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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

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Amnesia Chapter 2

Decided to continue this for the Dannymay prompt: Fractals

Title: Amnesia WC: 3849 Summary: Phantom didn't remember who he was before. One day, he just woke up here, and this is where he's been ever since.

[ao3] [chapter 1]

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It was called Earth.

That, Phantom—no, Danny learned, was where the Human Realm existed. It was in a doorway between Skulker’s island and Ember’s house. When Danny closed his eyes, he could picture the door, having burned in his memory the feeling of raw energy emitting from the gap between its hinges.

He also learned a lot of other things. Like, that he had parents. Two of them, in fact. One was named Maddie, and one was named Jack. Apparently, Sam and Tucker weren’t allowed to use their spaceship—no, the Spectre Speeder—but they hardly seemed angry about this.

Maddie was gentle when she touched him as if she couldn’t believe he was real. She cupped his face, her fingers stroking his cheeks before tears welled in her eyes. She pulled him in close, and her suit smelled like burnt lime.

His father, Jack, was much different. He was a huge man with a personality to match. He slapped Danny’s shoulder, nearly sending him flying, and barked a loud, “Danno! Atta boy! Knew those ghosts couldn’t keep you down!”

Danny couldn’t help but notice that his hazmat suit was the same style as theirs. But when he showed them, his aura twinkling with excitement as he changed forms, instead of returning his glee, their eyes tightened and their smiles seemed strained.

His sister—he had a sister—told him to give them time. They had been through a lot. They weren’t used to seeing their son this way (what way?). They never expected him to…

Her voice trailed off after that. Phantom tried to peer past her thin face and set jaw, past her teal eyes to figure out what? They never expected their son to what?

But she just looked away, her thin brows tight, before her expression melted into something far more gentle. She patted his shoulder and said, “Glad to have you back, little brother.”

Phantom switched back to Danny and he noticed the tension in the room release. Maybe they just weren’t used to seeing him as a ghost, like he hadn’t been used to seeing humans in the Infinite Realms. Yes, that must have been it!

When he saw his bedroom for the first time, it was hard to not jump with glee. The NASA posters! Model rockets! Star constellations on the ceiling!

He wasn’t sure if he remembered this room—he thought he might have—but even so, he knew it couldn’t be anyone else’s except his. It was perfect. Exactly what he could have dreamed.

“You know what NASA is?” Tucker had asked after Danny pointed out the decor.

“Of course!” Danny responded, walking up to the poster. “This was Apollo 11! It was the first rocket to bring astronauts to the moon. And this one—” he jabbed his finger at the one next to it “—is Explorer 1! It’s a satellite NASA launched that started the space race.”

His friends exchanged a glance.

“Do you know what Doomed is?” Tucker asked after a beat of silence.

Danny tilted his head. He tried to think…

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.

“Ah. Got it.”

Sam showed him all sorts of things on Earth. And Danny was surprised at all the similarities to the Ghost Zone—that’s what Sam and Tucker called the Infinite Realms. The plants were nearly identical, albeit a bit less green and glowy on Earth. Earth had liquids like water. It was clear, and it ran out of taps and faucets. Earth also had its own form of energy. While the Ghost Zone used ectoplasm as energy, Earth had electricity.

Danny vaguely remembered electricity. But, he couldn’t exactly place where.

“The portal,” Tucker answered, taking a bite of his sandwich. Apparently, this was an important food item that Danny needed to learn how to make.

“Portal…” Danny stared down at the mess of mayo on his bread. He hadn’t shaken the bottle enough before he squeezed, apparently.

The mood of the room turned awkward. Danny looked up, confused, to see everyone’s eyes avoiding him.

“What portal?” Danny asked.

“It’s how you were separated from us, son,” Jack answered. He walked around the counter, putting a heavy hand on Danny’s back. “The one in the basement. But don’t worry. We have you back here now.”

Danny closed his eyes, trying to remember. Some ghosts remembered their deaths, he was told. But he didn’t. Just like how he didn’t remember what a sandwich was, or a computer, or how he was supposed to shake the bottle of mayo before squeezing it onto his bread.

He remembered…a flash of green?

Fire in his bones?

His head hurt. He put the knife down on the counter and rubbed his chest with his palm. He had never been in his human form for so long before, and the warmth must have been throwing him off. His core was still there. He could feel the faint chill whispering to his hand. But it was dormant, under the tutelage of his human heart right now.

“It’s okay, Danny,” Jack said. “Take your time.”

He looked around for Maddie, but she was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure why that filled him with a sense of unease.

“Where’s my—um, where’s Mom?” Danny asked. It felt strange to call her that after so long of not having a family.

“In the basement working on something.” There was that strained smile again from Jack. “I’m gonna go check on her, actually. You kids have fun!”

Danny watched him exit the kitchen and cross the barrier to the basement. Just beyond that staircase was the portal back to the Infinite Realms. It was so close now. He wondered how he’d gotten so lost there, unable to find this door home.

Home. The word gave him a nice tingling under his skin.

“Here, let me finish this,” Sam said, pulling his mess of a sandwich over to her. “I don’t normally condone someone eating meat, but I know you like it. Do you want one or two slices of turkey on yours, Danny?”

Danny wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things anymore.

“Put two on,” Jazz said. “He could use it.”

“You’ll probably be able to go to school with us,” Sam said.

Tucker grinned at him. “It’s been lame without you, dude.”

“Lame?” Danny couldn’t imagine a building with other human teenagers as ever being lame. Sam and Tucker seemed great! He was sure the other humans were just as fun.

“Ever since Sam moved up to honors English, I’ve been stuck in the lower level by myself. So rude of you to abandon me there, by the way.”

“Sorry,” Danny said, unsure if he was supposed to be sorry or not. He didn’t even know what honors English was.

“It’s okay, now you’ll be back with me.” Tucker froze, sharp eyes flickering over to Danny for a moment. “I mean, hopefully, you will be. You’ve been missing for a little while…”

“How long?” Danny finally asked the question he’d been burning to say since he got here.

The room was silent. Jazz ducked down, her hair shading her eyes from view.

“How long was I away for?”

“Nine months. Give or take.”

His stomach felt weirdly hollow at that. “Oh.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what answer he was expecting. For some reason, it had felt like years he was drifting around the Infinite Realms, yet it was just a handful of months?

Maybe time worked differently in the Human World than it did in the Ghost Zone.

Sam and Tucker eventually had to leave. They said that humans lived with their own families in their own homes. This made sense to Danny, who remarked that it worked the same for ghosts too.

His parents had seemed surprised at this. They didn’t know that ghosts had families. And they mostly don’t—at least, not in the same way that humans seemed to have them—but communities living on the same islands or behind the same doors were common.

“Islands?” Jack asked. “Ghosts live on those things?”

“Remember, hun? The probe we sent into the Ghost Zone got some photos of a castle on one of the islands.”

Jack snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

They sat down for dinner, and despite Danny initially explaining how he’d eaten a few hours ago, his stomach growled at the smell of the food.

Danny put his hand on his stomach, surprised. “I must need more food on Earth than I do in the Infinite Realms.”

Jack gave his back a hearty slap again. “Don’t worry, Danno! We’ll get your body all regulated in no time!”

Jazz handed him a plate with human food on it. It looked familiar, as most things he’d seen so far had, but when he tried to dig deep into the holes of his brain and pick out what this was, he drew a blank.

But whatever it was, it was delicious. He munched on his slice as Jazz had called it, his mouth letting out a happy hum. The food was warm, a rarity for food in the Infinite Realms, and both sweet and savory.

“What’s this called again?” Danny asked. “We don’t have it in the Infinite Realms.”

There was Maddie’s tight smile again. “It’s pizza, sweetie.”

“Pizza’s awesome!” Danny said with a bright tone that was perhaps exaggerating how grateful he was for the delicious meal because he didn’t understand why Maddie and Jack were giving each other side glances right now and wasn’t he mirroring them correctly? Wasn’t he doing this human thing right?

His parents told him the police would want to talk to him, and he got nervous thinking of all the times Walker wanted to “talk” to him for being a “worldly being.” His parents looked concerned at this and reminded him that things were different here, that ghosts weren’t allowed here.

And so he scrunched his eyebrows as he’d done for the dozenth time that day and frowned into his plate because wasn’t he a ghost too?

That night was cloudy.

“I thought we were supposed to be able to see the stars, Jazz,” Danny said, looking out his bedroom window. His family had brought him up here after dinner to change into what they called pajamas, which Jazz explained were softer clothes they wore to bed.

Danny remembered pajamas. There was a ghost that wore them too.

The one ghost that tried to talk to Phantom, that ironically Phantom couldn’t stand.

Jazz patted his shoulder. “Tomorrow night, maybe.”

“Ugh. I can’t wait till tomorrow! Maybe I can just go fly up there. How high up do the clouds go, do you think?”

“Too high,” Jazz said. “You’ll get hurt if you try. Please, stay here with me. We can watch some TV for a while, okay?”

Jazz looked at him like she was terrified he might disappear, and Danny froze, his eyes flickering between his sister and the sky.

He really wanted to see the stars…

“Please, Danny?” Her voice was small, and she gripped his arm. “Can we just hang out again?”

Danny didn’t know what she meant, he couldn’t remember hanging out with her before, but he still gave her his best smile and a, “Sure!”

He followed her to the living room despite the fact that the trees in the living room blocked his view of the sky and damn he wanted to go outside. But perhaps Jazz could see how he was squirming on the worn sofa because she put on a movie about NASA and suddenly, the outside didn’t seem so important after all.

“Are you tired?” she asked when the movie ended.

Yeah. He was tired, actually. And it felt heavy and weird in his human body.

And so, for the first time since he could remember, Danny Fenton (he was a Fenton now!) slept on a bed.

A real bed.

Like the other humans.

The next day, Danny’s parents brought him outside the house to go to the police station. The first thing he noticed was the smell of the air. Ectoplasmic atmosphere smelled acidic, while this one smelled fresh.

Jazz told him it was from the grass. The green grass.

Apparently, there was no ectoplasm in that grass.

“That’s sort of strange, isn’t it?” Danny asked.

“What’s strange?” Jack asked. “You mean, ghosts?”

Maddie elbowed him, and then Jack’s eyes went wide and he gave a nervous glance down at Danny, whose eyebrows were furrowed again because were ghosts really that strange?

Was he strange?

Was he allowed to be here?

Would the other humans accept him for having a ghost half?

It turned out that the Infinite Realms and Earth had more in common than they had differences in that regard.

The investigator’s mustache twitched as he stared at Danny, who squirmed under his gaze. He fell through a portal—not his parents’ portal, just a portal—and was lost in the Ghost Zone. His parents, not Sam and Tucker, found him and brought him back home. His parents suspected a ghost had meddled with his mind, resulting in amnesia, but no one could say for certain.

And most importantly, he was human. All human. He was so human, in fact, that he was told to not even bring this topic up. Because it would only look suspicious. A real human wouldn’t need to point this out, Danny, so don’t say a word.

How was Danny able to survive in the Ghost Zone?

He got lucky, landing on an island with its own atmosphere. It had oxygen.

Danny glanced outside. The sky was blue here, not like the Infinite Realms where the backdrop of the horizon was black. That was, unless the area was rich with ectoplasm, in which case it was green.

Did Danny interact with any ghosts while in the Ghost Zone?

He tried. They ignored him.

He liked that he didn’t have to lie about this one.

Did he remember anything that happened before?

No.

He wished he could remember. Maybe then he would understand why he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about his ghost side. How he fell through the portal. Why the only thing he remembered was space.

Space.

The thought made Danny shiver in excitement, and he looked up at the detective, grinning. “I remember a lot of things, actually! Like how Sputnik 1 was the first satellite placed in orbit! Or…about exoplanets! Like, oh! Like Kepler 16b! It’s an exoplanet that orbits two different stars.”

He sat back, pleased with himself for recalling this. The whispers of space, space, space kissed his skin where his aura would have been.

The detective’s eyebrows shot up, and his twitchy mustache fell suddenly still. He ran a hand over his wrinkled forehead before checking his notes again.

Danny frowned. The detective didn’t seem nearly as impressed with this information as Danny thought he would have been.

You don’t remember your parents? Your friends?

No, he did not.

But you remember all these random facts?

Not random facts. They were all about space.

Danny made sure to stress this information. Space was important, he was certain of it. If it weren’t so very important, then why was that the only thing he remembered? Even over his parents? Sam and Tucker? Jazz?

The investigator stood up, apologized, and swiftly left the room.

Danny drew on the table with invisible ink and his finger as a pen. Stars, planets. He traced Capricorn, and then Scorpius. It was nice, the familiarity. He didn’t like the blinding lights overhead—why was this world so bright—and he didn’t understand this world’s obsession with computers and secrets and hiding things. He kept looking out expecting green and instead getting blue sky or white ceilings. He didn’t understand why the investigator didn’t like his answer about space.

Humans were so confusing. Why were they so confusing? He came here to get answers, and now he was only left with more questions.

The door opened again, and the detective was back. He brought Danny out to his parents, who engulfed him immediately with their arms. He went in the car and they said he did a “great job” and said not to worry about the “slip up” because he had been through a lot, he was confused, they would take care of it.

Danny felt his brows furrow as he stared at the passing cars. Slip up?

He didn’t remember turning into his ghost form.

He wondered what they meant by that. But, just like he’d always done in the Infinite Realms, he kept his mouth shut. Stared out the window. Mhm-ed and uhu-ed at their rambling.

That night, he stared up at the stars. He had changed back into his ghost form—his family had gone to sleep already, so there was no need to worry about making them tense again. He cupped his hands, eyeing through his palms like they were a telescope. Through his fingers, he could see the tiny pinpricks of stars spreading like fractals across the night sky.

He dropped his hand—his aura was getting in the way—and the fractals grew bigger, broader. They stretched into the horizon, glowing pinpricks of hot white, red, blue, green. The Milky Way airbrushed the sky, adding contrast to the twinkling background.

His own aura responded in kind, letting its own stars and planets out.

This. This.

This was stunning.

Perfect.

This was everything.

No matter how confusing the day had been, this made up for it. Being here, in the human world, finally able to see the one thing he’d always dreamt of.

And the world was perfect for it. Dark. Like the Infinite Realms, actually. But a bit less green.

He was lost in the view, soaking in every inch of the sky before him. He felt something wet drip on his cheek, and he ignored it, swallowing the lump that threatened his throat.

“Danny?” a voice sounded from behind him.

The lump vanished, and he hurriedly wiped the tears off his cheek. It was bad to be emotional in front of other ghosts, and he assumed it was the same for humans, judging by his innate reflex.

He turned around and nearly dropped through the ceiling. Poking her head out the window was Jazz, dressed in her blue pajamas, wiping her own fatigue out of her eyes.

And then Danny realized, perhaps too late, that he was not Danny, he was Phantom. And he remembered how his family felt uncomfortable around Phantom.

He hardly had to think before the reflex was triggered, transforming him back into Danny. Jazz frowned, but didn’t comment on his appearance otherwise.

Why had she frowned, though? Was she upset that he had been Phantom when she saw him? He just wouldn’t do that anymore. Well, he said he wasn’t going to do that before, and yet he had been Phantom in front of her anyway. Only for a brief moment, but still. He just got to the human world. He didn’t want everyone to drive him off into his own isolation here like in the Infinite Realms.

To now-Danny’s dismay, she hoisted herself over through the window with clumsy motions and began half-walking-half-crawling over to him.

He squirmed. Space was right there and he was suppressing his core. He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like having to hold back his ghost form when the object of all his desire was all around him for the first time in—as far as he remembered—ever.

She sat down next to him, and he scootched to the side. Humans were much more contact-heavy than ghosts were. And they were warm. It was so alien to Danny, so confusing.

“Stargazing?” she finally said after too long of a silence.

Danny wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to answer yes or no. All the other humans today seemed to get awkward when he talked about space.

So he shrugged.

The fractals in the stars were sort of like the fractals in humans. Confusing pattern after confusing pattern. Limitless, neverending. Unsaid questions repeating over and over.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jazz said.

Danny had never had anyone to talk to. No one except the blob ghosts that floated around the ectoplasmic ponds in the Infinite Realms.

He wondered if he could ask Jack and Maddie if he could bring some over here. But then he dispelled that idea immediately because, according to them, ghosts weren’t even allowed on Earth.

So instead, he asked her, “Did I talk to you a lot before?”

She took a moment before she opened her mouth again. “When we were kids, you used to talk to me about everything. Even space.”

That piqued Danny’s interest. “I liked space when I was a kid?”

Jazz laughed, her voice soft like the puttering of rockets. “Oh, you loved space. Mom and Dad used to send you to a space explorer summer camp every year. That’s where you made that model rocket, you know.”

Danny smiled, turning his attention up to the flickering lights. “I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up.”

He wasn’t sure where that came from.

Judging by Jazz’s little ‘o’ shaped mouth, she was just as surprised that he remembered this as she was.

“I think…I think I’d still like to try to be one now if you guys will let me stay here?”

He held his breath. That question just spilled out, and now his chest was tight, and anxiety was creeping up his spine.

Danny was Danny, but he was also Phantom. And Phantom wasn’t welcome on Earth, according to everything he’d learned over the past two days. Just like how Danny wasn’t welcome in the Infinite Realms.

But he really wanted to be welcome somewhere.

“Oh, Danny.” Jazz looked heartbroken, and guilt clawed at Danny’s stomach.

Because here it was going to come. She was going to tell him that he wasn’t welcome here. He was a ghost, and ghosts shouldn’t be here. They should stay in the Ghost Zone with the other ghosts.

Because that’s what everyone always said.

But instead, what spilled out of her was different.

“Danny, of course you should stay. You’re family. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember us, or if you’re different now. I don’t care. You’re my brother, okay?”

She held out her arms, and despite the strange feeling that contact still gave him, he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her.

“Thanks, Jazz.”

She squeezed him gently, still treating him like something that would disappear at a moment’s notice.

“Please don’t run off. I mean it,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he said.

And he meant it. Despite the stress and confusion of the day, this was the first time that Danny could remember where anyone wanted him. Liked him. Wanted to be around him and hug him and talk to him.

Now that he’d had a taste for it, he never wanted to let it go.

Home.

Maybe…maybe he was finally there.

****

[read more of my fics here]

#danny phantom #phicc #my writing #dannymay2023 #fractals #amnesia

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chaotictarlos · 2 years ago

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5, 4, 3, 2, 1 aka. 2022 Recap

Thank you to the wonderful @good-ways and @tailoredshirt the tag! You're a peach 😘

Guidelines: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favourite line you’ve written this year!

post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022

You took the best of my heart and left the rest in pieces Word Count: 23,520 | Summary: An exploration of emotions. The Breakup Era from Carlos' POV

This is the fic that took 6 months to write. It was my greatest achievement of 2022. It took so much out of me to write, many tears, and almost deletions but it turned out so beautiful. It's my favorite fic that I wrote this year, and one that I cherish deeply. It was well worth all of the time that it took to write.

With love, your soulmate| Word Count: 27,658 | Chapters: 7 / 10 | Summary: Carlos Reyes doesn’t think he has a soulmate. In the 22 years he had been alive he had never found anything that would tell him otherwise. At first, it bothered him that he was seemingly without anyone and that there wasn’t a perfect person out there for him but he learned to grow comfortable with that information. He learned to adapt, to date enough that he wouldn’t be lonely, and on the nights when he was without anyone he found ways to make himself feel good. He was content. Or so he thought so until a letter arrived on the day of his 22 birthday. A letter addressed to him, from the past and from his soulmate. From there, they start talking. Leaving letters for each other to find and read, falling in love through the words that they shared. Will TK ever catch up to Carlos so that they can have their happy ever after? Or will time remain cruel to them?

This fic was a bit out of my comfort zone and dealt with a new concept. It's been a blast to write and I've enjoyed pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I hope to get this one done very soon!!

Fuck my life up | Word Count: 2,728 | Summary: The one time Carlos and TK talked when they were broken up.

It's no secret that I'm obsessed with the breakup era and exploring the dynamics there. I fully believe, in my little hc, that Tarlos hooked up at least once during their breakup era. This was my take on that.

finding the sun in a world of shadows | Word Count: 5453 | Chapters: 2 / 10 | Summary: In a post-apocalyptical world, two lost souls find each other.

This is another one that took me out of my comfort zone but it's been really fun to write and build the world. I have chapter three done and I need to post it, this is another one I'm hoping to get done this year.

It was always you | Word Count: 3333 | Summary: Sometimes in order to find out just how much you’re meant to be with someone, you have to fall apart and lose them first.

This is one of those getting back together fic's but I adore it so much. I love a good ex's to lovers fic and I love how this one turned out. It was a joy to write.

4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year I have so many I'm excited for.

(along with the two mentioned above):

TK POV Breakup Era Fic - this is a companion fic to the Carlos POV Breakup Era Fic and shows TK's side of things. It's slowly coming along but it's gonna be good and my hope is to have it done by summer!

Sequel to Carlos & TK Breakup Era Fic - this will focus on how and why TK come back together. It'll be canon divergence and won't follow along with how they got back together in canon, but I like the spin on it that I've decided to go with. I think it'll be a fun fic and it'll include a lot of conversations we missed.

[Redacted] Tarlos AU - 😉😏 this one is yet to be started but I have it mapped out. I'm keeping a little hush on the details, though. Sometimes it's fun to have surprises 😘

Secret Dating AU - Professor!TK x Social Worker!Carlos. This one I am currently writing and already has 4 chapters. I'm hoping to write it all out before I start posting it. This is another one I hope to have done by summer.

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

Length - My fics this year were longer and more fleshed out. They and more details and really went into the story rather than just brushed the surface.

Dialogue - I always feel like my dialogue is bad, but I think I improved on it this year. Hopefully I'll improve more on it this coming year too.

Ideas - I think my ideas have been better in general, which is really nice.

top 2 resolutions

Writing for myself and my pleasures which includes not being as upset / obsessed over numbers and how people might react to what I write. At the end of the day I need to be the one happy with the content I create, other people liking it is just a bonus.

Keeping in mind that I do this for fun. This is a fun past time and it shouldn't be stressful. Nobody knows me in real life, they only know a fraction of who I am and they may or may not make an accurate judgement of myself. And that's okay. As long as I'm having fun, that's all that matters.

number 1 favourite line you’ve written this year!

That’s what he got for thinking - a broken heart and an empty home that didn’t feel like home without TK. - which, of course, is from Carlos Breakup Era Fic

No pressure tags: @11thstreetvigilante @theghostofashton @bubblesandroses8 @mooshkat @cowlos-reyes @thebumblecee @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles

#tag game #t writes

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thotsforvillainrights · 2 years ago

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I BEG OF YOU QUEEN PLEASE GIVE US Virgin Kai SCENARIO I BEG OF YOU PLEASE MAKE THIS MF NERVOUS I FREACKING LOVE YOUR WRITINGS

I just refuse to believe that before he gets on a relationship with you this asshole has any experience at all I bet the dude hadn't had even his first kiss

Kai is the virgin of 28 years old

[100% correct of course in canon since the whole germ thing is going on haha. I like thinking about him way too much so it’s nice I can write it all out of my system yknow?]

~Immaculate~

-Kai Chisaki smut-

Immaculate- perfectly clean, neat, or tidy. free from flaws or mistakes; perfect.

All his life he busied himself with whatever he’d deemed to be essential. Whether it was protecting the Hassaikai’s honor or something as simple as pursuing a constantly tidy environment, he was on it above all else. He’d never taken much time outside of his usual interests to explore anything simple-minded like a relationship. It was nothing but a hassle in his opinion. He’d observed from a distance during his school years as his childhood friend Hari dated person after person. The idea of dedicating his important time to another person that wasn’t Hari or Pops was absurd to him. It became even more ridiculous when he stopped for a moment to consider the filth included in a relationship as well. How close the other person would have to be, how disgusting it was to swap bodily fluids through kissing...not to mention the dread of sex creeping up his spine. Back then just the thought of any interaction such as sexual intercourse made him shudder in disgust. The very day he was pulled aside by Pops to have ‘the talk’ made him not only sick but annoyed as well. He’d solemnly swore to himself he would never get caught up in such pointless endeavors.

And then he’d met you.

There was something different about you indeed. He found himself thinking of you day and night when you’d first decided to pursue a relationship with each other. Through you, he’d learned a multitude of different things when it came to the ins and outs of dating. He found himself acting out of character by attempting romantic interactions like buying you flowers or going out of his way to video chat you before starting work for the day. When he was around you it was as if he suddenly had forgotten all of the confident swagger he usually possessed. He was no longer calm and relaxed but instead clumsy and awkward. It didn’t help in the least bit that you gave him so much distance. He couldn’t blame you as you were just taking precautions to respect him germaphobia. However, he didn’t want you to keep avoiding him like this, so he pushed himself out of his own comfort zone to touch you more. The day you finally saw his face without the mask and his hands without his gloves, he was proud to know he had the affect on you that he did. Soon after you’d moved into the compound with him and Pops. It took a lot of persuading on his part considering you were fairly independent and refused to throw away what you worked to get. To make peace with you, he agreed to move some of your stuff into the house as well. The condition is that you must keep it neat and tidy of course.

After moving into the house you two seemed like an official couple not just to each other but to the others as well. By now you’d both learned a great deal about each other including your flaws and perks. Most importantly, you were able to spend even more time together (which is something Kai had looked forward to more than ever). However, there was something brewing in him that he didn’t quite understand until now. Lately he’d been keeping his eyes on you longer than usual, unable to simply tear them away for just a moment to focus on what he was working on. His touches lingered and he felt as though he was losing his breath around you. When you’d flash him those beautiful smiles he’d come to love, it set a different reaction off in his system. When you walked past him or even simply bent down to pick something up, he found himself staring at your most private areas. His mouth was dry, his head a jumbled mess, his hands begging at a single opportunity to touch you in places he hadn’t ever considered before. It was lust plain and simple. Lust was the reason he felt his skin become hot and prickly. Lust was the reason his dreams were dominated with you severely lacking in clothing. Lust was the reason he could feel blood rush to his cock when he spent far too much time thinking about those plump lips, or how nice that ass of yours would feel between his grip. Lust was to blame for him now standing outside of his father figure’s door and contemplating the embarrassment he was sure he’d feel after this.

He held his fist up at the door but was hesitant to knock. He stared at the wood patterns embellishing the entrance while he silently weighed the pros and cons of entering and confronting Pops. He stood there for a good while until his heart dropped at the sound of the doorknob turning. The old man opened the door and jumped back a bit at the sight of his successor standing there with his fist up in a knocking position. Pops furrowed his brows before standing to the side and silently inviting him in. He took his seat and listened with open ears at Kai expelling every emotion he’d been holding in for the past 3 months. When the boy fell silent Pops smiled and reached into his desk drawer. The old man held his hand out and waited for Kai to accept his offering. Into Chisaki’s hand Pops dropped a single condom. Before the boy had time to react, the old man spoke up. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow for a trip to a local bathhouse as well as a play being put on nearby. I’ll expect you to look after things while I’m gone.” With that piece of information, Pops sent Kai on his way. There was no doubt the old man had been waiting on this day because why else would he have possession of protection? Kai shuddered at the thought but silently thanked God the old man hadn’t chose to embarrass him like usual. Now he waits. He waits and watches as the clock tics down it’s seconds, minutes, hours until the night. He tossed and turned while you slept next to him peacefully unaware of the thoughts he harbored for you. For a while he worried to himself that he would scare you away if he attempted something lewd with you. As far as he can remember, you never given him any hint as to whether or not you were interested in him in such a way. When the time finally came upon him, he kept in mind that rejection was on the table.

So imagine his surprise when you’d suddenly taken the lead.

He was at a loss for words, practically breathless as he watched you strip down slowly in front of him (your little attempt at giving him a show). When you finished teasing him and decided to reveal all of your glorious skin to him, he felt momentarily as though he would faint. Whatever you may think of your body could never surpass the sheer alure he feels toward it. It was overwhelming to say the least, yet he would allow himself to roam along your sides with his bare hands despite the fear of rejection still lingering on the horizon. “Have you ever?” That question barely slipped past your lips while both of your lips danced with each other/ tangling up and creating a hidden bond. The question was something he wasn’t sure how to answer. But when you pulled back to look down at him he saw the way your eyes seemed to be without a single hint of judgement. They only housed love for him, gentle understanding. So he answered your question with full transparency despite his worries. “No...I haven’t.” He turned his head on the plush pillow to stare at the wall. You gently reached down and cupped his face in both hands, slowly and gently turning his head back to look at you. “That’s okay. We can take it slow. Do you trust me, Chisaki?” You stared at him in anticipation. Finally he gulped and nodded his head. “Yes.” A silent agreement between the two of you took place: you would lead the way for his first time. As you began to remove the condom from its foil prison, he felt a mixture of emotions wash over him. Anticipation, worry, fear, curiosity, and most of all lust...he would choose to focus on the latter and watch as you expertly slipped the condom onto his cock. He took note of the procedure while you gripped lightly at him and rolled it from the mushroom tip to the very base. You pinched the top to be sure of no bubbles before turning to look at him one last time. “Please.” His words signaling his consent for the last time. You nodded and positioned yourself above him. As you slowly sunk yourself down on the length of his cock, you took time to count every little delicious inch while simultaneously watching his expression shift into more lewd territory. He let out a big gasp when you finally seated yourself on him. A few seconds to a minute passed while you adjusted to his length. He too was adjusting to the warmth and tightness enveloping him in this moment. His mind was a mess only making out the intense feeling of needing more of you. He tried to remain at semi-composure while holding your sides but when you shifted on him momentarily, he gripped tightly at your plush skin. “Apologies...” he strangled out before quickly shifting his hands onto the blanket at his sides. “You smiled and reached down to grasp his hands before pulling them upward and placing them back along your sides. “Don’t apologize. I like it when you do that. Can I move now?”

“Yes please.” Following his words you began to slowly rock yourself on his. What felt really good to you was more intense for him. He’d never experienced this before and it was highly likely (now that you think about it) that he’d never even touched himself before either. You mentally prepared yourself with the possibility that he wouldn’t last very long if you kept this up. You were moving slow at the moment but he was still losing his mind, his composure unraveling with each movement you blessed him with. His hands now gripping tightly at your side and creating a little discomfort. You’d likely have marks tomorrow but it was okay to you. Right now you watched him bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw some blood. Finally right as you started to move with more haste and bounce yourself on his cock, he opened his mouth up and let loose. It was so reassuring to know Pops was out of the house at the moment and that the other workers were below the base. Otherwise you had no doubt someone would hear him calling out to you and cursing, moaning, groaning, gasping for air while you fucked ever last dropped out of him. “Please...pleeeaase Y/N...please...please fuck~” He gasped and leaned upward just to watch you rising and sinking on his cock repeatedly. Just the sight of it was too much for him. When you’d made eye contact for just a moment, and he saw your eyes glazed over with lust, he’d came for the first time in his life. It didn’t seem to want to stop but luckily it did. He collapsed his head back onto the pillow and watched wearily as you removed yourself from him. He wanted to move but he simply couldn’t find it in himself, still fighting off the lingering pleasure coursing through his veins. You tied the condom up, tossed it in the trash, and cuddled up to his side. “F-filthy. Show-sh-shower...” He tried to find the words but you silenced him by placing a gentle kiss on his lips and then his sweat covered forehead. “Later on. For now, let’s just stay here like this.”

And you did.

#Smut #minors dni #minor dni #Kai chisaki #chisaki kai #overhaul #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki smut

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stephspurs · 3 years ago

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hey besties!! here is part 8! Part 8 see's Amelia in a change of colours, her friendship with Jorgi explored more, an awkward Chelsea player and a cheeky Villa boy. Please enjoy & send me your thoughts! Love always, Steph xx

Part 8. | parte otto

word count; 1569 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Wednesday 11/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Landing in the rarely-sunny but always wonderful London town, Amelia was swiftly picked up from the airport by a man in a blacked out Mercedes van and driven away to her new club-appointed accommodation in the royal borough of Kensington and Chelsea. The 24 year old couldn’t help but feel a sense of home resonating through her body. Yes, Italy was also her home for the last 3 years, but there was something in the air in London that really made her believe that this is where she was meant to be.

Whilst happy that her quintessentially-British townhouse was a mere stones throw from Stamford Bridge and her family home just on the other side of the park in Holland Park she was still a 30+ minute commute, without traffic & one way, from Cobham. Beggars can’t be choosers, at least this way she was close to the hustle and bustle of London City, as well as her family and old friends.

A few days had passed since her talk with Fede, her swift departure from bella Italia saw only a small gathering occur at her apartment with some of the juventus boys on the eve before her flight. Constant check-ins from La Cosa Nostra whatsapp group chat, of course the word had spread to the rest of the Italian national team before she had even returned home from Fede’s place, meant that she was never left alone to her thoughts for too long.

Keeping the promise he had made when she phoned to tell him the news, Jorgi was knocking on her front door at 7:30am the following Monday morning, ready to drive the both of them to Cobham for Amelia’s first full day of work. He was the only person who knew she was taking this offer, other than the professional staff at Chelsea FC who had to organise her contract, so it was very much a nerve-wracking drive to the suburban training ground.

“Sapevo che stavi bene con il blu Azzurri, ma il blu Chelsea è un'altra benedizione che mi è stata conferita” (i knew you looked good in Azzurri blue, but Chelsea blue is another blessing bestowed upon me) Jorgi exclaimed as she opened the door to his car and slid in, having stopped right in front of her house in a no-park zone.

“Morning Jorgi, Thanks so much for picking me up - i’ll sort out a car this weekend i suppose”

“It's not a problem, I'm only a couple of streets away anyway so it's not out of my way.”

The pair caught up on the past couple of weeks without each other, speaking on the Fede situation and Amelia’s feelings. The best thing about Jorgi was how he was able to see both sides of the story. He valued Amelia's opinion and feelings as much as his long-time friend, Fede. He knew how hard it was for both parties to come to an amicable separation & he was making a mental note to call his italian pal to thank him for letting the girl go.

Amelia’s first day at Cobham was heavily administrative, spending a lot of time sorting out paperwork, meeting the team of staff she would be joining, getting her uniform, sorting out her office. After a quick bite to eat with the head analyst, Paolo (she just couldn’t seem to escape the Italians altogether), she collected her leather bound notebook and followed her colleague to the first team wing of Cobham. Whilst she was strictly working with the first team, she had expressed interest early on & stipulated it in her formal acceptance, that she wanted the opportunity to work with the academy players and the freedom to dip into the talent pool of Chelsea youth, to assist in perfecting her tactical plays.

She couldn’t deny that the blue of her uniform was the perfect shade to bring out the blue in her more-often-than-not grey eyes, she felt comfortable in it, she felt part of the team. Pushing open the door ahead of them, Paolo stood to the side like a true gentleman and gestured to Amelia through the door first.

______________________________________________________________

Walking in, I noticed that the scene in front of me was similar to the first time I met with some of these players. With their backs to me, facing the front, listening to every word that Tuchel was saying to them. I snuck in, stood to the side and waited for my introduction which came very shortly after.

“I want you all to meet the new tactical analyst that the club has appointed following a very successful european campaign this past summer, Amelia White” Thomas directed towards me, and just like that, a slight bit of deja-vu settled in as i watched 30+ sets of eyes turn to look at me. Some were happy to see me, some were polite and offered a small smile, and just one set looked a little shocked and very guilty.

“I trust you all will treat her with the respect that you show me, Paolo and all other members of this professional staff. We had to fight tooth and nail for this girl to join us and I can’t express how lucky we all are to be learning from her.” Tuchel dismissed his team, Jorgi pushing through the chairs to get to me.

“Amelia! What a surprise! Why didn’t you tell me about this!” Jorgi rushed over to me and wrapped me in a hug that I didn't return. Less than impressed with the boy's antics and sarcasm.

“Oh be quiet, you drove us both here today.” I spoke with a smile and rolled my eyes.

“Always the trouble maker Jorgi!” Mason Mount spoke from behind him.

“Amelia, nice to see you again! Can’t believe you didn’t tell us in the group chat!” Mason continued as he greeted me hello.

“Haha yeah, it all happened very quickly & to be honest, my decision wasn’t final until a couple of days ago. I had a few opportunities and I had to weigh up my options, Chelsea were willing to go a bit above the other clubs so it became obvious. Besides, someone once told me I would look good in the Chelsea blue” That someone also being the person who avoided my messages, and who is currently avoiding my eyes.

Later that evening.

“As if I deserved to know you picked the blues on sky sport?” Jack questioned the girl over facetime that evening, keeping their friendship tradition alive and cooking together.

“It all happened so quickly Jack, I was in talks with a few clubs and there was a bit of a tussle and negotiation stage and then I just had to pick one. Chelsea offered me the opportunity to foster the youth team talent and no one else was willing to cross-contaminate their professional staff” Amelia hurried down the phone, afraid that she hurt the brummie lad’s feelings.

“Calm down Mils, it's fine! I’m only playin wiv’ya. I’m happy for you - and me too, now I can come visit ya and have a place to stay in the city” He joked back to her. Jack had a certain way of calming the girl down, he reminded her a lot of Fede. He could read her before she came to terms with her own thoughts and feelings.

“Are you trying to tell me that you, with all of your friends and all of your money, need to rely on little old me for a place to stay in the city?” The joking tone went back to normal with the two flirtatious friends.

“No, I'm just saying that I'm happy you’re in the city. Ya know, it’s only a 2 hour drive. I could easily come down on a Friday after training and be back before a Sunday game…”

“2 hours is far too long to be in the car just to spend the day with me”

“That's where you’re wrong, it would be two nights and one whole day. Besides, 2 hours in the car is better than having to fly to get to you. I was prepared to do the latter anyway before your big move back to London” Oh did her heart swoon inside her chest, a quick blush spread across her cheeks and a little chuckle left her lips - unable to find the right words to say back to him.

Amelia knew the dangers of the situationship, this was exactly how it happened with Fede. She couldn’t help that she was naturally playful and flirtatious, she often didn't know she was doing it. Normal conversations to her often appeared like a hardcore flirt-fest to anyone who happened to be around the girl. She didn’t want to cross that line with Jack, she knew better than to do that, especially with how she hurt Fede in the end. She didn’t know where she was going to be in a few years, nor where he was going to be.

What she also recognised in the older lad that Fede also possessed, and she would be surprised if he didnt considering he is a professional football player, is that he was determined. Too determined that sometimes it was more about the chase and the challenge, rather than the aftermath or the reward. She knew Jack wouldn’t give up on her and would always be there for her. Was it bad that she enjoyed it?

Part 9. | nona parte

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astrozones · 4 years ago

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Gay Eyes - Prinxiety

@idkwhyimhere0o0 , @slitherynchiken bc yall wanted to see this uwu

Original Post here!

Summary: "Gay eyes" was a stupid concept. Virgil could hardly believe his ears when Roman suggested it earlier that day- when they were trying to pursue Nico. And of course, it didn't work. Because it was stupid. Idiotic. So why couldn't he stop thinking about it- or the boy who had suggested it?

Discord: Astro’s Zone

Ship: Prinxiety

Read on AO3

Spoiler warning for Flirting With Social Anxiety!!

Gay eyes, right?

That’s what he called them?

It was stupid. A stupid name, a stupid concept, a stupid- ugh, everything!

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it-!

Virgil groaned, turning himself around so he could shove his face onto the pillow. Ughhhhhhhh.

Maybe it was because Roman looked so damn pretty doing it and- nope! Not going down that train of thought. At least, not for the fifth time tonight.

‘Gay eyes’. Ugh. Something about that was familiar. Did someone do them to Thomas? No, no, he would’ve heard Roman prattling on about it in a lovestruck monologue if someone did. That much was certain.

Ah- maybe- well, Thomas had to have done it sometime, right? He seemed so familiar with the concept. That must be why he was understood it. It was the only logical reason, at least. Heh, maybe Logan would be proud of him for coming up with an understandable conclusion.

But- that wasn’t it, was it? Something in his nonexistent heart told him so. And while he made a point to not listen to his heart- it could get them in so many dangerous situations, after all- he spent a few more minutes thinking about it. Just in case.

He couldn’t think of anything else though. No matter how many paths he went through, nothing made sense, except for if another Side had done them while he was watching or something and-!

Oh.

God, he remembered it- about 3 weeks ago, Roman was acting weird. And not his normal type of fantastical-focused weirdness either. He hadn’t thought much of it- that was a lie, he spent too much time thinking about it- but Roman kept looking over at Virgil, both of them sitting at opposite ends of the couch.

When Virgil finally chanced looking over and meeting his eyes, Roman simply raised an eyebrow at him. A second later, he switched his expression to an innocent one, looking away, and back, where he lifted his eyebrow again with a smirk.

What the fuck, he had thought. Huh? Ugh- whatever. Ro’ was just messing around. Virgil let out a scoff, lightly pushing Roman with a small laugh as he stood up and walked to the kitchen- Patton was starting to look longingly at the stove again, and Virgil decided he would supervise. They didn’t want a repeat of last time.

Looking back on it, though… Was Roman… flirting with him? With Virgil? None of the others had been in the room, except for Patton, who was on the opposite side. So it must have been Virgil.

But- why?

Why Virgil? Was he pranking him? No, Roman wouldn’t do that, he was too serious about romance.

That meant… that he was serious. That he was trying to flirt… with Virgil.

The chances of Roman pranking him seemed far higher than the chances of Roman actually liking Virgil back, but- well, all the signs said he was genuine.

Wait.

Oh God.

If he was flirting with him, that means- that means that Virgil just brushed off his flirting without a second thought. That he- did he accidentally reject Roman? Shit, shit, shitshitshit- FUCK! He must hate Virgil now and his chances were ruined and he’d be single forever and-

Breathe. He- he had to breathe.

In, out.

Okay. Okay, he just had to think about it logically. Logically, Roman’s feelings for him wouldn’t go away just because Virgil rejected him (he rejected him! FUCK! FUCK!). Logically, he still had a chance.

But what if he didn’t- what if Roman already convinced himself out of it, or what if he realized he wasn’t that interested after all and now he’s grateful I didn’t understand, or what if he- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Okay- okay- he just… he had to make a plan to tell Roman. Easy. Yeah, that was a good idea.

This was a horrible idea. By far the worst of his ideas. Why was he doing this idea?!?

Well, he supposed, this is why I’m not Creativity.

He sat down on the couch, opposite of Roman. Step one, done.

Roman glanced up at him, flashing a radiant smile before turning back to his book- something fantasy related, most likely. Fuck I’m gay.

Could anyone blame him, though? Roman was just so pretty! Kind, too, he just wanted the best for everyone. He had a pretty straightforward set of right and wrong, but he was learning, and trying his best to make things right. Fuck, he was so passionate too. Virgil could sit there listening for hours as he ranted on about all his new ideas. He wanted to do that, he wanted to be there for Roman, to trust him enough to share thoughts he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Oh shit, he had been staring at him for too long. Roman was looking at him with concern and curiosity. Enact step two, enact step two!

Quickly, before he had a chance to feel scared about it- he let an eyebrow rise up, silently staring at Roman with a smile. He let the expression fall, looking away, then looking back, before switching back with a smirk.

Fuck, Roman just looked confused. What were the steps again? What did he miss?!? I knew this was a bad idea-

Roman softly gasped. Virgil’s gaze shot to him as a brilliantly bright blush adorned Roman’s face.

Good reaction?

“Was that- did you-?” Roman giggled, quickly covering his head with his hands.

This is good-? No! No, this is bad! A bad reaction! You fucked up Virgil, ABORT, ABORT-

“Roman, Virgil! It’s time to eat breakfast!” Patton called from the dining room. Shit. Now he couldn’t run away.

Roman kept trying to catch his gaze while they were eating. He saw it in the corner of his eye. But Virgil’s gaze stayed diligently on his food, eating quickly so he could run get away faster.

“I’m going to my room- BYE!” he rushed out, disposing of the dishes before sprinting back to his room. He didn’t want to see the pitying glance Roman sent him.

He face-planted straight onto his bed. He felt like crying, and he desperately fought back the tears that would tell everyone just what he was feeling.

Fuck, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut. Or, rather, repressed his feelings and lived with the fact that Roman would never like him back? Of course Roman wouldn’t feel the same- why would he? When Virgil was so much worse than him?

Fuck.

He froze as a knock sounded at the door.

Fucking shit- this was Roman coming to officially reject him, wasn’t it. Shit, not right now! Not when he was still processing it! He was gonna burst into tears!

Biting his lip, he slowly made his way over to the door, opening it ever so cautiously.

There stood Roman, bouncing on his heels with a grin. Virgil frowned, why is he so ecstatic about rejecting me? I thought he considered me a friend now…

Roman opened his mouth to speak. Deny it! Deny it!

“It was a joke.” Virgil blurted out. Roman’s stopped in place, staring at him.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it. Me doing the whole ‘gay eyes’ thing? It was a joke.” he murmured, fiddling with his sleeves. Roman made a strained noise.

“I- um- I see. That, uh, that makes sense. Thanks for clarifying, Virgil. If you’ll excuse me, I really must be going now. Ideas to explore, and all. Toodle-oo!”

And with that, Roman left.

“Of course it was too good to be true,” Roman moaned, falling back onto his thousands of pillows strewn over the floor. His body shook as he tried to hold back sobs.

He had been trying to show hints to Virgil for ages, y’know. Roman was brave, but not brave enough to say it outright. He’d hoped- well, he’d hoped that after he showed a few hints, maybe, just maybe, Virgil would show some signs back. Just enough that Roman could be sure that his feelings were returned.

And he thought… that this was it. That Virgil’s sudden understanding of ‘gay eyes’ was the sign that he was looking for!

He always knew his endless optimism would come to bite him some day.

“FUCK!” he shouted to no one. Thankfully he had soundproofed his room ages ago, after enough noise complaints from Logan about his singing. He wiped his tears away, scoffing as new ones just took their place.

He should have known Virgil was too perfect for him.

With his endearingly sarcastic attitude, his wonderfully precious giggles, and of course his smile- it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen for him sooner.

He silently cursed his past self. Why couldn’t he have just let it go and accepted him into the group? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place- maybe Virgil would be able to like him romantically.

God, what he would give to be able to cuddle with Virgil… to hug him, to hold hands, maybe even kiss him…

But he couldn’t.

Because Virgil had rejected him.

Dumbass, Virgil’s brain told him. He huffed. What, he asked, am I not suffering enough already?

His mind didn’t respond. Virgil groaned. This usually meant that he had to actually figure something out instead of just wallowing in his sorrow.

Rude.

He rubbed at his eyes, debating whether he should actually follow directions and think over things.

Nah, he decided, switching onto his side as he elected to just sleep and forget about today.

He likes you back!

Psh, yeah right. The only way Roman could like him back is if he had been coming over to confirm his feelings or some shit. That was impossible.

…

Wait, he thought, sitting up. Wait. Maybe I am a dumbass.

Because the more he thought about it, the more it became apparent that it actually wasn’t impossible. In fact, it might just be… plausible.

Holy shit.

He stood up, frantically searching for his hoodie. He had to tell Roman, he had to. Before it was too late.

Picking it up, he hurried over to the mirror. Fuck, he looked like a disaster. Hair askew, makeup nonexistent, eyes wide in panic. At least he hadn’t cried- crying, Virgil, he could be crying. Go, hurry!

Whipping open the door, he hurried down the hallway. Passing Patton in the kitchen, he gave him a nod as he ran.

“What are you doing up?” Patton asked, a cup of water in his hand. “You should be going to sleep.”

“Can’t-” Virgil huffed out, stopping for only a few seconds. “I have to go- gotta- clear something up.”

He left before Patton could come up with a response.

“Roman,” he whisper-shouted, frantically knocking on the door. “Roman!”

The door opened, revealing a tired Roman. Virgil noticed with a pain in his chest that his eyes were red from crying.

“What?”

“I meant it,” he rushed out. “I meant it- the whole ‘gay eyes’ thing. As stupid as it is, I meant it.” Roman’s eyes widened.

“I did- but I thought you were gonna reject me- so I said it was a joke and I know, I know, I’m so, so stupid, but say you like me back and I might just kiss you.”

For seconds that felt like eons, Roman stayed silent.

“Oh God, please do. I like you back, I have for a long time actua- mmf-!”

Before he was even done talking, Virgil had grabbed the collar of his pyjamas- a red t-shirt, with a crown placed in the center because this boy just cannot stop getting more adorable- and pulled him forward.

Their lips met, and Virgil’s heart melted. He moved his hands to caress Roman’s face. He felt warm- content, even, which couldn’t be true because he was Anxiety and Anxiety never felt content without a thousand other thoughts harassing him- but he was free from negative feelings, head empty as all he processed was Roman’s lips on his and that he was feeling loved.

He slowly separated from the boy, gasping for air and fighting the urge to dive back in and kiss him again- because holy fuck he had kissed Roman!

“I thought- I thought you didn’t like me back.” Roman whispered, voice cracking in the middle. Virgil shook his head vehemently.

“I- fuck no, Ro’, that’s impossible. I- fuck- you’re great, Ro’, I adore you.”

Roman broke out into a grin, leaning his forehead against Virgil’s.

“I adore you, too.”

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mittelfrank-divas · 4 years ago

Note

Favourite to least favourite Edelgard supports?

HOW DARE YOU force me to rank them in this way! Knowing I must choose a worst support with Edelgard, when all of them involve Edelgard and are, therefore, inherently good? I can’t even discard the non-Black Eagle supports in this case because the professor supports are legit wonderful.

1. Hubert - Bros4Lyfe <3 I love how they skip past niceties, how there’s so much history in their interactions, how they even argue like old friends, how Edelgard expresses doubts and insecurities with Hubert that nobody else hears, how they share such a weird, dark sense of humor (”I could have you executed, you know” “I’ll gladly offer myself up”). And also how firmly they establish that their relationship has nothing to do with status, that they care about each other well beyond the roles they play.

2. Lysithea - I love how their supports drive home not only how much they’ve both been through, but how similar they both are as characters. Both Edelgard and Lysithea are the kinds of people who force themselves to keep going no matter what they’ve experienced or how much pain it causes them. I also love how immediately protective Edelgard is with Lysithea, and how ultimately Lysithea figures out for herself what they have in common.

3. Bernadetta - I’ve talked before about what I love about this support chain. I just love how they move from seeming like complete opposites to opening up to each other about their trauma. I love how soft and careful Edelgard becomes with Bernadetta and how they garden together.

4. Dorothea - HAIL MIGHTY EDELGARD THOUGH RED BLOOD STAINS HER STORY. I just love how explicitly flirtatious and romantic their supports are from beginning to end. There’s no subtle winking or narratively-forced friend zoning. Dorothea is clearly smitten with Edelgard.

5. Manuela - I love that Edelgard seeks out Manuela’s perspective because... Manuela’s a mess, we all know she’s a mess. She’s a running gag, a drunken spinster, an ongoing disaster who doesn’t know she’s past her prime. Most of Manuela’s supports play up the comedy of her role. But Edelgard approaches her seriously, right from the start. Manuela, a commoner and someone who strongly believes in the goddess. Edelgard never looks down on her, even while helping her clean up her room. She actively seeks Manuela’s perspective, checks in on her when she’s down, and learns from her.

6. Hanneman - I never cared much for Hanneman, and I regret that means I never recruited him in my first CF run. This support singlehandedly changed my entire view of him. The story about his sister completely wrecked me. And I love that Edelgard’s suspicion of him matched my own, until that moment she learned the truth. No wonder he supports her. His story is so important and it means a lot that Edelgard is (as far as I know) the only one he confides to about it.

7. Linahrdt - I love how they start so adversarial but come to understand each other so well. This support chain makes me laugh because Edelgard spends five years crafting the perfect role for Linhardt despite his constant insistence that he doesn’t want to do anything ever. But she’s so determined! And that’s what I love about her. She tries so hard to guarantee a good place for everyone she loves even if they’re not grateful for it and you know she lost sleep over this. But in the end she had to learn to understand Linhardt’s particular brand of laziness, his desire for novel research without strings attached.

8. Petra - I love the political weight behind their supports. Two future leaders of their respective countries feeling one another out, staying friendly but testing their bonds a bit to see where they’ll both fall in the future. I love that they both urge each other to follow their own ambition and that Petra’s way of telling Edelgard that she’s thought of what she said is by pulling a prank on her. My only objection is that they stop at B rank. Yes, of course it would be unfeasible for them to get together romantically, as leaders of their own nations, but how about a platonic ending about them working together to improve relations?

9. Byleth - Byleth supports are usually kind of meh because Byleth is just there to be talked at. The main reason they’re not at the bottom of the list is because it’s literally one of the only places in the game where you get to hear about Edelgard’s past, making it essential.

10. Ferdinand - The whole rivalry thing really went on one support too long. I really wish there had been more substance to Ferdinand’s friction with Edelgard than his ego. I love their A support though, so that bumps it up the list. I love that he challenges the flaws of meritocracy and proposes universal education and Edelgard agrees! I love that she calls him her friend and tells him their friendship has nothing to do with his status. The only blight on the A support is that he proposes marriage out of nowhere.

11. Constance - I do like the dilemma that Constance poses for Edelgard, with her desire to restore her noble house. I also like that it’s focused on Constance’s goals rather than using her to flesh out the route the way that Hapi got used in her Dimitri supports. But I wanted more depth explored for both of them so it’s kind of meh for me.

12. Caspar - It’s like. It’s fine. I like how it winds up. I like how Edelgard admits she changed her mind about Caspar and learned that not everyone resents their lot in life. But they spend a lot of time just Not Getting Each Other and it’s a slog.

#supports #edelgard von hresvelg #this took me forever to write lol #overthinking every single one #edelgard

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myakkoh · 5 years ago

Text

wonders in a hunt

(Read on Ao3 here!)

Thank you and shout out to @blackkatmagic for letting me have permission to write this silly fic!

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You see, there’s a novel.

A novel that was only published two months ago, detailing the events of a Jedi and a clone falling in love while undergoing an adventure that changed their lives in order to save the entire galaxy. It tells of a tale that many have fallen in love with and are eager for more.

Unfortunately, this novel is also Mace Windu’s greatest headache at the current moment.

Why?

Well, let’s just say, there are details in the novel that are extremely similar to the same events he had undergone with his husband a year ago, especially with the part where they faced Palpatine, the Sith Lord who has been right under their nose the entire time. It’s not just the book that’s Mace’s problem, though.

It’s who made the novel. No one knows who made the novel, just that it's an anonymous author.

When Mace first got introduced to the novel, it was about a few days ago, when he decided to take a break with Fives. Said Padawan took out his datapad and began to silently read something on it, dark eyes glued to the screen, scanning it slowly, ever so slowly. Chuckles and giggles have escaped him, before Mace became curious and asked what it was.

That was his first mistake, and how it all began.

~~~~~

“A novel,” Mace repeats as Fives gives him a bright grin, tilting his head to the side as he reads the title. Heartstill, the title says on the cover, followed behind by a picture of two hands clasping together. He can see silver bands shining around fingers on both hands, the design strangely familiar.

“Yeah,” Fives says, the grin still in place, the Force rippling around his Padawan softly. “It’s surprisingly really good, and the main characters kinda reminds me of you and Cody.”

Mace raises an eyebrow, though he’s more bemused than anything. It’s nice to see that Fives is having something else to do other than their training and meditation. “Is that so?” he asks, hands the datapad back to his Padawan.

“Yes, Master,” Fives answers cheekily, then says, “You can read it if you want.”

“Oh?” Perhaps he should ask Cody if he read this novel yet; his husband did like reading.

Fives only laughs. “Better than having Cody steal all the blankets, Master!”

“I thought you can’t hear through the walls?” Mace asks with slight amusement as Fives immediately looks horrified at the implied meaning. It’s always fun to tease his Padawan, even if all he and Cody do is stay close to each other in bed these days, curling into each other’s warmth.

Small gestures mean more than the large ones, after all.

“Oh my kriffing god, Master, I did not need to know that!”

~~~~~~

He did not have the chance to read the novel until a couple of days later, when he managed to secure some peace for himself. Cody’s currently on a guard shift at the Jedi Temple’s entrance, and Fives is off exploring Coruscant with some of the other Padawans, clones, and a Jedi Knight.

When Mace settles down on the couch, he reaches for the datapad Fives lent him, flipping to the novel and relaxes as he flips to the first page, beginning to read what many have been calling a masterpiece.

A couple of hours later has him stuck in the middle of said novel, because Mace is staring at the same page for the past few minutes. Multiple reactions are running through his head to what he’s read so far. Throwing the datapad to the wall or ripping it up with the Force may have been a very near thing.

Mace hasn’t mentioned the leviathan to anyone but the council and the ones who’ve been there with him, which was only Cody. Granted, the name in the novel is completely different, but the vivid details, the careful explanations of their abilities- it’s similar to a leviathan. Knows the effects of being too close to one, what it does-

Grimaces at the crystal-clear memory of it, doesn’t shudder, but it’s a close thing, enough to make him put down the datapad and stop reading for a few moments. He closes his eyes and breathes, curls his hand into a fist before he lets go.

Several events he’s read so far in the novel are similar to what he and Cody had experienced in Dromund Kaas, far too similar for his liking. It’s... slightly disturbing, to read the same events that personally happened to him. Someone on the council may have written this novel.

He only reopens his eyes when he hears the doors to his quarters slide open, Cody’s aura flickering tiredly and fondly.

“You look like you went through Dromund Kaas again,” Cody observes with a tilt of his head, and Mace sends a small wave of wry amusement to his husband’s end of their bond. The clone commander only snorts, setting his bucket down and strips his armour before joining him on the couch.

Their fingers tangle together before they rest their hands on their legs, Cody leaning his head on Mace’s shoulder, and he can’t help but smile softly.

“The horror,” is all Mace says in response, dry. “But, no. Have you read Heartstill?”

Cody furrows his brows, twists his head to look at him carefully. “You mean that novel everyone seems to be raving about these days? I haven’t read it, if that’s what you’re asking, but I heard it was good. Why?”

Mace wordlessly motions to the datapad on the table in front of them. A few beats of silence, then- “That’s Fives’ datapad.”

“I’m quite aware.”

“Why do you have Fives’ datapad?”

“He lent it to me.”

“He lent it to you.” Cody’s voice sounds flat, though a note of resignation makes its way through their bond. “Is this because of the novel?”

“If you’ll read it, you’ll understand,” Mace informs him. “I feel like someone in the council wrote this.”

“Yeah, yeah. When I get the time to, then I will.”

~~~~~~

It takes a few more days before he manages to finally finish the novel.

Needless to say, Mace is more convinced that someone on the council has written this novel, considering they’re the only ones who have even read the mission report. It’s close, though. Very close. Too close for his comfort, really.

But who?

Thus, this begins the investigation of who has written the novel Heartstill. Needless to say, it produces a lot more headaches than expected.

~~~~~~

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what prompted Mace into thinking he wrote a novel. The sheer indignation rattles inside him as he stares at the Jedi Master in his doorway. “A... novel, you say?” he asks weakly, praying that his question will make the man go away.

One doesn’t appreciate it when someone interrupts their time to sed- take their husband to bed. Said husband is currently sitting at the kitchen table and looking over paperwork after their last mission together. Obi-Wan would like to have some privacy with Rex, thank you very much.

Mace only raises his eyebrow. “Yes, the novel Heartstill,” he says.

He blinks in surprise. “The one that’s currently raging around the galaxy? Rex told me it was a fascinating read. Why?”

When Mace doesn’t answer, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, lets go of his annoyance, and says, “Mace, please don’t tell me that you believe that I wrote that novel.”

“... perhaps.”

“I should be offended, you know I would never write a novel.”

“Indeed,” Mace notes dryly. “However, your mission reports say otherwise. It is fascinating to read about the adventures you and Skywalker have, especially when chasing after Grievous and getting stuck in a cave, and I quote, ‘After a few moments of shock, we were horrified to learn that Anakin have managed to release poisoned gas into the air, with mere moments left to live.’ Yes, Obi-Wan, rather dramatic.”

“I,” Obi-Wan says lightly like the negotiator he is, “have not written that in my life. Perhaps you should ask Anakin if he wrote that part in that particular mission report.”

“Perhaps I will,” Mace says, like he doesn’t believe him. How dare he. “Good day, Master Kenobi.”

“And you as well, Master Windu.”

When the doors close behind him, Rex looks up from the table, amusement lighting up in those perfect brown eyes. “Did you really write that in your mission report?”

“Rex, we are not going to talk about that.”

~~~~~~

“What.” Agen is more confused than angry that Mace would accuse him of writing a novel. He only tilts his head to the side, Mace giving him a flat look. “A novel?”

“Heartstill,” Mace answers, and- oh. That’s the novel that Dogma and Tup have been reading together during their free time, and honestly Agen doesn’t have enough patience to sit still for one novel, even if it does sound intriguing. “I take it you have never read it before?”

“Yes,” Agen says slowly, trying to make sense of what Mace is trying to say. Dogma’s aura flashes curiosity before fading away, and he focuses on the Councillor in front of him. Usually Mace would never bring something like this up unless it’s important. If it is, then he might not be able to help. He has no idea what Heartstill is even about. “Why?”

Mace slowly blinks at him. Ah. He immediately gets the message.

Agen doesn’t even know a single thing about writing a novel, and writing mission reports and normal reports are completely different. He can only look back at Mace and think that whoever wrote the novel that made Mace Windu chasing after the Jedi Councillors is quite a sentient.

“Master Windu, I heard that Master Ti is in the gardens with Tup and Colt,” Dogma says helpfully, takes Mace’s attention off of him. Mace nods a thanks to his commander and the doors slide shut.

After one long second, Agen turns around to face Dogma, and tilts his head to the side again. “What is Heartstill about?” he finally asks.

“A Jedi and a clone falling in love, sir. Why?”

And this is why he’s more partial to taking missions in the Outer Rim; Agen wouldn’t have to deal with anything like this. “How many weapons do we have left?” he asks instead, walks towards the couch and grabs one of Dogma’s blasters to clean.

“Sir,” Dogma says very slowly, carefully, like he’s about to step into a danger zone filled with landmines and slavers and droids. Agen rather likes that combination; the odds are good, especially between him and Dogma. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to destroy another slaver base that belongs to Aruk the Hutt again.”

Agen deliberately chooses not to answer that.

~~~~~~

Shaak is smiling very dangerously, and Colt would like it to be known that his wife’s smile is beautiful and kriffing hot and it also means he should stay a few steps back because of what will happen next.

“Mace, old friend,” Shaak says with perfectly practiced innocence, something sharp dancing in her eyes. Colt swallows, and he really wants to grab her and steal her away to somewhere... more private. “Whatever do you mean by that accusation? I would never write a novel in my life.”

Mace stares her down, strong and unflinching. “Oh?”

“Indeed.” Shaak tilts her head to the side, a smile of an innocent predator, while Tup is watching the exchange with wide and fascinated eyes. Colt is also tempted to drag his brother further away so they don’t get caught in the soon-to-be-ensuing battle. “Have you tried, say... Kit? He really is good at writing those mission reports, wouldn’t you agree?”

The other Jedi Master looks rather exasperated and close to breaking something, even if his impassive expression doesn’t show anything. “Perhaps,” Mace says calmly. “You have a tendency to describe battles... interestingly.”

“Is that so?” This time, Shaak rises to her feet, and dips her head towards him. “Well, then you know that I’m not the culprit, my old friend.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure.” With that, the Jedi Master spins around and stalks away, and Colt can’t help but glance towards his wife. A look of triumph passes through her face, before settling into her usual, soft smile.

“Master, what did he mean by that?” Tup asks curiously.

“Oh, Tup. I just write... differently in my mission reports is all.” That smile should be illegal, and shouldn’t be making his heart squeeze tightly.

But by this point, Colt is a desperate man and he really wants to kiss Shaak senseless and make sure she knows that he loves her. From the sweet smile she sends him, Shaak knows it, too.

~~~~~~

“I did not write a novel.”

“Kit-”

“I did not write a novel,” Kit repeats again for the twelfth time as Mace stares at him. “I swear on the Force, I did not.”

The Force only ripples in response, as if offended Kit would choose it as a sacrifice to try and convince Mace. Disgruntled, Mace lets it go and sighs. After all, Kit has been repeating the same words over and over again ever since he found the Nautolan near the entrance to the Jedi Temple, delicately holding a bag.

His mission reports are similar to the novel’s writing, but also entirely different, and-

Wait.

“Kit, are those thermal detonators?” Mace asks with slight disbelief.

The Nautolan freezes before offering a hesitant smile. The grip on the bag tightens but doesn’t drop. “Yes.”

He suppresses the headache he can feel coming. Usually the Nautolan wouldn’t even touch a thermal detonator unless there’s a reason to. “Master Fisto,” he says, cautiously approaching the subject because obviously they’re going to be an occurrence, especially from the look on Kit’s face. “Who are they for?”

“Allow me to say that-”

“Kit.”

“-I heard that Master Kolar needed some more,” Kit continues breezily, and- oh. Oh no. Mace briefly considers taking Cody on another honeymoon to avoid dealing with this. He didn’t think this could happen, but... it really is happening, and he knows how Agen is.

Agen is oblivious to all courting attempts, and he’s not losing the bet to Depa that it’d take a few months for Agen to realize there is a courting attempt.

“I see,” he says steadily, then gives him a respectful nod. “Good luck for you and Agen. You will need it.”

Kit stares at him like he’s grown an extra head. “What- what do you possibly mean by that, Mace? Mace!”

Mace is already turning away. He needs to continue on with his... errands, not watch two of his fellow Councillors dance around each other.

“Mace! Come back here! What do you mean by that!”

He only walks faster.

~~~~~~

Adi raises her eyebrow. “Are you alright, Mace?” she asks in concern, because her fellow Jedi Master and Councillor looks ready to crush something close to him. She’s the only one in range of that, and she would like to have no broken bones, thank you.

Mace blankly stares at her. “You’re not the one who wrote Heartstill.”

“I did not write Heartstill,” Adi says, confused, and that’s new. Mace wouldn’t bring up a popular novel into the conversation. “But it’s a very good novel, I will have to admit that. Though the events are similar to the reports we received from you and Cody.”

From the unimpressed look he’s giving her, it seems that she’s right in guessing this is what it’s about.

“Well, Yoda wouldn’t be the one who wrote it, considering his grammar,” she says, and Mace closes his eyes as if he’s in pain from remembering said grammar. To be fair, all of Yoda’s reports are all filled with different grammar and sometimes, she has to enlist Eeth or Depa’s help in translating some of them. “Depa would have written something a little more exaggerated than the actual events.”

“That is true.” Pride and amusement flickers across Mace’s face before steeling itself back into his usual expression. “I suppose you might know where Master Mundi is?”

“Ki? He should be in his quarters.”

“Thank you, Adi.”

Adi finds herself more bemused than anything.

~~~~~~

Ki blankly stares at Mace, before he shakes his head in confusion. “What novel?”

Mace only rubs a hand over the side of his face.

(In all honesty, Ki is slightly terrified by the one-second murderous look in Mace’s eyes before it fades away and the Jedi Master stalks off with a quick farewell. Hopefully whoever wrote this novel that clearly annoyed Mace will live. Hopefully.)

~~~~~~

Eeth is very close to slamming the door right in Mace’s face and heading back to sleep. Look, when someone gets back from a mission that somehow led from peaceful negotiation to a full-blown civil war because of a single insult, they would be exhausted, too.

But Eeth is also a very dignified Zabrak (unlike Agen, who has a penchant to go straight into the violence and then offers sentients the solution of surrendering after knocking them around). So he obliges Mace and allows the other Jedi Master to enter his quarters, before taking a deep breath and surrendering his anger to the Force.

“May I help you, Master Windu?” he asks tiredly.

“How was your mission, Master Koth?”

“Fine,” Eeth answers flatly and resolves to setting the system settings to the off switch after this so he can get some sleep. “You already received my report, Mace. What else do you need, if it’s clearly not about my mission?”

Perhaps that’s a little too blunt, but Eeth has been running on three hours of sleep for the past two days and he really wants to sleep. Badly. One month of dealing with negotiations, a civil war, and then back to negotiations. He considers asking for one month of leave after dealing with that nonsense.

“Have you heard of Heartstill?”

Yes, yes, Eeth has heard about it. In fact, several of the clone troopers who have been with him on his mission had told him about the novel, detailing the romance of a Jedi General and a Clone Commander. Privately, he thinks it could deal with more outside forces that stops the romance from prevailing, but it sounds rather promising the way it is.

“I have,” Eeth says neutrally, tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

“I have my suspicions that someone in the council has written it, and I intend to find out who it is.” Mace looks at him with narrowed eyes, and he has to suppress a sigh. Of course Mace would think he would be writing it.

“I see,” is all he manages to say. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course.” Mace pauses, then, because Mace is a bastard, he adds, “Agen is being courted.”

His mind immediately stops at that, because what the kriff. Agen? Being courted? The most oblivious of them in the Jedi High Council is being courted? Eeth closes his eyes, slightly concerned for the one who’s apparently trying to court his friend. Whoever has the sheer boldness to do that deserves luck. “And who is trying?”

“Kit.”

Never mind, Kit doesn’t need the luck. Agen is the one who needs the luck, seeing how Kit can flirt to no end, almost on par with Obi-Wan. “I’ll take the next two missions for someone on the bet if Kit manages to get Agen’s attention within the next two months via flirting.”

Mace is not outwardly laughing at him, but he is laughing and Eeth doesn’t appreciate it. “Alright.”

Eeth may or may not consider kicking Mace out of his room right there and then.

~~~~~~

Mace is very close to finding the culprit of the novel Heartstill.

There’s only one member left of the council that he’s yet to ask; Plo Koon. The said Jedi Master has been seemingly smiling every time Mace passed him, and that’s enough to cause suspicions. Enough to know that his friend is tricky enough to slip past his questions and straight past his defences.

Knows exactly how Plo will act, especially when they’ve known each other in the creche, and it’s slightly amusing to know that Plo might do something drastic. Like taking in two Zabraks from the Nightsisters, and training them when the Kel Dor has the time.

Feral looks up from his datapad to nod politely to Mace when he enters Plo’s quarters with the code his friend gave him a long time ago. Wolffe cleans his blasters while Savage naps close to him. “Master Windu,” Feral greets quietly, inclines his head. “Master Plo should be in the Archives.”

“Tell that jetii of mine to eat, sir,” Wolffe tells Mace. “He told me to babysit these two.”

Feral doesn’t blink an eye, obviously used to Wolffe’s words. “You know that we won’t damage Master Plo’s quarters.”

“Last time you said that, you and Savage managed to nearly destroy the kitchen when I was looking for my jetii,” Wolffe informs the small Zabrak dryly, Savage already opening an eye to stare at them. “So don’t bother. Sir, just make sure he ate and didn’t break his neck down there.”

“Of course,” Mace says, bemused. “May the Force be with you.”

Feral only gives him a soft smile as he leaves Plo’s quarters.

~~~~~~

He’s met with the sight of Agen, his hair untied, tiny black dots catching the light when the Zabrak inclines his head.

“Master Fisto,” Agen greets, silky black hair falling over his shoulders. Dark eyes skim the bags, and he can see Agen’s commander quickly scurrying away. Ah well, at least he can finish this up quickly and then take Agen for a run to the gardens after getting caf for both of them.

“Master Kolar,” Kit says cheerfully as he holds up the two bags in his hands. He knows how much Agen appreciates the gestures of resupplying him with weapons that the Zabrak needs. “These are the flash-bang grenades.”

Surprise flickers across Agen’s face, before his eyes soften, even if his expression doesn’t change. “You remembered.”

“So I did,” Kit easily says, politely waits for Agen to allow him to step inside the Zabrak’s quarters. Amusement curls at the edge of Agen’s tiny smirk, and all he wants to do is smile back and wait forever.

(Depa is a dignified Jedi Master; so if anyone says that they saw her take a holo of Master Fisto and Master Kolar standing together, they are a liar. She did no such thing.)

~~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, Plo is in the Archives. Again.

“Ah, hello, Mace,” the Kel Dor greets with a smile in his voice as Mace approaches him. Plo is already taking out a datapad with a soft hum, a talon clicking against it with an echo. “Did you know how interesting Zabrak poetry can be when being expressed out loud?”

“Pardon?” Mace asks in bewilderment, a beat little too late.

Why is Plo asking him about Zabrak poetry? Granted, this could have been discussed with the other Zabraks in the Jedi Order, given that Mace has little knowledge of it. Though... if he can just steer the conversation to the novel, then he’ll know whether or not Plo is the one who wrote it, and then make sure no one else is writing a novel based on actual events too close for his comfort.

“They have such wonderful sounds when conveying it. Such as this one here...”

This, Mace thinks with an oncoming headache as Plo continues to ramble about the poetry, is going to be exhausting.

~~~~~~

“Plo-”

“Oh, Mace, I’m not finished with explaining the messages inside the poems yet!”

“Did you write Heartstill?”

Plo emits amusement into the Force. “That’s not the topic right now, is it, Mace? Now, as I was saying, there are some hidden messages within each line for each sound they make...”

Cody is going to become a widower if Mace doesn’t survive this.

~~~~~~

Cody finally finds his husband in the Archives after a couple of hours, impassively staring at Plo Koon with an exasperated look, though no one can tell unless they know him or look very closely.

“Master Koon,” he says formally, dips his head in greeting when Plo waves a four-fingered hand to him. Mace’s slight relief rises in their bond, before fading away to exasperation and fondness for the Kel Dor. “Mace, there you are.”

“Cody,” Mace says as he rises to his feet from the chair, gives Plo a look, before the Korun offers his hand to him. “Something urgent?”

Cody only rolls his eyes and grabs his husband’s hand to lead him out of the Archives, away from delicate datapads and apparently Mace’s current headache. “Not really,” Cody answers after a fair distance away from the Archives. “But you haven’t answered my calls for the past six hours, and that was before you told me you were going to find Master Koon.”

Mace stops, slightly turns his head towards him. “Six hours,” his husband repeats.

“Yes, Mace. Six hours. I didn’t realize you liked debating with Master Koon for that long.”

“Yes,” Mace agrees, dry. Displeasure flashes in their bond, before Mace carefully tucks it away and lets it go. “I very much enjoy debating with Master Koon about Zabrak poetry.”

Cody pauses, turns to stare at his husband. “... why were you discussing Zabrak poetry?”

“That is a mystery I would like to know myself.”

~~~~~~

Humming, Plo opens the doors to his quarters and steps in, the sight of Feral and Savage curled up on the couch in front of him, the Zabrak brothers sleeping peacefully. On a chair nearby, Wolffe is reading his datapad, his head lifting to meet his gaze. He should get a holo of this.

“Sir,” Wolffe greets, sets the datapad down as Plo walks towards him. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” Plo immediately says, and Wolffle closes his eyes like he’s going to do something rather drastic. The clone points to the kitchen, gives him a glare that makes him want to smile. “Wolffe, my dear...” He stumbles over the next word. “... partner, I did eat before going into the Archives.”

Woffle lifts an unimpressed eyebrow before his shoulders relax and the clone offers him a tight smile and a grimace. “Sorry, sir, watching these two are going to give me grey hair.”

“I have faith you will prevail, Wolffe,” Plo says, and- he knows that Wolffe will be able to handle it, knows that he can trust him with these kinds of tasks. Wolffe seems to know it, too, judging from the tilt of his head and the slow blink of dark brown eyes.

Breathes, and his chest tightens when Wolffe flashes him a sweet, tender smile, before it turns crooked with teeth. “You always do.”

“I always do,” he easily agrees, steps forward to gently tilt his head down to press his forehead against Wolffe’s.

He watches as Wolffe’s eyes flutter shut at the contact, and a comfortable silence surrounds them. Plo smiles behind his rebreather, and it’s calming, to stay like that with Wolffe, Wolffe’s hands catching his and tracing gentle shapes on his skin. It feels like there’s nothing that can stop him from feeling this much.

The Force hums with approval around them.

Wolffe slowly pulls away from him, dark eyes watching his every move. “Why was Master Windu looking for you this time?”

Plo pauses, and lets out a chuckle. “Heartstill.”

“You should have never written that novel, sir,” Wolffe says with an exasperated look, full of fondness and contentment and other emotions Plo doesn’t dare to say out loud. One look is enough for the both of them, enough to last them a lifetime.

It’s enough for them both.

“Ah, but Wolffe, where’s the fun in that?”

~~~~~~

Anakin stares at the message in front of him, before looking up to see his wife and boyfriend going through the senators’ fashion choice on their holograms. Both are laughing at something he can’t hear from where he is, before he looks back down at the message again.

Anakin, whatever you do, Obi-Wan’s message reads, do not claim that you wrote Heartstill. Or anger Master Windu.

Why would he claim that? Or anger Mace?

“Ani?” Padme calls, and he looks up to see his wife smiling that beautiful smile, and Fox with his really cute dimple. “What are you reading?”

“Obi-Wan’s messages to me,” he answers, sets the datapad down and joins them on the floor to stare at the new senator on the screen. Anakin reels back from the hologram of unbelievable taste, and wrinkles his nose. “Okay, what in the karking hells is that? Are they trying to copy Sidious’ fashion of puffy sleeves?”

“Yeah,” Fox says, his eyes bright and his smile sharp. “It’s really not that great, isn’t it, Ani?”

Fox’s use of his nickname makes him lean down and gently press a kiss on Fox’s cheek. The clone blushes, looks away, and Padme giggles and leans back against him. It’s nice, to have two of the people he cares about with him, and maybe they can plan out a wedding to include Fox to officially announce him as part of his and Padme’s married life.

It would make Fox happy, make Padme happy, and he wants that for them and more.

“What do you think about a wedding?” Anakin asks curiously. Fox’s head shoots up from staring at the hologram to stare at him, his cheeks flushing red at the mention of one.

“For Fox?” Padme’s smile is full of vicious triumph. “I think he’ll look good in blue.”

“I look best in red,” Fox tells them dryly, but he’s smiling, and Anakin can only count that as a victory, as a vow to the people he loves the most.

“You would look good either way, Fox,” Anakin reassures him.

They have a wedding to plan.

~~~~~~

Shaak slowly blinks. “I will bet two trips to the ice cream parlour for all the younglings and clones in small groups.”

“I will ask that if I win this, I get to have a month’s leave to travel with my Padawan,” Depa says as she drops a couple of credits into the pot. “He always did want to see the ancient Jedi Temples.”

“Try my cake for once, you all will,” Yoda adds. Everyone present (except for Kit and Agen, who are the subjects of the said bet) shudders at the memory of the bug-infested mud cake (Adi remembers seeing a frog leg sticking out of one of Yoda’s cakes once. It was slightly horrifying if you have to ask her).

Ki watches helplessly as his fellow Councillors place their bets, buries his face into his hands, and lets out a groan. How is he the only sane one left?

~~~~~~

Six days of investigation of his fellow Councillors later, Mace wordlessly hands the datapad (that has caused him several unnecessary headaches) back to Fives.

“Uh, Master, are you alright?” his Padawan asks, furrows his brows.

Mace only nods and firmly turns around, hears Fives following him. He’s going to lead Fives to the Archives to make him read the Jedi Order’s history. Maybe the entire history later, but he’s not so vicious to inflict that on his budding Padawan.

That novel is a headache and deserves to be treated as such after Fives gave it to him to read.

If anyone says that making Fives read the Jedi Order’s history is revenge, they are a filthy, filthy liar. This is justice at its finest form, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. Preferably without Plo describing Zabrak poetry to him again. He still doesn’t know how he stayed there for six hours.

Now, for the bets on Kit and Agen... Mace is going to win it.

(Behind him, Fives shudders at the foreboding feeling of doom and hopes that his Master isn’t planning anything bad.)

((It’s only another couple of days later before Mace realizes that Plo didn’t deny anything and is left wondering if Plo wrote Heartstill or not. He still doesn’t have an answer.))

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jarienn972 · 4 years ago

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La Sirena

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020

Posting day is here at last! I have been looking forward to sharing this new @cssns tale with everyone. The past 2 events have allowed me to experiment and stretch my creativity out of my comfort zone, inspiring me to create the world for this story.

This is the story of a disillusioned and lonely siren who chooses to defy her nature and rescue the sole survivor of a shipwreck, providing him shelter while he recovers. The two come from very different worlds but they find a kinship through`their similar failed expectations. My interpretation of the Greek mythology here has not been taken literally. In this story, sirens are shape-shifting sea creatures. Also, please note that the version of Killian written here is the young Lieutenant Jones so he does not have a hook. I know that there are some readers out there who prefer him to have the hook in CS fics so I wanted to make that clear if it is an issue for anyone.

I have to thanks @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta and I also want to thank @courtorderedcake for the absolutely stunning watercolor artwork she created for this story! (Edited to add artwork)

If all goes as planned, I’m hoping to update weekly. I’ll also be posting updates on AO3 and FF.net.

And here he go!

The Siren

For as far back as she could remember, this craggy spit of sand at the southernmost end of a narrow isthmus had been hers and hers alone. She had a nearly unobstructed view of the rock strewn bay as it blended into the deep blue sea at the horizon. Each dawn, she watched the sun rise to the east, basking in its glow until it sank beneath the waves at sunset, rarely encountering others of her kind - which was fine with her.

She'd separated herself from them decades ago, no longer content with doing Poseidon's bidding. She'd tired of using her song as a weapon, enchanting unsuspecting sailors until they leapt to their watery deaths as their ships were crushed against the boulders, their spoils lost to the depths. She'd long been told that it was merely what she'd been created to do, her beautiful voice simply a tool to serve the god of the sea. Her duty to Poseidon to rid the seas of the scourge of humanity.

Some time ago, she'd grown weary of her meager existence, gradually distancing herself from the pack. Her solitude had been her own choice, the years of loneliness easing the conscience that she wasn't supposed to have. These turquoise waters surrounding her cove provided all she needed - all except the one thing her heart desired most.

This day had begun like so many before it, low grayish clouds hugging the glassy surface of the bay. With scarcely a breeze, she knew these clouds would linger until the early morning sun rose high enough into the sky for its rays to dissipate them.

The water calm and clear, she'd decided to take a sunrise swim, wading into the gentle surf until she was deep enough for her land legs to transform into her muscular tail. The metamorphosis began at her waist, shimmering scales replacing her ivory skin as she dove beneath the surface with a flick of her fins. She was grateful for the unique physiology of her species which allowed her to breathe as freely in the depths of the sea as she could on land as it had allowed her the freedom to explore the hidden caves and reefs below the land she called home. She'd become familiar with every detail. Every pebble. Every blade of kelp. Every colorful fish that lived here amongst the coral. These were her friends, her confidants. Today, however, she sensed something out of place.

As she skimmed above the reef, her gaze was drawn upward to the streams of light that filtered through the ocean's surface, discovering a sight that didn't belong - a dark void blocking the light. The anomaly seemed too large to be any sea life from this bay and the shape unlike any ocean creature she'd seen - oddly rectangular but with two shorter and narrower protrusions sticking out from one side. It was also remaining strangely close to the surface… Whatever might this mysterious thing be?

Curious, she gave her tail fin a powerful kick to propel herself upward, poking her head above the waves a safe distance from the floating object. It may have been eons since she'd last used her voice to scuttle a ship into its grave but she could still recognize the long wooden planks as having belonged to such a vessel. Such wreckage was commonplace along these shores but what drew her attention was the human engaged in a desperate struggle to retain his grip on those still-buoyant planks.

She'd witnessed many a man plunge willingly into the depths under the hypnotic spell of the siren song but never had she seen one this close - and never had she seen one fighting to stay alive! She was transfixed by the human's struggle. Such an unusual sight - the flailing and raw instinct to save itself. She found it fascinating to watch - at least until the human's eyes met hers.

In that fraction of a second, she saw the fear in his stare transform into a glimpse of hope and now she was the one who was terrified. No human had ever seen her before, her nature screaming at her to drown this human and put him out of his misery. The problem was, her intuition was telling her to do the opposite.

It was becoming obvious that the man's strength was failing. There was no telling how long he'd been in the water but as his eyes fell closed and his grip went slack, she sprang into motion. She twisted and twirled her body towards the mysterious human, her fins and tail separating into six lithe tentacles, one of which encircled his midsection, raising his torso above the surf as she maneuvered them both to the shore.

She lowered him gently onto the white sand then drew her tentacle back into the sea as she regained her humanlike legs. Splashing her way out of the shallows, she made her way up the beach and dropped to her knees beside him although she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Tentatively, she extended a hand to touch the strange creature, oddly fearful that it might surge to life and bite her fingers off. When her fingertips at last made contact with the human's arm, they brushed against the tattered remnants of the cloth garments the man wore. He made no movement at her touch, boosting her confidence to proceed.

The majority of her kind were female and although there were a few exceptions, she'd rarely had the opportunity to be in close proximity of a male. This one lacked the long flowing locks of the males of her species, sporting dark hair cropped close to his scalp. She traced her fingers along his hairline and down across the exposed side of his face, bristling at the prickly whiskers that lined his jaw. Save for Poseidon himself, facial hair was unheard of, as was body hair. This human possessed a broad patch of wiry, dark hair across the exposed sections of his torso and a similar, though lighter coating covered other sections of visible skin on the man's arms and legs.

There was little doubt that he was the strangest creature she'd ever laid eyes upon.

But there was so much more that she could also see. The man was obviously injured. A trickle of crimson spilled over his forehead from what appeared to be a deep laceration along his hairline and she noticed dark purplish splotches dotting his pallid skin, the most prominent extending from his brow to the hollow of his cheek. The bruises showed only traces of yellowing, indicating that they were recent. His wrists were ringed with angry abrasions and she held no doubts that invisible wounds lay unseen. Whatever had this man suffered?

She hopped backwards as the human lurched awake, curling onto his side while choking and spewing seawater and bile. She'd not intended to flinch, but his unexpected movement startled her. She remained perched just beyond his reach as his fit settled and he dropped listlessly back to the sand, all the while staring at her with his haunting, intense blue eyes. He uttered but a single word before fading back into unconsciousness.

"Angel."

The Sailor

He'd been a bloody, damned fool to allow himself to be captured. The mission plans had been perfect. Liam had drawn them up himself and yet they'd still failed. Most of his landing expedition had been lost in the battle and the rest who'd survived had been captured along with him. All because His Majesty, King George, had insisted that they scout and survey a previously uncharted island that he'd now coined Neverland. The island may have been uncharted but it had been far from undiscovered as his team had found it teeming with bloodthirsty pirates - pirates who had been using the land's numerous craggy coves to stash their treasures.

On their second day after landing the skiff on the deceptively calm shore, they'd run afoul of a band of rapscallions, ill-prepared for the skirmish that followed. That had been his fault. He should have done more reconnaissance. He should never have blindly trusted the vague map and initial scouting report provided, even if they had come with his brother's blessing. As their lieutenant, it was his mission. His to lead and his alone to fail, not that any of it mattered right now…

He believed it to have been a week since he'd been taken prisoner, but in truth, he'd lost track of time. He'd spent most of his captivity bound, beaten and locked away in a foul smelling hole adjacent to the ship's cargo hold. He'd not laid eyes on his remaining crew in days, wondering whether they were in a similar predicament, were they even still alive. His captors had kept him isolated, perhaps because he was an officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy. He might fetch a ransom, should the king show favor upon him. If not, he feared he'd be executed without a second thought.

As each day passed, he was slowly losing hope that he might be rescued. Surely Liam would have learned by now that the expedition team had not returned to the rendezvous point. Would they have dispatched a search team? Did anyone even know he'd been taken prisoner? His dreams of one day captaining a ship himself taunted him as he wallowed here in this dank prison.

But as he did each day, he clenched his jaw and swallowed back the pain as he struggled to wriggle free of the ropes binding his wrists behind his back. His skin might be raw and the hemp bindings soaked with his blood, but he was Killian Jones and he'd be damned if he didn't at least attempt an escape.

The crew of this vessel had clearly been ordered to keep him alive, as evidenced by the swill they brought him as sustenance. The mangy pirates would show up periodically with a bowl of slop, untying his hands only long enough to gag it down. They cackled as he drank it, the contents never identifiable but he didn't dare think about that. He focused solely on the sustaining water it contained, avoiding thoughts of contracting dysentery or whatever other foul disease might be present.

On this day, he'd barely a minute to swallow their putrid offerings before the bowl was snatched away and his arms were yanked behind his back once again. He'd expected them to bind his wrists tighter as they typically did yet for some reason, the ropes didn't feel quite as restrictive. He wasn't sure what may have transpired, whether his captors may have been distracted, but he was certain that he'd not heard them secure the hatch either.

If he could find a way to get free… Find a sword and perchance - a way off of this miserable vessel… There were so many ifs but he had little to lose. At least were he to die fighting, he'd die with honor.

He'd not expected the sudden lurch that came next, his aching body slammed into the chamber wall as the ship's forward motion abruptly ceased. A boom reminiscent of a loud thunder crack echoed through the hull followed by the gushing of water into the void.

They'd struck something.

Was this what had distracted the pirates? Had they run aground on a sandbar or veered into the shallows in error? Oddly, he heard no voices resounding on the decks above. No orders shouted. No fearful pleas for aid. All his ears could hear was the creaking of failing wood and the pounding of his own heart.

It was life or death now for certain. This ship was sinking; he could feel the list to port and there was absolutely no way he was going to be dragged down to Davy Jones' locker on this heap. He felt along the cell walls for anything he might use to free his hands - a protruding nail or even a splintering board would help. As luck would have it, he chanced upon a bent nail which provided just enough leverage to hold the rope taut while he wriggled and contorted his hands until he could pull them free.

He shook his arms out of the bindings, grimacing as his muscles protested but he couldn't spare a moment to dwell on aching bones. While it hadn't reached the cargo hold yet, it was only a matter of time before it filled with seawater so his first priority was to get to the upper deck. He leaned his hip into the hatch, whispering a silent prayer that he'd been correct and it hadn't been fully secured.

The hatch fortuitously swung open as another violent tremor shook the ship, knocking him off of his bare feet. He was certain that the hull was fully breached as he crawled on hands and knees through the tight confines of the cargo hold in search of the spiraling steps that would lead up to the crew deck. He'd remembered to count his paces when they'd led him blindfolded to the tiny chamber so even in the darkness of the hold, he knew they must be around here somewhere.

Killian scrambled to his feet as his hand found the staircase and he scurried upward to the seemingly vacant crew deck. It was strange not to encounter another soul as he ascended through the open hatch. It was eerily quiet but nevertheless, he pressed on toward the midship staircase that would open onto the main deck. At least this deck had lanterns to illuminate his way as he dodged empty hammocks and hurried past the unoccupied bunks to get topside.

The late afternoon sun assaulted his vision as he emerged onto the abandoned deck. There wasn't a single man visible as his eyes swept his surroundings. He spied no one manning the riggings, no one in the crow's nest and most disturbing - no one at the helm. So these cowardly pirates had all abandoned ship, including their captain? So much for the captain going down with his ship…

He crossed the deck and vaulted up the steps to the bow, trying to get his bearings and determine the ship's position. He was only vaguely familiar with this expanse of the sea but there seemed to be a landmass on the horizon off of the starboard side. It was likely where the pirates had set off for although he saw no dinghies in the water. Something didn't seem to add up here.

From the bow, he was able to get a glance of the rocky outcrop they'd struck. It extended well above the surface and in broad daylight, should have been quite visible to the navigator. Experienced sailors would have known to steer away. Everything about this situation was confounding his brain but he had to concern himself with escaping this ship.

The ship shuddered beneath him as it began to slide free of the rocks. He slipped, bare feet unable to find purchase on the slick teak planks as he fell, driven into the side rail as the vessel leaned more to port. He clung to the still-sturdy posts separating him from the sea as his mind went into overdrive. Even if the pirates had left a skiff behind, he doubted he could launch it himself. And then there would be the problem of encountering these deviants again should he reach land but it seemed preferable at this moment to take his chances with the pirates rather than ride this sinking ship into the depths.

He needed to locate something that would float, not daring to attempt swimming that far in his weakened state. Maybe there was an empty barrel? A hatch he could pry loose? And he'd need a way to debark… Where would they keep their rope ladder?

He forced himself back upright using the railing for support. On Liam's ship, the rope ladder was dispatched from the aft deck and as this ship was of similar design to the Royal Navy schooners, he knew he was on the wrong end of the ship - and his good fortune had run out.

Too much water had now entered the ship's hull and she was beginning to break apart. The weight of the water tore the ship free of the boulder that had ripped through the hull and as it slipped deeper into the waves, a crack split the deck apart. Killian grasped wildly to the closest rigging lines he could find as the stern broke loose. The time for plans was gone.

He swung out of control in the tangle of ropes and pulleys, teetering precariously above the deep blue ocean. Damnit, Jones - what the hell have you gotten yourself into? He'd trained for dangers like this - for how to survive a sinking ship… He'd just never figured he'd be without a crew…

And out of nowhere, his chances of survival took a turn for the worst. A steel pulley swinging in tandem with him smacked into his forehead and he lost his grip on the rope. Stunned from the blow, he couldn't coordinate his limbs to reach for anything that would stop his fall, splashing awkwardly into the sea.

That sudden impact jolted him back to consciousness as sheer instinct took over. He was a strong swimmer under normal circumstances, but this certainly was not and to make matters more complicated, the sun would soon set. He could tread water in the dark all night…

There! his weary brain called out to him. There's a board… It will serve as a raft. Get yourself to it! His gaze caught sight of the planks floating a short distance from him. Hampered by the sting of salt water in his wounds, angry muscles that had been abused for too long and a steady stream of blood pouring from the fresh cut above his brow, the swim was arduous. He was near ready to faint by the time he reached the panel of three boards still somehow holding together. He used every remaining bit of his strength to drag himself atop it and collapsed.

Killian was thankful for calm seas as he drifted through the night although less thankful that the current had carried him away from the land he'd hoped to reach. By the time the first golden rays of morning sun crested over the eastern horizon, he found himself enveloped amidst a thin layer of marine clouds. He could no longer see any traces of the ill-fated pirate ship nor any visible land masses.

He'd fought valiantly to remain alert throughout the evening, fearful of losing his perch on the narrow planks but fatigue and injury were taking their toll. He struggled to raise his head as he succumbed to the blissful call of unconsciousness. As a man of the sea, he'd always expected that his death would come at the mercy of the sea. Perhaps he hadn't thought it would come so soon…

I'm sorry, Liam… I've failed you yet again… was the last thought he remembered as he gave in to the blackness.

He wouldn't recall slipping from the planks or the momentary struggle to pull himself back atop of his makeshift raft. The next time his eyes opened, he was certain he'd crossed over into the afterlife. An expanse of azure sky loomed above him and he felt the security of land beneath his back. He wouldn't have expected the aches and pains of his life tragically cut short would have accompanied him into the next life, but he'd never died before…

Of course, this could be but a dream. Exhaustion still weighed heavily upon him so this could all be a mere hallucination of a dying man - more so when he saw her. Killian couldn't make out the details of her face but there she was, cutting a figure akin to a goddess with tresses like the sun tumbling over her porcelain shoulders and bared bosoms. Such beauty could only be…

The words formed in his head: Are you an… Only one would cross his lips - "Angel?"

#cssns #cssns20 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff\#cs au ff #siren emma #lieutenant jones #la sirena #edit to add art

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 5 years ago

Text

A King Needs His Queen - The Originals (Chapter 3)

“True love is like playing chess the King may be the most important piece on the board however the Queen is the most powerful and dangerous as she performs more moves then than any other. The Queen will always protect her King.” Word Count: 4042 Warnings: None

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

I left the house as Nik was putting Elijah in his coffin, I headed straight into the Quarter looking for Marcel. I was no longer going to sit back and watch Nik destroy this family once again. He will thank for me my efforts in due time. As I walked into the city I saw these posters littered everywhere and people which I were presuming who were vampires handing out flyers to the humans that littered the streets. New Orleans was known as the life of the party guess that was still the case even now as tourists were everywhere. I snatched one of the posters that was stuck on a nearby wall.

M ABATTOIR WHERE THE PARTY NEVER ENDS

I knew this was the best place to start looking for answers and if it meant going behind Nik's back to do so then so be it. I wont let anyone else get hurt, I strolled in the party was which was in full swing music blared out and humans and vampires alike danced, drank and had fun.

I spotted Marcel on the balcony over-seeing the party, I took the stairs and made my way over to him, only to have two of his vampire bodyguards try to stop me.

"Now unless you boys wish to have your hearts broken and ripped out I suggest you move" I say sweetly but loud enough for them to hear. I smile at the pair and barged my way past them since they didn't get the hint. Marcel is leaning against the railing, with a large smile on his face.

"Marcellus glad to see you wasn't turned into ash" I say sarcastically.

"Elizabeth, glad you could come and see my empire!" He boasts.

"Now, now Marcel flattery gets you no where" I reply to him.

"So do tell me how do you keep your little minions well fed?" I ask him.

"People of all stripes and flavors from all over the country to come here to party on our streets. Some are just looking for fun and others well their looking for something more, a little darker. So we invite them into my home..." Marcel started.

"Your home? You mean the Mikaelson home? Please now dear boy don't forget where your from" I interrupt him.

"Please forgive my wife, she can be a bit territorial" Nik says as he emerges from the shadows walking over to us he gives Marcel a pat on the back and myself a kiss.

"Then, at the stroke of midnight, everything changes and it's time to feed." Marcel finishes as if he was never interrupted. He looks down to see his vampires ravenously feed on the unsuspecting humans there blood curling screams fill the air along with the scent of their blood, which was making me every so hungry. I just wanted a little bite to eat, I sped down the stairs and and indulged in a few of the scraps of humans begging for there lives. These newbie vampires had no idea how to really feed, just making a mess.

I had plans to disrupt Marcel's ideals and this would be the perfect start to throw a spanner in the works, so I snapped the necks of the humans I had fed from. I returned to my husband satisfied with my meal, using my fingers to wipe any stray bits of blood round my lips to which Marcel says to us both. "That is how I keep my guys happy, the occasional all-you-can-eat buffet. But my night-walkers love it, their working hard to earn one of these daylight rings, so they deserve to blow off a little steam. My trusted few day-walkers they just like the party." He says happily with himself.

"It's quite the operation, tell me what about the victims? Seems like a lot of graves to dig." Nik asks.

"Well, we can't kill them, if too many folk go missing tourism drops. So we heal them with vampire blood, erase their memory, send them on there way. No mess, no fuss. Usually..." Marcel says looking at me he was clearly not happy with my actions of just now and I just stood there and smiled at him.

"Well I'm impressed what about you love?" Nik asks me.

"Of course, the little warrior has proved he can look after himself and a handful of others." I reply with a smirk.

"Nothing I didn't learn for you pair back in the day" Marcel says. It was then the vampire that Nik had bitten had approached us, Thierry I believe his name was.

"Marcel" the vampire says.

"Sup, Thierry?" Marcel reply's. I shift in my stance to make myself more comfortable, Nik's arm slides around my back keeping me close.

"Six of our guys were killed in a bar outside of the Quarter, night-walkers. No one saw who." Thierry says to him. As Marcel takes the news in, we made our leave and myself and Nik headed back to the house.

"Was the deaths of those vampires anything to do with you love?" Nik asks me. I shake my head.

"Not me, I was going to ask you the same question. If it wasn't either of us then who could it be?" I reply.

"I may have a inkling who" Nik says and nothing more is exchanged until we arrive back at the house.

We entered a sitting room and Nik pours himself and me a drink from the small selection of liquor and hands me one of the glasses. He downs his glass in one and then proceeds to refill it. We relished in the peace and quite drinks in hand till we both drifted off into a sleep, leaning on one other for support.

"KLAUS! GET OUT HERE AND TELL ME WHAT YOU HAVE DONE WITH OUR BROTHER, YOU NARCISSISTIC, BACK-STABBING WANKER!!" The familiar voice rang through-out the house awakening us both, to which Nik gets up and opens the pair of doors that adjoin to another room in the house.

"Enough with the shouting, little sister." Nik starts and with that I get up from my seat and make my way over to where all the noise was coming from. Rebekah clocks me and runs past her brother and tightly wraps me into a hug.

"Lizzie!" She says.

"I missed you too" I say to her. I was happy that she was back, maybe now Nik might be on his best behavior.

"I assume the six dead vampires were your doing?" I ask her chuckling.

"They were very rude." She says to us.

"Trying to victimize a poor, innocent girl just trying to find her way to the Quarter, so I impaled them with a pool cue. So sorry were they friends of yours? Oh that's right you don't have any friends." She says to her brother with a wicked smile on her face.

"Bekah... Please" I warned. She flashes me one of her smiles and I roll my eyes at her.

"I do have friends. I have Elizabeth and Marcel" Nik starts. "Elizabeth doesn't count she is married to you, she has to play nice" Rebekah teased.

"You remember Marcel right Bekah? He fancies himself as King of the Quarter now lets change that shall we? But he also has this rule about killing vampires, I wonder what punishment he comes up with for you." I tease back crossing my arms.

"I don't care for Marcel or his rules Lizzie, Elijah doesn't welch on his deals, what did you do to him Nik?" Rebekah snaps at her brother.

"Perhaps he's on holiday... or taking a long autumn nap upstairs, you remember this house as well as any of us" Nik says. I elbow him in the side to only get a glare sent my way. And I stand there look him in the eyes and smirk at him. Rebekah leaves the room but turns back to us

"I remember everything." and with that she walks away exploring the house we once lived in before. I recall the parties we used to attend as guests of the governor and they were so fun.

1820 The party was a busy and lively one, people were dressed in their finest clothes, music played in the background which was drowned out by the sound of laughter and chatter. I had my arm around Rebekah's as we passed person after person, some nodded others just exchanged glances. The governor was a greedy and drunken fool really so my family was able to bribe him with gold to keep the vampires a secret from the rest of the town. With all the money we had given him, the parties he threw only seemed to get more exciting and wild. We walk up to where the rest of our family were and only to see Nik with his teeth sunken in a young lady who I had my eyes set on earlier.

"Nik! I told you she was mine" I whined at him. I let out a huff and walked off outside to only find myself with the worst person ever... The drunken Governor.

"Mrs Mikaelson!" He slurred. Great I thought, just what I really need.

"Afternoon Governor, what a lovely get together you have organised." I say sweetly forcing a smile. I flutter my eyelashes at him, and use my fan to start pretending to cool myself down.

"Y..you..are...a pre..tty...little..thi..ng" He attempts to say, trying to reach out to stroke my cheek.

"Why you are too kind" I tell him taking a small step backwards. I was seriously out of my comfort zone and I needed to get away from him, before he tries something else. Luckily I was able to get away, and briskly walked back to my family to see Rebekah clinging to the arm of another.

"Dearest Elijah. You've only ever wished happiness for me. Emil and I are in love. Please, let me turn him." Rebekah asks. Oh dear here we go I thought, my dear sister has found another one, best let her down gently, I thought to myself.

"Rebekah love, the Governor keeps our secrets, but turning his only son wouldn't bode the family well." I tell her.

"Elizabeth is right, sister if anything listen to her" Elijah adds.

"Please for me..." She pleads.

"There is nothing we can do, Bekah. Emil will have to age without you. I hate to stand in front of your desires but this wish myself or Elijah cannot fulfill." I sigh.

"It's not going to happen, sister. If we turned every man you dropped your knickers for, then human beings would cease to exist and we'd have no bloody food." Nik interrupts.

I quickly turned my head and glared at my husband, I throw my hands in the air. "NIKLAUS! There was no need to humiliate your sister like that, really sometimes your unbelievable and I wondered why I married you in the first place" I snap at him.

"How dare you, sir! You would do well to treat..." Emil started. Nik then rushed over and grabbed Emil by his throat. Carrying him with ease down the hallway. I stood there in horror watching the scene unfold, surely Nik wouldn't cause a scene. But how very wrong was I, in the background I heard both Rebekah and Elijah try and get Nik to stop and think about what he was doing, when I quickly rushed over. "Nik, please let him go" I ask him, reaching out Emil hoping to grab his hand.

"Very well love" He replies. And throws Emil off over the balcony, Rebekah shrieks and all we saw was Emil land hard over the other side. The force and height he was thrown from would have killed him instantly. I turn away from Nik and walk away, Elijah held a emotional Rebekah as she sobs in his arms. After a few moments alone my husband finally catches up with me and stops me walking any further.

"Come now, love" he starts.

"Excellent work Nik...Why kill him? There was no need" I snap sarcastically.

"He wasn't good enough for her, she deserves better" He tells me.

"Nik, nobody will ever be good enough for her. I understand that she is your baby sister, but it is important to let her spread her wings. Let her make her own mistakes if he wasn't the right person for her Bekah could have dealt with Emil herself. But because you took matters into your own hands we will never known and Rebekah will never learn." I tell him softly reaching out for his cheek, and giving it a soft kiss, his stubble tickled my lips.

"Please, don't kill the next one" I whisper in his ear.

My thoughts were interrupted by Nik and Rebekah in the middle of a quarrel. When his phone starts to vibrate, he glances at it and the begins to leave.

"And where are you going?" Rebekah asks.

"It appears that the night isn't quite over. I'm off for another drink with Marcel, don't wait up." He replies sarcastically. He starts to walk away when Rebekah pipes up.

"Elijah told me about your plan to take apart Marcel's empire piece by piece. I don't remember it involving the two of you drink New Orleans dry together."

"Yes why are going for a drink with Marcel?" I ask my husband.

"Rebekah I know you don't have many friends but what some friends do is drink when they get together, and when they drink they tell secrets. Marcel has somehow found a way to control the witches in the Quarter and my aim is to uncover the how so I might take it for myself. Finding Elijah didn't quite make my to-do list" Nik responds. He continues to head for the front door to where he turns around once more.

"Elizabeth love are you coming? And welcome home little sister." Nik says to us both

"I have some catching up to do with my sister, besides I don't quite fancy peeling you from the bar when you've had too much to drink." I say to him, walking over and kissed him.

"I love you" He tells me planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

And with that he leaves and shuts the door behind him. Rebekah standing there in a silence she is probably thinking about what was said, when I see Hayley on the landing. Rebekah snaps out of her gaze. "You, wolf girl. I'm going to search this place inch by inch until I find what my evil brother has done with my good one and you're helping" she says.

"No need to tear this place apart Bekah, I know exactly where he his." I say with a sigh. I start making my way through the house which lead us to a spiral staircase, Rebekah behind me and Hayley following behind.

"You knew where he was and didn't think to help him?" Rebekah asks.

"If I did, I would have risked everything. Elijah freed me from my slumber to try and get Nik to see reason about everything including Hayley and baby. I can't do that if I'm inside of a box. Can I?" I tell her sternly.

"When we lived here the Governor had lots of secret rooms, I'll show you his favorite." Rebekah says changing the subject. As we carried on walking down the stairs we arrived in a dusty and cobwebbed cellar.

"Down here are a number of coffins, with Elijah's currently occupied only my own and Rebekah's lay vacant." I say.

"You think Klaus has killed him?" Hayley asks us.

"Nik, Elijah and Rebekah are original vampires they can't be killed, I on the other hand was made stronger to match there strength by a witch, I will tell you more another time." I tell her.

"But it doesn't stop Klaus from finding ways to torture us. He has a set of mystical silver daggers. One to the heart sends us into a deep slumber. Klaus gets his jollies from keeping us in a box, until he decides to pull the dagger out. That's what he has done with Elijah." Rebekah adds.

As we enter the cellar the coffins come into view. "This one here is mine and Rebekah's is other there." I inform Hayley. Hayley stops and takes a gulp.

"He keeps your coffin on standby?" She asks.

"Well my husband likes to be prepared for when his family disappoint him, wait a minute Elijah isn't here... He must of known I would help you when you got back and hid him somewhere else." I say with a large sigh. When Nik had placed Elijah in the coffin it was down here I was certain, maybe when I had fallen asleep shortly after he moved him, but where?

"I feel sick... And it's not my hormones" Hayley says covering her mouth.

"Well welcome to the family sweetheart, you should have run the second Elijah was gone" Rebekah says.

"Now Bekah, no need to be harsh on the poor girl." I tell her. I offer Hayley a small smile, and we started to head back upstairs.

"Yeah well the witches have put some sort of hex on me, and as long as I'm carrying this baby I can't leave New Orleans. If I do they kill me." Hayley tells us.

"Well knowing Klaus, he's planning a box for you the second you give birth to whatever is cooking In your tum. I'm leaving as soon as I find Elijah. Being daggered in a box for decades sucks trust me, Lizzie will agree with me there. Your best bet is to find a way to break that hex and run." She adds.

And with that Rebekah walks away continuing to search the house for her brother, leaving Hayley with me. "Don't worry, no harm will come to you" I tell her and make my way to find my sister.

I find her in the study. "Bekah I'm sorry that I couldn't stop Nik from hurting Elijah, I really am but as I said Elijah was able to break the spell that had me confined to a coffin, I couldn't risk being put back in so soon after getting out. I will speak with Nik when he comes home to find out where he has Elijah. And I will remove the dagger myself." I tell her. Rebekah paces around the study and then takes a seat on the large leather chair that is seated behind a oak desk, books and papers scatter the top.

"I'm not angry that you didn't stop Nik, you tried that's all that matters, what are you going to do when Elijah is free? Are you coming with us?" She asks me.

"As much as I want to, I need to make my marriage work both me and Nik have been without each other for too long. Yes he has some serious making up to do for having me put in the box in the first place and I think deep down his way of making it up to me is getting New Orleans back and under his control like it once was. Why not stay Bekah? We could all be a family again here." I tell her.

"You are really like a female version of Elijah, things would be very different if you had married him instead." She chuckles at me and proceeds to get up and bring me into a tight squeeze.

"I think I might take Nik's offer and join him for a drink" I say with a smile and leave the study to grab a coat and left to head into town.

"I would have thought you and Marcel would have drunk the place dry by now and yet you haven't even started" I tease at my husband before he walks into the bar.

"Well I thought I would do a little more sight seeing get a feel for the place." He tells me.

"Nice of you to join me though love, do tell me what brings you here?" He asks me. I pretend to look hurt. "Am I not allowed to go and have a drink with my husband and his friend, do tell Niklaus your not ashamed of me are you?" I tease.

"Not in the slightest love, I have my Queen by my side" he tells me pressing a kiss to my temple and with that we make our way inside the bar to see Marcel drinking alone.

"Well this is a far cry from last night's party" Nik says as we approach him and sit down. Nik let's me take the seat closest to the window. I also happen to notice that Marcel keeps glancing over to a young woman with blonde hair she was writing in a notebook.

"In pursuit of a young blonde your type hasn't changed Marcel." I tell him smiling.

"I do believe that is the bartender from Rousseau's" Nik adds.

"She is a work in progress" Marcel tells us with a smile.

"And yet here you are pining over her when you should be eating her for lunch. Oh she must be special." Nik says to him. I lean back into my chair a little trying to get comfy to find Nik arm around my shoulders pulling me in closer towards him his own unique scent goes up my nostrils this was nice and this is what home smelled like.

"Business first. The coroner called. He's got my number in case any dead tourists show up." He says.

"Hmmm and let me guess along with the two bodies I gave to you as a housewarming present you have more?" I say sarcastically.

"Dead tourists with a stamp on their hands and vampire blood in their veins am I right?" Nik adds to my statement. Marcel taps on the table in a slow rhythm.

"It happens. Someone takes a drunken turn off a balcony or in the Mississippi... And today I got two of them to deal with. So that makes four extra problems I have had to deal with." Marcel says.

"Oh don't be so prude Marcel, enlighten me though why the bartender?" I ask him. But before Marcel answers my question Nik had gotten up and made his way over to where the blonde girl was sat, she had started to pack her things away. She seemed to be on guard more now that Nik had walked over to her.

"Excuse me love, what's that you're studying?" He asks the girl.

"Abnormal psychology." She replies a slight bluntness in her tone of voice. Nik let's out a chuckle.

"Abnormal psychology? Well perhaps you could diagnose my friend over here. He's been a little bit depressed can't keep his mind of a girl. He tells me she's a queen fit for a king. I think he should cut his losses and move on. What's your professional opinion?"

I just generally look around the bar while he is having a conversation and see the sparkle of a very familiar wedding band on the hand of my husband, which made me smile no end and I leave my seat to join him. "Any advice really, I mean the poor dear is in tatters" I say sweetly.

Marcel then gets up and speak to the bartender. "Be a nice guy, and maybe the opportunity will present itself some day." She tells him. I reach out to grab Niks hand giving it a tight squeeze.

"How about tonight, nine o'clock? I'll meet you right here?" He asks her. She looks at him with a sly smile.

"I'll take it under consideration" She tells him and with that she leaves the bar, just leaving us three with each others company.

"Ouch..." I say with a smile, walking back over to the table we were sat at to take a sip of the glass left unattended.

"Hmm, that was harsh" Marcel says to us. "I dare say I've lost my touch or you have lost yours." Nik says to his friend.

"I hope you better have lost your touch with the ladies Mr Mikaelson or your going to be in a heap of trouble" I tease him.

#the originals #orginal #original vampire #klaus mikaelson #Niklaus Mikealson #klaus mikaelson x reader #original character #elijah mikealson #Rebekah Mikealson #vampires #fanfiction #fanfic

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fablesrose · 4 years ago

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Of Kings and Shadows XXIII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: It’s a little short for the time it took, sorry!

On Wattpad –> Here

Masterlist

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The mind is a tricky place.

Effortless to become lost in, easy to meddle with, hard to break, difficult to control, and nearly impossible to put back in its place.

The mind requires both precision and respect. Neither can be given as a gift, only learned. Usually, they are developed together along with the ability to penetrate the mind. Wanda was given the ability without the required time for respect. Perhaps deep inside she knew it, that that was why Loki was placed in charge of the mission of Y/n's mind. She was still sharpening her magic's blade to be a steel knife. Loki, on the other hand, was sharper than obsidian.

That's why in the heat of battle, the Avengers were put in charge of keeping the opposing agents at bay and away from Queen and Loki while also defending themselves from attacks. It is well within Loki's abilities to multitask with mind magic and dueling, but this was a special case. Loki hung closer to the back and threw up a shield for good measure. He put minimal attention to the battle around him with occasionally taking out an agent if needed.

The rest of his focus and energy was put into exploring the folds and shadows of what used to be Y/n's mind. The surface was worryingly dark to him, not at all what he imagined the original Y/n's mind to be.

He dug deeper and found it somewhat difficult, every mind is different and has a different 'texture' and consistency, but Y/n's functioned differently than anyone he had ever seen. It was like it was actively trying to keep him out, with half a moment of pushing through sludge, to falling forward suddenly with thin and lightning-fast decisions of battle. It was puzzling, usually only those with mental abilities are able to protect themselves or even sense someone was infiltrating the mind unless the infiltrator specifically makes contact. As far as they knew she didn't have any mental magic, but he pushed through to see what was bouncing around in there. He was able to get far enough to start seeing flashes of assignments and missions that were numbered many times more than they had ever thought.

Some were horrific and brutal. Some were stealth with her blending with the shadows like she was born there. It was fascinating... and almost nauseating. Eventually, he had to refocus himself on what his actual mission was: make contact, try to see how much of the old, the good Y/n is still in here, and find if there are any weaknesses they could use.

He repeated her name over and over to himself to keep him on-mission. As he did so the pattern around him changed as if she was only then made aware of his presence.

A voice spoke to him that sounded only vaguely familiar, 'Y/n is not here.'

Loki realized he must have mistakenly projected his thoughts into telepathy instead of privately. At first, he wondered if he remembered her voice incorrectly since it has been so long since he's heard it, but the dark and almost unnaturally smooth quality told him otherwise. He believed her--partly--he believed that he was not talking to Y/n. 'To whom am I speaking then?'

'I've gone by many names as I'm sure you've seen on some of those files. Around here they just call me Queen. Y/n seems to think that I've evolved and have always been here, she calls me Noxy. You may call me what you like.'

There was a spark of hope at her words, 'So Y/n is here.'

There was a pause, 'She won't be for long. I'm actually surprised that she's lasted this long. Existing anyway. Not surprised at the state she's in.'

That was all it took for Loki to dig deeper into her mind, leaving whatever abomination was controlling Y/n's body to try to find something, anything to stop the rampage and hopefully save the woman he would like to call his friend.

He went farther past the missions, the strategies, and manipulation 101. He was about to give up on trying to find Y/n and start scavenging to find weaknesses when he approached the far reaches of her mind. That's when he began to hear faint traces of music. He followed it to a small corner that didn't reflect the dark sludge around him. It was colorful and light, but he didn't fail to notice the fingers of dark shadows invading the area, causing it to fade and turn a bit grey.

The rhythm of decisions being made now made sense. The brain does not have the ability to truly multitask. Instead, it switches back and forth between tasks quicker than we can register. Her mind wasn't trying to keep him out, her mind was just switching between this Noxy character and Y/n.

The song seemed familiar, but the lyrics being sung hardly made sense.

He tried to reach out to her, calling her name, but nothing seemed to snap her to pay any attention to him. It was just that snippet of a song playing on a loop and scrambled flashes of pictures, memories, all of them incoherent.

Blinded by the light...

revekjsmed up like a dochewekf.

Ansldkjthor rumner in the night!

He would be lying if he said it didn't scare him. Not even his own thoughts were ever this disarranged, and he has been called mad far more than his fair share of times. It became abundantly clear that he wasn't going to get through to her and he began to lose the small spark of hope that he got before.

Loki did the mental equivalent of sitting down with a huff and tried to think of what to do next. This was becoming more difficult than he had hoped. As he sat there he really paid attention to the music since that was the only thing Y/n was giving him.

He must admit that it took longer than it should have for the song to click and that maybe Y/n was trying to tell him something through it. It nearly broke his heart that even when she didn't have all of her pieces put together that she was still trying to give them something to work with. Something to beat her with.

At least, that's what he hoped she was doing. He kinda wanted a deep moment.

Loki snapped back to the battle outside of his mind and smacked his head for all of them being so stupid, including himself, but he wasn't going to say that out loud.

"Stark!" Loki yelled through the comms, throwing himself back into the battle.

"What? What have ya got?" Tony continued to blast at black spears being launched at him and Hydra agents that kept coming and didn't seem to have an end.

Loki flung daggers with deadly accuracy while slicing down any agent that came into his path, "What is the opposite of darkness?"

"Really? You're gonna give me riddles? Light... Light is the opposite of dark."

"And if there is enough light?"

"No darkness at all."

Loki nodded to himself, "Do you think we can get enough light?"

There was a pause while Tony did some calculations, "I don't know, but we can damn well try."

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I had that feeling when you're zoned out and someone calls your name but you don't notice until five minutes after the fact? I was so focused on the song... It was so important. When I snapped out of making sure the song kept playing, something was different.

I couldn't put my finger on it--figuratively or literally--what exactly was different, I mean, I'm the only one who could rearrange things in my little corner, so maybe I was just going crazy. More crazy anyway.

I spent a moment puzzling over the strange feeling before I felt her body succumb to waves of exhaustion out of nowhere. I hadn't felt that kind of exhaustion in a long time, but I knew what it was all too well. It reminded me of the lightroom.

I was scared, I hadn't been in the lightroom since Noxy took over, but maybe something changed.

I finally decided to see what was going on in the outside world and I wasn't sure if I was going to like what I saw. I didn't want to see the stark white walls and the electric shocks. I tentatively paid attention to what was going on and a bittersweet feeling overcame me.

Noxy had her hands out and tried to shoot her spears of darkness at the Avengers... and others I didn't recognize. The pitch-black material that made up her weapons became smaller and smaller, not flying as far as they normally would, and some even fizzled away at her fingertips. I could tell that we didn't have the energy to keep the fight going.

The reason why is that everywhere I could see there were lights shining on me. Lights from the building behind me, some sort of aircraft above me had a spotlight trained on me, and every Avenger that was able had some sort of light fixed on me. They weren't perfect. There were shadows that Noxy was pulling energy from, but they were small and the sheer force and brightness of the light coming from Thor's lighting, Tony's repulsors from both of the suits, even Cap had his shield reflecting light at me, it all made it so the shadows weren't enough.

Nevertheless, the light wasn't enough to drop us.

Since she could draw upon the shadows, Noxy pulled out a gun and a whip from her belt.

All at once, I could hear everyone I had ever met, including myself say, "Kinky."

I didn't remember ever seeing it before, let alone using it, training with it. For a moment I felt like Indiana Jones with the bullwhip at her side. I could see it wasn't perfectly smooth and that there were bits and pieces of shiny material woven into it. I instinctively knew that it would be extremely painful to be hit with.

Noxy cracked it easily and began to advance towards the heroes. She only took two steps before there was a sharp prick in the neck. Noxy pulled out what looked to be a horse tranquilizer. Her eyes snapped to the direction it came from to see Clint crouched in a tree, bow slung across his back. He emptied the barrel in one fluid motion and shot a loose salute in our direction, but despite the lightness of it, there wasn't a smile on his face.

I could feel her body begin to shake as it became difficult to stand steady. She raised her gun to shoot at Clint, but her hand was trembling too bad to take aim. Noxy dropped the whip to steady her gun, but her eyes drooped in exhaustion. My already limited range of sight began to shrink even more and then the world became dizzy, I became dizzy? I wasn't sure anymore. The one thing I did know was that as I was falling to the ground it felt like there was a whole new presence in my head. It was soft, hardly noticeable, but before I could figure out what was going on, we blacked out.

#lokilaufeyson #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki x reader #Avengers #avengersfanfiction #avengers x reader #clint barton #tony stark #Steve Rogers #wanda maximoff #Of Kings and Shadows #chapter 23

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fandom-collective-writers · 5 years ago

Text

Reader x Jihyun Kim {MysMes} - Letters to Heal a Broken Heart

Title: Letters to Heal a Broken Heart Fandom: Mystic Messenger Character: Jihyun Kim Genre: bittersweet? romance Warnings: spoilers for his good ending! Intended Gender Audience: Neutral Audience Word Count: 2040 words POV: second person Other comments: no smut but im proud of this! please note that everything with the push back is a letter! i think its pretty clear, but i wanted to make sure it’s understood <3 Written by: @mythiica Req:

Dear –

I’ll admit, it feels a bit strange writing a letter for you, but my therapist recommended it. He told me to explain my emotions with words, saying it would help me become more confident.

See, the reasoning behind it, at least from what I remember, is that there is no pressure to think quickly. Writing allows a flow, a sense of movement between the words before you pick which one you wish to use. Talking is different because it follows a completely contrasting rhythm. To keep a conversation going, you have to speak rather quickly so the person stays engaged in the topic.

It’s all really interesting, and my therapist has given me a book over the fundamentals of other practices like this. I read half of it on the plane to Japan.

To clarify, I’m writing this from my hotel room in Tokyo. I landed a few hours ago and the jet lag has yet to hit me, so I decided to take advantage of this time to write.

I think you’d like it here – the sakura are in full bloom and I have three days dedicated to photographing the sea of pinks as they ripple in the wind. Until now, I’ve only seen pictures of the famous parks, and I never thought that I would be able to witness them in person.

I didn’t think I’d

I never conside

Ah, I should mention, I’m not allowed to erase or cross out sentences I start. Another confidence booster? It’s a bit sillier, but it’s meant to force me to say what is on my mind, rather than letting it fester. I’ll try again:

During my years under Mint Eye, my vision was narrowed, and I had only one duty. However, I am learning to broaden my horizons and expand my mind to encompass everything. The urge to explore bubbles in my chest, waiting for the moment to come out. There are so many chances to do anything, and I’ve got all the time to do all of it.

I’ve also realized that I went over my word limit. I have to stick to 300 words or under. Confidence booster #3! Express yourself with less words. Take a guess of how many times I’ve opened the thesaurus, looking for better synonyms for words? At least seven times in the past five minutes. It’s crazy!

For now, I’ll sign this off and try better next time.

よりご多幸を祈って

Jihyun Kim

PS, I’m practicing my Japanese! That says best wishes… I think.

नमस्कार

Hello and greetings from India! I took a long nap on the plane, and forgot to write. Although I’m only passing through, I ate some delicious food (that I should really try to replicate for you). India is absolutely beautiful – from the sunrises to the bustling markets to the colorful fabrics hung at every corner. I’ll inhale the air and smell six things at once, albeit, not all of them are the best, but I embrace it nonetheless.

More about what I’ve been doing: funnily enough, my phone died on the bus ride, but I made a new friend named Sunmi, and she was kind enough to lend me her charging cable. Instead of ending the interaction there, we spoke for a few hours at least. I learned she was traveling with her friends on a photography excursion. She gave me all the information, and I’d like to look into it when I have wifi again.

You wouldn’t believe what they’ve seen! Last year they went to Antarctica through South America. She got to pet a penguin! Apparently the company also takes people to Greenland and New Zealand – some places I’ve been dreaming of visiting since I was a young boy.

I’ll use my last 100 words to mention that… I’ve gotten a bit homesick. I miss the RFA – well, the people from the RFA minus…

Don’t tell Jumin about the company though, he’ll insist on flying me around with his private jet. I want to experience for myself. Saeyoung is somehow messaging me when I don’t have service? I don’t… understand. Anyways, I also saw Zen landed a huge international role (someone had a magazine on the plane). Otherwise, I hope Jaehee and Yoosung are well. And Elizabeth the 3rd of course. Send them my wishes.

I didn’t forget about you though! The keychain you gave me reminds me of home every day. It might have lost an eye, but I found a button and stitched it on. And I also wanted to ask you–

Ah, I’m over again.

Next time.

Jihyun Kim

Iyi günler! I am in Turkey now and actually writing this on a boat. The sun is setting over the horizon, making the sky change colors with every passing minute. It’s breathtaking, but I wish you were here with me. The other passengers and I take turns standing at the front of the boat, and I sometimes linger, trying to take pictures.

Good news! My vision is getting better. I’ve been taking some Greek herbal remedies, and the seem to be helping. Either that, or they have a wonderful placebo effect. Has that ever happened to you? To think something is working, but you’re just imagining things?

I apologize, maybe that stirred bad memories for you.

Back to Turkey: I stepped out of my comfort zone and spent a night camping. Honestly? I was terrified of doing so, but now I want to do it every night. It is the perfect temperature for hiking, even though I am a bit sunburned.

So many people have been commenting on my hair. Good things mostly, and I started styling it with a bit of gel to keep it out of my eyes. It feels good to look people directly rather than through a curtain.

What are you up to? Hosting anymore parties? I imagine that you are keeping busy, as always of course. My therapist said it would be best to wait messaging you until I return home. I nearly called you a week ago, but I didn’t want to break my vow. It’s like lying to myself, and I know better than that now.

Still, it doesn’t stop me from dreaming.

Sending love,

I’m genuinely angry, but writing to you always calms me. Someone stole my bag – I luckily didn’t have much in it, but your keychain… can you make me a new one please? Now that I don’t have it, it’s almost like I’ve lost a part of you. It hurts a lot, but then I wonder if I am being silly. It’s just a keychain.

Otherwise, France is nice. I didn’t want to go to Paris, so instead I traveled through the countryside to visit a few wineries.

Yes, I did… drink a bit, but I wasn’t impaired when my bag was stolen!

You would laugh at me if I told you what happened, so I will save the story for another time. Before coming to France, I went through Germany and visited some of the most beautiful castles I’ve ever seen. They all looked like they could be straight from a fantasy movie set, and I was convinced one – Neuschwanstein Castle – actually was.

I’ve barely written anything despite so much happening.

I got a haircut (finally), because it was becoming a hassle to tie it back at night.

One evening, I fed some stray cats and they followed me home.

And a drunk (?) tried to play cards with me. But he didn’t have cards. He was dealing an imaginary deck.

Other stories will have to wait until I see you again, and I feel better now. It’s okay to be upset, but it won’t hinder my trip any more.

Je t'aime,

Jihyun

Alaska doesn’t have a night.

That’s not exactly true, but it’s basically true. The hotel has special curtains that block the light, and it is only dark for a few hours.

It has been many miles since I last wrote, but I was caught up in visiting show after event after party after exhibit through America. Their art has given me a new perspective on point of view and emotions, so I hope that the ten camera chips I’ve filled with photographs will be able to convey the same sense of awe.

I’ve also been mistaken for an idol? Like – multiple times. Interesting to say the least, maybe I’ll say yes to the next person that asks. What should my stage name be? I’ll spare you the embarrassment and not share my ideas. They are all very silly and no one would believe me if I told them my name was Cam Ra. Do you get it? It’s bad, I know.

I’ll be returning home soon, unless I get distracted or impulsive and go down to California and Hawaii before coming back. I want to – it doesn’t feel right to return just yet. But that doesn’t mean anything about you!

Really, I think about you and everyone else each day.

Have you met new people? We’ll exchange so many stories…

See you soon,

J K

You pace around, waiting for the last guest on the list to appear. The party started an hour ago, but he still has not arrived. Then again, it has been three months since anyone heard a whisper from V, and you start to lose hope. Swallowing hard, you remind yourself that V is having a wonderful time exploring the world and finding himself.

Taking a handful of your dress, you turn and head through the doors to the main room. Jumin tries to pull Saeyoung away from Longcat, Yoosung explains his most recent surgeries to a group of nurses from his work place, and Jaehee receives many compliments for her majestic cake.

Everyone is happy and has moved on.

You hope V has too.

Maybe all the wishing and praying finally paid off, because you hear his familiar voice calling out behind you. It’s a long shot, but you turn around nonetheless, thinking it is a different guest.

Instead, you see Jihyun, wearing the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen, running towards you. He’s carrying a folder filled with papers, but that doesn’t stop him from embracing you. He smells rugged, like his voyage has transformed him, but you rather like it.

“Jihyun!” You melt against his hug. “You’re.. Here… you’re here!”

Your squealing draws everyone’s attention, but he focuses on you and only you. “Of course I’m here. I missed you more than I can verbalize.”

His stance is open, welcoming, and confident, much different from two years ago. He is a different person now, brave and proud. Jihyun offers you the folder. It is strange to gift something in the middle of a party, but you accept it anyways, happy he has returned.

Jihyun’s heart races as he explains. “I wrote you letters every time I went somewhere new. These are just a few of them, really I have so many. But each shows something I’ve learned.” He takes a breath and laces his fingers with yours. “This is sudden, and I’m sure you will need time to think about it, but I’m trying something new: asking without being afraid. Over the past two years, I’ve… longed for you. Art has shown me the power of friendship, joy, perseverance, and most importantly, dedication. I want to dedicate my art to you, if you’ll stand by my side.”

You can’t find the words to express yourself because you are so awestruck. He truly has changed, but he has embraced himself and his life. Tears start to roll down your cheeks from the overwhelming surge of emotions. Jihyun brushes them away and presses his forehead to yours.

“I still have much to learn, but I want to do it all with you.”

“I’d like that a lot, Jihyun,” you whisper, captivated by his intense gaze.

“And I can finally say this without fear–”

You tip your head up, and Jihyun kisses you the next moment. His lips are chapped and the warmth radiating from his skin envelops you. He doesn’t need words to communicate it, because you understand perfectly what he is trying to say.

#mysmes #mystic messenger #mysmes v #mysmes jihyun #jihyun kim

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silverofdreams · 5 years ago

Text

My story is finished.

I have to thank @ao719, @debramcg1106, @burnsoslow, @the-soot-sprite who told me to post this thing cause its not within my comfort zone to write, Im more of a reader. But my brain wants me to explore this, and I might write more of it if it makes people happy to read it.

” What if….

A tale of two people”

Authors note:

This is a one shot, and my first time ever exploring this

fandom in words. English is not my language so please excuse any mistakes or grammar faults.

Synopsis:

This story explores the What if Drake mentioned in book 2, what if he and Rose (Riley) met somewhere else other than Liam’s bachelor party could their story have become different?

Pairing:

Rose / Drake

Warnings:

None, this is pure fluff, maybe a bit angst because Drake is Drake.

Rating

- PG -

riday afternoon, Rose Greer had just clocked off her day shift at the bar where she worked together with her friend Daniel. She had looked forward to an evening having a long bath and then watching a movie since her work required a lot of willpower and she simply did not have a lot of that, but she needed the money and it paid her bills, so she stuck with it.

She had longed for this evening all week and sighed loudly when her phone went off. She looked at the screen “Sandra calling”, Sandra was also one of her good friends in New York. Rose knew this could mean only one thing another blind date. Sandra was well-known for her ability to set friends up with guys, she had an agency that expertise in this and had tried to get Rose aboard several times since she moved to New York. “Yes,” she answered after debating whether she should or not.

“Rose! my best friend in the world”! Sandra’s voice echoed on the other end “I have a proposal for you”, Rose sighed “What now”? Sandra’s voice shrieked with excitement “I have a great blind date for you my friend, you cannot say no this time too good to pass up I assure you”.

“Sandra, I have heard this plenty of times before, why is this such a good opportunity” Rose questioned her friend. “I have this guy who is very handsome, he seems to fit your book of guys really well, tough but indeed handsome please help me out this time will you”. Rose sighed it could not hurt to at least go and see the guy once right, “Okay Sandra, tell me time and place and what kind of clothes I should wear”.

Sandra gave her the info needed, Rose headed home for a quick shower, a change of clothes and then the wait time begun.

7 pm arrived, Rose headed out to the restaurant Sandra told her to go to, it was a smaller one with a cozy decoration. Rose headed inside and sat down by a window, her date seemed not to have arrived yet.

If it was one thing, she hated it was people not clocking in on time, and this person seemed to fit that bill way to good. Five minutes later a guy dressed all in denim entered the place. Rose eyes widened as denim was so out of fashion, this year it was all about style for the guys in New York.

He stood a few moments looking around the area, and Rose got annoyed it was really no other people than her there at that time. He then saw her sitting by the window and walked up. “Are you Greer”? He simply asked hesitating a moment before sitting down opposite her.

“My name is Rose, thank you very much” she said a bit icily since it was not polite to greet the way he did meeting someone the first time. Oh, dear this meeting does not start on the top she thought to herself. The guy sighed to himself Why did I agree to this? The both sat in silence for about five minutes before Rose decided she had to do something, or her night off would be ruined. “Okay, it is clear none of us really want to be here, but why do we not try our best to make it a nice evening for the both of us”? She said and looked at him. He nodded “well yeah okay”. “Why do you not tell me your name to start” Rose said awaiting his reply.

“ Drake” he shifted a bit uncomfortable in his chair “ Look I’m not very good with this chit chat small talk thing with people, I’m also not good at apologizing for my behavior either but I am sorry if I seem like a jerk to you I try not to be it is my personality “ Rose nodded “ it’s all right I do understand, it is not easy to talk to strangers and I am totally agreeing with you about that”. “

Should we start by ordering food and then try go to there making the best out of this meeting for both of us”? She asked, he agreed luckily for him there was both his favorite food burgers and whiskey on the restaurant’s menu. He made his order while Rose looked on with a surprised look “oh we like the same stuff that is good” she said with a hint of a smile. The first smile she had shown that evening. She ordered the same things as him and the waiter left them alone. “So, Drake was it, where are you from and how did you end up in New York”? Rose asked after a while. Drake pondered for a bit before replying “I’m from a small Island called Cordonia, I ended up here because I needed some space from what is going on back there”. Rose listened now more intrigued by this young man. He seemed to be around her age, what could be so terrible he had to leave and go to another country.?

“Wow, that seem like some tough things are going on in your life”? I myself are a New Yorker, my family is normal people and live in another state, but I choose to stay here because it is my home”. Drake simply nodded he was a man of few words but once someone melted his icy heart, he really could be a soft guy but that the would not tell her about, she would have to figure out that one herself if they were to meet again. The food soon arrived, it tasted nice Sandra sure had choose this place for a reason Rose thought as she tried the burger front of her. “Mmmmm this is tasty” she nodded as the first bit was taken in. Drake tasted his and nodded “yeah, its certainly is no bad stuff”. The two of them indulged their food during silence, sometimes its nicer to eat and enjoy the food than interrupting the other with questions. Rose is a girl that like to talk to new people she meets, but if the guy is not so into it, she tries to accept his ways and roll with it. She figured he seemed like a nice but silent guy, perhaps a bit aloof at times but certainly an interesting personality. His looks were no shame though, he was indeed handsome, muscular body type and eyes that could piece into one’s heart at the right moment. Sandra had for once not been wrong that it was a very handsome guy indeed.

Drake had similar thoughts, the woman at that dating agency had stopped him on the streets and convinced him tonight would be the perfect date for him. He would not really believe it, but the woman had insisted so he had obliged to go to the meeting. He was a guy with very little patience for silly girls, he could not stand talking about topics like fashion, movies and the like he was a man of few words. But this girl intrigued him like no one else he had met, he did not know why, it simply felt right. Maybe if he again dared to explore love he might end up happy, might have a life filled of warm, laughter and love but it would take a while to get there, he had to try and make efforts, see where things would go he would have to get over his past girlfriend who left him to be with his best friend, he had to learn to move on with his life.

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glitradora · 5 years ago

Note

Here's an AU idea! AU where Castaspella defected instead of Shadow Weaver; and Catra grew up in Brightmoon and Glimmer grew up a Horde Soldier with Adora

send me an AU and i’ll tell you my headcanons for it (2/15)

au masterlist

((I’m so sorry this took so long to do))

((AGES: Castaspella - 15; Micah - 24; Angella - 25; Glimmer - 8 months))

The problem is not that Castaspella has always been in her brother’s shadow.

Micah the promised wizard

Micah who would end the war

Micah who married Princess Angella - immortal daughter of Brightmoon

(whose immortality didn’t even impress Cas that much honestly- she was only a year older than Micah. Apparently, you get called immortal from the get-go. Cas really thought they should at least wait so see if she would live past a normal human.)

((Then again maybe the immortal daughter of Brightmoon was just a fancy title - she looked the type. A special princess and a special wizard. What a perfect couple. It made her want to puke.))

The problem wasn’t even that she was said to be to young to partake in the actual fighting - with all her 15 years of age she was more than ready to show some Horde scum what she was made off

The real problem was that there was no actual way for her to ever beat Micah or for her to learn fighting

All of Mystacor was involved in the fighting by now - all but the students.

Students with no teacher - sounded like bullshit.

She was a glorified babysitter to a bunch of snotty kids who could barely levitate a feather in a windy day.

Even Light Spinner, the best wizard in history, her brother’s teacher and Cas personal idol hadn’t been to Mystacor in months. So much so Cas had managed to break into her room and grab her books with no one even noticing.

It was like being invisible.

And since she was going to live with that whether she wanted to or not she was gonna make the most of it.

So she studied alone

Practiced the spells in the books Light Spinner kept

Read and reread her notes until they made sense

Until she could repeat them in her sleep

Until she was better than Micah.

At some point - after a particularly bad attack on Brightmoon Micah left his newborn daughter with her in Mystacor.

“The safest place on Etheria - and the best apprentice on Mystacor”

Cas thought he was full of shit. But Glimmer, her niece, was perhaps the sweetest baby that ever existed. So she agreed.

From then on everything she did she did with Glimmer - on her lap, hanging from her back or when she got the hang of it, levitating by her side giggling.

She was the greatest company Cas could ask for.

Soon she realized just how powerful Glimmer was. The teleportations started with Glimmer being distraught and crying. Cas had probably taken to long to wake up and go check on her because just as she was getting up from bed an armful of baby was in her lap clinging to her.

It was - an experience to get around

Soon Cas started trying to predict Glimmer’s teleportations. Then trying to make her power stronger.

That is until Micah and Angella found out.

It was a whole thing - from she’s to young to Cas didn’t know what she was doing.

they took all the books.

And worst of all they took Glimmer with them.

And she was alone again

She had to get busy so she started studying the war and horde. If she learned enough maybe Micah would let her at least attend meetings in a year.

So she could get away from these walls.

But it seemed no matter what she did Micah and Angella were still to mad. Just saw a stupid little girl who they didn’t have time for.

The anger and solitude grew inside her, rotting and festering.

By no she no longer remember what was the breaking point - only that one night after a particularly nasty fight with her brother she read about the Horde’s possession of the Black Garnet again. And her mind was made

She quickly packed her things - she would slip out before anyone noticed and make her way there. There was no one on this side she would miss.

Or at least that’s what she told herself - but as she found herself in the woods she knew that wasn’t true.

Glimmer’s face kept haunting her dreams. She had to take her with her.

Breaking into Brightmoon was hard but she was a good enough sorcerer by then

In the room slept two girl - her niece with the fluffy pink her like cotton candy and who would grow up to be her biggest ally. Catra. The youngest heir to the Magicats.

Once she was far away from the castle Cas let her self rest for a second. She could make it to the Frightzone by morning. And then it was a fresh start for her and Glimmer.

19 years later - Fright Zone

Glimmer and Adora did everything together as far back as they could both remember.

Adora’s first steps are recorded in a photograph with glimmer’s teleportation shimmers just starting to show up behind her - the next photo has both girls flat on the floor giggling.

In whatever class they would train until they were both equally good at it - spending sometimes twice as long as their teammates perfecting every move.

With Castaspella - glimmer’s aunt - as the keeper of the black garnet they were all the only two students allowed to have a try at magic.

Glimmer was a natural

Adora once burned half of her hair off and has been trying to grow out her bangs since.

Cas still always has a smile for both girls - her girls.

She would never want either of them to feel as she did in childhood - second best. So Adora isn’t great at spells - but her emotional magic is amazing and it’s hard for people not to fall immediately in love with the blonde.

And Glimmer is perhaps as powerful as her father was.

She’s sure Angella still blames her for his death- she tried to stop him but Micah never seemed to listen to his little sister. Much less after the change of side.

But Glimmer grew a happy child despite this - knowing full well her place in Etheria. And wishing to one day take Brightmoon and it’s throne for herself.

19 years later - Brightmoon

Catra grew up with a missing piece in her life.

From the moment she could understand anything she knew what had been stolen from her and from her adoptive Brightmoon - and she was determined to have it back.

A princess in blood in her own right she was supposed to form a bond with the Princess Heir of Brightmoon, protect her and advise her. Be her second shadow.

But Princess Glimmer had been stolen from her crib as an infant by the wicked Horde.

And so Catra grew up alone. Wandering the cold walls of the castle. Studying and learning how to fight so she could someday defend Brightmoon and - were she lucky - Glimmer.

The only moments she had contact with other people were at dinner - Queen Angella, her godmother, and Light Spinner, her teacher.

They ate in silence for the most part - a few questions here and there between courses.

Other than that she spoke to Light Spinner in classes and once a month had an afternoon with Queen Angella learning about the war.

Which is a very long way to explain why she was currently climbing down a rope out of her window.

You see the past couple of years Catra had been sneaking out to go the village. Laugh and talk with the kids her age- play a few games in the fair nights or have a drink in the pub.

It’s where she met her best friend - Bow. The best archer in town. The two couldn’t be more different from each other. But they both refused to talk about their past - so they got along. Learned to respect the parts of each other the other kept hidden and cherish the ones they brought to the light.

All was great really - until one-day Catra wanted to explore more of the woods.

She had always look out to them from her room. The room that would have been Glimmers.

Plus Bow had grown up in those woods- knew them better than the back of his hand. What problem could they fun into?

The answer to that? Horde Soldiers.

Two of them too - because her night couldn’t get better.

One of them seemed really focused on this cool sword on the floor and the other was looking around and complaining they should go back. But it was dark and Catra couldn’t quite see either of them.

That is until the sword started to glow - illuminating the blonde girl first and them making Glimmer’s hair shimmer. Pink and purple with glittering like ground up diamonds.

“It’s her” She whispered to Bow who was currently passing through the five stages of grief and mumbling how he should have never have agreed to come here.

“Bow it’s her” she repeated her eyes and smile widening. “Wh-” before he could finish Catra was moving into the clearing

“Princess Glimmer I’ve found you - I’m here to bring you home”

“Who the fuck-”

“Glimmer move”

Before Catra could respond the other- about her hight but instead of skinny she was lean but all muscle - was swinging the sword at her. She jumped back just in time and Bow seemed to get the memo and jumped from the trees.

And at that Catra was focused “Horde Soldier - that’s first one’s tec. Release it. And let the princess go.”

“Who are you calling a princess freak?” Glimmer started to pull out a green electric thing but just as she made to move she was tied up with one of Bow’s rope arrows

Catra gasped “Bow!”

“She was going to kill us!”

“STILL CAN!”

“She’s your princess!”

“Hey, Kitty Kat” The other one was back - seemingly angrier with he developments swinging the sword wildly at Catra.

“Bow protect the princess!”

“Who’s protecting me from her?!” Bow asked his voice cracking slightly as he tried to take Glimmer’s taser from her.

Catra’s not sure how it happens. But after a while Glimmer and the Horde Soldier (who they learned is called Adora) are tied up.

Catra and Bow are just both kinda lying on the floor catching up on their breath for now.

But then Catra sits up exited “Bow can you believe - Queen Angella is going to be so happy. I can’t believe I’m going to be the one to bring Princess Glimmer back”

“How do you even know it’s her?” He asked not moving from her possession.

“Oh- uhm” Right Catra never told him. “I-”

“She’s the Magicat Dimwit” Glimmer replied from her place leaning again a tree - Catra had made sure she was comfortable.

“Wait- really?” Bow asked now his own eyes wide “No way!”

“She has cat ears what do you mean you didn’t know?!” She seemed annoyed. This was not how Catra had hoped to meet her oldest friend.

Bla Bla gigantic bug

Bla Bla Glimmer teleports them to safety from the First One’s ruins.

Bla Bla Adora and Glimmer trust Catra and Bow then - (plus they need to find out what’s up with this She ra business anyways.)

So they find themselves in Brightmoon - just for a little while, they tell themselves. Just until Adora can control her powers, and in the meantime, Glimmer can learn everything about it so she can take it over when they return.

But days become weeks, and weeks become months. And her aunt is great but having a mom is quite nice too.

And Catra grows on her - with her blushing cheeks and honest smile whenever Glimmer pays her attention.

And the food is much better - which is a plus.

#she ra #spop #glitra #glimadora #glitradora #glimmer #bow #adora #catra #castaspella #shadow weaver #queen angella #micah #mine #mine: au #varkarrus #cleopcatra

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miraculous-consequence · 4 years ago

Text

Consequence of Our Love, Ch. 3: Just Enjoy

Then she felt the spark that glowed where their hands touched. Comfortable. Quiet. Happy.

“Okay,” she said, and she smiled. “I’m all yours.”

Consequence of Our Love is a pre-reveal, post-Hawk Moth AU exploring Marinette and Adrien’s lives as adults. | Read from the Beginning | Read on AO3

Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings (Overall in the tags): None

It wasn’t right.

Marinette removed her hair clip and ran her fingers into her hair, undoing the hairstyle she had just spent a half hour finishing. The updo had been too formal and flirty, definitely not suited for the date. It was the fifth hairstyle she had tried, and she still hadn’t picked out an outfit from the twenty laid out across her bed, and the remains of ten attempts at makeup stuck to towels on the floor. Nothing seemed to be right for a date with Chat Noir.

She huffed. That was the issue. How could anything she wore be right for a date with Chat Noir? The date itself wasn’t right!

“How did I agree to this ridiculous idea?” She cried and slid down the bathroom wall in defeat.

“I’m just as dumbfounded as you are,” Tikki chimed in. She was painting herself with a tiny makeup kit for children that Marinette had gotten her. She liked the bright colors.

“I should be kicking his furry ass out of Paris for showing up so out of nowhere! I should be slamming the concept of responsibility into his tiny, idiot brain and shaking him until he finally realizes how much of a stupid, inconsiderate jerk he is!” Marinette mimicked shaking Chat Noir by his ears. “Instead! I’m going on a stupid DATE with him! And now I’m the stupid one obsessing over the fact I can’t find ANYTHING GOOD ENOUGH TO WEAR!”

“Do you think that maybe you missed him?” Tikki asked. Marinette grunted. Tikki had perfected the art of asking seemingly innocent, pointed questions.

“Of course I missed him, Tikki. He’s my partner. Was, my partner, I guess.” She bent forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

“There’s still a chance he’ll stay,” Tikki offered. Marinette sighed.

“I hope so. He just seemed so… not Chat Noir last night.” She leaned back and rubbed her arms. “I mean, he was totally the Chat Noir I remembered when he was with me by the river. He was obnoxious and flamboyant and confident…. But last night, he seemed so… scared. I’ve never seen him so broken before.”

Marinette squeezed her arm. She expected Tikki to respond with an encouraging quip like she always did, but when Marinette looked up, Tikki was staring darkly at the countertop. She looked just as dejected as Marinette felt. For a moment, Marinette faced the deep unease that had been growing inside of her ever since Chat Noir knocked on her window.

Marinette dug her nails into her skin, shoved the feeling down, and stood up. There was no point in fretting over what Chat Noir would do - especially when a chance to get him to stay awaited her.

“You’re right, Tikki,” she said, and leaned against the counter. “There is a chance he’ll stay, and I’m going to make sure I do everything I can to make him take that chance. Chat Noir can be a superhero again. He can find a life worth living here in Paris. Tonight is the perfect chance to show him that.”

“Marinette, I don’t think-“ Tikki was interrupted by Marinette’s text tone. Marinette picked up her phone and saw it was from Alya.

Movie and ice cream tonight? I got the fancy stuff!

“Shoot,” Marinette cursed. She did want to hang out. Ever since Alya got her new job as a reporter and Marinette’s fashion line took off, it had been harder and harder to find the time to hang out. Their slump was incredibly frustrating. Marinette really missed Alya, and she was desperate to pounce on any chance to be with her best friend.

But tonight, she had another friend to tend to.

“Are you going to tell her about your date?” Tikki asked. The thought curdled inside Marinette like bad sushi. She grimaced.

“I can barely tell myself that I’m doing this. No way I’m telling Alya!”

“I bet she’d understand,” Tikki offered.

“What would I even say? ‘Hey Alya, can’t make it! I’m going on a make-believe date with my old superhero friend who I have no romantic interest in, because I’m absolutely desperate for any sort of romantic affection, even though none of it is real and none of it can be real!’” Marinette exclaimed dramatically.

She scrunched her face up in disgust. “Plus it’s Chat Noir. How can I admit that I’m going on a date with Chat Noir?” It was like going on a date with a childhood friend you’ve known since you were both in diapers. It didn’t matter how strong and handsome he looked now. Didn’t matter how warm his eyes were. Didn’t matter how kind and charming and funny he was.

It was just weird.

Sorry Alya :( I need a raincheck. Hanging out with an old friend. Marinette sent back.

You have other friends? I didn’t think it was possible! Alya sent a GIF of a women dramatically collapsing on the floor in shock.

What did I do to deserve a friend as kind as you.

I always believed in being charitable.

Love you, Al.

Love you M.

Marinette smiled and placed her phone back on the counter. She leaned forward and applied another round of makeup.

“Sorry Tikki - you were saying something?”

“I…” Tikki trailed off as if she was trying to find the right words to say. Marinette paused and looked at her, confused by her hesitation.

“I just wanted to ask - what do you think he’ll do for the date?” Tikki finished. Marinette laughed weakly.

“Honestly, I’m kinda scared to think about it.” She teased out her hair. “Based on what he’s done for Ladybug in the past, he’ll probably do something textbook romantic. Lots of roses and candles. I hope it’s not too cheesy.”

“Like dinner-at-the-top-of-the-Eiffel-Tower kind of cheesy?” Tikki said mischievously.

“UGH, I hope not. It’s so windy up there!” Marinette stepped back and examined herself. She pursed her lips and grabbed the make-up remover.

“I bet it’ll be sweet and unexpected,” Tikki said. “Chat Noir can be very thoughtful.”

“He can be very thoughtless, too,” Marinette retorted, then conceded. “But he does have a tendency to surprise.”

Her phone sounded again. Marinette reached for it, expecting it to be another text from Alya, but instead it was from an unknown number. She could guess who it was from. Inside was a long list of directions to an undisclosed location, signed with a green paw print. Marinette groaned.

You could’ve just sent an address, Marinette texted back. A few moments passed, then Chat’s response.

Google would’ve killed the surprise. Don’t be late.

She snorted and put up her phone. “Guess I better settle on an outfit.”

Marinette took a deep breath. Compelled by a looming deadline, Marinette’s brain snapped into the zone where it always worked best - crunch time. She grabbed her best pair of high-waisted black pants and slapped them on the bed. “Sensual, but not sexy or formal!” She swiped her pink sleeveless top with the high neck, and threw it above the pants. “Cute and inviting, but not revealing!” Next, she tossed her black leather jacket onto the pile.“Cool AND functional!” Lastly, she grabbed her reliable pink sandals that wrapped up her ankle. “Comfortable, stylish, and most importantly, heeled to give me an extra inch on that tall bastard!”

“And Voila!” Marinette spun around in the mirror, admiring herself in the full outfit. She finished the look with a quick bun - just the right amount of formal, just the right amount of messy.

“It’s perfect, Marinette!” Tikki exclaimed. Marinette burst out laughing when she saw her kwami in the mirror. Tikki had given herself a full clown face from the make-up kit.

“Tikki, that’s way too much make-up!” Marinette said. “You gotta learn subtlety!”

“I think I look dashing!” Tikki said happily, unshaken by Marinette’s reaction. She posed for Marinette, making her laugh even harder. “I do actually need help getting all of this off,” Tikki giggled. Marinette wiped her face and carried Tikki to the bathroom, chuckling the whole time.

“This is one of those times where I really wish you could be caught on camera,” Marinette said as she grabbed a couple make-up remover wipes. Tikki laughed again, but this time with less cheer. As Marinette wiped away the make-up, she realized Tikki had something heavy on her mind that she wanted to share.

“What is it, Tikki?” She asked.

“Marinette…” Tikki began. “I know you want to fix Chat Noir, but the reality is that Chat Noir has changed. Emotional pain is different from physical pain - we don’t have the power to turn back the hands of time on trauma. We can’t just fix it. You know that.”

Marinette looked away. I do know that. She clenched her fist. Better than anyone.

But she couldn’t just sit back. The last time Chat Noir left her, he was gone for seven years. She had to do everything she could to get him to stay this time. She had to let him know she was going to be there for him - both as Ladybug and as Marinette.

“I’m not trying to fix him, Tikki. I just… want to help him get better. I want to show him that he’s capable of being a superhero again.”

Tikki bowed her head, then glided up to rub Marinette’s cheek. “The best way to do that is by enjoying the time you spend with him. Chat Noir must make his own choice. Only he knows what will be best for him.”

“But I can make a difference,” Marinette answered. Tikki shook her head.

“Just enjoy, Marinette,” Tikki said. “Don’t worry about any of the other stuff - just focus on having a good time with Chat Noir. That’s the best thing you can do for him. And for you.”

Marinette bit her lip. “I’ll do my best, Tikki,” she said. Tikki smiled and glided to her compartment inside Marinette’s purse.

Just enjoy tonight, Marinette told herself as she slid on her purse. The rest will follow.

With her head held high, Marinette set off towards Chat Noir’s mystery date location. The instructions were surprisingly thorough. She smiled at the thought of Chat Noir going along the same path she was, stopping occasionally to write down notes.

She smelled it before she saw it. It smelled like fresh bread, spring, and summer.

“An outdoor market!” She exclaimed. The market stretched before her, full of carts and stalls teeming with artisan foods, fresh produce, photography, flowers, artwork, and more. People milled around happily, laughing and enjoying themselves. Marinette was filled with excitement and wonder.

She didn’t hear the sound of the footfalls behind her, but she felt them. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and all of her muscles tensed. She gripped her purse strap.

“Hey Marinette!”

In a flash, Marinette was swinging her purse at her assailant. She only realized who she was attacking when her purse smashed into Chat Noir’s face.

“GAH!” Chat cursed and staggered away. “Geez, Marinette!”

“Shoot!!” Marinette rushed forward to help him. “Why the hell did you do that!” She snapped as she gently held his face to examine the damage. She thumbed his cheek, then realized in embarrassment that Chat was essentially invincible. There was no point in tending to his wound. She drew back, blushing.

“I was trying to surprise you. I didn’t realize you had insane instincts and a motive to kill.” Chat said, rubbing his face.

“Well when you have maniacs landing from the sky right behind you, you tend to be prepared— uhhh, what the hell are you wearing?” Marinette finally got a good look at Chat Noir, and realized he was wearing clothes. Normal clothes. A sweater. Cargo shorts. Over his supersuit.

“Like it?” Chat asked, posing. She stood speechless, her mouth trying to find the right words for… whatever this was.

“It’s definitely… a look,” she managed. “Is this supposed to be some sort of terrible disguise?”

“Not a disguise.” He held his arms out, as if it gesturing to an adoring crowd, and projected his voice. “It’s all part of the plan, purrrrincess, to give you an authentic Chat Noir relationship!”

Marinette stared blankly at him. He held his pose.

“I’ve made a mistake. I should go home.” She turned away.

“Trait one of a perfect, romantic relationship!” Chat blocked her path with a dramatic scoop, and she couldn’t hold in her giggles. “Casual and comfortable! Relationships can’t all be romance and passion - we all must come home and take care of the chores of day-to-day living. The best relationships,” he paused to tap Marinette’s nose, “are the ones where no matter what you’re doing, no matter how boring or stuffy the task, you’ll enjoy doing it, because you’re doing it with someone you care about.”

“So you’re wearing clothes?”

“It’s supposed to represent being casual!” Chat argued, his voice back to normal and whiny. He fussed with his shirt sleeves. “Is it really that bad? Gah, Plagg was right. I’ll go take them off-“

“Nope!” Marinette grabbed his arm and stopped him. “You’re committed to this, kitty. I’m not letting you back out. Now go on, continue with the show.”

Chat Noir smirked, coughed for effect, then gestured widely to the market. “AND SO!” He boomed. “We are going shopping! The bounty we gather will serve as our sustenance tonight during the rest of your brilliant, swooning night of no consequences.” He ended with a bow.

Marinette clapped and chuckled. “Alright, I gotta admit. This is actually a really lovely idea, Chat!” He grinned and gazed wistfully out at the plaza.

“I ALWAYS wanted to go to one of these when I was in Paris, but I never got the chance,” he said. “I got so lucky that this was happening today! I was worried that you would’ve guessed I was taking you here, since you probably keep track of these kinds of events.”

Marinette shook your head. “I had no idea, actually. I haven’t gone to an outdoor market in forever.” When was the last time I went to one of these? Or any community event? She thought.

“Then this should be an awesome experience for both of us,” Chat cheered. He handed her a few empty tote bags, all decorated with food puns. “And as for dinner later - I’ve got the main entree covered, but you are responsible for baking something delicious for dessert!”

“I thought this was supposed to be my most romantic night ever, yet I’m supposed to be making my own food?” Marinette teased.

Chat Noir didn’t lose his swagger. “I happen to know firsthand that the best meals are the ones you get to make with those you care about.” Marinette chuckled.

“I suppose I can make some cookies,” she said. “But they’re not gonna be pretty with the time you’re giving me!”

“As long as they have personality,” Chat teased.

A flash startled Marinette. She jerked towards the source, and she realized that they were being photographed. A few people had gathered and were pointing excitedly at Chat. Anxiety prickled at her insides. She had never quite gotten used to media attention. She handled it much better under the confident mask of Ladybug, but as a civilian, Marinette felt too vulnerable in the camera’s sights. Chat Noir seemed unphased.

“Don’t let them ruin our date. They’re all just trying to have a good time, like we are,” he told her, then held out his arm. “Shall we get going?”

Marinette glanced nervously at the bystanders, then back at Chat’s charming smile. She smiled and took his arm. “Of course, my purrrince,” she teased. She was very satisfied by the ridiculous grin he gave her.

They took off into the market, which spread across several blocks. Artists, farmers, and local artists had all come out to show off their talents and creations. It was incredibly charming. Marinette couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been here in so long.

“So comfortable and casual, huh?” Marinette said as they walked.

“Yep.” Chat Noir said. “I feel like the idea of being comfortable with your significant other is underrated. It can’t all be passion and fire.”

“Otherwise, it’s just… torture.” Marinette agreed. She narrowed her eyes, thinking of all those years during her youth spent pining fruitlessly over Adrien.

“If you’re not comfortable, the expectations of what should be become too much. It overshadows the quiet, powerful moments that really make up a relationship.” Chat continued. She considered this idea and found herself agreeing. His insight surprised her.

“Cheese!” Chat exclaimed suddenly. “I need a few kinds for the meal tonight. Let’s go there first.” He took her by the hand and guided her to the cheese stand. He left her to bargain with the stand owner, and she watched him from afar, joking and laughing as if all was good in the world.

He was back to his charming, funny self. It was a sharp contrast to the anger and pain he showed Ladybug last night. Marinette knew that pain was still simmering underneath his facade, but she found herself forgetting all of that within the glow of the day and his presence. She realized that she was actually enjoying herself - she hadn’t once thought about how freaking weird this whole thing was since they had started.

It just felt like old times.

Lost in thought, she didn’t see the cat run beneath her feet as she took a step.

“WAH!” Marinette fell to the ground, releasing the contents of her purse onto the pavement. She opened her eyes to see Tikki desperately clinging to the inner mouth of the purse so she wasn’t tumbled out into the public view. Marinette rushed to close the purse clasp before getting up off the ground. She groaned and held her head.

“Marinette!” Chat Noir ran over to her and helped her back onto her feet.

“Thank you,” Marinette said as he lifted her up, then on an impulse added, “You don’t make a half-bad superhero.” Chat smiled at her, but it was dry and polite. Marinette suddenly felt ashamed.

Chat Noir turned away and began helping the crowd of people collecting her purse’s former contents. They all returned her items with a smile and nod. Her embarrassment was replaced with warmth from their kindness. She was proud of the people she protected.

She turned around to see Chat holding out her good-luck charm. Adrien’s good-luck charm. Her face immediately turned red, and she swiped it from Chat’s palm.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” Chat mentioned. “I bet there’s a story behind that.”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette stuttered. “It was given to me by an old friend as a good-luck charm. I probably should have thrown it away years ago - I haven’t really talked to him in years and we never got the chance to get really close - but I just couldn’t bear to give it up…”

“I think it’s really sweet to keep a token of an old friend.” Chat placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She looked up at him. Was he blushing? Chat Noir moved his hand to her back and guided her onward. “I bet he still thinks fondly of you from time to time.”

Marinette smiled. She squeezed the bracelet and placed it gently back in her purse. She wasn’t so sure Adrien still thought of her - but that was okay. She just hoped he was doing alright, and that he was enjoying today with a friend.

They navigated the stalls, talking to the stall owners and examining the wares. Marinette recognized many of the stall owners as people she helped as Ladybug. It was delightful to meet them in a different context. She bought something from every stall she could, even those that didn’t interest her, and tipped extra to those who were just as pleasant to her as they were to Ladybug.

“I don’t mind paying,” Chat Noir had offered, but Marinette politely declined.

“My dream has given me a comfier lifestyle than I thought I’d ever have,” Marinette explained. “I want to support those who are building their dreams now.”

“Even if it means buying a lot of stuff we won’t use?” Chat lifted up a bag looped on his arm, bulging with artwork, trinkets, and sculptures.

“Bah, I’ll find a use for it all! Like I could 3D print a frame for this flower sculpture! And this pottery would look great with some greenery on the shelf in my living room.” Marinette started digging through his bag, ignoring the way his muscles bulged as he compensated for her force. She fished out a small bright green gem and held it up proudly. “I could totally fashion this into a necklace for you! Or maybe a keychain? What even is your fashion style? The only other thing I’ve seen you in is a banana suit.”

“The banana suit is my only other fashion style.” Chat Noir said, deadpan.

“Maybe it’d look best on a bracelet.” Marinette ignored him. “I can make you your own good-luck charm!”

Chat Noir broke and chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

They pushed onward. Marinette stopped to buy ingredients for cookies at a bakery stand then perused their fresh bread options. Chat asked if they could make their own bread, and Marinette gave him a withering look. He smiled apologetically, veered towards a vegetable stall, and began talking with the vendor. Marinette noticed his words were loose and warm, but he examined each vegetable meticulously. He seemed determined to find the best ingredients, and she was surprised at how much he knew. Marinette could bake like no other, but cooking had never been her strong suit. Chat even seemed to know the different varieties and how to tell if produce was ripe. Marinette smiled. His attentiveness was… very endearing. Even if he didn’t understand how much time and effort it took to bake bread.

Chat sniffed a clump of oregano and widened his eyes in surprise. “Wow, I should shop more often as Chat Noir. With my enhanced smell, I can basically taste which produce will be the best!” He exclaimed and set aside the oregano to be purchased.

He picked up a lemon and immediately hissed in pure disgust. He dropped it back on the pile.

“Cats aren’t known for their love of citrus, ya know,” said the stall keeper. “Didn’t think that applied to cat men, but might as well.” Chat Noir stuck up his nose.

“Guess I shouldn’t have planned a lemon-based sauce,” he grumbled. Marinette held her fist up to her chin in thought.

“Were you planning on cucumbers? I wouldn’t want you to be scared…” She teased, earning an elbowing from Chat.

“Let’s go ahead and pack up two onions, three of the zucchini and squash, four bell peppers- surprise me on the color- and -“ he grabbed a cucumber and booped Marinette on the nose with it. “-one cucumber please.”

“You got it, Cat Man.”

They left the stall loaded with bags of produce. Chat insisted on getting extra veggies for Marinette to take home with her, though she protested that she hardly cooked for herself. He promised to leave her with some recipes she could try.

They left the market as the sun began to set and the stands closed up for the day. As they walked, Chat suddenly sneezed. He looked around in surprise then sneezed again, more violently.

“You okay?” Marinette asked, and he turned to her, bleary-eyed.

“Allergies. Must be a lot of birds around here,” he explained, though the street was empty. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then said, “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

They walked slowly, partly because of their load, but mostly because they were savoring the moment.

“I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting this,” Marinette said.

“You mean the date?” Chat asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I didn’t know what to expect at all. But not a farmer’s market.”

“I thought it’d be a good way to relax into things. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been on a fake date before. I knew if I jumped straight into the romance, I’d be too tense to effectively ‘woo’ you.” He bowed when he said this, but his bags shifted forward, pushing him off balance. Marinette laughed and helped him recover.

“It was a good idea,” she said as she set him on his feet. “I was anxious all day thinking about what we’d do and how I should act. But when I actually got here… well, I forgot we were even doing anything weird.”

“This is weird?” Chat asked, then laughed when Marinette made a face. “I’m glad I was able to help you relax.”

“Smacking you in the face certainly didn’t hurt,” Marinette teased. He laughed.

“I take my commitment to my role seriously,” Chat Noir said with a wink. Marinette grinned.

“I look forward to seeing what my fake-boyfriend will offer me next,” she teased. “Because right now, it kinda just seems like two friends hanging out…”

Chat Noir laughed. “Don’t you worry. ‘Comfortable and casual’ was only Phase One. The night is still young.”

“Anything I should do to prepare?” Marinette asked. She gasped as Chat spun her towards him and grabbed both her hands. He squeezed them.

“Just enjoy,” he said. Marinette looked up into his eyes, and she felt the warmth from his gaze flood her entire body like the sun rising over a spring morning.

She thought of the pain hidden behind his smile. She thought of the decision resting in his mind, hanging heavy in the air between them. She thought of the power she held to convince him to stay.

Then she felt the spark that glowed where their hands touched. Comfortable. Quiet.

Happy.

“Okay,” she said, and she smiled. “I’m all yours.”

Read Ch. 4: Just-A-Friend Date >>

Read the Full Story >>

#consequence of our love #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #marichat #adrienette #long fic #unplanned pregnancy #trauma #mental anguish #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending #violence #ptsd #discussion of abortion #friends to lovers #romance

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junieyes · 5 years ago

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paint me like one of them dead girls (2)

Your first objective is to find a bathroom.

Raccoon City might be dead and the world may be ending but you still have dignity. You refuse to release several bottles worth of pee and crap when you finally kick the rusty ole bucket. How degrading would that be? You’d never live it down in the afterlife.

Surveying the main hall lit up by warm, yellow lamplight, an odd sort of serenity settles into your bones. As quick as it came, the adrenaline driving on the freeway in your body finally takes an exit off, leaving you exhausted.

To your right is a little plaque on the wall denoting a bathroom symbol. Just what you need. The direction it’s pointing to is one of those high-security doorways that reminds you of the folding garage door in your apartment complex. It’d be perfect and wholly convenient if not for the fact that someone had stuck a note to it blatantly saying, “KEEP OUT”.

There’s also the matter of the crushed skull and pool of blood. You hold in a barf. This isn’t a horror movie: if it says keep out, you’re keeping out. Guess that means no bathroom break – and no vomit break either.

You look away.

Bodies are littered across the floor like random trash at a park; blood is smeared across almost every bench and every other object that isn’t nailed down is strewn chaotically across the room. You don’t need to imagine the havoc that happened here because you can already see it your head. It’s an awful reminder of the first night when everything went to shit.

All these people – all your friends…

You cry.

Quietly, in shuddering breaths and little sniffles. Your entire body trembles. It feels worse than when you cried for yourself – loud, unrestrained selfish sobbing in a stranger’s tiny bathroom. Here, the endless downpour of water cleanses your cheeks from dirt, sweat and blood. Your chest twists painfully. Maybe if you cry hard and long enough, all the pee from your bladder will travel up to your eyes and come out as tears.

God, you should’ve just stayed at the apartment.

You’re so fucking stupid. It must’ve only been one zombie. It probably hadn’t even known you were there. You don’t think it would’ve gotten through the door, barricaded by a heavy desk and some chairs; everything that you could pick up and stack, you did.

You could have starved to death safely curled up on the couch, hidden underneath a scratchy blanket that didn’t belong to you, listening to the dreadful music of their groaning. It would have been some shitty last days, but you wouldn’t have had to run for your life like you did outside, and you wouldn’t be here seeing, well – all this. Dead horror hangs in the air.

It’s an impossible fate to escape. There’s only one way out. This deadly solitude is as scary as the enraged, glutinous horde outside.

You curse yourself. The apartment had a bathroom. The toilet was clean, and it had toilet paper too. Why hadn’t that been a good enough reason to stay? You still need to pee.

You rub your eyes and take a deep breath. Come on, slow breaths. Hold for seven, release in six, breath in for another four. Emotionally, you’re not feeling any better, but you’re not so unsteady on your feet anymore after several minutes of this. It’s time to start moving and explore. That gun isn’t going to magically find itself.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

You muffle a startled shriek and snap around to the officer that appeared out of nowhere. Your heart races so hard you swear it’s two seconds away from pumping its way out of your chest.

It’s a person. Oh, God, it’s a person. A real, live, living person.

Your mouth drops open. Nothing he says makes sense; your ears are totally zoned out because you’re just so in shock. But you see his lips moving, forming words rather inhumane screeches.

Holy shit. You find it hard to believe. Because fuck, a person.

You must be psychic because you swear you have a vision; suddenly you see a spark of hope in your future. Just a little snap of yellow and blue on an almost empty lighter. It’s so little that it shouldn’t mean a thing, but Lord this is the most hope you’ve felt in the past five days that suddenly you can’t even think about killing yourself.

You throw that plan in a deep ditch at the side of the road. The coyotes can eat it for all you care.

“Ma’am, I can’t help you if you don’t speak to me.”

“I–I’m fine,” you croak and wipe your wet cheeks till they dry. “better than fine.”

The officer gives you an uncertain look, but nods. He’s got a hand protectively against his side, blood soaking into the blue of his shirt. You know what that means, but it doesn’t damper your newfound spirits. He looks like he still has some life left to him; a bit pale in the face and sickly, but his body is alert. He could help you get out of here. And, if worse comes to worst – he’s got a threatening looking gun in that holster of his.

“Are you injured?”

You shake your head.

He sighs, face pained and nods over to somewhere behind him. “Over here.”

In the next five minutes you learn that his name is Marvin Branagh, he is thirty-six years old, has been married once but got a divorce a few months back, has three dogs named Wags, Cattle and Derek, and his favourite colour is yellow.

You tell him that you’re only nineteen – his face falls and swears something unholy under his breath – and that you also have a dog, her name is Dumpling, your favourite colour is pink, you’ve never been married but you’d always hoped you would when you got older, and that you were going to be a history teacher when you finished university.

You’ve never felt so good about having simple small talk with an officer. What really makes your day, however, is when he tells you that there are, in fact, three people currently still alive in this station. You, obviously, and him, but also a rookie cop by the name of Leon Kennedy.

You blink, looking around the room as if he’ll suddenly appear if you search hard enough. “Where is he?”

Marvin points to the giant statue of the goddess nearby. It’s an odd piece of artwork for a police station. “You see that statue? It opens up to a tunnel that leads out of here – but it’s missing pieces. That’s what Leon’s doing, right now. Looking for them.” You feel inspired. He must be doing that on purpose.

But then he looks at you, and sighs, and then groans in pain. You watch him worriedly as he repeats this cycle, feeling helpless. “He’ll be happy to see you. There’s not much living things in here.”

First off – what the fuck? Why the hell does a police station have a secret door? For what purpose does it even need one? You won’t lie, it fills you with immense pleasure knowing that there’s another way out of here other than the front doors, but you’re also incredibly cautious about this. It just doesn’t seem normal. Nothing about these past five days have been normal.

What if it’s booby-trapped, like Indiana Jones or James Bond? You can’t outrun giant boulders. You’ll die of fright first.

Putting the negativity aside though, it’s pleasing news nonetheless. Because really, how convenient is that? A secret entrance? Sure, the puzzle thing sucks, who the hell has time for that? Couldn’t a bookcase have been easier? But there’s a way out, so you start crying again.

You thought you were going to die dirty and tragically. You haven’t showered in five days and it’s disgusting. Walking in the rain doesn’t count. Your shoes are gone, which you spent fifty dollars on, and your very nice jacket which is just so in trend this season is absolutely ruined – it looks like you accidentally got a bit of blue and orange on your bloody jacket than the other way around. And your jeans! There are holes in your jeans. Not stylish, fashionable holes but holes that look like you decided to take an illegal joyride on a motorcycle and crashed stupidly into a tree.

Poor Marvin, looking at you helplessly and distressed. You smile tearily. “I’m just really happy. Really, really happy.”

It’s a waiting game after that.

You use the time to explore the main hall, feeling more confident than you have in days. You’re not afraid to turn boxes over, move stacks of books around and push cabinets back into place. There’s a lot of random items lying around. You try not to think about how they probably belonged to the people lying dead on the ground.

You pick up a sturdy RDP backpack. It’s got an unopened water bottle and some granola bars, hand-wipes, and a new copy of Pet Sematary by Stephen King. You take the book out and lay it on top of a cabinet. You won’t be needing that.

Across the other side of the room in some drawers you find a pair of handcuffs. You dangle it from your finger, curious. You get the feeling that this shouldn’t be out in such an open area where anyone could steal it – like you – but it sure is handy. Maybe you won’t be handcuffing some zombies and detaining them for arrest but you can think of a few ways to lock some doors and windows if it comes down to it. You stash them in your bag.

Digging deeper into the mess, you make the ultimate discovery: a first aid kit. And not one of those basic ones either. It’s got just about everything you could possibly need for any occasion. It’s too big to fit into the backpack but you don’t see the need to empty it out when it’s already organised so well. You bring your findings to Marvin.

“I found this hidden by some seats,” you say, showing him the green first aid box, shaking it by the handle. It’s not heavy. You can definitely run around carrying this. Now you won’t be so useless. You’ll be the unqualified, on-field medic. “We can patch up your side. Here, I’ve taken a first aid course before.”

You did it with your friend's ages ago. Friends who are probably dead. You hope it serves you better than it did them. You lean forward with an inviting hand, but Marvin stops you.

“No,” he grunts, shaking and leaning away. “it’s too late now. I only have a few hours left; I can feel it. Hopefully you’ll be out of here by then.”

You frown, uncertain. Not because you think he can be saved – he can’t, he’s already infected and there’s no coming back from that; you’ve accepted this reality days ago – but because the least you can do is make him comfortable. No one deserves to die a slow, agonising death. You sift through the variety of foil pill packets and pull out one that you recognise. “How about pain killers?”

He shakes his head again. “No–no–you might need it. I can’t.”

You purse your lips, unhappy with his decision but don’t push it. You don’t want to upset him. It might make his condition worse. You’re not a scientist or a doctor but you’ve read it in an article somewhere that stress can make an illness worse.

(you’re also a little thankful – you might actually need it later)

You decide to venture the second floor instead. There’s not much hiding up there but you do spot a few red and green herbs. Delighted, and thinking how weird but also amazing it is that the station is stocked with so many handy things, you gently carry the little potted plants back downstairs with you.

They taught you this important piece of info in high-school: the green herbs are for wounds, fatigue and infection, red herbs to enhance the effect, and blue herbs for poisons. You don’t remember their scientific names or even the general names, but the colours of the herbs are distinct enough that it’s pretty easy to identify.

After cleaning your hands with the hand wipes, you start to start to pluck the leaves from the green herb, piling them neatly on a clean sheet of parchment. Marvin watches interestedly as you start rinsing the leaves and tying them into bundles – four is enough to chew on and make a paste – before stacking them neatly in the first aid kit. You make sure to add one red leaf to every roll of green.

When you pulled all-nighters during school, which is – had been – a still common occurrence in university, you’d pop a green leaf and chew on it while you worked. Besides its health purposes, it’s also basically the equivalent of taking a shot of straight nicotine. Coffee? Forget coffee. Have some weed herbs.

You chew on one right now, feeling a little less tired and more awake again.

Having exhausted all the actions you can think to take right now, you curl up on the floor for a light doze. Just a little cat nap. You deserve it after everything you’ve been through.

You’d have taken the other couch, but you’re not that stupid. If Marvin turns without you noticing, it’s easier to book it from the floor than it is from the couch. You’d have to jump across the caches and random assortment of objects to get safely away.

Muttering to yourself in the same way you’ve taken to in the past several days living alone, cataloging everything in your bag and what you can recall is in the first aid kit, your eyes soon flutter shut.

You hope that when Leon finally comes back to the main hall, he’ll be able to help you find a pair of shoes. A pair that you don’t have to take off of someone’s feet, preferably.

[--]

An unexpected growl sends you shooting onto your knees, fingers grabbing the nearest, sharpest object: an oddly shaped, bronze trophy. You don’t know what it’s supposed to be, but it has a lot of pointy branches and that’s all that matters.

Your heart beats rapidly and several squeaks escape your throat. Every nerve in your body is suddenly awake and vigilant.

Your first instinct is to throw it. You stop that instinct. Last time you followed it you’d lost your only weapon and the zombie hadn’t even died.

It’s a woman this time.

Her ankle is broken and heavily bruised, the bone jutting out through a break in the skin. She moves like she doesn’t care that she’s grievously injured; her arms are raised towards you, hands and forearms drenched in blood. You think she’s in her thirties and only recently turned because her face isn’t as grotesque and hideously ruined like many others you’ve seen. There are still patches of red eyeshadow above her tired lids and if you dare chance a quick look at her mouth there’s a faint hint of blue lipstick under the dark, thick blood spilling out from between her yellow teeth.

You absently think that if she wasn’t so obviously dead and ready to eat your guts out, she’d be superiorly pretty. Supermodel pretty even. In need of a better wardrobe maybe, but those cheekbones are killing it.

This saddens you for a moment – but only a moment because then she makes an ear-splitting noise that has you flinching away and stumbling over your feet when she surges forward.

Get yourself together! Jesus Christ, you’re hopeless.

You scurry back, constantly keeping yourself out of arm’s reach. You vaguely note how Marvin doesn’t seem to have noticed anything happening, and then belatedly realise that you can hear grunting. Not the type of grunting the dead make, like they’re constipated and starving at the same time – but the grunting of someone possibly struggling from an intense workout. Or, you know, a life or death situation.

Shimming up the stairs on the right side of the hall, you quickly reach over and snatch an abandoned and chewed up tennis ball. Why it’s there, you don’t know, but god if it ain’t convenient. You throw it and it hits her forehead hard, momentarily stunning her.

And that’s your opportunity.

Without thinking it through, you rush down, dodging her swinging right arm and aggressively slapping her left arm away; raising the trophy towards the ceiling you smash it forcefully through her eye and deep into her brain. It makes a wet squishy sound, kind of like when you slap raw chicken onto a cutting board and fondle it. Or when you stick your fingers into smelly putty.

It’s no less disgusting than every other time you’ve done it. You’ll never become desensitised to this; you don’t think you’re capable of that.

Her eyes are cloudy but you swear you can see that behind it, whoever she’d been before she became this – she fades. Her body slackens and falls, and you let go of the trophy.

She’s gone.

You swallow heavily and look away. Just one more dead thing to plague your sleep.

Someone grunts again, followed by a deep, guttural sound.

Shit. That doesn’t sound good. Understatement of the fucking year.

Quickly, you jog up the rest of the stairs, turning sharply around the corner leading onto the upper left walkway.

There’s a guy in police gear lying on his back and fending off a zombie. The double door is half open and you can partially see another trying to crawl its way through. His gun is a yard away lying next to a dead body.

Weary and upset, you don’t think. You just do.

Blink. The gun is in your hands. The only familiarity you have with firearms is a familiarity born from watching too much crime TV.

Just point and shoot, right?

You clench it tightly between your bloody hands and aim at the zombie’s head.

Blink. The trigger pulls. Your arm jerks, going up, and the bullet hits it in the lower back. Way off aim.

The sound rings loud in your ear, causing you to squint. Your eyes having nothing to do with your ears but it’s the only functional body part currently willing to listen to your brain.

Although the shot went wild it’s enough of a distraction that the officer – it must be Leon Kennedy, it has to be – can finally shove the zombie away. He leans up and twists, smashing his elbow down into it’s face, cracking its skull and spilling brain matter brutally across the floor.

You stare blankly, mouth hanging stupidly open.

He stands up, limps towards you and gently takes the gun from your slack hands, before expertly killing the pathetic zombie stuck in the door. It’s dead after three shots.

Well, alright. Now you know how stupid your initial plan was. You’d have missed your fucking head if you tried killing yourself.

Shit. Holy shit. You need a nap, a really long and nice nap that’ll leave you feeling sweaty and thinking it’s the next day when you wake up.

Or a drink. You hate vodka but you can acknowledge that five shots straight and your down for the count.

And dammit! You still need a bathroom.

“Hey, are you alright?”

The curious and kind voice snaps you out of your funk. There’s a gloved hand waving in your line of sight and you stare at it dumbly for a few seconds until you realise it’s an offer for help.

You take it and haul yourself up. When did you fall down?

“I,” you start on a deep inhale, a tad breathless. “am doing so fine. Great, actually.”

You’re not but if you say it enough you might eventually be.

Leon grasps your elbows, holding them firmly. It grounds you down into reality. “Are you injured? You’re not going to die on me, are you? We just met,” his smile is soft with concern, looking you up and down. “I don’t think it’d look good on my record if you did.”

Hah. Funny.

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no, but I think I might pee myself.”

He blinks, startled, and laughs. It’s a lovely laugh. You haven’t heard anyone laugh in five days. The mere sound of his voice, that smooth, breathless quality to it – something inside of you quiets. Truly quiets. You could listen to him talk for days.

You don’t feel as jittery anymore, and very consciously you realise that you’re not trembling either. It’s a miracle. Is it his laugh? You should make him do it some more. Or maybe it’s meeting another living person who, as far as you can see, isn’t about to die or seriously wounded. It was nice talking to Marvin, but you won’t fool yourself. He’ll be dead before this night ends and there’s no stopping it.

“I’m Leon–“

“Kennedy? Leon Kennedy?” you interrupt, desperately, and introduce yourself. You nod over to the first floor when confusion wrinkles his forehead. “Officer Branagh told me. He said you were solving that statue thing.”

Leon shakes his head. “Yeah, I am. I actually have two right here.” He pulls them out from one of the endless number of pockets he has and shows you the two bronze medallions; one with a unicorn embossed on it, of all things, and the other a lion. You tentatively run a finger down one, thinking that this really is a weird-ass police station. Why do they just casually have these lying around? Who made this shit up and thought they were being clever?

After re-pocketing them, Leon rubs his neck, brows furrowed, but sends you another small smile when you give him a worried look. “This probably sounds a little weird,” he interrupts himself, laughing again. It’s tired, a little warier. Not as humoured. “But I’m really glad to meet you. I’ve barely seen anyone alive, it’s – uh, nice.”

You get what he means.

“When did you get here?” he asks. He looks down at your feet. “And where's your shoes?”

You shuffle, eyeing your socks. The cute dog pattern is gone, stained red and brown. You wiggle your toes and grimace at the sticky feeling between some of them. It’s incredibly gross and makes you want to cry again. If it were just Marvin you wouldn’t fight the tears from falling loose – but for some reason, you really don’t want to give in to that urge and break down for fiftieth time this week.

Maybe it’s so you can prove to Leon that you can hold your weight, that you aren’t a little wuss. That you won’t start crying over the most stupid and inane things, no matter how appealing that sounds.

Because like hell will you let him leave you down here in the main hall, waiting anxiously for him to come back safely while Marvin gets worse and worse. You refuse to be left on your own, even if you are a deadweight. You’re gonna help him get the both of you out of here if it’s the last thing you ever do.

(which it probably won’t be – the last thing you’ll do is cry at the futility of life or something)

“Not that long ago?” You shrug and finally toe off the socks, kicking them indignantly onto the dead body near your feet. It’s insensitive and a little rude but you don’t think they have it in them to quite care anymore. They’d sooner eat you than take this up to court.

You wiggle your toes. The nail polish gleams immaculately in the warm lighting. Despite the horrors of this night, at least there are some things that can still make you happy, your pretty blue polish being one of them. “I, uh, had to climb the wall outside. There’s a herd out there; one of them grabbed my shoe and the other kind of just fell off.”

“Wait, you climbed?”

Oh, shit, he’s a cop and you just admitted to fence-hopping the police station. But what’s he gonna do, arrest you? Nobody’ll take your case. There’s nobody to take your case.

“Yes,” you sniff. “You got a problem with that?”

“What?” Leon shakes his head. “No! That’s – pretty cool, actually. It’s convenient. I don’t think I could have done that.”

“Oh,” you blink, and smile, a little embarrassed. It’s not the most life-saving skill, to be honest. You’re pretty sure you’ve used up all your chances; you’re out of jumping ammo now. “Thanks.”

He grins, and you suddenly notice how close he is and how he’s still holding onto your arms, grip tightening just a little. If this was happening at any other point of time in any other city, you’d be swooning by now; usually you’ve got a whole deck of pick-up lines that you aren’t afraid to share with the world. But you’re not feeling yourself right now and all you can think about is how good it feels to be held by someone that doesn’t want to eat you for a change. It’s not flirty in the least.

If – when – you get out of this damned city, maybe you’ll ask him out for coffee, or to the circus, anything. Because you’ve got eyes, and Leon is pretty. Really pretty. And it is really, really not the time for this.

(He’s got those eyes, the ones that burn your retinas like a garden of bright, baby blues. In a charming way, of course. He dips his head when he smiles at you, that totally trendy haircut framing his face adorably, and his nose screws up in a move of absolute perfection. You wouldn’t mind waking up to that face every morning. Or having his babies. Or, you know, just talking to him like any normal person would.)

He looks down at your feet again. “We need to find you a pair somewhere around here. It’s not safe to walk around.”

Confidently, Leon toes your bare feet with his shoe. You really hate feet, but you forgive him for this transgression. It’s not like whatever gunk is on his shoes can get you any dirtier. But mostly because that spark of hope? It isn’t just a spark anymore. It’s starting to feel like a flame, and it leaves you absolutely delighted and warmed. All thanks to him. He deserves some slack.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

Down in the main area, Marvin’s got a laptop out showing some live surveillance tapes on screen. When did he bring this out? Last you saw he looked three-fourths dead. Leon peers around to check it out, but you’re more interested about Marvin’s coughing – actually, coughing is too nice of a descriptor for the bloody hacking that makes him shake with every wet rattle that forcefully leaves his throat. It sounds like every organ in his body has combined efforts to procure the sickly sound.

“You two, have a look at this.” Marvin types something, bringing up a camera from outside of the station it looks like. It’s a little hard to see because of the grainy quality and the blinding white light from what seems to be a lamppost – but you see it. Or her, actually.

You gasp.

Another human! A girl! This night just keeps getting better and better, and you don’t even mean that sarcastically.

But God, how sad is it that current highlight of your week is discovering that living people still exist? Everything about this is so messed up.

“Yes!” Leon exclaims, relief flickering across his face. “I knew she’d make it!”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, her name is Claire.” His eyes are glued to the scene. “I came into town with her.”

Marvin sucks in a painful breath. “You can get to that courtyard through the second floor, east side.”

“I’m on it.”

You look up at the second floor, where Marvin pointed. “You think she’ll have extra shoes on hand?”

Leon shakes his head. “We can probably find some boots in the locker rooms. I’ll go there first, and then meet up with Claire.”

“Nuh-uh,” you interject, grabbing his arm. “I am so not staying here while you go off running around. I’m coming with you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it comfortingly before letting go. “Hey, I know you’re scared, but you’ll be safer here. Promise. And between you and me, I have training. I’ll be fine, so don’t worry.”

You squint, annoyed by his tone of voice. It’s that smooth, cliché, condescending ‘talking to a civilian’ tone that the cops always use on Crime TV. You are so not falling for it. “It’s not safe anywhere. You know how many people must’ve come here in the past several days? Probably like, half the city that was still alive! I’m pretty sure they’re all dead by now.”

You’re right and he knows it. He purses his lips. “Can you defend yourself?”

“Well,” you stutter, and then shrug shamelessly. Well, no point hiding it. “I can run. And dodge. And I can carry things for you! Like ammo and herbs and stuff.” You excitedly show him your backpack and the first aid kit you found earlier. “And I have a little first aid knowledge. So, yeah.” You nod firmly and stand taller, trying to show him the determination that had steadily built itself up inside of you as you stood your ground. “I’m coming.”

Leon worries his lip and sighs. It’s maddening because you can tell he’s still not that convinced, but he does look a little conflicted. Yes. Yes, that’s what you need. You want to butter him so that he’s not so salty when you eventually start tailing him.

“I still think you should stay here. You can – you can keep the Lieutenant company.”

He’s grasping at straws.

You both turn to Marvin, who, despite looking seconds away from door’s death still has the energy to roll his eyes.

“Get out of here, the both of you.”

And that settles it. You send Leon your smuggest smirk, teasingly crossing your arms when he rolls his eyes.

It’s nice to have validation. Of course, even if Leon had continued to insist that no, you should stay here and sit pretty, backed up by Marvin’s words, you still would have followed him anyways.

Because, again, what’s he gonna do? Arrest you because you didn’t follow his orders? You’re pretty sure that the law has like, nullified or something since the breakdown of total society within Raccoon City. As if you’d listen to an authority figure who probably knows better when you could literally die out here. You’re nineteen! You’re a stupid teenager with occasional signs of intelligence.

And this occasional sign of intelligence is telling you right now that if you don’t go with Leon then you’ll probably die a painful and traumatic death. There’ll be intestines and brain matter all across the marble floor and it’ll be horrible.

Having no choice but to follow his higher up, Leon begrudgingly takes you to the locker room. Technically it’s the Safety Deposit Room, but same difference.

The travel is nerve-wracking but safe – for the most part. It’s dark as shit and wherever Leon moves his flashlight you see a bloody smear across almost every object. The worst of it is on the walls, as if someone’s head was deliberately smashed against the wallpaper, cracking their skull before dragging it around like they were trying to recreate Blue Poles or something else equally as abstract.

Your critical opinion is that the RPD is a grotesque piece of art. It sells clammy desperation, gut-curling dread and iron-scented horror like none other.

Leon valiantly tries to cover the lying bodies from your line of sight, even physically moving you around so as to avoid them, but it’s nigh impossible. You commend him for his efforts. It’s touching, but concealing it won’t make you feel better or change the fact.

At least the locker room is well lit and save for the dead body slumped over in the corner, it’s completely clear.

Leon starts rummaging through the lockers; the noise makes you anxious but that’s an anxiety easy to work around. You’d like to think you have some experience in that now.

“You need to be quieter,” you say, wandering slowly and peering into the clear, locked lockers. All of them are empty save for a few. “The noise attracts them.”

Leon looks over his shoulders, raising a brow. He’s got a book in his hand that is definitely not a shoe. You think of book shoes. Hah, if you carve a hole then you could stick your feet through. You imagine doing it to your textbooks. Take them into the exams and claim it’s a fashion statement. “I thought it was smell?”

You shrug, eyeing the shotgun and key card scanner. Maybe you could smash it? Leon could definitely use a bigger gun, something with more strength than the handgun he’s got. “Yeah, that too. But I don’t think it’s very strong for them. I was thinking it’s mainly sound, cause if you whistle from far away it gets their attention still.”

“How do you know that, about the whistling?” He brings you a pair of boots and kneels by your feet, comparing your foot size. “No, these are too big. I found some socks though – they’re clean, but I don’t know who’s they were, sorry.”

You take them with a grimace. A thankful grimace, but still, a grimace. It’s disgusting wearing someone else’s socks but you’re sure they won’t mind. You clean your feet off with hand wipes and stuff your toes into the thick, white socks. “I had to distract a few on my way here. Throwing things helps too, they can’t tell where it comes from but they hear the crash so they always go over to check it out.”

While he turns back around to look for shoes, you instead turn your attention to the other lockers: 102 and 103. “How come you haven’t opened these yet? They’ve got stuff in them.”

You point to the lockers and the keypad when he looks up to see what you’re talking about. “The keypad’s missing some keys.”

You blink. “So? You can still press it down.” And you do exactly that, digging your finger into the squishy little stub where the original key should be sitting, hard and persistently until the 2 and 3 register. You hit enter, hear a buzz, enter the next sequence, and then walk around to retrieve the items when the second locker also buzzes in confirmation.

“See!” You grin proudly and hand over a box of ammo and a knife.

Leon takes them, looking slightly mystified. “Uh, there’s a few other lockers.”

He lets you input the other locker sequences in, still wearing the same expression as he clips his new hip pouch to his belt and stores the box of shotgun shells for later.

You get the impression he’d seen the missing keys, thought damn, and figured he’d maybe come across them while exploring the rest of the station.

“You hadn’t thought of that, did you?”

“Nope.” He hands you some boots. “I think these’ll fit.”

You let him stew in mild embarrassment as you stuff your feet into the loose pair of boots. They’re not your size, but the thick socks make up for some of the wiggle room. You tie them up hard and double-knot them so they don’t suddenly fall off when you’re in a sticky situation that definitely requires shoes.

“Thanks, they’re a tiny bit big but they’ll do,” you say, smiling gratefully. It feels really good to smile.

Leon shrugs bashfully, rubbing his neck. “You’re welcome. Ready to go?”

“Totally!” you cheer, optimistic and ready to meet another living being. You’ve never been so excited in your life, eagerly taking the combat knife Leon gives you and a flash grenade that you stuff into the pocket of your jeans.

You don’t know how to use it, but you’ll set fire to that bridge when you get to it. The knife goes through your belt hoop, replacing the butcher’s knife you lost outside. Now this you can use.

“You’re sure?” Leon asks, watching bemused as you shuffle and hop around on the spot. Hey, you need to give all this new stuff a test run. S’not worth carrying it all if you’re just gonna trip all over your feet.

But he’s got a little smile on his lips, so you count it as a win.

You wave towards the door. “Lead the way.”

[--]

You slap a hand to Leon’s mouth, rudely cutting him off. Not that you don’t want him to keep talking you eat off with that lovely voice of his, but…

“Do you hear that?” You ask, straining your hearing. It sounds like buzzing and gnarling. You can’t quite tell where it’s coming from.

His brow furrows. Turns his head like a dog listening for a squirrel. Your heart melts a little.

(who knew you were one of those adrenaline-horny types?)

“Yeah…” standing slightly in front of you, Leon draws his gun, moving further down the hall. You follow just as quietly. The rumbling noise gets louder and louder until you both turn the corner and it comes to a head.

Outside the window, a helicopter flies down and crashes into the hallway up ahead. You flinch at the sound of screeching metal, bumping into an equally startled Leon.

Both of you share a glance and take off towards the crash. The doors have torn from the main frame and crumple around the sides; the blades move slowly, dented and uneven. Miraculously, the pilot is still alive. He groans, and Leon surges forward.

“I think we can get him out of this, here–“ he puts away his gun, climbing over the rubble trying to get closer. You watch with no small amount of worry. While Leon fusses over the injured pilot, you wonder what caused him to crash in the first place.

Is he gone? Bitten? was there something else on the helicopter? But you don’t see anyone else.

It worries you. And also, that really fucking sucks. You and Leon could’ve hightailed it out of here via helicopter. You’ve never been in one, and now you're only opportunity to escape this hell hole of a city like the action-flick protagonist you are is ruined.

Leon slings the pilot’s arm over his shoulder. “Almost got you…”

Standing out of the rubble as you are, you see the exact moment when the helicopter shifts – like in those slow-motion film scenes when there’s a terrible car crash, and the hero is watching their best friend or loved one inside. They always see the moment the fuel starts flowing out and onto the asphalt.

You know what’s about to happen.

“Leon!” you squeak, and without thinking you lunge forward and grab him by his vest, pulling them away with every bit of strength you have.

The pilot lets out a garbled half-sob half-scream as his legs are dragged out from the front seat, and Leon lets out a hurried, “Shit!” You stumble back and fall on your ass underneath both men, which mind you, are fucking heavy. It’s like having a half-ton of car sitting on top of your chest. Or a cow. A tiny cow, but still a cow.

You let out a low groan, greedily trying to suck in air with your abused lungs.

All of this happens seconds before the helicopter blows up and catches aflame. It spews fiery debris that somehow manages to miss the three of you sprawled across the floor. The explosion wracks your hearing.

“My liver,” you wheeze. “I think you fractured my liver.”

“Shit, sorry.” Leon shuffles over, rolling off of you and pulling the pilot with him. They settle against the wall. Out of reach from the flames but close enough to feel the heat. It’s so fucking bright it illuminates the hallway and all of its bloody blemishes like acne in the morning light. You want to hope that the sound didn’t attract anything, but you know better.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you help Leon pull the pilot onto his feet. He cries out, his legs giving way and nearly pulling both of you down with him.

You and Leon share a look. He won’t be moving by himself anywhere.

It takes longer than you’re comfortable with to lug him back to the waiting room. It’s well lit and the couches should keep him comfy for now.

Once he’s settled, no longer groaning but breathing heavily, Leon pulls you aside.

“You should be safe here.” He nudges your first-aid kit. “Think you can help him?”

You purse your lips, running through the list of items in your head. It looks like he’s got a broken leg, which you can’t do much about other than set a splint. You could try break down some of the chair legs, see if it’ll help, or check out that art room. It’s probably a storage closet by now, so there’s gotta be something helpful there. But other than that, the only thing you can do that might be worth a damn is give him some painkillers.

It’s not a lot, but...

You’ll do it. This is the fourth person you’ve seen alive. Like hell are you just gonna let him die.

You pat Leon’s arm confidently. “Go find Claire. It looked like the gate was locked. She might be able to climb over? Make sure you tell her that.” You nod, waiting for him to nod along with you. “Be safe.”

Leon smiles, just a cute little quirk of the lip, but he hesitates. Darts a glance towards the pilot, then you.

Any other time, you’d wait it out. Let this moment linger. This is supposed to be romantic, or homey, say something deep about friendship like in those flicks, yeah? That is, discounting how you literally just met the guy. But now isn’t the time and you’re worried Claire might be in trouble; the crash was way too loud and you’ve got a pilot to fix.

“What is it?” you prompt, leaning in closer. He leans in automatically too. You’re jealous of how clean he looks. You wish you had some soap on you when you left the apartment, you could’ve taken a shower in the rain.

He grabs your wrist. “If he, you know.” He throws a simultaneously concerned and wary glance towards the man. “I want you to run. Go back and find Officer Branagh.”

You frown. “I can take care of myself.”

His grip tightens warningly. “I know you want to, but leave it to me. Just run if he does, okay?”

You’re a little offended. No, scrap that. You’re fully offended. He’s spent what, five hours in Raccoon City? You’ve been here for five days. You don’t like his attitude.

(sure three were spent hiding like a hermit, but you were running plenty the first two, dodging dead people left and right. You're not that helpless... okay, maybe you are a little helpless. But you can still do it if you have to! You know it's not a good idea to leave them roaming around freely, it'll just bite you back in the ass later on. All that running and dodging only works if you don't plan on revisiting, and you get the sense you'll be wandering the station for a little while longer.)

In this new world, you do what you have to. Do what you have to survive. You've managed to take care of yourself without him just fine until this evening.

You don’t tell him this though. Not yet, anyway. Now is not the time. But he'd best believe that you'll be having a talk later.

So, you straighten your back and lift up your chin. “Go find Claire. We’ll be fine.” You wave your hand. “Shoo.”

He presses his lips, pausing like he’s still got something he wants to say. He doesn’t. Only gives you one last look and leaves.

You turn to the pilot, hands on your hips. “Alright. It’s just you and me now. I promise you I can’t make this any worse than it already is.”

The pilot – who seems to have regained some consciousness in the past several seconds or minutes – snorts, followed by a pained moan.

You sigh. You’ve got your work cut out for you.

#leon #leon kennedy #leon kennedy/reader #re2 #resident evil 2 #remake #zombie #reader #you #reader-insert

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