kept in and reached over to pull up further details. Overheating?

Switching through the camera feeds, his brows pulled together as the video feed displayed the smoldering room and the sleeping hedgehog. Or at least, he’d thought she’d fallen asleep. She remained in the same position, but there was some sort of light source emanating from her, focused around her legs. Accessing a radio unit to contact the doctor, he warned him of the activity and asked if he should investigate it. It took a moment for the doctor to respond, as he was down in one of the labs now, but commanded Zero to remain watching the feeds and he’d send another robot to investigate for them.

However, as soon as Zero responded in the affirmative and turned the comm unit back off, the warnings spread further out. Every room and hallway surrounding the hedgehog’s room, both above and below, was warning of overheating. The entire room was burning red and the camera was struggling to remain functional in the apparent heat, and yet the hedgehog remained asleep somehow. Her legs were scalding and liquifying the room around her, yet she barely budged. Just what sort of power did the child have? Even as the heat burned her fur, she remained utterly unaware. If he wasn’t concerned about the state of the carrier if this continued, he would be fascinated. However, as it was, she was about to cause considerable damage to the carrier they were traversing an ocean on.

He reached for the comms again to inform Robotnik of this, but as soon as he did a horrified scream echoed around the melting room. When Zero looked up again, the hedgehog had opened her now molten white eyes and the camera feed cut out with the sound of a powerful explosion echoing through the carrier. A string of errors and warnings spread across the entire monitor, cutting the feeds of every camera, and the aircraft gave a sharp jolt and tilted to the side. The lower deck was blown out, the comm units when to static, and the carrier’s movements sent the heavy robot halfway across the room.

Red alerts and blaring sirens filled the room as Zero dragged himself back to the console, fighting against the heavy tilt, to turn as many alerts as possible off. If he could get manual control of the machine, having to turn the monitors off entirely to see out the large window directly, he thought he could at least direct it to just enough to avoid the worst of it. Luckily, a line of dry ground was just up ahead. He didn’t know what sort of damage the back half of the machine was in, but maybe he could at least salvage the main computers. Hopefully the doctor wasn’t within reach of whatever happened and he briefly wondered if the hedgehog girl would be alright, but he would have to worry about them after they landed.

The massive machine wasn’t easy to steer, even without the damage it was huge and bulky and ran mostly on a form of autopilot. With the damage, it was nearly impossible. Zero did what he could, finding the manual override and trying to keep the ship as righted as he could until land was underneath them. He managed to miss the city they were headed for by mere miles, coming to a sliding crash just outside city limits in a small section of forest. The trees did their best to slow them, though the ship heavily outweighed them, and by the time they finally came to a jerking halt that nearly sent the bot through the window, they’d nearly reached the other side of the small forest.

Zero took a moment to calm down again, taking a deep breath before releasing the controls and switching back to the screens to see what was still functional. A couple cameras recovered from the initial blast, though the damage they showed told him it was just barely, leading him to switch through as many as possible to see if he could at least locate the doctor. He tried the comm unit again, as well, but continued to get nothing but static. He would likely need to do an in-person recon to both find the doctor and hedgehog, and examine the full extent of the damage.

Just what was that child?

0 notes