#I think that Eva would be happy to finally have a friend with hair long enough to braid

[trash-can-sam]

Drinking buddies

[gracehateseggnog]

a quiet rivendell wedding ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ legolas x oc

summary: one year after the events of the lord of the rings, legolas and talwynn get married in rivendell.

pairing: legolas x fey!oc

word count: 4.5k

a/n: been waiting to write this one 4 eva! love u @gu1ltyassin!

tw: some angst, but plenty of comfort <3

gif creds: unknown

Thranduil didn’t approve. Unfortunately, Legolas had assumed since the very blossoms of him and Talwynn’s relationship that his father wouldn’t gaze upon her with a fond eye, but the bloodied eye of anger towards Legolas and towards his lover was still hurtful. Many people whispered about Legolas over the years, when he walked into taverns with Aragorn when the latter was a teenager, and they’d talk about his platinum hair and pointed ears, perhaps even murmur about the son of Thranduil, and how he would never live apart from his father’s reputation as a killer. Those Legolas could ignore, but his father’s words had a way of weaving into his heart and piercing it that killed him from the inside like a Morgul blade, it would poison him slowly until all he could think about was how good death would finally feel. He loved his father deeply, though it didn’t seem like it from outsiders that peered in to look at their relationship. They had been tense since the Battle of The Five Armies, and had never mended the tear between them, but a part of Legolas had hoped his news of marriage would make Thranduil put aside their past.

But his father was a bitter man, and he could hold a grudge as if his life depended on it, and his immortality only strengthened his resolve. Thranduil had sent them away when they had delivered the news of their betrothal, a sliver of hope in Talwynn’s heart that Legolas’ father would allow them to marry in the woods of Mirkwood, now lifted of Sauron’s darkness, Legolas didn’t hold that same sentiment, but he took her to his father, anyway. He had shunned them, called her a ‘fey’ and demoted his own son to ‘the elf’. His father had changed in the past, in the years of Tauriel and her love for the dwarf Kíli, and he had told Talwynn of his change in heart then. Perhaps that was why she was so adamant to go, to try and change his mind like Tauriel had about love. Tauriel wasn’t of his blood, Tauriel wasn’t his son. Thranduil cared, Legolas had grown to know that during the sixty years they had been apart, but it seemed like anything but love, at times, especially when Legolas would receive letters from Samwise detailing how excited he was for his daughter’s upcoming birth. 

“Mellon,” Aragorn pulled Legolas from his deep thoughts. “This is a happy occasion, is it not?”

The closest place to home Legolas would get was Rivendell, and that is where he and Aragorn stood. They had quite a large room set aside in the east wing of the Main House, thanks to Elrond’s kind hospitality, right out front of the gardens he was to be wed in. Aragorn, as one of his closest friends, was his best man, and so was Gimli. (Aragorn wouldn’t have fought over the role, and Legolas really didn’t want one of Gimli’s “bachelor parties”) Apart from Tauriel, who was apologetically swamped with work from Thranduil, and Arwen, who Talwynn had as her maid of honour, most of Legolas’ friends were dead or too busy to come all the way to Rivendell. He understood, of course, and so did Talwynn, as most of his friends were hers from the days of the Fellowship, and a small, quaint wedding was much more preferable to him than a large one, but he envied those of such popularity they’d be begged for an invite. To be fair, Gimli was more than enough to handle for one evening that Legolas wanted to be calm and preferably without drinking on the dwarf’s part.

“Of course,” Legolas nodded, carefully placing his circlet atop his head, dutiful not to let it snag in his long, blond hair. “If I were younger, perhaps I would have wished more for my father to be here. It seems a hopeless thought to imagine him appearing at the last moment to bear the rings, like I thought of him to as a child.”

“Legolas,” Aragorn buttoned up the top of Legolas’ white, royal tunic, embedded with silver and gold threads as a sign of the wedding to come. “You may not have your father here, but you have Talwynn, Gimli, Arwen, and I. I know it is not enough to make up for the loss of love in blood, but I also know how much greater those bonds can be.” He placed his hands on Legolas’ shoulders and brushed off any dust that remained from how long the outfit had sat in a closet, awaiting the moment Legolas would marry for hundreds of years. “Your father can not hold a grudge for your entire life.” He added.

“You do not know my father.” Legolas shook his head, not meaning it in an aggressive way, just an informative way. He knew how long some prisoners had stayed in the Mirkwood dungeons. Some had been there since before he was born. “He uses his immortality as if it is a threat to all that try to cross him.”

“I have met him once or twice, mellon, and that was enough to know his weakness.” At this, Legolas met Aragorn’s eyes. “He may be able to hold a grudge that lives longer than his victim, but he has always loved you, Legolas, and I don’t believe he will ever stop.”

When Legolas was much younger, he fell out of a tree in Mirkwood while trying to shoot down a practice target one of the warriors had set up for fun with a bow that was much greater than he could handle, which was what led to the branch snapping beneath him and his topple to the grass. His father had scolded him for what seemed like hours that day, droning on and on about how he needed to take much more responsibility for his life, being the only heir to the Mirkwood throne (Legolas bit back at some point about how Thranduil was immortal, so there was really no need for the stress of being a prince, which Thranduil did not appreciate.) Despite their quarrel, the next day, they went on as usual, silent around each other as Legolas tried to learn everything he could from Thranduil. They didn’t discuss mother, they didn’t discuss his immortality, and most importantly, Legolas had learnt not to mention anything about any girl his age he had found to look dashing in the sunlight. His father always had a way to ruin those fleeting crushes, not unlike how he had tried to quash his betrothal to Talwynn before they had exchanged rings that promised them to one another.

That's how most of their conflicts went. Legolas would do something to invoke his father’s anger, or vice versa, Thranduil would yell at him, and they would live in silence for a short period of time before things naturally returned to their beginnings. It happened in Erebor, sixty-one years ago, when Legolas had defied his father’s instructions in Dale, and they had fought harshly with one another following Tauriel’s short-lived banishment from her home. Then, the following day, Thranduil had sent his son on the greatest expedition of his extremely long life; to go see Aragorn, though he was quite fond of “Strider” back then. Legolas hadn’t had a proper conversation with his father since then, one that wasn’t filled with venomous spats or a few quick words of where he would be going, which was the simple back and forth that led their meeting before last, before Legolas had left for Rivendell to join the Fellowship. Perhaps this was no different, perhaps after a year or so, give or take, Thranduil would invite Legolas and Talwynn for a feast in Mirkwood, and act as if no time had passed at all, and no words of hatred had been passed between him and his love, his wife. He smiled at the thought. Once, nuptials had meant little to him. Now, it seemed to be one of the most important moments in a long time.

“Lad?” The questioning tone of Gimli echoed through the room, though the dwarf was careful not to tread on the tense moment between Legolas and Aragorn. He was loud when he wanted to be, Legolas knew that better than most, but he was also someone who felt so deeply for his friends that when they had a quiet moment, he knew how to deal with it in his own way. 

“You’re right.” Legolas nodded, and smiled at Aragorn. His friend dressed like a King, but now, he was dressed in elven garbs to celebrate the ceremony, which was how Legolas remembered him most fondly. “He will come around, even if it is not now.”

“I am glad you see what I see.” Aragorn stepped back from Legolas, taking a look at his beautifully intricate outfit. It had taken forever to be sewn, as Legolas wanted as much of his wife’s heritage in it as his own, and a plethora of questions about the fey people from the seamstresses had followed. “You look finer than I did on my wedding day, mellon.”

“It was not hard.” Legolas smirked in jest, looking at his right hand, looking at his betrothal band for the last time before it would be replaced with one of marriage. “I am surprised Elrond allowed you to look so Man-like.”

“Oi! No fighting on such a day!” Gimli announced, stopping the comb he had been raking carefully through his beard to scold the two. Aragorn and Legolas could only smile at the dwarf, knowing that on any other day, he would have been the first to throw punches, but he had a particular soft spot for marriages.

“Apologies, my friend.” Aragorn chuckled, a smile gracing his expression as he looked down at Gimli. “I forget how important a wedding is to your kind.”

Gimli crossed his arms in a huff. “Well, often I forget how unimportant a wedding seems to your kind!” He countered mockingly. “If I were one of your kind, I would not be joking about such matters before walking to the garden!”

“I assure you, Gimli, my joking is only due to a matter of worry.” Legolas replied, a soft smile on his lips despite the tone of his words. Not a lot seemed to surprise him anymore, after his over two thousand years of living, but the feeling in his chest that accumulated as the hour of his wedding drew near. 

“What is there to worry about, Legolas?” Aragorn asked, buttoning the top of his own royal tunic, one that had been gifted to him by Elrond many moons before. “Talwynn loves you just as you love her, she would not have accepted your betrothal if she could not imagine herself in this garden.”

“Her love I do not doubt.”

“Then what is on your mind, mellon?”

“Perhaps it is those thoughts that linger in any elf’s mind.” Legolas looked to one of the openings in the room, gazing out to the beautiful glade. He could only imagine the arch he would be standing beneath, hidden amongst the trees. “She will die and there is no place for her in Valinor.”

“That may change, you can not see all that may happen to Talwynn. Someone may offer her a place there, as Lady Galadriel promised Gimli his.” 

“I would give it to her without question.”

“But where would that leave her? In a world where she knows nobody, and you do not have a place.” Aragorn finished buttoning up his shirt, his hands moving to pick up a small piece of fabric from one of the dressers. The marriage rings that would soon be on him and Talwynn’s index fingers were kept safely inside the sage fabric. “Do not give yourself to worry on this day, Legolas. Those are concerns for you and her to consider years from now.”

Legolas nodded once more, a smile beckoning on his lips as the thoughts drifted away merely at Aragorn’s instruction, and his eyes travelled back to the gardens to his left. He missed Mirkwood dearly, but those regrets faded too when he looked upon the tall trees that Lord Elrond ruled over. When the Fellowship travelled through Lothlórien, Legolas had looked through the Mirror of Galadriel. He had seen many things that evening, many versions of this day with and without Talwynn by his side, but none of them took place in his home kingdom. He wondered then if it was a sign that he was never to marry, if it was a bad omen that he should avoid marriage and live his life without the love his father had once found with his mother and Tauriel had found with Kíli. Now, as Aragorn gathered the rings and Gimli opened the door of the Rivendell chambers, he knew that what he saw was never an abysmal sight. He could live without his father alongside him, he had done it for a long time, and he would be able to marry Talwynn without his support and without the trees he once called home. Rivendell had become as much of a home to him as it had become to Aragorn throughout time, perhaps this was where he was always meant to be.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Your hair is beautiful.” Arwen commented kindly, running her brush through the last of Talwynn’s blonde, tangled hair. 

“Thank you.” The fey blushed under her compliment, her fingers tangling into her necklace.

Arwen and Talwynn sat alone in one of Rivendell’s main house chambers, the final touches going onto the latter’s appearance before she would walk to the gardens and marry the elf she had fallen in love with. The brown-haired half-elf was one of her only friends outside of the Fey Realm, and the two had become close through frequent visits to Gondor on Talwynn’s behalf, and letters sent to each other in hopes to continue their close friendship. Talwynn adored the advice Arwen would give her, the dresses she would deliver, stitched delicately by her handmaidens just for the fey as gifts, and the way she would teach her how to braid her hair like an elf did. Arwen missed the fleeting moments of girlhood she remembered from when she was a child, and Talwynn reminded her of those times, especially when the two would lounge in the Rivendell gardens in the afternoons, talking endlessly about anything that came to their minds. They loved each other in their own way, and Arwen learnt how to embrace her newfound mortality from the fey most out of the others that surrounded her, because Talwynn seemed to have a love for life that slipped from others. Arwen pulled two large chunks of Talwynn’s hair from each side and joined them at the back with a silver clip.

“There.” Arwen remarked, stepping back from behind Talwynn and looking over her face.

Her dress had taken a month to make, but Talwynn wanted it to be perfect. It combined the styles of fey and elven wedding dresses, creating a mesh between the greens and silvers that cascaded down her body, a short but elegant train following her feet. The bodice and sleeves were made out of sheer silk, adorned with stitchings of green leaves and small, pink flowers that represented the wings of matching colour that protruded from her back, and the bottom of the dress had the same design, but didn’t cling to her body as the top did, instead draping atop her legs. After years of wearing strictly clothing she could fight in, Talwynn felt the prettiest she had in a long time, her confidence only matched to how she felt during Aragorn’s coronation. Then, she represented the Fey Realm, now, she represented her and her betrothed’s people, sending a message to any who doubted their matrimony (not many did.) Her engagement ring sat low on her ring finger, soon to be replaced by the silver marriage ring that elves exchanged during their wedding. Her heart beat against her chest, she was so excited.

“I’ve never felt this wondrous before.” Talwynn exclaimed, rising from her chair and turning to face Arwen, whose hands were clasped at her hips, clad in a whimsical, light brown dress. “I fear I may faint.”

“I felt that same excitement when Aragorn and I married.” Arwen smiled, holding her hands out for Talwynn to take. “It didn’t dissipate until the wine was served that evening.”

Talwynn clasped softly onto her friend’s palms, grounding herself. “I wish I could feel this way forever.” She admitted. “I can’t begin to explain it.”

“You don’t need to, I know exactly what it’s like to stand in your situation, waiting for the moment to walk through those doors and try not to lose your footing. Though, I was wearing quite more elaborate footwear than you are.” Arwen looked down to where Talwynn’s silver flats poked out from beneath her dress, no heels to help her walk through the grass. “Legolas feels that same worry, I’m sure. He won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

“How do you think he’ll react?”

“Well, I have never known him to be a crier, but I haven’t known him for my life. I believe it would be hard for him not to shed a tear or two at the sight of you.”

“You’re too kind to me, Arwen.”

“Nobody can be too kind on a woman’s wedding day, not when she has the honour of giving her away to another dear friend. I only wish I could have brought your father here to take my place.”

“I wouldn’t rather have anyone else with me other than you.” Talwynn held tighter onto Arwen’s hands, smiling at the bittersweet situation. None of her family could make it, but those she had chosen to surround her as she lived had. That was enough. “My father longed to make it here, but we both knew it would be impossible.”

“We are both too poetic for our own good.”

Arwen grinned, then a knock came to the door. Aragorn’s knuckle rapped against the wood three times, signalling to the woman on the other side that Legolas would be awaiting them at the arch in Lord Elrond’s gardens whenever they were ready to leave. After giving the sign, he walked alongside the groom and Gimli through the large door at the end of the hall that opened up into the garden. Large, weeping trees paved the way through the grass, leading to a natural arch made from the trees over time, a history of thousands of elves’ marriages standing in the centre. Legolas had seen many trees in his long lifetime, but the sight of Lord Elrond’s gardens never ceased to amaze him, no matter how many times he had wandered around as a younger elf, dreaming and wondering about the day he’d get to stand in the flowers and marry. Birds chirped ahead, sensing the special day that befell the summer afternoon. As Legolas looked at the nearly shrouded sun in the sky, he couldn’t help but smile and think about the hobbits that he and Talwynn had grown to love so long ago. He wondered if they were having elevenses or luncheon.

“Are ya’ nervous, lad?” Gimli inquired when they reached the arch.

Legolas took his place off to the left side, and Aragorn and Gimli joined at his right. “Extremely.”

“You two fought the grips of Mordor from Middle-Earth.” Aragorn reassured the elf. “There is not much that can come between a bond as strong as yours.”

At that, the gardens surrounding them hushed, and Talwynn emerged from the shadows of the trees. Legolas’ eyes widened slightly, his lips pulling tight against his cheeks as his eyes threatened to give away the emotion he felt when he saw his bride for the first time. Her dress was elven, he noticed, with enough of a hint of her fey ancestry to pay homage to the wings that fluttered against her back, brightening the foggy forest. She looked as beautiful as she did every day, but it was a royal kind of beauty that day, and Legolas flushed when his mind wandered to what she would look like under her true title, Princess of Mirkwood. Nothing could truly compare to the buzzing inside his stomach, he realized, and there was no replication to how he felt about Talwynn, walking down the aisle of dotted, white flowers and grass, holding onto Arwen’s arm with a graceful, excited smile on her face. He adored her unabashed emotion, the way she would smile in the heat of battle, teeth bared at him when she passed his count of fallen orcs or trolls (she never did, but he wouldn’t admit that to her.) Legolas also realized i8n that moment that though Talwynn dressed in many different ways across their travels as members of the Fellowship, nobles of Gondor, and now bride and groom, her smile never failed to beguile him.

When Talwynn was close enough, Arwen let go of her arm, retreating to her side and allowing the fey to stand in front of her elf. “My handsome elf.” She remarked, looking up at him, the spattered light that seeped through the tree leaves reflecting in her eyes.

“Faerië nín.” Legolas lifted his left hand, placing it under her hair and on the side of her neck, smiling as she leant into his palm lightly. He thought of their first kiss. “You are beautiful.”

My fairy.

Talwynn blushed a deep red. She would later blame it on the heat. “You are my life, Legolas. I can not imagine continuing forward without you, no matter what the future means for us both.” She spoke without thinking, words tumbling from her lips without sign of stopping. “Adventures or late mornings, I can’t fathom having an empty tent or bed now that I’ve felt what it’s like to have you at my side. Even if travels keep me from you, or another global battle takes us away from each other for a short time, I have faith that we’ll find each other, that is what we do. Not one ounce of fate from the Halls of Mandos can change our trajectory, constantly pointing towards each other.” Tears had begun streaming down Talwynn’s face without her knowledge, she only knew she had begun to cry when a soft breeze blew through the garden, chilling the tears on her cheeks. Legolas lifted his thumb and brushed the wetness from her skin, tears welling in his own eyes. “I love you, Legolas.”

“And I, you, Talwynn. I believe I knew there was a beautiful love between us, even when you were simply a fey who had run into the Fellowship in the midst of the most important journey of our lives. I don’t—” Legolas sucked in a tight breath, a tear straying from his eye. Elves were known to be good at protecting their emotions in the heat of any situation, but when it came to their love, the masks dropped. “I don’t know where I would be after the journey of the Ring if you had not joined us on that mountain outside of Rivendell. Perhaps the only change I would have made to our adventure would have been that you had come to us sooner so that we may have more time with one another. You are my trees, my flowers, my beauty. I could not have ever dreamed of having someone else share my bed and my heart as deeply as you, meleth nín.” It was Talwynn’s turn to reach her hand up from her side and wipe Legolas’ face of tears. “I love you.”

My love.

Aragorn took the short moment of silence that followed to present the two silver marriage bands to Talwynn and Legolas. Both had inscriptions engraved on the outside; Talwynn’s read, ‘forever adventures, even in mortality’ in Sylvan, while Legolas’ said, ‘even when memory fails, you are my history.’ Legolas reluctantly tore his hand from his bride’s neck, replacing the skin of her face with her hand, delicately holding her fingers up. He pulled off the gold betrothal ring from her third finger, placing it down on Aragorn’s green fabric before taking Talwynn’s silver band from it. The ring fit perfectly around her index finger, running down every blemish in her skin with ease and finding its forever home near her palm. Legolas pulled her hand up to his mouth, placing a loving kiss against the outside of the ring and blessing it with his breath.

The tears had dried from his cheeks, but Legolas’ lip still quivered as Talwynn flipped their hands, his palm resting atop her own. Her other hand slid his engagement ring off just as she had done to hers, and she let it sit right next to his on the blanket of green. They would be displayed in their forever chambers, wherever that would be, for them to gaze upon whenever they wished, and Talwynn couldn’t help but hitch her breath at the thought that one day, their rings would be artifacts that represented a historic marriage between the fey and the elves. She smiled again, taking Legolas’ silver ring from Aragorn and letting him retreat back behind the elf before placing it on Legolas’ finger, careful not to hurt his beautiful, pale skin. She didn’t kiss the ring, but kept their hands intertwined between them, running the tips of her finger over his ring, grounding herself and making sure she realized that the moment of her wedding was real, and they were now married.

Silence overcame the glade once more as Aragorn, Gimli, and Arwen witnessed the matrimony between their dear friends come to its fruition as their rings exchanged, a certain hush of love overcoming the group that harboured an unexplainable feeling. Legolas smiled, his long, blonde hair blowing gently in the wind as he looked upon his wife for the first time, and Talwynn upon her husband. He ran his hand back up to her neck, pulling her forward gently and letting their lips meet elegantly. Talwynn hummed against Legolas’ lips, unable to help her grin from creeping up her face. Legolas met her expression, pulling her closer but not letting go of his grip on her hand. Their hair tickled each other’s skin, their eyes shut but knowing of the other’s colour by heart, and their lips reluctantly parted, only to be replaced by the touching of their foreheads against each other. After everything they had been through together, Legolas and Talwynn had finally married, dedicating their love for as long as eternity could offer an immortal.

No wedding would attest to be as beautiful as theirs for hundreds of years, and no fey would marry an elf again until after they had both passed, Talwynn into the earth, and Legolas into Valinor.

[pendwelling]

hiii!! i love your fics for both fandoms, especially love the way you write relationships!!; don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but do you have any tips for writing cedjeschris? i’m… trying something out…

Oh!!!! Im happy you enjoy my fics that means a lot, thank you so much 😭🛐

As for tips for writing cedjesschris, I guess I can try typing out the general things I myself keep in mind while writing! 👀

For one, Cédric is very much a "actions speak louder than words" type of person! He's the guy who rented out an entite shopping district because Eva and Christelle wanted to take Jesse out shopping but couldn't due to the complicated nature as a foreign prince and diplomatic hostage! He's also the type of person that logically knows that, as a hostage, Jesse technically isn't supposed to be keeping gifts but because Jesse is his friend, Ced lies and tells him "your assigned imperial vaults are too full" just so he can keep the girls' presents :') Cédric is a stoic and socially inept guy but he is an INCREDIBLY good guy deep down,not to mention a man of duty, filial to his parents+godmother, and considerate of his friends. He's also childish, so not making him an emotionless robot is good to keep in mind because that guy is actually the most emotional out of the trio when you think about it xDD

For Christelle, she might be the easiest to write 🤔 She's a very positive and energetic person, and is the type of gal that you'd easily get along with, with her emotional intelligence being one of her strongest fortes that makes up in her high EQ for where Ced is lacking :') <3 Being able to seamlessly incorporate pop culture references to fit her sense of humour and her context as a modern day Korean woman of the 21st century is also p important to keep in mind (which is hilarious, because no one else but her (and Jesse but she doesnt know he knows—particularly at the start of the novel) understands, so in-universe people just sort accept that she says all these wild nonsensical modern things and goes along with her 😂) She cares a lot for Jesse and sees him as a precious friend that she needs to grow stronger to protect (such is her instincts as a Holy Knight) and while she does fight a lot with Cédric, they both have a relationship of mutual respect and acknowledgment, no matter how much they bite or grab at each other's hair while sparring. ((One other key aspect about her character tho is Ham Ga-in's underlying worry that the original Christelle might one day come back to claim her rightful place, so Ga-in is actually very cautious and careful about her life sometimes, because she can never be too sure whether or not "the original Christelle will like [so and so decision that Ga-in makes]". For example, Chris keeps her hair long despite preferring short hair/easy to maintain hair, because it's not Ham Ga-in's hair, but og!Christelle's. She feels like she is "borrowing"/"has stolen" someone's body, so Christelle does her best to give her body a good life and make good decisions, so that if og!Christelle comes back, she will be happy since Ga-in took care of her life well. Ham Ga-in is actually a very complicated and complex character underneath her happy, simple, and cheerful exterior 😭)))

And finally Jesse!!! Surprisingly, he might be the hardest to write, because I feel that it's very easy for people (myself included haha!!) to fall into the trap of portraying him as a completely pure, good, and innocent person (i lose several years off my life whenever I see someone describe him as a Gary Sue too btw). Jung Yeseo is just as much of a modern-day man as Christelle, and while he's definitely way softer in temperament and can be dense, he also doesn't hesitate to privately insult and drag people through the mud in his head 😂 He's surprisingly very snarky (especially towards Cédric)! He just holds himself back because of his position as "Prince Jesse" so he can't act as casual and childish as he typically would xDD And he is definitely not a doormat—I think it's important to mention that Jung Yeseo was a law student, so that sort of gives context as to what kind of person he is. He is righteous in his own sense and can be hard-headed, and rather than being all-forgiving, he is capable of punishing and being stern when called for—a good balance on the scale of justice, shall we say (think of his reaction to Synkie and Peter! They tried to assassinate him so he acknowledges they should be justly punished, but he is also aware of the fact that they are children, and well, we all know that Jesse has a soft spot for children and animals due to his nature as a kind and caring older brother.) Jung Yeseo is a very good person and his kindness and gentle nature plays a big part in his personality, but he's so much more nuanced than his saintly image. Empress Fred even once said his stubbornness to win arguments reminded her of her husband! xD Yeseo is very smart, and while he has a better grip on his emotions than Cédric, he is dense in a comedic way (especially towards sexual advances + in terms of self-awareness) and can be awkward, but it's always enjoyable when people portray him with his snarkiness and subtle sharpness!

As for their dynamic as a whole, it's nice to remember that, while all three of them are adults above their mid-20s (Christelle is physically 19 but mentally in her 30s) they are also pretty childish for their age. It helps that the genre is lighthearted than other webnovels where each chara seems to be riddled with angst. CedJessChris' dynamic feels like three friends who have finally be set loose upon meeting each other, after a long life of hardships and shackles! They cause chaos and trouble, and feel very realistic in their friendship with the way they bond and have heart to hearts. Jesse is usually the mediator for CedChris' frenemies rivalry, but Cédric can also play the role of the only sane person when ChrisJess are up to their plotting shenanigans. And when CedJess fight, we can always count on Chris to be the one to set them straight, as well. They have a very balanced relationship!

I feel like I'm starting to go off way too long now LMFAOOJFJDKLD but yeah!!!!! A lot of what I've said are some of things that I try to keep in mind while writing, so I hope you might find them useful in any way, as well!! 😭👌 I'm curious about that something you say you're trying out 👀👀

[gay-otlc]

Won't Fall In Love At The End- 4

Get Rana some fucking therapy

@xanadaus @an-ungraceful-swan @novaliae @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss I think you guys wanted to be tagged sorry if you don't want to be tagged

By the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, Rana has still not entirely convinced herself that this will be fine and fun. Rana’s dad drives her to the address that Asher texted, and once he’s met Ms. Siegal for long enough to be confident she’s not a serial killer, he leaves. Aziza has gotten there before her and is eagerly taking a bite of Asher’s mom’s challah. Ms. Siegal offers Rana some. Luckily, she’s been over at Eva’s house often enough to have tried challah before, and knows it’s a texture she doesn’t hate, so she accepts the offer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rana,” Ms. Siegal says. “I wasn’t sure Asher would ever find someone to date.”

“Mom.”

“We weren’t sure Rana would ever date someone either,” Aziza says.

“Aziza,” Rana groans, exchanging a look with Asher. They both still haven’t found anyone to date, not for real. 

Asher glares at their mom, and then says “You look nice.”

“You do too,” Rana says, and it’s true. They’re wearing a suit jacket and a skirt that reaches their knees. Their necktie is the same shade of green as Rana’s dress- she remembered them asking about the color of her outfit, because couples should match, or something.

Couples.

She knows that’s the point of fake dating, to pretend to be a couple, but the word makes her a little bit squeamish to think about. 

“You two are cute,” Aziza says, as the doorbell rings and Ms. Siegal moves to let Eva in. Rana’s discomfort has moved past “a little bit squeamish” into “vaguely nauseous” territory.

“They are,” Eva agrees, walking in. “Imagine not being tragically single.”

Rana almost laughs. She can’t imagine herself not being single, genuinely not single. That’s the problem. 

“If you’re sad about being single you could just, like, ask someone out,” Asher says. They understand sadness about being single about as well as Rana does, she guesses.

Eva sighs dramatically. “She’s straight.”

Rana looks at her feet. After eating lunch with Abigail for a few days, she’s noticed that Eva’s hypothesis about Abigail’s sexuality might not be entirely true. From the details she’s gathered about Abigail’s camp girlfriend turned long distance girlfriend turned ex girlfriend, Rana doubts she means “girlfriend” in a platonic, straight girl way. But that’s not her information to tell Eva about, so she stays quiet as Eva laments. 

It’s kind of funny to watch Eva’s face as Abigail arrives. She’s in a suit with a red necktie, her shoulder length hair tied back, and for the first time, Rana understands how Eva finds Abigail so attractive. She still doesn’t understand why Eva is actually sad about not dating Abigail, but Abigail is, objectively, very hot. 

She arrives with Xavier, who has on a blue button down shirt and a bow tie decorated with dinosaurs. Rana has no particular desire to ever wear a bow tie, but if she did, she would definitely steal that one. 

Eva’s eyes narrowed, looking between Xavier and Abigail. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, and then Aziza jumps in, saying they both look nice and are they going to homecoming as a couple?

Xavier and Abigail exchange a look, and then burst out laughing. “We’re both gay in opposite directions,” Abigail explains finally, and Eva nearly chokes on her sip of water.

The Eva-pining-over-Abigail rants are probably about to get even more annoying.

No. Wait. She’s not supposed to think that. Eva’s her friend, and Rana wants Eva to be happy, and she should listen when Eva talks about her feelings. 

Being a good friend is hard, but if Rana wants to hold on to the few friends she has, she should probably do her best to be one.

Asher checks their watch. “Where’s Daniel?”

“He’s late for everything ever,” Xavier says with a shrug. “While we wait for him, can I ask the names of these new people? I’m Xavier.” 

He glances over at Aziza and Eva. Eva is still recovering from the shock of realizing Abigail is gay, so Aziza introduces herself first. 

“And I’m Eva,” she says weakly.

Abigail smiles at her. “My name’s Abigail. Nice to meet you.”

Eva blushes bright red. “I. Uh. You too.”

Rana seriously does not understand crushes. Saying “nice to meet you” is a very normal thing to say. It’s not anything special, just someone being polite. It doesn’t seem worth blushing over.

The doorbell rings, and Asher rushes over to answer it. “About time,” they tease as Daniel steps in. “You’re our ride, man. We need you to be on time.”

He holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry. I’m here now?”

“I can’t wait until another one of us is allowed to drive around other people,” Asher grumbles. “A more punctual person.”

“I’m allowed to!” Abigail says indignantly.

“You don’t have a big enough car,” Xavier tells her, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Technicalities. We’ll just stuff some people in the trunk, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think that’s safe,” Rana points out.

Abigail shrugs. “We’ll vote. Least liked member of the group gets the trunk.”

Rana stares down at her feet. The likelihood that she’d get voted least liked member of the group… about a hundred percent. She knows things are rarely one hundred percent likely, but this seems like an exception. Abigail and Xavier and Daniel, they probably don’t like her at all, and definitely not more than the others. They just tolerate her, since she’s Asher’s fake girlfriend.

She bites her tongue as Daniel says “Or we could give everyone a seat, because my car is big enough.”

“I don’t trust that car,” Xavier says. “It’s like a million years old.”

“It works!” Daniel scowls. “Insulting my punctuality is one thing-”

“-Because it’s a true insult,” Asher cuts in. 

“But insulting my car is where I draw the line! Jerry may be old, but he’s a good car. Don’t be mean.”

“You named your car Jerry?” Aziza asks.

“Jerry is a fine name! Stop judging me and my car!” 

The group laughs, except Rana, whose mind is still spinning around we’ll vote, least liked member of the group gets the trunk. Had Abigail been looking at her when she said that? Maybe Rana was imagining it, or remembering wrong, but she probably was. 

The group files out the front door, and Ms. Siegal insists on taking photos before they leave. The big group photos are okay- even though they probably all wish I wasn’t part of the group photo- but then Ms. Siegal grins and says “Everyone out except Rana and Asher. Time for a picture of the couple.”

“Mom,” Asher protests.

“Asher,” she repeats back in the same annoyed voice. “I’m a mom. You’re my kid, going to homecoming with their girlfriend. I want pictures of you two.”

Asher rolls their eyes.

“Step closer to her,” Ms. Siegal directs. “Put an arm around her. Stop glaring at me and try to look happy to be with your girlfriend.”

Rana forces a smile. She’s not happy, not enjoying this at all, but she does have a lot of practice making her face look the way it’s supposed to look. So she pretends it’s not gross to stand so close to Asher, looking so… couple-y, and smiles for the camera. 

Finally, mercifully, Ms. Siegal is done snapping photos, and she orders everyone to be safe as they pile into the car. 

Rana feels like she’s underwater. Which, on paper, shouldn’t be a bad feeling. She likes swimming, likes the ocean and its plants and sea creatures and ecosystems, but now she just feels trapped, like waves keep crashing over her head and she can’t swim away. Waves of least liked member of the group and they all wish you weren’t part of the group and try to look happy to be with your partner. 

Asher taps her shoulder and leans in close. “You okay?”

“Get a room,” Aziza teases, before she could say anything.

Rana considers how it looks from the outside; a caring partner, leaning in to whisper sweet things to their girlfriend, maybe give her a kiss. It feels like everyone is looking at her and seeing the wrong thing, and she knows that was the point of fake dating, that they would see her as a normal person who dates people, but that’s… not… right.

That feeling is added to the waves that relentlessly wash over her, that feeling that everyone sees her as someone she’s not, and she wants them to because they probably won’t like it if they see her as someone she is, but at the same time, feeling invisible is…

She doesn’t know.

[ohnominamino]

An Essay on Love in Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time

Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a movie about love in all its forms. From the love of family, friends, and neighbors, to the compassion we feel for people we have never met. The movie reminds us that love is something we continuously gain, lose, and choose, again and again. Which love is greatest? In my opinion, the answer to that question is left up to interpretation. In this essay, I will give my own personal interpretation on certain character interactions and what I believe we are meant to take away from their Rebuild portrayals. 

The character I will start with is one I’ve noticed the most outrage over from people who haven’t seen the movie and read out-of-context spoilers: Kaworu Nagisa. 

Kaworu is a beloved character among many Evangelion fans, especially those who are members of the LGBT+ community. He is a canonical love interest of Shinji Ikari and I want to reassure people that this final movie does not change that fact. However, it does not make the couple blatantly endgame either. This skirting around the couple might make some fans upset, and while their feelings are completely valid, I do not think they fully understand the difficulties faced by LGBT+ people in Japan, nor do they understand the way that romance is typically conveyed in Japanese storytelling. (I recommend watching “Is ‘Yuri On Ice’ Good Gay Representation?” by James Somerton for more about storytelling nuances.) 

What have we been shown about Shinji and Kaworu’s love? The good news is, anything you read into the original TV series and End of Evangelion is completely true for the Rebuilds�� because Kaworu is the same Kaworu. This movie proves Evangelion is a single universe set on repeat, and that Kaworu and Shinji meet each other every loop, and in each, Kaworu is trying to make Shinji happy. Within the final movie, Shinji becomes aware of the loops and chooses to break the cycle and free Kaworu from his pain. 

What does the relationship between Shinji and Kaworu teach us? I believe the purpose of their love is to show the audience that first, in the words of Kaji, “love has no gender.” Second, I believe Kaworu’s love in particular is a warning about basing your own happiness solely upon another person. There are parallels drawn between Gendo/Yui and Kaworu/Shinji. Gendo could not exist without Yui, and so he was willing to destroy the world to be reunited with her. For Kaworu, it was not the destruction of humanity, but the destruction of himself that defined his tragedy. What’s important within the final movie, in my opinion, is that Shinji does not reject Kaworu’s love. With the insight he’s gained from remembering past loops, he sees Kaworu’s love and appreciates him, but he also sees his suffering and wants to ease it. He helps Kaworu into a new world where he can seek his own happiness and find balance in his life (something his father did not have). 

While Kaworu and Shinji are not seen as an explicit couple at the end of the movie, it’s significant to note that, when he sets Kaworu free, Shinji holds out his hand to Kaworu as a promise to stay together. Over the course of the movie, Shinji comes to accept his connection to others through accepting touch (in the form of hand holding and hugs from Rei, Misato, and Gendo); however, Kaworu is the only character in the movie who Shinji initiates physical contact with and that speaks to how much Kaworu means to him. This simple gesture, in my opinion, keeps the door open for Kaworu and Shinji to be a couple one day, after Kaworu has found more balance in his life. 

If I were to write an entire essay about Kaworu, it would be titled, “Out of the Coffin: How the Resurrection of Kaworu Nagisa Buries the Tragic Lovers Trope” because this movie truly does just that. 

Another potential love interest for Shinji for many years was Asuka; however, unlike with Kaworu, the nature of this relationship is not left up to interpretation by the end of the movie. Before her big final battle, Asuka tells Shinji, “I think I loved you back then” (regarding their time in middle school) and Shinji, during Instrumentality, tells Asuka, “Thank you for saying you loved me. I loved you too.” It is past tense. 

What does this relationship teach us? It’s a beautiful way of showing that we can love people, and grow and learn, and let go when we no longer fit each other. Letting go is an integral part of life. Whereas other Instrumentality scenes involve touch, Asuka’s, mirroring the ending of End of Evangelion, has a distinct lack of touch. Shinji sits with his arms around his knees and Asuka turns her body away from him. He gives her his thanks and he sends her off to find her peace. Asuka and Shinji teach us that it’s okay to grow out of relationships. You can appreciate what they were to you at the time they happened and move on. 

What about Rei? To be honest with you, this movie is less about Rei’s relationship with Shinji, and more about her relationship with the world. Rei teaches movie viewers about the simple pleasures of living. While Shinji is in mourning for the first quarter of the movie, Rei (as “Sokkuri”) is learning about crop growing and community, the wonder of babies and kittens, the joy of the bath after a long day of fruitful work, and the power of words and picture books. At the end of her life, she only regrets not having more time to spend with the people she loves. In Instrumentality, Shinji accepts her hand when it is offered to him, which I hope signifies he is ready to see life as she had come to during the final movie. 

Rei teaches us that we can love living and to not take our limited time for granted. 

Next, we move on to parent figures: Gendo and Misato. I think they both represent people ill suited to the role, who do the best they can despite it. Gendo, as mentioned for Kaworu above, is a warning about defining yourself by your relationship to another person (Ikari, afterall, is Yui’s name). He is also a lesson in how people mourn and how they can lash out. Misato, like Gendo, felt herself a poor parent, and while mourning the loss of Kaji, she gave up her child to be raised by other people, but, unlike Gendo, went forward to put all her energy into protecting humanity. Both of them reach out to hug Shinji within the movie and he accepts them where they are. 

While I wouldn’t say the movie shows that Shinji forgives Gendo, it does show his making an effort to understand and make peace with what others have done. For Misato, it is fair to say we can still hope for a better future, even when it feels like everything is crumbling around us. Her self-sacrificing love for her son and the whole of humanity is what enables Shinji to then save the people he loves (via the spear of Gaius). 

In the movie, we are also shown friendship. Touji, Hikari, and Kensuke are important members of their community who maintain open communication with those around them and respect others’ boundaries. They are patient and kind and represent the importance of being present. They teach us to meet people where they are and support them how we can, whether it’s giving them a warm meal or giving them space when they need it. 

There are many more characters that could be talked about, but today I am going to end on Mari. Mari’s love is physical. She enjoys being in people’s personal bubbles. She cuddles Asuka and helps trim her hair, she gets into Gendo’s space at college, and at the end of the movie, she reaches out her hand to Shinji to help him stand up from his seat. Upon first glance, some viewers might take Mari and Shinji’s final scene to be romantic, but the reality of it is this: We do not, and cannot, know what kind of love she is meant to represent in his life.

We do not know Mari’s relationship with Shinji because they hardly interact in the movie. She clearly cares about him, but in my opinion, it comes from a place of duty and compassion— Mari was friends with Gendo and Yui. She has been there since he was born. (If we take the manga to be canon, then Mari even had romantic feelings towards his mother. Her hairstyle and glasses are from Yui. At the end of the movie, Mari has changed her hairstyle, which to me implies she has moved on, and “getting” with Shinji would be a thematic break.)

Additionally, their conversation, while flirty, is very much one that implies they haven’t seen each other for a while. Mari is someone who is very physically affectionate. With everyone. If someone ignores that and focuses on the fact she gets into Shinji’s space and claims that’s romantic, they better acknowledge it’s possibly romantic with Asuka, who we see far more intimacy with. When Mari flirts, Shinji flirts back and her initial reaction is surprise, “Wow, you’ve learned to talk back!” Her purpose is clear. She is there to remove the DSS choker from his neck. 

Personally, I love that Mari is the one to close the movie, for the exact reason that we do not know her relationship with Shinji. For Mari to have an assigned role would be to say, “This kind of love is most important,” when the entire movie was spent showing us each love is of equal importance in the balance and building of our lives. (It’s wonderful to see those types of love embodied across the platform from Shinji at the end of the movie: Rei and Kaworu, who, just like in End of Evangelion, could signify the ability to connect with others and be loved.)

If you view Mari as a romantic love interest, then I think it speaks to the value that you as an individual give to romance rather than what the characters themselves are feeling. To me, Mari, the character who was created to “destroy Eva,” is a symbol of all love. When Shinji takes her offered hand and then pulls her to run into the new world, it’s a symbol of balance. The give and take of any kind of relationship. 

We are the product of every relationship we have ever had, from our parents to the people we once loved, from our friendships to any other person we want to stay connected to. Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a story about these relationships. It is a story about love. 

[nolimetangere]

Deliverance

My re-write of how I imagine Eva and Eric to meet for the first time in University. Loosely based on the UL storyline with Nathaniel. 

-----

I'd met Eric Ward on the worst night of my life.

 It hadn't started off that way, of course. No. It had begun as a way to celebrate us all finally handing in our Masters papers; our first night of freedom from academia, and I had Dressed Up. After all, I wanted to make sure that if I was noticed, I was noticed, you know? It was important that I stood out. At the time. My favourite top was a silver sequined halter neck that shimmered when I moved, catching the light and throwing stars everywhere I turned; I paired it with the shortest black skirt I could, threw on my fluffiest pink jacket, and ran out to meet my friends at the Snake Room.

 And how happy we were. Dancing, singing, our arms around each other - I even managed to snag a selfie with the notoriously private Castiel, who'd had a little too much to drink at that stage, but it was whatever. A small degree of sadness did weigh on me - after all, my best friend was absent, missing the festivities, when he was the smartest person I knew; more deserving of this final celebration than any of us. I missed him so much that my heart began to ache whenever Nathaniel came to the front of my mind. But I couldn't dwell on it for too long. No, it was important that I focused on what I could control - what I could enjoy.

 But that would come to an end soon enough, of course. By the time the clock had struck twelve, people were starting to spill out onto the pavement, heading towards other clubs, afterparties, that sort of thing. I was heading out with my arm still hooked around Priya's neck when I saw it - the flash of green hair.

 Nathaniel?

 Nathaniel!

 "Nath!" I almost screamed, unlatching myself from my friend and sprinting away from the crowd. I heard worried shouts behind me, the sound of Castiel trying to break free from the crowd so that he could pursue, but I ignored it. I knew that was him, I knew that was my friend - the green hair, the glasses - it was him - it really was him! "Nath!" Any anger, any pain I felt dissolved away, replaced by an almost overwhelming feeling of joy as my feet beat out a heavy rhythm on the pavement, my stilettoes in danger of snapping. But I had to catch up with him. I had to find him before he disappeared again, before he disappeared for good.

 And then finally, finally, he heard me. Nathaniel stopped and spun around, his mouth gaping open slightly, but I was moving too fast to stop, and instead, I slammed into him, causing him to stagger backwards as he fought to keep us both balanced.

 "Eva? Jesus fucking Christ."

 "Nath. Oh my God, where have you been?" It was only when I coughed the question out that I realized I was sobbing.

 "Eva - I - it's not safe here, you've got to leave. Okay? We'll talk about this later, I swear."

 "I'm not letting you leave again, are you crazy? Nath, nothing is worth this."

 "I have to do this, E." Nathaniel drew back, holding onto my upper arms, so that he could put a little distance between the two of us. It was then that I saw it - the fear in his eyes when he looked at me. "I have to make things right. And then I'll be back. I swear."

 "I can't trust you on that, Nath," I said, although it broke me to confess. "I'm sorry. Please, you can figure something else out - some other way to help the cops. Please. Just stay home."

 "I - I can't. I have to make it right."

 "You keep saying that but I don't know what it means."

 "It means that -" Realizing that he was raising his voice, Nathaniel took a moment or two to calm down, lowering it back to the hushed tones he'd been speaking in a moment or two earlier. "It means… Like, okay, maybe I joined thinking I'd do what I could to try make stuff safe people like Amber… but maybe I was too good at what I was doing. Maybe I helped a little too much along the way. And now, I'm in this shit way too deep, but as long as I can get some of these guys - help Eric get some of these guys - then maybe it won't have been for nothing. Maybe, I… I don't know. Maybe I'm not so much of a fuckup after all, huh?"

 "Nath, you're not a fuckup. Don't say that, never say that. Please. You don't have to do this," I found myself pleading with him, tears bubbling up on my waterline, threatening to ruin my make-up. "Just come home. Spend the night at mine. Don't think about any of this ever again."

 "You know I can't do that, Eva." His smile was so sad that I wanted to break into fresh sobs again.

 "Eva!"

 "That's Castiel. You should go back with him."

 "No. I'm not leaving without you." I held onto him tightly, firmer, and he sighed.

 "Eva, I --"

 "Carello. Where the fuck you been?"

 My blood froze in my veins.

 From the shadows stepped three men. They were all relatively the same height and build, but I couldn't tell their ages - their faces were twisted into an ugly, identical sneer that made it impossible to detect the likes of wrinkles or other markers. And they were all staring at Nathaniel and I, so luridly that I felt as though I needed to pull my skirt down just to shield my body from their prying eyes.

 "Is this the chick? Fine little thing, isn't she?"

 "She's just a friend," he replied tersely, ripping my hands away from his shirt with as much force as he could muster. "Eva, get out of here."

 "Nath, please --"

 "Nath, please!" One of them pleaded, high-pitched and whining. "Go back home, kitten. Unless you'd rather make it back with me instead."

 Eugh. I felt my body almost physically recoiling in disgust, and I took a shaky, uncertain step back. Nath glanced over his shoulder at me, nodding, as though to tell me yes. This was right.

 But Castiel was coming to scoop me up, as soon as he got out of the crowd. And if Castiel could just get here -- if it were the two of them, and maybe Morgan, maybe they could --

 "Where's the money, Carello? You promised Charlie two months' worth. Skipped out on the last instalment. You don't want the boss thinkin' you're skimming off the top, right?"

 "Right. I got it right here, fellas. Don't you worry about that." Nathaniel bent, to start looking through the bag that was sitting at his feet - and the slightly smaller of the trio, the ugliest of the men, zipped forward almost immediately, his sharp eyes narrowed.

 "What's that around your neck?"

 "Huh?" Nathaniel played it off beautifully, completely still, not a trace of nerves betraying him. "I dunno what the fuck you're talking about, Sammy. I got the stuff here, just gimme a minute - "

 "Are you wearin' a fucking wire?"

 He didn't miss a beat. "Are you accusing me of being a fucking rat?" He snorted back, in the same incredulous tone. "Don't be an idiot, Sam."

 "He is! He is, boys, he's wearing a god damn wire!"

 "Calm down, Sammy. Chill the fuck out." The one in the middle reached out, placing a hand on the smaller one's chest, and he shut up; looking disgruntled. "Carello?"

 "S'the problem?" Nath had continued to hunt through his bag as though nothing had happened.

 "Just lift your shirt up."

 "What, you seriously believe this joker? Dude's probably still half-pissed from whatever bar he staggered out of at 2 this afternoon."

 "'Course I don't," the guy said wearily. "Just lift it up. No wire, Sammy's an idiot, that's the end of it."

 "Jay  --"

 "Just lift your fuckin' shirt, won't you?"

 I saw Nath glance back at me - a smile, a sad little smile on his face. A resigned smile.

 And then he ran.

 It all happened very quickly after that.

 I remembered him making it to the end of the alley; I remember the other three realizing what was happening, and scrambling to pursue him, swearing blue murder. I remember the silver shine of a blade; the image of Nathaniel, dropping to the ground like dead weight; the sound of my own scream, sheer and unending in my ears. I was going to run to him - in fact, I fought to - but Castiel was already there, his arms around my waist, preventing me from moving.

 "Eva. Eva, easy. Easy. Calm down."

 "No! No - I - have - to - get - to - "

 "Hey, hey! Don't, don't go near him, okay? We don't know where those guys are. The cops are on their way."

 "The police?" Castiel's words were far away, like they were underwater.

 "Yeah. And the ambulance." He sighed heavily, and I realized that he must have foreseen this altercation, this result. And I had put myself right in the middle of it.

 How could I have been so stupid?

 But the moment that the first police car pulled up at the end of the alley, lights flashing, I elbowed free of Castiel's grip, shooting back down towards where Nathaniel had fallen. By the time I got there, he was already surrounded by policemen - some in uniform, some plain-clothes - a few of which were already kneeling on the ground, attending to a pale and drawn Nathaniel. Despite the fact that he'd been wounded, he managed to give me a shaky smile when he saw me over a cop's shoulder.

 "Nath - Oh my God, Nath."

 "Eva -"

 "No talkin', Nath, save that strength." One of the policemen had balled up Nathaniel's hoodie, and was pressing it hard to the entry wound, putting so much pressure on him I thought he might break a rib or something. "You fuckin' idiot. What were you thinking, taking three of them on at a time like this?"

 "Wasn't… thinking," Nath sighed. "They wanted the… money. Oh, that hurts."

 "Yeah, no shit. Gettin' stabbed hurts," the cop chuckled, just in time for the sound of loud, abrasive sirens to cut through the tense nighttime.

 "Excuse me, excuse me."

 "We'll take it from here, Inspector Ward."

 The policeman who had been talking - the inspector, rather - rose to his feet, watching wordlessly as the paramedics began to work on Nathaniel instead, ensuring that everything was okay to move him onto a stretcher. And then, they were pulling him up and into an ambulance, slamming the doors behind them, and that was it.

 He was gone.

 "Well, fuck," Inspector Ward sighed, looking down at his hands. "Anyone got a towel? I'm never gonna get this out of my jeans."

 Somewhere, in my drunken, foggy mind, the pieces slotted together. Inspector Ward. Eric Ward. Nathaniel's cop.

 Oh, you bastard.

 "What are you doing?" I shrieked, and Castiel, who was by my elbow at this point, jumped backwards; but the policeman was seemingly unfazed. "He could be dying in that fucking ambulance and you're worried about your jeans? We have to go follow him!"

 "Eva, calm down," Castiel muttered, clearly embarrassed by my outburst.

 The cop stared at me with a critical eye. Even in my heels, he was taller than me - a solid 6 foot, if not more, with yellow-brown eyes and short, cropped black hair. His clothing was dark, but certainly civil, which brought with it a certain air of superiority.

 "Chasin' after the ambulance isn't gonna make him die any slower," Ward explained. "If he was dyin'. Which he isn't. The knife missed his kidney, his liver, and his lung. By the smell of things, didn't even perforate a bowel. He's gonna be fine."

 "He's going to be fine?" I wanted to scream at this man and his nonchalant attitude. "What do you mean, he's going to be fine? He just got fucking stabbed! That's the least fine definition of 'fine' I've ever heard!"

 "Yes. I'm aware he got stabbed. I saw the two-inch hole in his abdomen," he replied patiently. "But he'll live. And he'll probably be in surgery for the next ten to twelve hours, so there's no point runnin' down to the hospital like the cavalry when all you're gonna be doing is sitting around until midday, waiting for him to get outta there, alright?"

 "Eva. Eva, he's right. Chill out."

 "I -" God, I was so full of fear and rage that I was shaking. And Ward continued to watch me under that critical eye, not missing a single thing.

 He was right.

 Damn it.

 But he was the one that had put Nath in this position in the first place. He was the reason that Nath was wearing that wire in the first place. I pressed my lips together, willing myself to find some semblance of composure before I spoke again.

"He was wearing a wire."

 "Yeah."

 "Your wire."

 "Yeah," Ward sighed. "I know. The wire he volunteered to wear. Which you also know."

 "He was wearing it for you."

 "I can't comment past that, kid. Not since this is an ongoing investigation. But look, I'm gonna need to take a statement from you, considering you witnessed the whole thing first hand. We'll corroborate it with Nathaniel's when he gets outta surgery." There was a pause, and he took one glance at my mutinous expression, before giving a short whistle to grab the attention of a nearby uniform. "Jacobsen, can you take the young lady's statement, please?"

 "Yes, Inspector."

 And so, that was it.

[sparatus]

Wip tags: I know what Jack Harper Must Die is but I’m thirsty for Des being a vengeful bithcgmmmCAT NO

CRYING

wip tag game

i mean you know what jhmd is but for the uninitiated (sans spoilers): Jack Harper Must Die is the final major story arc of exponential differentiation. ben hislop and eva core are dead, and jack harper is the last man standing for cerberus - but he's not going down without a fight. with trouble brewing elsewhere in the galaxy, the time has come to put an end to harper and his reign of terror. it's going to take everything matteo shepard has, and all the allies they've made along the way, to stop him, including some old friends and unlikely faces.

and because you specifically want des being a vengeful bithcgmmm.... ;) conveniently i happen to have this snippet i wrote from the climax a while ago just to get the scene out of my head. it's over 1k words, strap in cause it's a doozy but it does fuck i promise:

--

Time hadn’t been kind to Harper, Desolas noted: his skin had more wrinkles, his hair was more silver than brown, his eyes had sunken into their sockets, the veins and tendons of his hand stood out starkly as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. “Desolas,” he said finally, the smoke billowing out in a snowy cloud. “It’s been a long time. You look well.”

“Not long enough.” Desolas didn’t lower his gun. “You look like shit.”

Harper snorted, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “I wouldn’t expect you to know human beauty standards. You’ll excuse me if I don’t take your criticism too seriously.”

Desolas shrugged one shoulder. “Your buddy felt like he knew enough about beauty to tell my wife she was so ugly she should kill herself. You’ll excuse me if I think you’re full of shit.”

“Touché.” Harper took another drag and tilted his head to look behind Desolas. "You brought an awful lot of people for one man, General."

"By request." Desolas's nasal plates twitched. He didn't dare look away from Harper, but his sense of smell was as strong as ever. The reek of the humans flanking him seethed with emotions he knew well enough by now to name - Shepard's disgust, Rosenkova's hatred. Saren lurked just barely within his peripherals, shrouded in black, the eezo knit into his every cell the only tell that he was there at all. Kryik's bulk was behind him, a wall of pure muscle tensed to get between his enemy and his brother-in-law at the first bark.

He couldn't tell where Valis was, but that was fine. She always had a plan. He'd always loved that about her.

His mandibles pulled down in a sneer. "If I had my way, I'd only send one person after you. But you've pissed off an awful lot of people, Jack."

Harper scowled. "As if you haven't. Or does the Scourge of Shanxi think an entire planet razed is a little slip of the hand easily forgotten?"

Desolas's mandible twitched. "Shanxi was twenty-nine years ago, Jack. You'll notice I haven't made a headline since. The galaxy has moved on."

"The existence of Cerberus proves otherwise." Harper's eyes flashed. "And Terra Firma, and others. We forget nothing."

Desolas snorted. "My sympathies. I recommend alcohol."

Harper’s brows knit together, and his lip curled up to show his teeth. “You think this is funny?”

“I think a lot of things are funny. If I don’t laugh about them, I drink about them, and I promised a lot of people I’d quit drinking about them.” Motion on the far side of the room caught his eye, and one mandible quirked upwards a couple degrees. He lowered his gun. “A very smart, very attractive hen told me a long time ago I couldn’t hide behind a mask forever, that sooner or later the mask would break, and either it would shatter inward and hurt me, or shatter outward and hurt somebody I care about. So I’ve been working on putting the mask down.”

Harper scoffed and took another puff of his cigarette. “I didn’t take you for that kind of man, Desolas. That’s why Cerberus took you by surprise. While you were playing happy little family, I prepared for the inevitable.”

“Was it inevitable? Was it really?” Desolas put one hand on his hip and shifted his weight to one leg. His gun hung limply in his other hand. Cerberus was a threat, squads of fanatics were a threat, hangars full of fighters were a threat, but Harper? Harper was just a sack of bones and lung cancer. “I think you might have made yourself a self-fulfilling prophecy, here. Cerberus getting too big to let continue to exist was inevitable, but I’m pretty sure you had options other than creating a terrorist organization that experiments on children, Jack.”

“Like what?” Harper barked. “Like pretending nothing happened, like you did?”

“Like letting go,” Desolas challenged. “Like moving the fuck on. I wanted to kill you for what happened on Shanxi, I dreamed about killing you, but there were more important things to worry about. The armistice was signed, and that was supposed to be the end of it.” A shadow moved in front of the star, and discs of gold eyeshine met his gaze. “That had to be the end of it,” he repeated, voice softening slightly. “You’d fucked off to spirits knew where, but right there, at home, I had people in the hospital needing me. And, frankly, you just weren’t that fucking important.” He flared his mandibles to give Harper a snaggletoothed sneer. “There’s some fuck like you in every conflict. You really think you’re fucking special just ’cause you decided to make your untreated PTSD your entire fucking personality?”

“I don’t-”

“Ever shut up, yeah, I know, you published a twenty-seven-page manifesto that coulda been summed up in two sentences. I bet you planned out this whole confrontation in your head, too, and you had all these cool smackdowns you were gonna give me. Well, too bad, my wife and little brother have told me I talk too much and am way too full of myself for a guy who’s wanted to commit suicide since I was twenty-four, and I’m the one who walked into this conversation holding a gun.”

Harper's scowl was at maximum twist, which somehow made the whole thing even funnier. Desolas did love it when people rise to the bait. "You've obviously planned out your own monologue, so why don't you spare us both and skip to the part where you use that gun? Or is that just part of the show like everything else about you?"

Valis had stepped up behind Harper's shitty little throne properly now, a looming omen he was too focused on how much Desolas pissed him off to notice. Desolas lifted both mandibles. "Oh, no, I'm not going to do anything to you."

Harper started to open his mouth just in time to be interrupted by the clicks and whirs and whine of mass effect gravity drives priming, and as he turned in horror to see Valis raising her hammer, Desolas purred, "Jack, you remember my wife, right?"

[lovecanbesostrange]

Welcome to another installment of random RRCAU fic, from the big, big universe that lives on the Ruby Lucas Harem Discord, because konako got that one random ask that time. (ask us about the insane College AU now, I dare you, we have answers you don’t even want)

So, if you follow that, have another scene. But this one is, heavy, because it’s all about the big dramatic death around the end of the second year. konako made me cry with the short snippet, so I will now repay that favor with the aftermath in a bit of a long form.

(this is towards the end of Ruby’s sophomore year at college, Granny has just died)

Ruby felt numb. If she could even call it feeling. But it’s either this or crying. And this is more helpful to get through tasks on auto-pilot. Sometimes there was the anger, now like an old friend. But it’s snapping at her friends, pounding the sandbag at the gym, running like mad on the field (Coach is a human after all, didn’t even make her do laps after clearly running the wrong plays). The last few days were a hazy blur. Food, hugging, a bit of sport, people, asking for an assignment extension.

And the phone call with Anita.

She was numb during that, too. And it was for the best. They both knew Granny wanted to be cremated. Just like her husband. But Ruby knew that she also wanted her ashes to be scattered like his. And Anita had said no. She had made arrangements for the urn to be buried. A small service and a burial. Ruby had said she’d be there.

“Whatever.”

A response Ruby knew well.

Regina and Mary Margaret had brought her to the airport. She was using up Regina’s miles again. But she didn’t argue. When she landed she thought she’d get herself to the trailer park somehow, maybe a car rental. Ruby hadn’t thought about that. There was something though. And yes, there was, Mary Margaret had told her - Eva was already waiting at the exit.

Another hug. Long. Warm. Welcoming. It brought Ruby out of the haze a bit, so new tears fell. Tears for Granny. Dead. The last bit of happy memories tied to that place her mind kept insisting on calling home.

“... you can sleep in Mary’s room and I’ll take you to the airport day after tomorrow of course.” Eva already had it planned out, telling her in the car. “Ruby? Is that all okay with you?” Ruby tore off her gaze from the scenery outside, pulling her head away from the glass of the passenger’s window.

“Can we go to the Terrace?” Suddenly the name sounded hollow. “I’d like to get a couple of things.” Maybe she would be too late. Maybe Anita had thrown everything out already.

“Right away?”

“If you don’t mind, please.”

“Of course not, honey.” Eva held the steering wheel with her left hand and put her right on Ruby’s knee, squeezing. Comfort. Reassurance. “Tell me what I can do and consider it done.”

The hint of a smile pulled on the corners of Ruby’s mouth. This was Eva. This had always been Eva, even when she didn’t understand it. She got things done for her.

Pulling up at the trailer park felt strange. For one it was because Ruby was sitting in a nice car. Not rushing through the side entrance on her bike. It was also because Ruby could count the times she’d been here in the almost past two years and every time she got away from it, the place seemed smaller and further away. But mostly, without Granny this was just a glorified parking lot with a bit of green.

Eva parked and waited. Ruby unfastened her seat-belt, but she couldn’t get out. She looked over. Ruby didn’t know if she wanted to go in alone. If she could. Was it better to have Eva there as back-up? Or was that disrespectful?

“I… would you… can you maybe come with me? I don’t know if…” She didn’t know if she could even step a foot inside or would crumble at the front door the way she had days ago in front of her dorm.

“I’m right behind you.” Eva smiled. The warm mom-smile.

Ruby didn’t know if Anita would be here now. She didn’t bother knocking though and didn’t need a key. Nobody needed a key to get in, when you knew the lock wasn’t working properly and all you needed to do was lift the front door at the right angle and push hard.

Ruby opened her mouth, but closed it immediately to not say hallo into the void. Everything looked mostly as expected. There were a few empty alcohol bottles stacked next to the kitchen sink, Anita had been digging in. But she still got herself together to not let them lie around. Maybe that was good. Maybe that was something to care about.

Suddenly her home - the trailer - looked depressing. More than usual. Granny wasn’t sitting outside or lying in bed. The tiny tv was not running. That specific background noise missing was a big deal. Sure, Granny had been in and out of the hospital, but the finality was felt.

Ruby breathed in, the hitch alerted Eva and she touched her on her back, steadied her. The smell. Oh the smell was home. The mix of the cheap laundry detergent, the sharp air freshener, the lingering scent of Granny mixed with Anita’s aggressive perfume. It smelt a bit different than she remembered, but that was probably herself missing from this equation for a long time now.

Slowly Ruby stepped towards the bedroom. The smell of Granny got stronger. Without thinking about it she sat down on the bed. The linens crisp and clean, waiting for someone to sleep here again. There were pills on the nightstand. The little tub with daily doses already in order. Ruby picked it up. Monday and Tuesday were empty, she looked at Wednesday and the morning was missing. Right, after that Granny had called an ambulance. Thursday’s pills were untouched. Thursday had been the last time she had seen her. Ever.

Anita hadn’t touched anything in here as far as Ruby could tell. It was a surprise. Maybe she didn’t know what to do with all the stuff. And maybe, just maybe, there was more emotional baggage inside of her and she couldn’t let go of her mother. She had never left either. She could have. She could have let Granny rot alone in here and not just disappear a few days at a time, but forever. And yet Anita had always come back. Despite everything.

Ruby put the pill box back down and grabbed the framed photo. It was Granny’s wedding picture. She had never stopped loving that man that barely had time to get to know his own daughter and who never knew that his memory lived in a granddaughter he never met at all. They were a handsome couple. This was one of three pictures she knew she wanted above all else.

Her hand was already under the bed, searching the shoe box stashed there. Yes. She opened it and was greeted with all the letters she had sent home the last two years. It felt like so little, but she knew it had meant much. Granny had taken the photos from some of these out and put them on the wall next to the tv. But the pictures Ruby was searching were underneath it all.

An old black and white photograph. More brownish actually, genuine sepia, grainy, worn on the edges. It was Granny as a child with her three older brothers. It was the only thing Ruby knew of, that even proved they once had been alive. Before that fateful accident. Three brothers and their father, all gone in one go.

This family was cursed. Mothers and daughters left. And Granny’s mother hadn’t made it much longer on her own. Maybe Granny and Ruby got along, because they skipped a generation between. Mothers and daughters gave each other plenty of resentment.

And then there was the third picture. Granny with her dear husband and a fancy new car. The red Camaro had been out of their price range, but on their anniversary they had gone to the dealership, got a long test drive out of it and made that a date. Granny had talked about that day a lot. Grandfather promised them a brighter future where they would be able to afford a car like that. Not just stealing fake moments, but creating happy ones for real.

That had never happened.

Granny had deserved more and yet life had rejected her. But she had held on. Despite her heart condition, the many losses of family members around her, the slipping into poverty. Granny had always held on. For over 80 years. Nobody had thought that would even be possible. So maybe it was okay to say goodbye now. Now that Ruby understood how Granny could look at a picture of her dead husband for hours and feel nothing but love.

Ruby put the frame into the shoe box, then her gaze fell onto the chair. Granny’s knitted cardigan hung over the back. She’d always worn that grey monstrosity, though it was unflattering even on her. Ruby got to her feet and picked it up. She buried her face in the fabric. Granny. Yes, she wanted this. The pictures, her own letters, the cardigan. It meant something.

Tears began to fall again. Ruby wasn’t numb at all. Breathing in all the memories came rushing back. Sitting on Granny’s lap during Christmas story time; teaching her the sacred lasagna recipe; listening to unimportant happenings at school; the encouraging words when Anita’s indifference turned into vile insults; daydreaming of long trips with fingers on the maps of an old atlas; sitting in front of Granny’s bed, eating something from the microwave and letting Granny catch her up on her soaps. There had been love.

Eva had been silent all this time and given Ruby space. Now she stepped closer and wrapped her up in her arms. Ruby hugged the cardigan and felt Eva kissing her on the head. This was goodbye. But she wouldn’t be alone.

The service was lovely, but what really got to Ruby was seeing people attending. She had thought she’d be there alone with Anita, maybe Eva in the back. But there were a few neighbors. Mrs. Johnson even gave her a quick hug, she had come by like once a month to do Granny’s hair for free, but really it was about the conversation. Nurse Wilcox had retired herself three years ago, but before she had worked at the doctor’s office Granny got her subscriptions from. She had seen the tiny ad in the paper and wanted to pay her respects, remembering one of her favourite patients.

A part of Ruby wanted to scream, because she knew burying the urn in the dirt was wrong. Even though Anita had picked a nice little headstone. Ruby knew this was money she couldn’t really afford to spend. But causing a scene in the cemetery was the last thing she would do. She’d rather run away and not attend at all, while more than a dozen people paid their respects.

There wasn’t much said between Ruby and Anita. Who cared about one more argument and hollow questions about their current living situations? Ruby would remember the way Eva kept holding her hand, let her ramble through incoherent memories and tugged her into Mary’s bed. (Something Ruby rejected by getting up at night to sleep in the treehouse, the cardigan close to her chest.)

And when summer came around, Ruby would clean a whole week out of her schedule. No summer class, no work, not anybody around. Maybe it was irresponsible to blow through a portion of her savings, but she found a car rental that could get her that red 1975 Chevrolet Camaro. And maybe it was called grave robbing, but she dug up Granny’s urn and put her on the passenger’s seat. A week on the road right up to the beach where Granny had scattered her husband’s ashes.

That would be Ruby’s last goodbye. When she finally could let go of the woman, who had mostly raised her. The road trip they had talked about in giggling voices.

Turning into the parking lot was hard. And just when Ruby doubted she could scatter these ashes alone, she spotted Regina waiting for her. She had send so many texts to her friends and called to let them know she was okay, that Regina knew when she would arrive at her destination. Regina, who had been there when Ruby had last spoken to Granny. Fitting. Granny’s final blessing.

[honey-dewey]

Somewhere That’s Green

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 3,220

Warnings: None

Jack’s always known his girlfriend was big in musical theater. He’s heard her practice, listened to her sing, and driven her to the theater more than once. But this is his first show of hers, and boy is he in for a shock. Between the on-stage kissing and the death of his girlfriend’s character, Jack Daniels has never been so invested in musical theater. 

“And you’re sure you’re okay with missing work?” You asked, picking up your coat from Jack’s coat hook. “It’s a long show.” 

Jack smiled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. “Darlin’ I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. I’ve been waiting two months to see this play.” 

You grinned, kissing him slowly, almost teasing. “Just promise not to murder my costars, okay?” 

“And just why would I be murdering your coworkers?” Jack asked, keeping his arm around your waist as he walked you out to the parking lot. 

Stepping into the parking lot and following the familiar trail to Jack’s car, you took a breath. “The show gets kinda dark. My character is abused by her sadistic boyfriend.”

“Oh.” You could hear Jack’s jaw tightening, hesitation filling your chest as you thought over inviting him to the show. Again. 

“Babe,” you said softly, trying to console him. “If you want, I can introduce you to my co-star Alex who plays the character. He’s a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t hurt a fly and y’know how Stevie is my best friend? Well, Alex is like the cool big brother I never had. He’d never even think about touching me. And he knows I’m totally off limits. Stevie does too.” 

“Stevie’s the one who’s playing your nice fictional boyfriend?” Jack asked, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up. 

You laughed. “Yes. Stevie is the one who gets to kiss me on stage and his character isn’t a huge dick. Alex is my first fictional boyfriend, and Stevie and I get together halfway through the show. He gets to kiss me.” 

Jack’s eyes darkened behind his sunglasses. “Does Alex kiss you?” 

Reaching across the center console, you took Jack’s hand. “No. Alex does not get to kiss me.” 

As Jack drove to the theater, you mulled over this decision. Since dating Jack, you’d done three musicals, but this one was your biggest and proudest role, as you’d finally managed to get the female lead in a musical after countless ensemble roles and smaller name characters. 

“And what’s the show called again?” Jack asked, squeezing your hand. 

You smiled, lifting his hand and pressing lazy kisses into his knuckles. “Little Shop of Horrors.” 

Jack hummed, his face scrunching as he thought. “Ain’t that that movie with the crazed talking plant?” 

“It was adapted from a musical,” you explained. “And then they redid the movie in the early 2000’s and put it back on Broadway.” 

“Ah.” Jack turned to look at you as you pulled up to a red light. “I’m sure you’ll kill it. You got the voice of an angel.” 

You smiled to yourself, the fate of your character entirely unknown to Jack. “I know I’ll kill it.” 

Upon reaching the theater, you hopped out of the Bronco, looking at Jack. “Wanna meet Alex and Stevie? I think Yvette and Eva are here too, and I know for a fact Amber’s been here for an hour, at least.”

Jack shrugged. “Why not. I’ll go park, you go get your friends.” 

You eagerly headed into the theater, practically jogging around as you looked for your costars. 

“Eva!” You shouted happily, hugging Eva and seeing Amber around the corner. “Is Yvette here?” 

“Nah,” Eva said, gesturing to the empty dressing room she shared with Yvette and Amber. “You know she always gets here at the last damn minute.” 

“And she’s somehow always ready to go first,” Stevie said behind you, causing you to laugh and spin around to hug him. “Heya Auds!” He used the nickname he’d given you based on your character, causing you to punch him lightly. 

“I want y’all to meet someone,” you said, walking towards the entrance, where you knew Jack was waiting. “Jack’s finally coming to see the show.” 

“Ooooo,” Amber said, coming out of the costume closet. “We finally get to meet the mystery man!” 

You waved them off, looking around for your final costar. “Where’s Alex? He didn’t call in tonight, did he?” 

“Of course not,” Eva scoffed, drawing her coat closer around her. “He doesn’t call in unless he’s like, bleeding out.” 

Laughing, you pushed open the door, seeing Jack leaning against the Bronco. “Jack!” 

Jack drew closer, smiling and looking at your friends. “Alright. Who’s who?” 

You introduced everyone, the chatter flowing easily until someone came up behind you, lifting you off your feet with a happy growl. “There’s my girl!” 

“Alex!” You squealed, squirming and laughing. “Alex you absolute fuck! Put me down before Jack murders you!” 

Alex put you down, grinning and holding out a hand to a very shocked Jack. “So you’re the mystery man our darling has been swooning over for the past three years. Nice to meet you.” 

Jack shook his hand. “Their darling?” He asked you as you stood by his side. 

“That’s what they always call the female lead,” you explained, tucking yourself under Jack’s arm. “Alex, Jack has promised not to kill you upon seeing the show, which is a damn relief because I don’t think we can do next year’s show without you.” 

“What’s next year's show?” Jack asked, looking at you. 

You shrugged. “I heard from the director that they were seriously considering School of Rock.” 

Alex whistled. “Auds, that’s been a rumor for years now. They aren’t gonna do it.” 

“Okay Dewey,” you said jokingly, reaching out to give Alex a light punch. “You wanna talk about people who were born to play certain roles? Alex is a spitting image of Broadway’s Dewey Finn,” you explained to Jack, who had gotten very lost very fast. “We’re all just waiting.” 

“Oh, so you wanna talk about that, huh?” Stevie said, raising an eyebrow. “I swear that voice of yours is identical to Audrey’s.” 

You flushed, checking your watch and looking up. “An hour,” you explained, extracting yourself from under Jack’s arm and heading back to the theater’s entrance. “I’ll see you after babe!” 

Jack grabbed your hand, kissing you deeply and nipping ever so slightly at your earlobe as he murmured a teasing “break a leg darling,” into your ear. 

“I like him,” Alex said, coming up behind you and smiling. “He’s good for you.” 

You rolled your eyes, grabbing Alex’s white jacket out of the costume closet and handing it to him. “Go get dressed, dork. We can talk about my boyfriend later.” 

Alex shrugged. “Just saying. You have my blessing.” 

“I don’t need your blessing!” You called after him, seeing him disappear into his dressing room. “And where’s Jake?” 

“Where he always is!” 

You sighed, heading to your own dressing room and sitting down, beginning the long yet calming process of caking your face in stage makeup. It took forever and made your face feel heavy, but the results were worth it. 

Eventually, by the half hour call, you were ready, having pretty much cemented your hair into beautifully picturesque curls and shimmied into the tight cheetah print dress that barely covered the tops of your thighs. Thank god you were able to wear tights. 

You tossed a fluffy cream colored faux fur cropped jacket overtop your dress and adjusted your black heels. With your makeup and your sufficiently warmed up voice, you were entirely ready for the night. 

Picking up a picture frame, you gave the glossy photo of Jack a kiss, slipping a worn out penny he’d given you when he’d first heard you did theater into your bra. It was a symbol of luck, and the magic would hopefully continue into tonight. 

“Knock knock,” Alex said, knocking on your doorframe. “How’s the princess?” 

“Good,” you said, raising your voice to get the perfect breathy innocence that was needed for the role. “How much time?” 

Alex checked his watch. “Ten. I think the girls are on stage already, and Jake’s having his fun on the beams. Are you sure you’re ready?” 

“Just nervous,” you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. “I dunno what Jack’ll think.” 

“Does he know the ending?”

“No.” 

Alex whistled in a breath. “Damn. Ten bucks says he cries.” 

You scoffed, slipping past Alex and smiling, your heels clicking on the worn out flooring. “Twenty!” 

The opening of the show, as was the rest of it by now, was a familiar chaos to you. The fanfare that signaled the beginning spurred you and Alex to your places, tucked just outside of view but still able to see the show. 

The ensemble and the girls rushed past, filling the stage and giving life to the purposefully worn down set. You craned yourself neck, heart swelling when you saw Jack, his hat off, sitting in the front row. 

“Front row, fifth seat in, stage left,” you whispered to Alex, who nodded, spotting your boyfriend as well. 

Stevie joined you at that moment, grinning as Alex told him where Jack was sitting. “He got a good seat, huh?” He said with a wink, sliding past you to take his place on stage. 

As the second song started up, you adjusted yourself, tugging on your dress and asking Alex for help with your mic. 

“Break a leg,” he said, watching you rush behind the set to the section that was your fake apartment. 

At the cue, you opened the door, slipping out and beginning to sing. It was easy to lose yourself in the role now that everyone else was singing too. Stevie came out, singing his part as you sat weaved in and out of the ensemble members, climbing up a ladder to a fire escape on one of the building fronts. Leaning on the railing, you sang along with Stevie, spotting Jack beyond the stage lights and grinning as you finished out the song. 

The next four songs went smoothly. You left the stage after the next one, when Stevie got his first solo song. Standing next to Alex, you checked your phone. 

Jack: You’re amazing doll. Love the dress.

You smiled, slipping your phone back into your pocket. Stevie was, as usual, doing great on stage. Everything was running perfectly. 

While the songs you weren’t really in ran in the background, you helped prepare the other sets. The apartment set you were about to use was ready to go by the time your first big song was about to start, and you walked back out on stage, reciting lines you’d memorized months ago. As the set turned, revealing the inside of the apartment, you began to sing. 

The song was a nice one. Maybe a bit of strain on your voice as you pitched it upwards, but otherwise easy to sing. You poured a certain mournfulness into it, taking your jacket off and hanging it on the coat hook. 

Every so often, you’d see Jack out of the corner of your eye, grinning like a lovesick fool at you. When the stage rotated again, showing you leaning out the small balcony, singing about your character’s dreams for a brighter future, you watched Jack carefully. His eyes never left you, winking when he realized you were watching him. 

The song ended, the audience clapping as you slipped out, grabbing your coat on the way. 

One quick change and bit of makeup adjusting later, you were cycling through another song. Nerves began to bundle in your stomach as the introduction of Alex’s character drew closer. You always drew a few gasps when he roughed you up, but it never made you this nervous. 

Thankfully, it was a short scene, as the focus shifted to the introduction. His touch was always professional and careful, never actually harming you. You slipped off stage as his character began his song, settling down on a beat up old couch and loosening your shoes. You didn’t have to be on stage for a while, so you half listened to Alex and half focused on checking your phone. No texts from Jack. 

“Hey hon.” Alex flopped onto the couch next to you, shocking you a bit. “C’mon.” 

You quickly tighten your shoes, standing and taking Alex’s hand as he tugged you towards the stage for another small scene that you knew would make Jack’s jaw clench. 

The scene was, yet again, not harmful. You moved in perfect tandem with Alex so neither of you got hurt, stumbling a bit as you walked off stage after only two minutes. 

“You okay?” Alex asked, steadying you and checking your wrists where he’d grabbed you. 

“Yep.” 

“Everything good up in here?” He asked, knocking gently on your temple. 

You smiled. “Haven’t been this nervous about a show in, gosh I don’t even know.” 

“You’re doing amazing,” Alex promised, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sure he’d love it even if it all went to shit.” 

You nodded, tightly hugging Alex back. “Yeah. He would.” 

You two got ready for your final scene together, the one where he ‘hit’ you. The slap had been practiced until it was instinct, until it was a guarantee Alex’s hand would never even touch your face. 

Watching the stage and slowly moving behind the set pieces, you bopped a bit to the song, looking up and seeing Jake having the absolute time of his life above your head, singing for the plant. 

“Ready?” Alex asked, squeezing your hand. 

You nodded, hearing the cue and starting your nervous babbling conversation with a shouting Alex, stumbling through the door and smiling at Stevie. “Hey Seymour! I left my sweater here before.” 

Immediately, Alex followed you, still shouting. You couldn’t see Jack’s reaction when he called you a slut, or when he slapped you, your pitiful voice breaking as you and Alex headed off stage.

As soon as you were out of sight, Alex hugged you, murmuring the apology he always gave after that scene and heading off to act his death. 

It was a favorite scene of yours, and you watched as Alex ‘died,’ unable to leave the scene until the lights went dark and he hurried off, Stevie taking a bag of fake limbs and grinning to you as the lights rose and he headed back out. 

During intermission, you left the couch, allowing the girls to collapse into the frankly disgusting crease. Instead, you curled up in the oddest place that shouldn’t have been comfortable, the antique dentist’s chair from Alex’s scenes. 

Which was where he found you, settled into the leather and adjusting your makeup. You were humming along to some music playing out your phone, carefully wiping away your black eye and touching up your foundation. “Good job. You absolutely murdered it.” 

Alex smiled. “Thank you. Still nervous?”

“Nah.” You closed your makeup bag, spinning the chair lazily. “No more than usual now.” 

You two just hung out, as usual, until the signaling music began to play. You shook yourself out, standing and smiling. “Halfway there!” 

Alex laughed and took your place, grabbing a book. 

You were significantly more involved in the second act, breezing through the first few songs, feeling an uncomfortable tingle of guilt in your stomach as you and Stevie kissed during the second song. It was an emotional scene that was immediately followed up by a murder. Not your murder. You weren’t set to die until later. 

Of course, your next big scene was your death. You ran over the process in your head, just in case. Stevie would throw you into the giant plant puppet, and you’d slide past Jordan, who was the puppeteer inside, and out through a hole so you didn’t have to sit inside the cramped puppet. 

However, you had to die first in probably the most heart wrenching scene in the play. 

You walked out as Stevie walked in, alone on the stage aside from the plant. Sitting on the couch in your fake apartment, you began to sing, wandering over to the florist’s shop set and talking to Jake, who was still sitting above your head. 

And then it all went to shit. 

Jordan, inside the puppet, grabbed you with a vine, tugging you close as the song finished out, and you fake struggled as he pretended to eat you, the voice and the body working in perfect tandem as you got deep enough and struggled enough to open a buttoned up tear in your dress, smearing fake blood all over and making it truly seem like you’d been bitten, all without the audience knowing. 

Stevie pulled you out, revealing the wound to the audience. He carefully set you down, going through the musical motions as you poured everything you had left into your final few minutes on stage. Your voice broke, the gentleness fading slowly as you did your best to imitate someone who was dying, actually starting to cry with your last line. 

When the music swelled, Stevie wiped your tears and lifted you, slowly and gently placing you in the plant puppet and allowing Jordan to grab you and pull you in, helping you down and out the other side. Immediately, Alex helped you up, handing you a change of clothes and a pack of wet wipes. It was easy to remove the blood and toss the stained dress into the wash as soon as it was off. By the time the last plot important song was over, you were completely ready for the finale. 

You were unable to spot Jack as you and Alex walked out together, singing one final time for the night and taking your bows. It was a giant group number, everyone happy and very much not dead. Jake came down, singing and throwing an arm over you and over Stevie, dragging you two forward to take the first bow. 

Amidst the clapping and the people leaving and the actors heading off stage, you didn’t see Jack until he met you and Alex at the Bronco. 

He scooped you up, laughing and firmly kissing you. “Holy shit babe! You couldn’t’ve told me that would happen at the end?” 

You laughed, wiping tears off Jack’s face. “Alex! He’s crying!” 

“Well fuck.” Alex leaned against the car, smiling. “Guess I owe you.” 

Jack put you down, still holding you tight. “Y’all did good. I almost got up to smack you halfway through the show.” 

You rolled your eyes, squeezing Jack’s hand. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Alright,” Jack said, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up. “Pleasure to meet you Alex.” 

“Same,” Alex said, stepping back. “You be good to our girl, you hear?” 

Jack snorted. “I will.” 

The drive home was quiet. Now that the adrenaline of the show was gone, you felt limp, every part of your body in pain. Jack, the ever sweet and loving boyfriend, carried you inside, setting you down on the bathroom counter and grabbing your makeup wipes for you. 

“Anything else?” He asked once you were done, cuddled up in your favorite pyjamas. 

“Well,” you hummed, getting down and heading over to the bed. “I seem to be missing my boyfriend. C’mere.” 

Jack, now eager, took his shirt off and crawled into the bed next to you, pulling you close. “You were amazing tonight, truly.” 

“Thank you,” you murmured, already falling asleep. 

“You’re welcome.” Jack shuffled so you’d be more comfortable, stroking softly up and down your back as you fell asleep properly, safe with the knowledge that Jack’s first musical theater experience had been a good one.

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Two: Expedition)

← Chapter One

A Month Later 

The newspaper was open on the counter as I handed a customer a croissant and their overly-sweetened coffee. I was flipping through the pages, trying to find anything about the Scout’s latest expedition outside of the walls and if they had posted a casualties list. 

“Eva? Miss. Eva? Eva?!” I looked up again and noticed the kids trying to pull themselves taller than the counter to get my attention. How long were they asking for me? 

“Elias! June! What can I get for you today?” They put their spare change on the counter and counted it out. Not enough to buy a single cup of coffee combined. 

“What can we get for this much, Miss. Eva?” I smiled down at them again and pointed to the muffins I had cooling on the table. Blueberry was their favorite.

“If you both clean off the tables for me, by the time you’re done the muffins will be cool enough.” They nodded furiously and I handed them two rags. They both went off and divided the work. June was taller so she would try and wipe down the tables because she could reach the center, and Elias would reach the empty cups and plates and put them into the dish bin. Some of the old people looked at their running and saw it as annoying, but I just stared at them with a smile, reminding me of when I was a kid in this café. Having no concept of money, I would do chores and Mr. Flynn would just give me enough money to get a single piece of candy from the shop down the street. My labor definitely outweighed the money I received for it, but I was just happy getting candy. 

I turned my back on the kids, taking the newspaper with me, leaning on the glass case. It was a Saturday morning, so everyone had the luxury of sleeping in and not going to work but me. The bakery has to be open almost 24/7 so I can break even. Scanning the pages, I finally found what I was looking for. On the last page was only one paragraph describing the maneuver that the Scouts had done this past month taken from an interview from Commander Erwin. Something about implementing long-distance formations. Erwin’s speaking and various prints on the newspaper had shown him on opposite end of the coin of his captain. He seemed bright, personality and looks wise, and almost like a knight from fairytales. If Erwin was bright, then Levi was dark; maybe only in the form of rumors that I had yet to prove true.

Glancing over at the kids’ process, I found myself looking at the spot he sat. It was empty, and even if a group had sat there, it seemed empty. Their presence wasn’t as big as his. I laughed, big presence, little body. Maybe he’s compensating. 

It’s been a little over a month since he had been back to the café. That usually marked that the Scout had died, but I had a weird string of faith for him. If he’s Humanity’s Strongest, there’s no way an expedition would end him. Also, the thought of it being a freak visit made me a bit sad, but if I only met him once, it would be better than meeting him many times and then never again. 

“Miss. Eva, we’re done!” I handed the two muffins and their smiles were big enough to take me out of my thoughts completely.

“Here you go Miss. Eva.” June handed me the coins and I shook my head. 

“You paid for the muffins by cleaning. Go buy some candy down the street. If you tell him that Eva sent you, he might give you a free piece.” Elias’s, the younger, eye’s widened at the chance of free candy, but June seemed a bit reserved. She looked down at the floor and had one foot moving around on tiptoe. She wanted to ask me something. Was she too embarrassed to ask it in front of her little brother? 

“Eli, can you go buy me a lollipop? I want to sit here and eat my muffin.” He didn’t care about anything other than the candy he was going to get, so he nodded and took off. I watched as he ran through the small crowd on the street. 

“Now, what do you want to ask me June?” Her face went red and she was still staring at the floor. 

“How...How do you know you like a boy?” I almost choked on air and made sure I heard her right. She had a mother, but she comes and asks the baker that gives her free food. I should take it as a complement and I should tell her not to worry about boys until she was older. These kids are getting more and more mature than I was at eleven. 

“Why are you asking me that?” She put the muffin on the counter. 

“W-Well I know a lot of boys like you! So, you have to know how!” She got confident with her last sentence, but it was the first one that shocked me. Where were these men? She might just be exaggerating to get her point across.

“I didn’t know that a lot of boys liked me, June. I just stay in this building almost all day. What boys?” 

“Um… I was told not to tell you.” I narrowed my eyes at her and thought of a way to get it out of her.

“If I tell you how to know you like a boy, you have to tell me what boys like me. Your mother is one of the people telling me I should get married soon. You could help me with that.” She nodded furiously and easily betrayed whoever the man was. 

“When you like a boy… hm. I’ve only ever liked a few boys, June. I guess it starts with you wanting to talk to them a lot. You hope that whenever you’re in the same room as them, they come and talk to you. When you’re at school do you want this boy to come over to your desk?”

“Yes, but he only goes to his other friend’s desks.” She huffed and rested her chin on the counter. Cute. I reached over and ruffled her hair.

“Sometimes you get this feeling in your stomach, like butterflies. You get really nervous and can’t talk that well to him. You might just stare a lot because you’re too afraid to say anything that might sound stupid.” She sat up again, a more determined look on her face. 

“So then how do I know he likes me?” I wiped the spot where her chin was on the table. My hands were definitely in need of some lotion or balm. It wasn’t even winter yet and they were still cracking over the amount I used them.  

“It’s hard to tell with boys. Sometimes they’ll be mean to you and it still means they like you. Sometimes they won’t talk to you at all, but they’ll just stare at you too. Some boys will also just talk and talk to you about anything. Boys your age are pretty dumb. Boys are dumb in general, actually. It doesn’t get better with age.” She nodded in agreement and I ruffled her hair a little bit more, seeing that Elias was already running back with a small bag. 

“So that’s how I know Jonas likes you. Because he doesn’t stop talking to you.” My eyes widened a little bit as something I was suspicious of being confirmed. 

“Jonas said that?” She nodded. 

“He says he thinks you’re the prettiest girl in Trost and probably of all the districts.” She covered her mouth like it was going to help she spilled her confidant’s secret. 

“Well isn’t that sweet of him.” Elias almost fell opening the door to come back in. Once he stopped he was breathing hard and put the bag of candy on the counter. 

“Guess who I saw coming this way, Eva!” His words barely came out through his hard breathing and coughing. I turned around to get him a glass of water.

“I don’t know, Elias. With you’re yelling it’s gotta be someone cool.” 

“You have to guess, Eva!” 

“Oh, I don’t know! A tit-” My words stopped when I turned back around to give Elias water. It was a sudden return and I didn’t know how to react to it. However, it made sense. I saw the people gather a few days ago to welcome them back.

“Captain.” He was wearing his uniform still, the hood of his cape making him even darker, but I was glad he took it off when meeting my eyes. June and Elias moved aside, leaving their things on the counter. 

“One cup of black tea, please.” I smiled a bit and nodded as he took the coins from his pocket. Today, I wouldn’t make a suggestion. It seemed like he was running on two hours of sleep and needed something. I would have suggested coffee, but I didn’t think he’d accept it. 

He went to sit in the same spot and something inside of me lit up. It wasn’t empty anymore. Now that he had come a second time, he would have to start coming back. It wasn’t a fluke.

“Bye, Miss. Eva!” June pulled Elias out of the café, no doubt to go and spy on Captain Levi from a different angle. I looked up at the clock on the wall to see if he had returned at the same time. It was closer to one o’clock, meaning if he stayed the same length of time, he’d be here at closing. Something about that made me excited. 

The café filled with a total of 4 people felt so alive now that he was in it. Maybe it was because he had broken the perpetual boredom inside of me. It could also be because his actions proved that it wasn’t a freak accident leading him here. The Captain had to be intelligent and calculating, so the fact that he chose here was ever more intriguing. 

I poured the tiny bowl of honey again and walked over to his table. With the small number of people here, I might also have a better chance of having a conversation.

“One black tea for the Captain.” 

“Thank you.” It was short, but not a grunt this time. Progress was being made. I didn’t stand and stare this time but went back to fake reading the newspaper. The news that I wanted showed up at my doorstep, so I just looked at the riddles section. 

I wonder how the last expedition went for him. Did he kill more titans? I mean that probably is a given for him. What is it like looking at a titan up close? I had never seen a titan in person, only in drawings, but I was still curious. I put the newspaper down, pretending to go do something, and locked eyes with him right away. He was staring at me. Should I play with him to get him to talk? No. I just smiled and turned to go do some fake task. Apparently, wiping the counter that June and Elias cleaned seemed to be that task. 

The tables! I grabbed the bucket on the floor and a rag that Elias used. They may have done it already, but if it gave me some reason to talk to Captain, then I guess the tables have to deal with being extra clean... and my hands would have to deal with being extra dry.

“Oi.” It was soft and I looked up from the 5th table. I pointed to myself and he nodded, “This table needs to be wiped again. Whoever did it before did a bad job.” I narrowed my eyes and thought of Elias as he ran around cleaning. He just insulted my kid. 

“It looks clean to me,” I retorted sounding a bit childish. I had a kid’s legacy to protect. He wiped a finger on the wood and held it up to me. His finger had nothing on it. Never knew someone who could kill titans would also be a clean freak. Isn’t that an oxymoron? 

“It’s dirty. I might even report you to the police for keeping food in this environment.” I huffed and put the bucket on the floor, noticing that a few drops had hit his boots. I’m sure he didn’t leave that unnoticed either, tsk, the clean freak. He might make me buy him new ones. 

I leaned over and cleaned the table while he lifted his cup and saucer up. It was then I realized how close he was to me and how much he was staring. This time he wouldn’t glance away every time I looked back, almost like he was inspecting my cleaning. 

“There you go, Captain.” 

“It’s Levi. Just Levi. You’re not my subordinate.” Huh, was this him trying to be nice and sociable? I’ll take it. 

“And it’s Evlynn Flynn. I know unfortunate naming, but I didn’t pick it. Everyone calls me Eva. Just Eva.” I mimicked him and he seemed to not care about the joke I just made. Guess he wouldn’t like the riddle section of the paper. 

“What were you reading about?” I put the rag back into the bucket like I was going to move onto the next table. Who was I kidding? 

“Huh?” 

“The newspaper. What were you reading?” Oh. Now, if I told him that would be embarrassing. Isn’t this the second time that this has happened? 

“Just everything. I read about your last expedition. The papers seem to not deem it important. They gave your commander just one paragraph.” He set his cup down. He was only half way done... this soon?

“Well, at least they published something this time. Usually, we just get nasty looks.” I laughed a bit, and his expression told me that that wasn’t a joke. 

“I think it’s the last few expeditions you’ve had. You’ve come back with less and less dead. It seems so… calm outside the walls. Not many titans to fight. Maybe they’re getting ready to hibernate for the winter.” He nodded and seemed like he wasn’t going to continue the conversation. A man of few words. One rumor: true. 

Assuming he was done talking to me, I turned to fake wash the other tables.

“Why are you interested in the Scouts? Not a lot of people are.” 

“Oh, well, I have to have something to give me hope, right?” I looked at the chair behind me that was very much open. No, I wouldn’t sit today. Give him something to hope for too.

“Hope? From the Scouts?” 

“Yeah. If anyone is going to save us from the titans, it has to be the ones actively killing them, right? The Garrison, they’re the ones who give me no hope. They come in on duty and drink my coffee supplies down the drain. I have to go to the capital to get those.” He finished his cup of tea and I looked up to the clock. It had only been an hour. 

“Do you also get your tea from the capital?” I nodded and went to clean the table closest to him. It made him turn to me and that’s when I realized he did want to talk. Like actually talk. 

“Sometimes it’s the marketplace by the gates. Other times it’s the one by Mitras. The two you drank were specialty from some dealer in the underground who deals in Mitras. I think he scammed me for them, but if you’re enjoying them, then I guess it’s worth it.” His face had a look of recognition. 

“That’s why I remember this taste. I’ve had these teas before.” Rumor number two confirmed. Levi was from the underground. 

“You were born in the underground.” It wasn’t a question and he nodded, “Me too.” I don’t know what made me spill such a big part of my life to him, maybe the fact that we were the same, but I didn’t feel any regret like I did when I told Jonas the first time. He understood what it meant to be from there.

After that, it was a comfortable silence as I went on fake cleaning. We had reached a point of similarity and that was enough. I tended to customers and gave him a second cup of tea when he asked. For the amount of time he stayed, it was probably their few days off after an expedition. I wonder when he’d have to go back to the HQ from Trost. Do they have houses inside Trost? I know some of the older Scouts relocate their families here to be closer, but the chance of Levi having family was low. Those would be questions for another visit. 

“Have a good dinner, Mrs. Markas!” She waved from the door as she took her bag of bread. I looked at the clock again. It would be time to get ready to close soon. Levi was still in his chair, looking out at the dinnertime rush. I sadden a bit at our future parting when I kicked him out. I might just let him sit until I have to go upstairs to sleep. 

The last few customers came through and I looked at the small amount of bread left. No one was going to come in anymore. Time to close. 

I grabbed my broom and went to open the door so I could sweep dirt outside. 

“Captain?” I leaned over so I could see if he reacted to me calling him. What I saw made my eyes widen in surprise. His eyes were closed, his head tilted a little back, and he was breathing heavily. Was he… sleeping? I thought he stopped talking to me because he didn’t have anything to say. How long was he sleeping? 

I stopped sweeping to give him a good look in the setting sun. The dark circles were still there, but his face had completely softened. His hair was swept back revealing all of his face. Even with his sharp features, when he was sleeping, something had changed. He looked peaceful. I decided not to ruin precious sleep for him, remembering the state he walked in with, and I cleaned around him. Even when I took his cup, he didn’t flinch or wake up. Good, he needed sleep. I was also a little happy he decided to do it in my café. 

I closed the windows and turned the lamps up a bit so I could still see what I was doing. Should I wake him up now? It’s getting late and he’d have to ride back to the HQ in the dark. He might even get in trouble for being out so late. Groaning, I walked over to shake him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I shook him softly. 

“Levi? Levi? Captain Levi?” With the last one, his eyes shot open and his hand slammed on the table. I jumped away from him. Good thing I had moved the teacup a few minutes ago. Within seconds of him waking up, the hardness was back again and it was like he never took a nap. 

“What time is it?” He looked up at me and probably was confused that I held my heart in my hand. He had scared me waking up so violently. 

“It’s almost five at night. I thought you might need to head back to HQ.” He stood up almost knocking the chair over. Huh, he was actually a few centimeters taller than me. 

“Um, yes, I… I need to head back. I have paperwork to fill out.” I nodded and settled myself back to normal, taking a step to give him a free path to the door. 

“Have a good night, Levi. I hope your next expedition goes well.” He nodded and grunted once. 

“Goodnight...Eva.” 

                                                                                                   Chapter Three →

Chapter Masterlist

[heathers-wig]

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

“Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

[hellotvshowtrash]

Angel

Requested by @elijahs-wife​ : Hi Ashlee!! Could you write a fic using the prompt "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"? Sending love 💗💗

A/N: TEHANI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ily 💗 I’m sorry this took me a little bit!! I wanted it to be something worth posting! I’m still iffy on it. 

I don’t think I will never NOT be terrified to send something out into the void, so please like/reblog if you enjoyed!! and if you want to read any more from me, feel free to send me a request! I love all our mikaelson boys (except Finn tbh sorry) so i’m down to write for more than just Elijah!

Elijah Mikaelson x female!reader

Word count: 2,970

tw: kind of sad, mentions of being an orphan, not a whole lot!

credit to the gif creator!!

Elijah stood in the crowd, absentmindedly sipping his champagne while listening in on different conversations. Laughter bubbled throughout the compound at another Mikaelson ball. He sighed and made his way to find his brother. He heard Klaus from far off, bickering with Hope about the dress she had chosen for the night.

"Dad, it's my birthday ball. I should be able to wear what I want!" She huffed. Elijah turned the corner into one of the various hallways of the compound, coming around to see the father and daughter facing off.

He chuckled, "Children, please," he said, eyeing Hope's admittedly short dress. Her hair was curled and she sported a sky blue cocktail dress. "Although your father may have a point," Elijah stated, raising an eyebrow.

Klaus gestured to Elijah, "Thank you, brother!" He exclaimed.

"I'm 18! I'm going to wear whatever I want," Hope said, storming into the party with finality. Elijah walked closer to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder, stifling a laugh.

"She is very strong-willed, like her father," He said, raising his champagne flute to his lips. Klaus glared at his brother and sighed. "She has a point though. She is a young woman now. Just give her this one night to do and wear what she wants." The men turned and departed the hallway, heading back into the party. Klaus grabbed a champagne flute and headed to stand on a flight of stairs. Elijah stood at the base, looking into the crowd again.

"May I have your attention!" Klaus called out into the large room, "I would like to say a few words about my daughter, Hope." Klaus smiled down at her as he began his speech. Elijah continued to scan the room. His brother's voice faded from his ears when his eyes landed on a woman amongst the crowd, standing with his sister Freya. She was beautiful, wearing a blush coloured, floor-length dress. Her Y/C/H hair flowing down her back in an elegantly curled braid. She beamed up at Klaus as he gave his heartfelt speech about Hope. Elijah felt an unfamiliar sensation in his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

In unison, the crowd lifted their glasses and cheered, "To Hope!" The woman put her glass to her full, pink lips. The room erupted into conversation and movement, and Elijah lost sight of her. As if jogged from a trance, Elijah put his champagne on the nearest surface and began searching the crowd once more. He pushed passed strangers and friends alike to get to where he had spotted her. He broke through the other side of the crowd, looking around for her or Freya. He found the two making their way around the outskirts of the party, talking and laughing together. He took a second to compose himself, putting his left hand in his suit pants pocket. Taking a deep breath, he followed after her.

"Good evening," he said casually, coming up behind the two women. They turned and Freya greeted him with a smile and a warm hug. The stranger stood by with a polite smile on her face.

"Elijah! I was wondering when I'd see you," she pulled away and turned to the woman next to her. "Y/N, this is my brother, Elijah." Freya smiled at Y/N.

"Hello, Elijah," She greeted, extending her hand. Rather than shaking it, Elijah took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly. Blush crept up Y/N's cheeks as Freya's eyebrows raised.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elijah said, not taking his eyes off her Y/E/C ones. "May I have this dance?" He heard her heartbeat quicken as she gave a small nod, letting Elijah gently tug her to the dance floor.

"I guess I'll just hang out here! By myself!" Freya called after them, huffing to herself.

--

Y/N was a New Orleans French Quarter witch. That was how she and Freya had met and became friends. Y/N had started coming around the compound more and more frequently over the following weeks, becoming closer to the Original family. Rosie cheeks and stolen glances at Elijah filled her visits under the excuse of hanging out with Freya. She loved her friend, truly, but she couldn't get her mind off of the oldest Mikaelson brother. He, on the other hand, seemed to distance himself from her after his first introduction. She had hoped that she didn't offend him in some way. “Maybe I’m just not his type,“ She thought to herself.

"Y/N?" Freya's voice sounded in Y/N's head, jogging her from her thoughts.

"What, I'm sorry?" She looked at her friend, confused. They were sitting on a couch located in the library of the compound, pulling a late-night together. Her thoughts of Elijah had distracted her mid-conversation.

Freya rolled her eyes. "I asked if you'd like to come to the Halloween party we're throwing here this weekend. Hope wants it to be a big event, and you know Klaus would do anything to keep her happy." Freya smiled at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, thinking about the father/daughter relationship Hope and Klaus had brought a sad smile to her face. She was glad Hope would have the love of family throughout her life. Y/N was alone in New Orleans, growing up in different foster homes and halfway houses. Her real family unknown to her, she had been tossed from house to house because of the unexplainable things that happened around her. Until she met Vincent, back when he was still married to Eva Sinclair. He taught Y/N about what living in New Orleans really meant for people like her. He made her feel like she belonged.

"I'd love to come! Costume party?" Y/N asked, sipping tea from her mug.

Freya nodded, "Hope wouldn't have it any other way."

–

Elijah rolled his eyes. "I will not be wearing a costume. I believe I may just stay behind and let you all enjoy the fun," He said to Hope and Klaus. Hope was trying on her little red riding hood costume for the party that night when she turned and glared at Elijah.

"Come on, Uncle Elijah. Auntie Bex is! I even got dad some devil horns that he's going to wear, right dad?" She looked over at Klaus who grimaced and looked at Elijah pleadingly.

"Yes, darling, I'll wear them," He said, defeated. Hope smiled and looked back at Elijah. Elijah shook his head again, turning to exit the room.

"Y/N will be there," Hope exclaimed as he walked toward the door. Elijah stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, sighing. She knew that would get him to come. He wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was, or maybe Hope was just perceptive. Hope smiled triumphantly to herself as she turned back to the mirror to look at her costume once more, perfecting the details.

--

Y/N entered the compound, her dress flurrying around her as she was met by a large crowd of people. The sun had set and the party was in full swing. The Mikaelson’s sure know how to throw a rager, she thought to herself. She walked farther into the crowd, her dress and cloak billowing around her. She headed toward the bar, keeping her eyes peeled for Freya.

"There you are!" Freya's voice came from behind her, muffled by the music. Y/N turned and saw her friend dressed in a bright pink dress, star wand in hand with a large crown atop her head. Y/N stifled a laugh at the sight.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Y/N said over the music.

Freya frowned, "What, you don't get it? I'm Glinda! You know, from The Wizard Of Oz?" She flourished her wand in Y/N's face and laughed.  Freya was already a few drinks in. "Who are you supposed to be?" She asked, her words slightly slurred.

Y/N looked down at her costume, and back up to Freya. "I'm Sarah Sanderson! From Hocus Pocus," Y/N twirled in her spot. She and Freya giggled as Y/N spun. Mid-spin, she spotted Elijah coming down the stairs and her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't take Elijah for the costume type, so she hadn't expected him to be here tonight.

He looked absolutely regal in his black suit and tie. Large white angels wings sprouted from his back. He looked around the room while coming down the stairs, not yet seeing Y/N. Freya followed Y/N's gaze and saw Elijah.  She drunkenly put an arm around Y/N's shoulder.

"You know, I think you have a thing for my brother," She accused. Y/N blushed, turning away from the angel.

"I'm the last person he would be interested in if I was," Y/N cast one last look his way before turning back to the bar, ordering a drink. "Let's get this party started," She said to her friend, giving her a smile. She reminded herself to not get attached. Everyone leaves eventually.

--

Y/N and Freya were joined by Rebekah, but they couldn't quite tell who she was dressed as. All they could tell was that it was tight and it was spandex. The three danced and drank in the middle of the party, not a care in the world. Elijah watched from the bar protectively. Something about this woman was so magnetic, so charming. He couldn't bring himself to admit that there was a flame ignited in his heart at the sight of her. He doesn't let people in. She's a mortal witch, her life span was the blink of an eye compared to his. No, he wouldn't let himself get attached. She would see him for the monster he was. He turned to mingle with the crowd, although he never let the three women leave his line of sight.

Y/N was having the time of her life with her friends, drunkenly dancing the night away.

“I’m going to go grab more drinks!” She slurred to the other two girls. They cheered in response as she turned and stumbled toward the bar. She caught the bartender's attention and ordered. He returned with three shot glasses and she thanked him, turning to get back to dancing. Before she could take a step, she collided with someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She cried, slurring her words. She stumbled back to look at the person she collided with, finding the handsome angel she had been eyeing earlier. He pursed his lips, wiping the front of his suit with his handkerchief. “Elijah,” she gasped, “I am so sorry, let me he-”

“Do not bother, Y/N,” he said, holding his hand up. He glared in her direction, not looking in her eyes. She gulped at his response.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” She tried dipping her head to catch his eye. He turned and motioned to the bartender for more shots.

“Have a pleasant evening,” He nodded curtly at her and turned to walk away, leaving her standing there, unsure of what just happened. Anger flared in her chest as she watched the angel walk away. She grabbed one of the shots that the bartender had set out and downed it quickly. Taking the other two to her friends, she let the music take her away, continuing to party.

-

The night continued on and the party began to thin out, while the three girls in the center of the dance floor kept going, laughing and dancing. Elijah had kept his eyes on them, amazed at how the two witches could keep up with the vampire. Elijah looked around at the few stragglers left, sitting around drunkenly talking to one another. He made his way across the compound, heading towards the stairs to head up to his room for the night. The music was quieter now,  not as upbeat. Y/N saw him moving across the dance floor and stumbled as fast as she could to get in front of him.

“Elijah,” She slurred,  “Please let me apologize for earlier. Dance with me!” She scooped him away before he could object, wrapping her arms around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Y/N I-” He started, but she shushed him, swaying to the music.

“Elijah I know you don’t like me that much, and I don’t know why but I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for spilling those drinks on you and I’m sorry for making you hate me for whatever reason,” she drunkenly let her head fall on his chest while she spoke, her eyes fluttering shut.

Elijah’s eyes widened at her speech, his hands falling to rest on her back. She hummed at his touch and smiled, eyes still closed. “Y/N… I apologize for making you feel that way, that was not my intention.” He looked down at her, “I just wanted to keep you safe,” He whispered.

Suddenly Y/N slumped into him, dropping like dead weight. Elijah reacted quickly and scooped her up, seeing she had passed out. He looked toward Freya and Rebecca who had already fallen asleep on the couch, snuggling into each other. His heart warmed at the sight of his sisters together. He refocused on the beautiful woman in his arms and began to climb the stairs, heading toward his room. He gently opened the door and crossed the room, laying her in the bed and covering her up. She adjusted into the comfort of the bed, grabbing Elijah’s hand as he slid his arms out from underneath her.

“Stay with me?” she mumbled. His heart softened and he silently agreed, stripping out of his wings and suit jacket. He crossed to the other side of the bed and slid into it, careful not to touch her. She turned to him and opened her eyes slightly. “Will you hold me?” she asked quietly. Tears brimmed her eyes.

He nodded and opened his arms to her, confused and worried. “What’s wrong, darling?” He whispered.

She moved into his open arms and placed her head on his chest, wrapping one arm around the front of him tightly. He felt his shirt dampen where her head lay. He held her close, rubbing one hand up and down her back, waiting for a response. He felt her start to tremble next to him.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified,” she whispered into him. She let out a small cry, scared of his reaction. “I’m terrified you’ll hate me for telling you. I’m terrified you’ll leave if we do end up together. I’m terrified of everything falling apart. I’m terrified of people leaving.”

Elijah’s heart cracked at her words.

“Y/N.. I think I’m terrified to admit the feelings I have for you. I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,” He kissed her hair and he felt her relax in his arms. She had fallen asleep on him, inebriated and vulnerable. Elijah held her for the rest of the night, stroking her hair and cherishing the moment.

-

When morning came, Y/N thought her head would explode. She groaned and rolled over, putting her hands over her face. The bed was empty beside her. How did she get in the bed? Her memory was fuzzy, but she remembered large white wings and strong arms carrying her. She sat up in bed, suddenly panicked, realizing who’s room she was in. What else had happened? She concentrated, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,“ She remembered hearing his deep voice whisper to her before she fell asleep. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Had she dreamt of this confession? Did her drunken subconscious trick her into hearing his voice?

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, startling her. She looked up to see Elijah holding a tray with water, aspirin, eggs, and toast. She blushed intensely, trying to brush her hair down and make herself look decent. He smiled at her warmly. “Good morning. I apologize for startling you,” He said. He crossed the room to her, putting the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed next to her.

He stared into her eyes, warmth flooding his chest. “It wasn’t a dream,” he said quietly, confirming her silent hope. He heard her heart flutter at his words.

Tears brimmed her eyes again. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “What does this mean for us?” She whispered.

He reached out and moved her chin to look at him. “It means I love you.” He smiled at her. Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she smiled and leaned forward, closing the space between them. She kissed him with no regard for the world around them. Her hands moved to his neck, tangling in his chestnut hair. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss and laying her on the bed. The eggs and toast got cold before Y/N got to them.

-

“I’ve been wanting this since you asked me to dance that night.” Y/N said, playing with Elijah’s hand as they laid side by side. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” She smiled.

He adjusted to put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her head. “You will never have to be terrified again. I am here and I’m not leaving you. You have my word.” He moved her chin with his free hand to gaze into her Y/E/C eyes. He kissed her again, hoping to convey his pent up love and lust in one kiss. He knew he’d never be able to make her understand the depths of his affection for her. Just as he knew he may never know the extent of hers for him.

She pulled away slightly and whispered, “I love you and I’m not terrified anymore.”

[evaxsombra]

Kadeu: Indvidual Task

; ON FAMILY & SELF-DISCOVERY an interview with Four of Spade, Evangeline Santiago

Tell us about how Eva feels about the resistance!

Eva is sprawled out on the floor, arms reaching out for the armadillo wandering around the barracks. Chupa makes a beeline for the Shifter’s welcoming arms and proceeds to make itself at home on Eva’s stomach. A furrow is forming between her brows, but she answers easily.

“I’m not against them, but I’m not for them either. I’m…curious about them. I’ve heard about them from all sorts of people and I get why the resistance is so appealing. Honestly, I almost considered joining them back when I was still a Club. Mostly ‘cause I heard they helped any lowranker who had nowhere to go. It was right after that gang I was part of left me for dead.” She rubs at the scar that peeks out from under the collar of her Spade uniform. “I figured I’d fight for any cause if it meant I didn’t have to live like that anymore, but that was then. Now, I have goals and dreams that don’t line up with the resistance. At least, not the way they go about it. I like the way I’m doing things…and between you and me, I worry ‘bout the idea of the resistance becoming something to me like that gang was. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t…Anyway! Next question! Lay it on me!”

Did finding out her parents were involved with that group change her opinion of them?

Eva startles at the question. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, a flash of hurt showing before disappearing behind a small smile.

“Wow, asking the hard questions, huh? Umm, I’m not sure. I think it’s made me want to know more about the resistance. Not join them, but figure out what exactly they’re fighting for. If I learn more about them will I learn more about my parents? Will I get to know what they were like, what they believed in if I know more about the resistance? I don’t know if I can say my opinions changed because I still don’t know enough…but mom and dad must have believed in them for a reason, right?”

What about Anton and Mallick’s involvement?

Eva sits up slowly with Chupa cradled in her arms as she moves to the bed. Her long hair masks her face. Armor that resembles the armadillo’s own starts to form on the Shifter’s skin, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It’s quiet for a moment. Eva speaks quietly, so unlike her usual, vibrant self.

“TonTon…TonTon had his reasons. I’m sure of it. He was a good person; he always looked out for me, and we always got up to trouble that we could laugh about later. I trusted him and if he—if he were still alive that wouldn’t change. No matter what the resistance stands for, TonTon deserved better than what happened to him. Instead, everyone trash talked him. And I had to listen to all of that. And not once…not ONCE did I hear the resistance speak up for him.

…

“Maybe I do have an opinion about the resistance.

“And Mallick? What is there to say?” A angry glint crosses Eva’s expression when she finally lifts her head, eyes unseeing but still managing to appear as if she’s seeing something far off.

“How can I have an opinion on someone who abandoned me? Mom and Dad trusted him and he left me with someone who he may have trusted, but turned out to be a jerk. If Mallick was a leader for the resistance…if he was part of the group that claims to help lowrankers down on their luck, why…why didn’t he help ME? But…I’ve heard all the good he’s done. He’s helped others so he isn’t a total jerk, right? I just…haven’t figured out how I feel about Mallick yet.

“…It doesn’t matter now. I have family and friends now who I know will always have my back. I love them and they love me and I’m never going to be alone again.”

Does she blame the resistance for taking her parents away from her, or will she seek them out for answers?

“Yes,” Eva answers without hesitation. Her hands are curled in her lap. Chupa cuddles closer to her in an attempt to pacify the agitated Shifter. “I blame them. I blame the resistance, but I’m not a kid anymore. I know better now. I know my parents made their decisions, that they chose to join them, to leave me. I blame the resistance, but more than anything I blame my parents. And between you and me…I’m still angry at them. I act like I’m over it because I don’t want anyone worry over me, but I’m so angry at them.

“But just because I think the resistance has some fault for my parents leaving me doesn’t mean I won’t go looking for answers from them. They owe me that much, I think. I deserve to know what caused mom and dad to walk away from the life we had together. I deserve to know what part the resistance played in making the hole I feel when I think about my parents. Don’t I?”

How has this changed her perception of her parents?

The anger is still visible, but there’s an unmistakable air of sorrow and fondness mixed into her voice.

“I love them. I always will. But now some of those very few memories I have of them are tainted. Certain things I heard around them, from them—they make more sense. It makes me wonder what exactly Mom and Dad were doing that they were able to keep their very hungry Shifter child alive for five years, if just barely. That blood I always associated with my dad’s scent…it’s hard to wrap my head around what that scent actually was when that scent is mixed with the memories of his soft singing and deep laughter.

“And Mom? I’m pretty sure she worked at the Forge…at least I think she did. She always smelled of fire and metal. Her armor was rusted…a metallic stench would sometimes cling to her. She didn’t like me hugging her when she smelled like that. She’d get so upset and even if I cried she wouldn’t come near me until she cleaned herself off and the smell wasn’t so strong.

“…I’m afraid that the memories I have of them, that all of them are being ruined by what I’ve learned so far. And I’m so scared that the more I find out, the more likely I’ll end up hating my parents.”

Of herself and her place in Kadeu?

This question seems a bit easier for Eva to answer. She smiles and it’s warmer than it’s been for most of this interview.

“I don’t think my parents��� life has to define me. I do think, though, that learning what I have about them haas changed how proactive I am in my own life. All my life, I’ve depended on others to help me, even if I wasn’t consciously doing it. Sparrow, Rook, Hilo, Anton, Shu-Ling, Ara, Prospero—they’ve all helped me to be who I am today. But after seeing what happened in Clubs three years ago and discovering my parents involvement in the resistance, I realized how helpless I was. I wanted to be able to stand on my own two feet like Mom and Dad and all those Clubs. To make decisions for myself even if they weren’t the right ones.

“I have to thank them for that. If I hadn’t gotten that push I never would have trained as hard as I did. The Spade highrankers would have never noticed. They’d never have offered me a position at the Triage as a non-magical healer. I love that job even more than I did the administrative work because I can see—well, not see, but you know what I mean—all my hard work, my parents’ influence paying off. I’m doing more and I’ve never felt prouder of myself.”

How have these revelations affected her relationship with Prospero?

The smile that had bloomed on the Shifter’s face dimmed at the question. She ducked her head to press it against Chupa’s armored body. The armor of Eva’s skin which had nearly disappeared during the previous question returned once more. She whispers:

“Prospero…hasn’t been very happy with me. We got into a fight when I first started looking into my parents and the resistance. He called me, and I quote, ‘a foolish brat who finds trouble in the sewers if she can’t find it in the sky’. Lilith got upset with him, but I couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t wrong. I always cause problems for him, but…but I couldn’t just give up on the only lead I had about my parents. All my life I’ve had questions I thought I’d never get answered, and now they’re right there in front of me, so close I can almost grasp it.

“…But I think I’m making Prospero feel like he isn’t good enough as a father. He is, I swear! I love him just like I love my dad. Well, not in the same way. Dad is dad and Prospero is Prospero so I love them both in the way they’re them if that makes sense. But I know I’m not being a good daughter. I keep hurting him. He doesn’t talk much these days. Spends most of his time in front of the fire with his drink in hand. When I try to talk to him, there isn’t any banter anymore, just grunts and grumbles. Sometimes he talks to me first and that’s when I know he still cares because he’ll tell me not to forget my coat or to have Lilith pack me a meal. Lilith says Prospero always asks after me to see how I’m doing, but that grumpy old Strongarm is too stubborn to ask me himself.

“I just want Prospero to stop being angry at me. He has to be angry. I want my grumpy, but sassy dad back…”

The interviewer thanks Eva for her time. Eva waves off the gratitude with a forced smile, stuffs the interviewer’s hands with pouches of dried fruits. She waves them off from her barrack door until they’re footsteps no longer even echo. She quietly shuts the door and huddles in bed for the rest of her day off. Eva can allow herself one day to cry, right? Then she’ll be happy again in the morning.

[chemist-ana]

The Toast- Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Robin, Sofia

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N This is a brand new series that I was inspired to write. I am going to go chapter by chapter in Sam Daltons POV. This story is completely inspired by Choices The Nanny Affair. I have used most of the dialogue from the actual story, anything written in BOLD was taken directly from the book and therefore is not my writing- credit to our good friends over at Pixelberry! All characters are credit to Pixelberry except for my OCs

Summary: Tempers flare as the engagement party rages on, but who will be the one that gets burned?

Word Count: 3614

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @choicesficwriterscreations

Once again, I find myself cursing Robin. As I watch him sweep Ana to the other side of the ball room, I can barely contain my rage. She glances back at me with a regretful look on her face. I clench my jaw, and bite the inside of my cheek. I watch Robin react to the anger that is clearly written on my face with a cocky smile. I watch Ana’s frown as they talk. I wonder what this is all about. Suddenly he takes her by the hand and spins her around, alighting her beautiful face with a smile. I’m fighting the urge to make a scene, the warring of emotions in my head is nearly making me twitch.

Suddenly I feel a hand wrap around my forearm, startling me back into reality. I tear my gaze away from Ana and Robin, to see Sofia has resumed her position by my side. I clear my throat and take a breath.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, scanning her face.

“Oh yes, just dealing with the board. Nothing to worry about.” She pats her hand on my arm before looking up into my eyes. “I am sorry I missed our dance. Would you indulge me with one now?”

I grab her hand and bring her body to mine. I glance over her shoulder to see Ana and Robin still engaged in conversation. I press a soft kiss to the top of Sofia’s head. Damn it Dalton, duty and responsibility. Fortunately she missed your little tryst with Ana. When the song is over, Sofia excuses herself to get prepared for our toasts. Damn our toasts.

What seems like an eternity of watching Robin and Ana laughing together, I notice Sofia walk up to the front of the room with a glass of champagne. As everyone gathers around, I find Ana in the crowd, standing next to… Robin. I look over at Sofia as she begins her speech. Focus on your fiancée… you know? Duty and responsibility… damn maybe Ana should have left.

“Thanks for coming to our fabulous party. This night is a dream come true for me. Sam is a dream come true for me.” Sofia begins addressing the crowd with her usual grace.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and scoff as she raises her champagne glass to me, flashing her a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. My eyes flick over to Ana and I watch her lean in and whisper in Robins ear, anguish etched across her fine features. I tear my eyes away from her and watch as Sofia checks her notecards as she continues her speech. This is so absurd, she doesn’t even remember how long we have been ‘together’.

I hear whispers in the crowd and my gaze lands on Robin and Ana… again. This time, Ana appears to be fighting back the urge to laugh, her lips curled up in a smile. I know that smile. I look at Robin and I can tell that he is on a roll with her. I have officially tuned Sofia out, biting the inside of my cheek as I watch the two of them interact. I can feel Sofia’s eyes on me so I turn my attention back to her.

“Sam, would you like to say a few words?” She follows my gaze back to Ana and Robin then trains her eyes back on me with an unreadable look. I can feel Ana’s watch me as I make my way up to Sofia. I press a soft kiss to Sofia’s cheek and she hums in response.

“Thank you, Sofia. And thanks so much to all of you for joining as we celebrate our engagement.” My eyes sweep across the crowd as I give my practiced speech. “As you all know, I lost my first wife about five years ago… and for a long time, I didn’t think I would ever meet someone else who made me feel the way she did.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I think of Eva; her long red hair shining in the sun, her laugh lighting up the room, and the way she made me feel, and I am reminded of Ana. Beautiful Ana.

“But now… I feel as if I’ve gotten a second change at happiness. I finally met someone who gets me. Someone I can’t stop thinking about. Someone who lights up the whole room with her passion…” My eyes lock with hers as I pour out my heart, hoping that she knows that this speech is for her, my beautiful Ana…

“Oh, I love you too!” Sofia wraps her arms around my waist and presses her cheek to my heart. Ana’s lips turn down in dismay as she watches us, her eyes trailing along Sofia’s figure, my arms wrapped around her waist, and pausing on the Harry Winston diamond on her finger. What am I doing? I see the color rising on her delicate neck and her frown deepens. She narrows her eyes at me and turns to Robin. I tear my eyes away to look around the crowd, all of whom are smiling and totally unaware of the turmoil in my head.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, boo-bear!” Sofia chimes before stepping away from me, I stop myself from flinching at her words and give her a soft smile. I really need to discuss that pet name with her…

“As I know Sofia has already mentioned, we met many many years ago. Our families have always been close, and I know my parents wish they could be here today… but I am sure many of you know my father, he likes to word too hard.” That earns a small laugh from the crowd. My gaze grows heated as I see Robin wrap his arm around Ana’s waist and pull her tight against him. She leans into him… she wants him… I loose my train of thought, drowning in my anger. Sofia places a hand on my arm.

“As I was saying, Sofia is an incredible woman… she is one of the smartest women I have ever met, ruthless in the board room and demanding of respect.” My eyes are fixed on Ana and Robin, who are exchanging whispers and smiles like school children. What the fuck are they saying to each other? Robin turns Ana so I can no longer see her face and he looks over her shoulder at me. He gives me a smug grin when he sees me watching him. It takes all of my effort to stay on topic, reciting the words I worked so hard to memorize. “…Sofia always makes the time fly by, like the most pleasant dream.” What a weird thing to say Dalton. I steal a quick glance at Sofia who is basking in my words, oh well at least she likes it.

Then there is a giggle. That fucking giggle. You bastard. My eyes snap to Ana and she bats at Robins shoulder. Keep talking Dalton…

“But, uh, what I like most about Sofia is… ugh, move you big oaf.” Fuck did I just say that out loud?

“What?” Sofia turns to me, a warning look in her eyes. Yes you definitely just said that out loud, you idiot.

“I said… you’re ‘smooth as merlot’? Because you’ve always had such sophisticated taste in everything… Except men I suppose.” Good save… Did she buy it? Well everyones laughing so, maybe? “I know I’m a lucky man, for someone like Sofia to pick me… she is beautiful and the epitome of grace.” I narrow my eyes at Robin as he and Ana continue to speak right through my speech. Enough is enough.

“A-hem. I know some of you are busy smooth-talking your ‘flavor of the week’, but all eyes need to be up here, thanks.” I give a small tap on the mic. Boy Dalton that was a petty. Robin raises his hand in apology and moves Ana to his side. Her lips curved up in a satisfied smile as she places her emerald eyes back on me. The crowd shifts uncomfortably and I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts.

“… She has the best sense of style I have ever seen, I mean look at this beautiful party.” I gesture at the ball room and glance at Sofia who is beaming. My eyes return to Ana. Robin is leaned over and whispering in her ear, his lips so close… damn it Robin. She grabs the drink out of his hand with a coy smile. My speech has been forgotten and I don’t care that everyone is watching.

Ana glances at me only to move her eyes back to Robin. Damn it what are they talking about…Then my worst case scenario actually happens, right in front of my eyes. It’s almost in slow motion as Robin grabs Ana’s hips and pulls her chest to his. He presses his lips to hers in an impassioned kiss that makes Ana blush that delicious color. What. In. The. Fuck.

“Robin, can you please focus for one moment? Is that too much to ask?” I try to control the anger in my tone, but its glaringly obvious.

“I was focused!” He steps away from Ana, leaving his hands on her waist.

“Not on the right thing. Just try to behave yourself, alright?” Goddamn it Robin I told you to stay away from her.

I watch him reluctantly move his hands from her curves and he turns to look at me. His face says it all, he’s pissed. Good.

“Sorry.” He spits, his eyes drilling into mine.

Our audience is murmuring and shifting uncomfortably. Get your breathing under control Dalton, stop making a scene.

“Um… sorry, everybody. We’ll be good. Don’t mind us.” Ana says with a smirk. Oh god… she enjoyed I, what about our dance?

“Can we please get back to the toast Boo-bear, you were talking about all the things you love about me?” Sofia gives me a warning look before she flicks her eyes to the crowd. I clear my throat and take a deep breath looking back out to the crowd. I can feel Ana’s burning eyes on mine, and out of the corner of my eye, her expression has turned to apprehension.

“Right. Sofia has always been a friend.” Oops, correct correct. “I mean, a woman, of utmost grace, and I only hope this night lives up to her high standards. To you, Sofia.” I give Sofia a smile and raise my champagne glass to her before turning and finding Ana in the crowd. Our eyes meet for a moment before she turns away and slips out of the ballroom. Fuck, that was a total disaster.

Sofia subtly digs her manicured fingers into my forearm before I have a chance to follow her, casting me a warning look. She leans into me bringing her lips to my ear.

“I’ll go find her, Sam.” She whispers. She places a lingering kiss on my cheek and walks away, following Ana and not sparing a glance back. This is definitely not a good idea…

***

I watch Sofia laughing with some friends of hers on the other side of the ballroom. I look over to the stairwell, well you have looked everywhere else, might as well. I duck out of the ballroom and slowly ascend the stairs, wondering what I can even say to her when I do find her. I open the heavy door and stop dead in my tracks. Suddenly I am seeing red.

“Seriously, Robin? What did I tell you about spending time with Ana? She’s not one of your dates. I won’t let you take advantage of her just because she’s upset.”

I watch Ana quickly step out of Robins embrace and look at the ground. Robin wheels on me, his face twisted with anger.

Ana looks up at me with resentment. “Who said he’s taking advantage of me?”

“Yeah, calm down, Mr. Big Shot. I was cleaning up your mess.” Robin retorts taking a step towards me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My eyes widen at his statement. Surely he doesn’t know… did she tell him?

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look on you.” He points his finger at me before taking another step towards me.

“You okay if I leave you two to talk? Or do you want me to kick his ass before I go?” He turns back to Ana, his voice softening. You forget who is bigger than you ass hole. I clench my jaw as she cracks a smile.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Robin.”

“Anytime, beautiful.” He responds before turning back towards me. I ball my hands at my side, reining in my temper before I do something stupid. Like punch your face in. I hear the heavy door shut behind me, my eyes never leaving Ana. Finally she turns her emerald eyes to mine.

Her smile has turned into a frown. She searches my face. Finally I break the silence.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

“I’m fine. It’s not your job to protect me. It’s a party, and I’m a young, single woman. I could be up here with anyone, doing anything, and it wouldn’t be any of your business!” Her words are dripping with contempt and the color is rising on her cheeks.

“I know that.” I respond, surprised by her tone. She takes a few graceful steps until she is right in front of me.

“You hired me to be your nanny, not your girlfriend. That’s Sofia’s job.”

“I… I know that too.” Her words hit me hard.

“One minute, you pull me onto the dance floor, then the next, I’m watching your engagement speech.” She jams a finger into my chest. God that dance, it’s all I can think about. You are all I can think about.

“And I can’t stop thinking about that dance…” Don’t you see, Ana? You are the one I want.

“You said we needed to talk then, yeah? Well, here’s your big chance! Let me have it! Tell me about how sorry you are and how wrong this is.” She jabs her finger into my chest again. You couldn’t be more wrong… “Why did you even ask me to stay tonight? Did you want me to see her all over you?”

She moves to jab me again but I grab her finger.

“No! Of course not, I just… I just wanted you to stay. For once in my life, I wasn’t thinking ahead…” I should have been thinking ahead. But against my better judgement I always want to be near you.

“Yeah, well… maybe I should make it easy for you and quit.”

No. “Don’t do that.” Her words send a shockwave through my chest and I take a step back.

“Face the facts. It’d be a lot easier for both of us if we don’t have to see each other every day.” Her face is etched with pain.

I don’t want to hurt you… but I am a selfish man. You are one of my favorite parts of my day and I refuse to give that up.

“I’m trying, Ana.” So hard… please believe me… I trail my fingers gently down her arms, noticing the shiver it sends through her body. Her body visibly relaxes and her emerald eyes lighten. “Every day, I’m fighting not to let myself get carried away. I’m fighting not to touch you. I’m fighting not to do this…”

And I lose control. I bring my hands to the back of her neck, coaxing her head back. Her eyes flutter shut as her luscious lips part, the smell of champagne and Ana swirling between us, a heady combination.

“Sam…” she moans into my mouth, a soft sound of pleasure and surrender. I took her cue and I crashed my lips into hers, wrapping my strong arms around her delicate body. I pull her against my chest, relishing in the feel of her curves pressed against me. God it feels like home. My fingers traveled up into her soft hair, pulling softly. A soft whimper escapes her lips, making my cock twitch.

She pulls back and brings her hands to my chest, pushing my jacket off of my shoulders and unbuttoning my dress shirt with shaking fingers.

“I need you…” She says breathlessly. Not here baby.

“We shouldn’t do this here… Anyone could walk up and see…” I whisper in her ear pulling her body back flush to mine. My heart is hammering in my chest. I grab her thigh and hitch it up onto my hip, just like on the dance floor, beautiful. “This was all I could think about doing on that dance floor…”

I drop my lips to her neck, breathing in her smell. I can feel her pulse racing and I press soft kisses along the pulsing point. I drag my teeth across her exposed collar bone which makes her breath catch. I pull her hips tightly against mine so she can feel my growing desire.

“Tell me what you want, Ana. I’ll give you anything.” I ghost against her skin.

“Kiss me hard and fast.”

I crash my lips to hers without hesitation, parting her lips with my tongue so I can taste her. Sweet Ana. Her hands are on my back, gripping at me to bring me closer.

“Sam…” She moans.

Her head lulls back, and I relish her exposed flesh, letting my lips travel across her neck and her chest. My hands roam her body, exploring every dip and curve. The heat radiating off of her body causes a fine bead of sweat to form on my brow.

“Oh god, yes…” Her words barely escape her lips. Just like that baby. Let me make you feel good. I bring my fingers underneath her dress and to the apex of her thighs, feeling the wetness between her legs. God she is so wet for me…

“Ana…” I whisper as I breathe in her scent, her body writhing at my touch. Suddenly I feel her body tense and she begins to pull away, not yet my beautiful, I am not ready to let you go. I grab her hips and pull them against mine and she throws her head back and moans out my name.

“Sam…yes!”

“God, I could listen to that all day…” I tell her, my lips brushing the hollow of her throat.

She picks her head back up, her lips swollen from our kisses and her skin flushed. She leans in and brushes her lips against mine while sliding her hands down my chest, finding my cock hard with desire. I see her eyes widen, yes baby girl, it’s the perfect size to fill you up. She grabs the band of my briefs and snaps them against my skin while her other hand strokes my hard desire over my pants. I close my eyes as my body tenses at the sensation, and I almost go over the edge.

“You’re killing me, Ana…” I groan in her ear, my lips brushing against the soft skin.

She continues her assault on my cock and I can feel myself nearing the edge. Fuck don’t let her make you come in your pants, you need to take back control of this situation.

“But what a way to go, right?” She says with a coy smile.

I reach down and grab her hand halting her movements.

“Sam?” She asks alarmed.

I hold her hand, my forehead pressed against hers as I try to regain control.

“I want to, it’s just…” I manage to get out, before clearing my throat and pulling back from her. “We have to stop. I have no idea how long we’ve even been up here.” I regret the words as soon as they escape my lips. I see her guard go up as she reflexively wraps her arms around her chest

“I know you’re right. I wish you weren’t.” She mumbles quietly.

“People will start to look for us soon, if they aren’t already.” The words make my chest ache. I just want you.

I take a deep breath and button my shirt back up with shaking fingers. I run my hand through my hair, praying that the disheveled look that Ana has on her face is not matched on mine.

“Sam… just one more kiss?” I look over at her emerald eyes and they are burning into mine. “That’s all I ask. And then… I’ll leave you alone.”

I take a step towards her, running my finger along her cheek and finally across her lower lip.

“Don’t say that.” Baby girl that is the last thing I want. I lean over and brush my lips softly across hers, parting her lips with my tongue so I can taste her one last time tonight. She wraps her arms back around me, pulling our bodies flush.

“Sam! Where’d you go, boo-bear?” I hear Sofia calling for me. Fuck.

Ana pulls away with a frown, looking down at the ground, wrapping her arms around herself again. I attempt to fix my clothes, shifting my hard cock in my pants to hide it.

“Ana…” Look at me. I reach over to touch her cheek one last time but she takes a step away from me.

“You’d better leave.” She says softly without looking at me. I see her swallow.

“…Right. See you at home.” Shit you are a royal fuck up Dalton. I clench my jaw as I watch her for a moment longer before retreating back down to Sofia. Well that didn’t go as expected. Fuck, what are you going to do now?

[louiseleblancdiggory]

omg can you write more of rowan, aelin, nino and aurora? any scene is fine. it doesnt need to be in the SH plot

Ngl it took me a hot minute to understand that SH meant Safe Haven lol. I did a scene with all four of them, but it is not in the SH plot and I wrote it in like half an hour so the quality can be heavily questioned. I hope you still enjoy it though, my best friend gave the green light to post it

Hallway fights

--

“I’ll fucking kill you, Malik. Stop oogling my mom.” Nino was saying the moment they walked into the classroom. Everyone was already seated, and Mr. Whitethorn was pointing at something on the board. Immediately all the heads turned to them.

The class wasn’t too big, only ten people other than the two of them. Phedre and Evangeline were seated by the windows, two vacant seats in front of them. Marion, Mr. Salvaterre’s daughter, was seated by Killian. A few of his teammates from hockey, one girl that never bothered to talk to them— only avoid Malik—, and Josh.

The little bitch.

“Oh shit.” Malik whispered, but Nino knew everyone could still hear them. “I think we are late.”

“No?!” Nino mocked his best friend, his ears turning pink at all the attention both of them were receiving. He looked at Mr. Whitethorn apologetically. “We are so sorry, Mr. W. We thought we still had five minutes.”

“Nino is shit at math, the poor boy can’t count to save his life, that’s why.” Malik said, going to his seat by Phedre and Evangeline, both of which looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. Nino gave Malik a slap on the back of the head, sitting down while his classmates giggled.

Mr. Whitethorn looked slightly amused, and Nino thanked the gods for his history teacher being so chill. If it had been Salvaterre he would be hanging from the ceiling by his underwear. “Do I even want to know?”

His tone left clear that it was a rhetorical question, but Malik was completely oblivious to it.

“I was telling Nino that he would be more attractive if he looked like his mom.” Nino shot him a look and Eva started laughing uncontrollably. “He’s butthurt because he knows it’s the truth.”’

Phedre flicked him on the back of the head while Eva tried to contain her laughter.

“Malik is right, you know.” Killian, one of Nino’s best friend and teammate added, a slow smile taking upon his face. His arm was around Marion’s shoulder. “Nino would be prettier if he looked like aunt Ace.”

“Can we please stop talking about my mom?” Nino grunted.

“But…” Malik started again, but was interrupted by Mr. Whitethorn.

“Yes, we will stop talking about Mr. Galathynius’s mom and focus on the class.” His voice was hard, but his face didn’t show any type of anger or annoyance. Being such a small school, Nino and his friends had had Mr. W for three years now, and would probably get him again next year. The guy was calm and his humor reminded him of his mother’s, so he instantly liked the classes. It was such a small one that Mr. W usually gave them more freedom than bigger classes would get, which was also fucking good.

Nino sent a thank you to the gods the moment Mr. W returned to the presentation, happy that the subject wasn’t on how his friends thought his mom was hot anymore.

He finally relaxed, thinking that now the day would go by without further problems.

——————————

He had gotten into a fight.

Her calm, smart son had gotten into a fight.

Aelin was more confused than angry when she received a call from the school asking her to come pick Nino up after classes were over because he had shoved another kid into a locker. Nino had been living with her for six years now, and he had never even raised his fist. For him to get into a whole fight was something so out of the blue that Aelin was extremely worried.

She took Aurora out of the car, the six year old clinging to her neck like a little monkey. Aurora was usually loud and booming with life in the privacy of their home. She had no problem talking to her family, to her brother’s much older friends or to her best and only friend Lachlan, but unknown places always made her retreat into herself.

Aelin’s heels clinked against the school’s floor. She had left work as quick as possible, picking Aurora up and going to Nino’s high school. She still wore her blue navy pants and blazer, a white button down underneath. Usually, when going to the kids’ school, she wore something more casual but she didn’t have the time to change.

When she approached the secretary’s desk, Aurora took her hand out of her mouth, saying a little hi to announce their arrival. The old woman looked up at them and Aelin smiled at her.

“I’m here for Dominique? Dominique Galathynius?” She asked the secretary, her smile becoming a little embarrassed. “He got into a fight earlier?”

“Oh! Nino.” The old woman exclaimed, a smile taking up her face. “Lovely boy, always stops by in the morning to say hello.”

Aelin smiled with no little amount of pride. Nino was one of the most polite people she had ever met, always making sure everyone got attention and was feeling comfortable. “I got a call to pick him up. Do you know where he would be?”

“I believe Mr. Whitethorn has taken the responsibility for the fight, so you could look in his history class. Room 163, go down the hall, two lefts and one right.” The secretary pointed to the hallway. “So unlike your boy to get into a fight.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aelin sighed. “I’ll go see what that was about. Thank you so much for the help.”

Aelin’s heels against the floor was the only sound until she reached the hallways that Mr. Whitethorn’s room was supposed to be. There, in front of a class, stood a small group of teenagers Aelin knew way too well considering the amount of time they spent at her house.

“Do I want to know what he did?” She asked, and all heads turned to her. A chorus of “Hi, aunt Ace” sounded, and Evangeline even stepped up to give her godmother a quick hug. Without warning, she took Aurora from Aelin’s arms, the little girl delighted to be in her cousin’s embrace.

“It wasn’t his fault, aunt Ace.” Malik said, his voice barely restrained with anger.

“Josh is a fucking scumbag.” Killian added, and Aelin knew his harsh tone wasn’t directed at her but Marion gave him a little slap on the chest anyways. He looked down at the girl and she signed say sorry with her hands. Killian smiled sheepishly at her and then at Aelin. “Sorry, auntie.”

Aelin turned to Phedre, knowing the girl was probably the only one calm enough to explain. She was completely surprised by seeing the girl shimmering with anger. “Kil is right, and so is Malik. Josh is an asshole and it wasn’t Nino’s fault.”

“It really wasn’t, aunt Ace.” Eva added, looking at Aelin even as Aurora played with her hair.

Aelin nodded. She believed her son’s friends. They had been an inseparable group for six years now, and Aelin knew each one of these kids as her own.

He had a busted lip, Marion signed, her hands moving slowly. All of her friends, Nino included, had learned how to use sign language so Marion wouldn’t feel left out. Aelin had started learning too, but she was slower than Nino or even Aurora. Just so you don’t look surprised when you get in.

“Thanks, Ma.” She nodded and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

When Aelin stepped into the room, her eyes went immediately to her son. His face had a purple bruise on the left side, making his green eyes stand out more, and his upper lip was busted. His inky black hair was a mess, but beyond that he seemed fine. Tired.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said, her voice soft. She turned to the teacher, staring at him a second too long before saying. “Hello, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Ms. Galathynius. I wish we could have meet under more adequate circumstances.” He was talking and Aelin took the chance to look at him. Despite the whole situation, she couldn’t help but almost gape at how handsome her son’s history teacher was. His skin was tanned under his button down white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to reveal a tattoo that went from his left wrist and disappeared into the shirt. Mr. Whitethorn was extremely tall, and Aelin found herself needing to look up at his face even with her heels on. She eyed his toned body, broad shoulders, strong jaw and the lines that made up his face. Soft mouth, straight nose and pine green eyes looking directly at her, he looked like he belonged more on the cover of some magazine than in a history class.

“What happened?” She asked, shaking her head slightly. She had to focus on her son right now, not on his teacher.

“Your son pushed me into a locker and started punching my face.” The other boy, Josh, spoke. Where Nino had one bruise and a split lip, the other boy looked ten times worse.

She knew it wasn’t the ideal reaction, but a little smugness bloomed inside her chest.

“He was talking shit and bothering Eva.” Nino looked at his mom, his chin raising. “I won’t apologize for protecting my cousin.”

She gave him a barely perceptible nod, and his body relaxed. She turned again to Mr. Whitethorn, finding him staring at the two boys. “It’s the beginning of the hockey season and the middle of the football one. I don’t want to punish neither of you because I know it can affect your ability to participate in the games. But I hear about the two of you throwing punches on the hallways one more time and I will personally make sure that the two of you are out of the teams. Understood?”

The two boys nodded, and Aelin knew that her son wouldn’t be getting into fights anymore. At least not on school ground. Nino loved playing hockey with Malik and Killian way too much.

“The two of you are dismissed. I have called your mom already since she is traveling, Josh, and the other part of your problem will be dealt directly with Principal Blueblood. Ms. Galathynius, a word please.” He nodded at the boys as they got up to leave.

Aelin grabbed Nino’s arm as he passed by her. “Everyone is waiting outside.”

He nodded stiffly, whispering in her ear. “Am I in trouble?”

“You should be, shouldn’t you?”

He smiled, knowing his mom well enough to know what that meant. “I’m sorry you had to leave work early because of this.”

“Next time do it outside school grounds, Dominique.” She joked. “Your sister is outside. Were you planning on going home with everyone?”

“Yeah, movie marathon night. I have her seat in my car so I can take her with us while you talk to Mr. W.” Aelin nodded and Nino smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He turned to his teacher and grinned. “Bye, Mr. W.”

“Don’t get into trouble, Dominique.” He said, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I never do.” He responded, leaving the room.

Aelin and Mr. Whitethorn stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“He’s a great kid.” He said, gesturing for her to sit. “I was completely shocked when I heard he had gotten into a fight.”

“You and I both. I never saw Nino being even slightly aggressive outside the ice, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Please, call me Rowan, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Then you can call me Aelin.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, sighing before he talked again. “Josh was making rude comments about Evangeline being adopted. Teasing her endlessly, and when Nino stepped up to help his cousin, Josh turned his attention to him. Repeated things he had said to Eva and included you in the conversation. Phedre told me he was barely containing his anger when Marion stepped up and put a hand on his arm, tugging him away. It would have probably ended at that if Josh hadn’t made fun of Marion for being mute. That’s when your son punched him.”

Aelin’s blood boiled and she was tempted to go punch the boy herself. She had taken Nino and Aurora in when she was still in college, barely twenty at the time. With her parents’ help along with Lys— who was Eva’s guardian since she was eighteen— and Aedion’s, she managed to raise Nino and Aurora. They were her kids as much as they would have been if she was their biological mom. She had always feared they would hear uncomfortable comments about it, but never thought it would be bad to the point that her calm boy would beat one of his classmates to a pulp.

Aelin also half wished she could see Lorcan punching the kid.

“Will I seem like a bad mom if I smile at the fact my son punched a boy to a pulp?” She genuinely asked, looking at Rowan.

His smile was warm, eyes glinting with humor. “No, but I’m a teacher so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Aelin’s laughed was loud and bright.

——————————

Nino and his friends were watching his mom talk to Mr. W. They were going home, but Eva was curious to know if their teacher was pissed, so she looked through the little glass rectangle on the door. Then Malik and Phedre. Then Killian pulled Marion along and Nino had no option but follow, Aurora asleep while he held her in piggy back.

They watched Mr. W talking to her, his face relaxed. Watched as his mom answered. Watched in absolute confusion as he smiled at Nino’s mom and she threw her head back, laughing.

“Bro.” Malik said, sounding as if he had found the Holy Grail while he watched Aelin and Rowan talking and smiling. “I have a fucking idea.”

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.12

The days leading up to the gala, Marinette shut herself up in her room, making the excuses of her wanting to put the finishing touches on her dress. But that was a lie, everyone could see it by the haunted look in her eyes, but what could they do? Every time they tried, she’d merely give them a bright smile and usher them away with reassuring words, and she’d shut the door right in their face.

But Damian wasn’t about to give up just yet. He opened the door and stepped into the room, holding a tray carrying a delicate tea set. He stared at Marinette, who had knelt beside a mannequin sporting a stunning pink gown, not turning towards the sound of the door opening or the footsteps approaching her.

“I thought you’d like to have a break and have some tea with me.” Damian smiled down at her, the girl who had stolen his heart, not that he’d tell her just yet. No, not after what she’s been through, she didn’t need another man declaring his love when she clearly wasn’t ready for it. But when he saw her smile, he felt his heart flutter and he found himself grinning back. “Your favourite too.”

“Thank you, Damian, I think I could use the tea.” Marinette beamed and got to her feet, the two of them heading to the small table by the large windows, both quick to settle in their chairs with a cup of steaming tea.

“You’ve really been shut in your room, Angel, for two days straight. That can’t be healthy.” He commented as he watched her add a fair bit of sugar to her tea before taking a long, greedy gulp. He smiled at the sight and let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t have you starving in there, afterall.”

“The Justice League was nice. I’m glad that they’re going to try and send people in to help us find Hawkmoth.” Marinette averted her gaze as she added even more sugar to her tea, her hands trembled ever so slightly as she did. “I mean, I’ve been after him for years, but I’m sure with experts on the case that we’ll find him in no time.”

“Angel-”

“I hope Lila won’t cause a scene tonight, it was really nice of your father to still let my class attend.”

“Angel, what-”

“Oh, have I shown you Evangeline’s dress? I kinda decided to add some features to make it more Red Hood inspired. It didn’t take long to do, since I had the dress done.”

“Marinette, please!” 

At Damian’s shout, Marinette’s mouth snapped shut and she lowered her gaze. Damian winced, feeling like the biggest asshole on earth.

“Marinette, something is bothering you.” He reached out and took her free hand, giving it a tender squeeze. He set down his cup and knelt before her, taking her hand in both of hers. “Angel, you can tell me.”

“Damian, I’m a failure.” Marinette’s voice was soft, shaky. She bowed her head, her face quickly being hidden by her veil of pitch black hair and her shoulders shook. “I don’t deserve to be the Guardian, I’m failing the world, I’m failing the Kwami, I’m just a failure.”

“Wait, where did this come from?”

“I couldn’t save him! I let my partner down, I let him get corrupted, I let him become like that and I did nothing to stop it! No he’s in jail and his life is ruined and I did nothing to stop it!”

Damian watched as Marinette put her head in her hands and began to let out loud, heart wrenching sobs. She had just screwed up everything; the boy she had loved had become corrupt and she had failed to save him, she had lost many of her friends to a liar and it took many of them three years for them to see the truth. And she was supposed to be Ladybug, the savior of Paris, yet for three years and she was still no closer to defeating Hawkmoth, no, she had to go as far as to burden other heroes to help her. And now with Fu gone, she was the Guardian of the Miraculous, she had to take care of the Kwami, make sure they were safe, make sure that she gave the Miraculous out to the right people. But she had certainly failed at that, with Alya, with Nino, and with Chloé. 

The stresses that had been piling on since she was fourteen finally felt as if they were crushing her and the dam broke. Damian held her close as she fell apart, soon being reduced to a whimpering, sobbing mess.

"Why couldn't I keep Alya with me? I couldn't protect Master Fu, I just kept screwing up and hurting my friends, I was such a stalker to Adrien, I just-" Whatever else she was going to say got lost in her sobs.

Damian wanted to say something. To go about assuring her and making sure she knew she was well loved, that she had done nothing wrong.

He let her cry, but kept silent. He wasn't the person to say those things to her; he had only known her for less than a week. 

Yet less than a week goes by and he is already in love with her.

…

Damian came downstairs a few hours later, seeing his family and Marinette's teammates seated around the living room, looking rather grim.

"She's fine. She's resting now." Damian spoke up, drawing all attention to him. He had no doubt they had all been talking about Marinette just moments ago. "She… She had herself a good long cry."

“I’m not surprised, with what Dupain-Cheng has had to put up with since we were still in middle school.” Chloé muttered darkly, snuggled in between her girlfriend and boyfriend, the three of them firmly gripping hands. Their Kwami were seated on the table, talking amongst themselves as they had done since after the talk with the League. Chloé gave a look to Kagami, then booped her lightly on the nose. "I told you this was gonna happen sooner than later."

"But Marinette is so strong, she certainly wouldn't crumble so suddenly." Kagami frowned as Damian took a seat as well, holding her girlfriend closer now. 

"Perhaps Chat Noir's betrayal was the straw that broke the camel's back." Luka suggested as he lazily ran his fingers through Kagami's short hair, making her smile, though it was a bit strained.

"Surely things weren't that bad. I mean, you guys had to deal with only one villain." Dick spoke up, and all the Parisian heroes stared at him.

Very poor choice of words, Dick.

"Excuse me, you've only known Marinette for what, five days or so? And miss 'I instantly got protective of Marinette as soon as I met her'" Chloé pointed toward Eva. "Has only known her for about six months, as creepy as that sounds. No offense."

"None taken." Eva held up a hand, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"But I've known her longer than anyone here. Before we were fourteen, she was a spineless little doormat. When we first met, she was this little goody two shoes who had a lot of friends. But once I started targeting her, because I was really jealous of her, I targeted her friends. Nino, Kim, all of her friends distanced themselves from her because they did not want to be bullied. So she was my personal punching bag until we got to middle school. She met Alya, she became Ladybug and she grew that much needed backbone. But she was still a doormat.

"She'd make cakes for everyone's birthday every year. She'd bring in treats just to be nice, she planned parties, she made decorations, she could make her friends dresses and other pieces of clothing for free. And Lila came and turned everyone against her again. Another bully and everyone's loyalty was as flimsy as tissue paper. She was a shiny new toy who promised tales of grand adventure and connections to powerful people. Surely you Waynes understand how a lot of people just want to be your friend just for your money and power."

The Waynes all exchanged glances. They certainly did know that feeling, and from what they saw of Miss Bustier's class, a lot of them seemed happy with the shiny, promising Lila until they suddenly learned the truth.

"Yeah, so Marinette stayed a doormat to everyone in the class. Even to this day, she organised this big, massive trip to Gotham for them and they haven't thanked her once, from what I can guess.

"When my Daddy was arrested last year and my Mother left us to get away from the scandal, Marinette didn't let the past stop her from helping me. She didn't hold a grudge. When I was kicked out of The Grand Paris, lost my money and my power, the class ganged up on me. Revenge for the years of hell I put them through, though I deserved every second of it…"

"No, you didn't. No one deserves to be doused in paint. No one deserves to have her entire wardrobe cut up, when she doesn't have money to buy any more." Luka cut in, hugging Chloé tight as he kissed her temple. Chloé wiped away a year and sniffled.

"A-anyway, Marinette and her family took me in. I hated her, I never stood up for her, I did nothing. I didn't care about her, I never did anything nice for her, yet here she was, offering me a place to stay when no one else would. I was a brat, but she and her family helped me to become better." 

Chloé was quiet for a few minutes after her rant, wiping away more tears that came.

"What I'm trying to say is a lot of stuff has built up. A lot of responsibility on her shoulders. She was fourteen when she and Adrien became heroes. Still kids, we still are kids. She's not even twenty and she's the Guardian of the Miraculous." Chloé shook her head, meeting Dick's gaze. "So next time you decide to say shit like that, think twice."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Dick swallowed the lump in his throat and he looked down. "I shouldn't have said that."

"She needs a night of fun." Eva spoke up, drawing attention to herself, though she looked rather sullen. "She just needs a night where she can be the fairytale princess, alright? A lot of us have already let her down, myself included with that meltdown I had and my powers kinda going out of wack."

"Were you the reason people were reporting in a small area was being affected by Scarecrow's fear toxin?" Cass sat up sharply, eyes narrowed. 

"Yeah, sorry. I've gotten myself under control now, I promise. Anyway, do you think we can give her the best night of her life at the gala?"

"I don't see a problem with that." Bruce spoke up, giving his own smile as he watched everyone. "I mean, after everything that’s happened, I think one drama free night could be good for everyone.”

“There’s still an issue. We need a new Black Cat.” Tikki spoke up, flying up from the table and giving everyone there a stern look. “The Ladybug is active, she needs the Black Cat to maintain the balance. If not, there could be dire consequences.” 

“But who the heck could take the ring?” Luka sat up, frowning as he sat the Kwami on the table exchanging looks. “You’ve all said yourselves that it is a lot of power to handle. The power of destruction isn’t an easy one to control.” 

“I want him to take it.” Plagg pointed, drawing all eyes to where he was pointing; Damian Wayne. “I can see your soul, kid, I see you have more destruction and death in your life than most. I see you love and care for Tikki’s chosen better than Adrien ever could, so I choose you to be my Chosen.”

“What? Wait, no, shouldn’t we wait for Marinette’s say on this?” Damian frowned and crossed his arms as he glared down at the small cat Kwami. “I mean, she is the Guardian, isn’t she? And the Black Cat is supposed to be her partner, so she should certainly get a say in this. We can’t just go making decisions behind her back.”

He didn’t miss the wide grin on Plagg’s face.

“You, kid, are definitely a good choice. I like you already. Now, do you guys have any carembert around here?”

…

Marinette bit her lower lip as Chloé pinned up her hair, leaving a few stray curls to frame her pretty face.

“Thank you for doing my hair, Chloé. I’d be lost without you.” Mari whispered softly, blushing brilliantly as she stared at herself in the mirror. She felt so… Pretty. Almost like a princess. Her dark hair was pinned back and up, showing off her delicate face and neck, which would complement the pale pink dress she had made herself for this gala. It was a lovely dress, a strapless evening gown that hugged her body until the hips, then flowed out with the beautiful fabric. It was her finest work yet. “I was afraid I’d burn my hair with a curling iron or something.”

“Oh puh-lease, I would kill you if you tried to use a curling iron again, especially with what happened last time.” Chloé snorted and turned Marinette around, beginning with her friend’s make-up. She carefully coloured the lips pink, and got to work with the rest of the make-up. “You should be grateful I decided to stay in Gotham after our talk with the League, I could be at home with Luka and Kagami watching our favourite movie.”

“So sorry to inconvenience you, your highness.” Marinette playfully mocked, before the two burst into soft fits of giggles. She turned and hugged Chloé tightly, the two staying like that for a few minutes. "I wish you were coming tonight, it would be nice to have friends there."

"Well, I don't really want to run into Bustier and the others." Chloé made a face as she pulled back, then gently shrugged as she smiled. "Besides, you have Miss Evangeline, though she'll probably be glued to her hunk all evening. Is there something about Gotham that lets you guys find love?"

"It's not love. Just a fun fling while we're in Gotham." Evangeline stepped into the room and Marinette hummed in appreciation at the sight of her. 

The black halter style evening gown hugged the older woman's rather large curves, the keyhole on the neckline having been altered to be more bat shaped by a cheeky Marinette. And when the young designer included a short dark brown jacket and red pumps, Eva had looked ready to smack Marinette upside the head when she commented on how now Eva could go to the gala as a fancy Red Hood, since she was so smitten with him. 

"My work at its finest." Marinette stood and made her way over to her own dress, Chloé quickly helping her put it on. She felt a bit nervous how she had made her own neckline a bit daring, but she had quickly convinced herself that she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was almost an adult, she had no time for pigtails and childish things.

Adrien's face flashed in her mind and it took everything in Marinette not to flinch. Instead she slid on her pale pink kitty heels and brushed her hands to smooth the slim skirt with an overlay of pale pink sheer fabric, decorated with dark pink flowers.

"Do you think Damian will like it?" Marinette gave a small twirl, instantly seeking to distract herself. "I mean, it's really… Pink."

"The guy is obviously smitten, he'd be an idiot to not have his jaw on the floor when he sees you." Chloé rolled her eyes once again, crossing her arms. "Or is yours just a fling too?"

"Oh, um…" Marinette felt herself blush as she grabbed her pale pink wrap shawl, toying with it gently. "Well, it's not a fling. It's not love, but I think it's going to be. I just don't want to rush into things again."

"You haven't. Don't worry, sugar cookie." Eva went and hugged Marinette tightly, holding her close. "But let's not worry about that. For now, let's worry about having a fun night tonight, rubbing elbows with the upper crust of Gotham." 

With a smile, Chloé took them both by the arm and guided them downstairs to the main hall of the mansion, where their dates were waiting.

When Damian looked up and saw Marinette, he felt the breath leave his lungs. She was stunning, not surprising to him, but she seemed to glow, almost. She really was an angel…

"You certainly clean up good." Marinette smiled as she tucked her hand into his offered arm, then blushed when her mother began taking pictures. "Do you think I can do this? I don't want to embarrass anyone."

"You'll do just fine." Damian kissed her temple softly as he guided her out to the limo, his family and their dates following close behind.

"You look absolutely stunning tonight, Marinette. I am sure you will be the belle of the ball." Kor'i piped up happily once the limo got moving, snuggled into Dick's side. 

"I think that honour might go to Selena." Marinette put in quickly, no sure if her face could get any redder from embarrassment. "I mean, you look gorgeous."

Selena let out a laugh and the women in the vehicle began to praise each other on their outfits, all the while Marinette stared out the window, feeling a sense of uneasiness in her stomach.

…

"Wow…" Marinette whispered in awe as soon as they stepped into the main ballroom. It was certainly a scene of splendor and high society, all obviously ignoring the day to day lives they live in Gotham. A place where you can forget the murderous villains looming outside your door.

"Mari, look at you! You look awesome!" Nino parted from the crowd, looking so odd in a trim dark suit, with no ball cap in sight. Marinette had to admit, he made quite the handsome looking gentleman. "Far out, dudette."

"You look rather handsome, Nino. You almost look like a man of high society. Your slang gives you away though.” Mari smiled, though it was a bit tight at the corners. She then blinked in surprise when Nino held out a hand. 

“Can we dance?” Nino motioned his head over to the dance floor, where many couples already were. “I want to talk to you.”

“Of course, Nino..”

Marinette was guided to the dancefloor, not seeing the frowning faces of Eva and Damian. They could easily see the girl’s key trait in action; she forgave far too easily and quickly.

“What did you want to talk about?” Marinette gazed up at her friend as the two of them began to dance, though it was a bit more awkward than most due to their lack of experience. 

“I know I apologized already for Alya and everything… But I don’t think I properly apologized for myself. I deserted you, Mari, a girl who’s like a sister to me. I left you hanging and I never once looked back and that was wrong of me.”

“Listen, Nino, it’s okay, I forgi-” Marinette began, but was quickly cut off by Nino giving a firm shake of his head.

“No, I don’t deserve that. I haven’t done anything to redeem myself yet. I’m not following the herd anymore. From now on I’m gonna stick by your side.” Nino grinned down at her, then gave her a playful wink. “Should be easier since I broke up with Alya.”

“I beg your pardon, you did what?!”

…

Lila scowled as she glanced around the ballroom, her grip tightening on her flute of champagne. None of the cute rich guys were even looking her way and she was dressed to the nines. The tight bronze dress she wore hugged her body tightly, the neckline plunging low, almost to her navel, leaving her non existent cleavage on full display. She even had her signature hairstyle in that perfectly framed her pretty face.

It was all Marinette’s fault, Lila knew that for a fact. If that stupid bitch had stayed at the hotel the first day, then Lila would have had all attention on her and would have won the heart of Damian Wayne as soon as he had seen her. Marinette and now that creep Eva always ruined everything for Lila, but it was easy to turn the class against them. Even Mis Bustier, who could see through Lila’s lies, scolded the two on causing conflict.

She should be out amongst the rich and fabulous, being basked in glory and praise, but from her vantage point, she could see Marinette enter the room on the youngest Wayne’s arm and all attention being drawn to the young Parisian girl. Lila wanted to go over there and rip the girl’s tacky dress to shreds, because now Lila was stuck just standing with her class, who had no idea how to behave at a formal event. Everyone avoided them like the plague, and Alya having her phone out and trying to get interviews certainly wasn’t helping matters!

“Alya, put that away! You’re only embarrassing yourself!” Lila snapped, taking a long drink of her champagne as Alya once again stepped up to a famous person and sought out an interview. “”Besides, no one here will give you an interview thanks to Marinette. I heard she made the Waynes tell everyone to keep away from you because you are a tabloid journalist or something.”

“She did what?!” Alya spun around sharply, her mouth agape. “How could she do that?! I mean, first she stole Damian from you, she got Adrien locked up, and now this?!”

“I know, isn’t she horrible?” Lila teared up and wiped away her tears, her entourage instantly rushing to her side to try and soothe her. The rest of the class simply rolled their eyes and continued to enjoy themselves. This was a fancy party, afterall, and Miss Bustier was off flirting with some rich guy to even keep an eye on them.

Lila watched from the corner of her eye as Evangeline danced with one of the Waynes, Jason if she remembered correctly. They seemed enraptured with each other, bodies pressed tightly together as they slow danced and whispered into the other’s ear. It made Lila want to vomit. But then she watched as Jason excused himself and left the room. Nino excused himself from Marinette and left as well, probably to head to the bathroom. But green eyes narrowed as she watched Eva leave through the same door a few minutes later, a slowly grin spreading across Lila’s face.

Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be such a waste afterall. Even since Alya’s pathetic show of being dumped, she was even more easy to manipulate. So when Lila showed Alya a picture of Eva and Nino talking in the dining hall, Lila having made sure the angle and posture looked intimate, and she had tearfully told Alya that Eva was probably the reason Nino had dumped her.

It was never hard to get Alya worked up.

Around a few minutes later, when Jason entered the room,  disheveled, Eva close behind, Lila tapped Alya's shoulder and motioned over to Eva just as Nino exited the hallway after her.

"Look at her. Are those hickies on her neck?" Lila hissed in an infuriated tone, but smiled when she felt Alya's body tense under hers. "I mean, I know she's a creep, but to fuck him here of all places? She really does deserve to rot in a cell."

…

Marinette beamed as Damian dipped her backwards, feeling almost breathless from all of the dancing she had been doing with him. It was almost two hours into this thing and her feet were beginning to work.

"Can we get something to drink?" Marinette whispered into Damian's ear once he helped her straighten, then leaned into him as they made their way over to the refreshments table, where Eva and Jason were conversing with Selena and Bruce.

"You two kittens seem to be having fun." Selena smiled as she handed both of them a glass of champagne. "Marinette, everyone's been asking about your dress, they're trying to figure out who the designer is."

"It's an MDC original." Marinette smiled as she went to take a sip, but was stopped by Damian, who sent a glare to Selena.

"She's only eighteen, she can't drink alcohol. She's underaged." He said in such a stern tone, it took everything in Marinette not to snort. He sounded so adult for someone who was nineteen.

"Damian, how could you, seducing someone who's still a child, barely out of high school?" Selena gave a dramatic gasp as she pressed a hand to her chest, as if she were about to faint. "How could you? Why, I'm sure Satan himself would be ashamed."

"Enough out of you!" Damian felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment at Selena's theatrics. Though he did give Marinette a side glance as he watched her set down her flute of champagne and got herself one full of juice. Though she seemed unbothered by the whole conversation.

"Now, let's not get rowdy. Sugar cookie here has drunk alcohol before, the legal drinking age in France is eighteen afterall." Eva put in, wrapping a supportive arm around Marinette's shoulders. "As long as no one gets drunk and sloppy, we should be fine."

"Thank you, Eva, for helping Nino." Marinette murmured into the TA's ear, causing a look of surprise to cross the young woman's face. "Miss Bustier isn't the best person to go to for advice. She would have told him to try and fix things and stick with her."

"Where is that blundering idiot anyway?" Eva muttered as she saw the French class, but no Bustier in sight. She groaned and massaged her temples as she realized the idiot had left a group of rambunctious teenagers unsupervised. This would not go well.

"I might have to duck away for a bit. If those kids get drunk, this party might get rowdy." Eva patted Jason's arm gently, then broke away from the Waynes, beginning to head towards the class. But being splashed in the face with champagne stopped her in her tracks.

"Alya!" Marinette snapped as she instantly rushed to Eva's side, the entire room having gone silent. Eva stood there, dumbstruy, her make up running thanks to the champagne, while Alya sneered at the older woman.

"That's what ya get, you bitdch... Did you honestly fink you could get away wif it?" Alya's words were slurred, her cheeks rosy as she clumsily set her hands on her hips. "I have the proofs."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Eva hissed, her face flushed red from embarrassment as Marinette grabbed some napkins a waiter brought and began dabbing up the alcohol. Alya sneered and pointed a shaky finger at Eva, stumbling on her feet as she tried to take a threatening step forward.

"Lila shaw you two. Apparently you snuck.out the other day, to fuck. The day before Marinette trickeded Adrien, you were gone all afternoon." Alya slurred, then reached out, slapping the woman across the face before Marinette could stop her. "I know you were a fucking pedophile. Lila was right, you are a creep. Why else are you so close with Marinette? I bet you fuck her too."

Bruce motioned towards the nearby security guards, but Eva merely held up a hand, her purple eyes glaring deep into Alya's.

"I became her friend because I knew she needed one. Because I knew your loyalty was so fickle that you turned your back on her years ago. She barely knew me, but the first thing she did for me was make me a scarf with my favourite flowers on it because I was homesick. I was stuck with a class that took a liar's words at face value because she offered them pretty stories and fake opportunities. Marinette didn't make things easy for you, playing along with everything, so you decided to drop her. Yes, I'm her TA, but I am also her friend. A better friend than you, Ladybug certainly agrees."

"You shut your whore face, you don't even know Ladybug! Lila says she hated your guts!" Alya made another move for her, but Jason firmly gripped Alya's wrist, stopping the girl in her tracks. "Let me go, you creep! She's cheating on you with a high schooler!"

"Funny, the time you gave that scenario to her, Miss Rossi." Jason's hard eyes flickered to the girl in question, his look so deadly that it made her shiver. "Because it is impossible. You see, she was with me the entire time, tied to her hotel bed and calling me Daddy." 

 Marinette let out an embarrassment squeak while Eva turned crimson and softly cursed Jason's entire existence.

Lila scowled and strode right up to Jason, tears soon flooding her eyes as she began her theatrics.

"Did Marinette get to you too? Oh no, how many times has she spread her legs to ruin my life? First she steals Damian away from me, now she turns all of you into her personal attack dogs? And here I thought Eva was the whore!"

"Caline!" Eva turned and snapped at the woman across the room, who looked flabbergasted. "For gods' sake, get your class under control and stop humping Dick's leg. He's married, you twit!"

Caline went crimson and hurried over, setting a hand on Alya's and Lila's shoulders, trying to pull the girls away, but Alya shoved her teacher away and got right in Marinette's face.

"I've had enough of you! You ruin everything, Marinette! I tried, but you lost everything for a reason! You failed with Adrien because you are pathetic and spineless, so you decide to get him arrested. Lila was in a happy relationship with Damian, but you were jealous she won us this trip so you decided to steal him and take ownership of this entire thing! You're a pathetic leech, and an enabler. I bet you watched as your whore fucked Nino, I bet!"

"That's enough Alya!" Nino stormed forward, and more shouting began. 

There was such chaos; angry words being thrown around, hands reaching out to scratch and claw, security rushing in to assist. 

No one even noticed the little black butterfly that flew over their heads.

Marinette watched as security began to drag the drunken Alya away, while Miss Bustier tried to convince them to let her go, that it was all some misunderstanding. Lila began wailing, trying to put as much attention as she could on herself. Even Nino was shouting, but it was all lost in the noise. Marinette rushed to Damian's side and tightly gripped his band, until a shriek pierced the air.

"Jason!"

Everyone looked over, and every French person in the room let out a scream of terror.

For framing Jason's handsome face was the outline of a purple butterfly. Marinette instantly rushed over, kneeling next to Eva, who was screaming for Jason to fight it, to break whatever had been akumatized, anything!

And they both watched helplessly as Jason was engulfed in purple.

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